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Post by ingen on May 17, 2021 18:45:50 GMT
An apartment in the city of Hornqvist
Gandr Volksfahr was an experienced Jade Intelligence Agency Network operative. He had been instrumental in bringing down the Bretannish Cartels in the 40s, and he had carried out many missions both in the field and behind a desk for the Jade Intelligence Agency Network.
This one was not particularly to his taste, however. He was posing as an insurance adjuster, spending time on Marchand to evaluate various local businesses and the facilities on the planet for Shangyang Industries, a mid-sized freight and logistics firm. In reality, he was scouring Marchand for evidence of Merger activity. The entire Sarnath system, with its twin inhabited planets of Marchand and Zdeno, was a haven of free trade, free narcotics and free ports. The rodent-like Marchanders and the towering Zdenii giants were welcoming to people of all kind, but they were also unscrupulous and grasping. The two planets had existed in an uneasy peace ever since their initial devastating attempts at war had proved fruitless, and so now they both attempted to curry foreign favour and grow rich through trade in the hopes of overtaking their rivals and finally conquering the Sarnath system. Nothing but the acquisition of wealth and material in order to pull ahead in the agonizing arms race
They had been at this for centuries now, neither side gaining any lead, and the powerful merchant lords, barons and magnates had no real interest in war, but the interplanetary hatred was a great spur for the workers of the lower classes. The giant armies built up to protect against the Marchander Menace and the Zdenii Zealots were in reality non-existent, although plenty of armaments waited quietly, guarded by well-trained security contractors across the system. In the constant drive for growth, Sarnath had become wealthy and was bustling with manufactories, shipyards, outposts, warehousing and all the panoply of a thriving trade hub.
--
This suited Ingen just fine, and her merchants often stopped at the Sarnath system. Indeed, there was an almost healthy relationship with the locals, especially the Zdenii, at least as long as Jade Yen kept flowing through the region, but lately that had begun to change. Incidents of theft, burglary, piracy and every kind of seedy behavior imaginable were on the rise. The libertarian nature of the system meant that there was always a background level of criminality, but the disorder had been reaching record highs over the last few years, ascending to a drastic peak the last couple of months. The disruption to trade had caught the attention of the Kokubusho, who had been forced to step up naval patrols on routes leading to the system, and in turn they had alerted the JIAN. Ever wary, the JIAN had inserted Volksfahr to assess the situation, and he had not liked what he had discovered.
The upper echelons of Marchander and Zdenii society were always in flux, but over the last few months their leadership had been dropping like flies. There was no clear pattern, but only a few figures stood out as surviving the onslaught. Of particular interest were Gulnak of Raask and Pardok of Tuuka, distant cousins who between them ran much of the Marchander guild network. There was also Bergon, Captain of Patire, who had been elected captain of the Zdenii Merchant Adventurers Hall the previous year. Around them and several others, the leadership of the two worlds seemed to be being rebuilt almost from the ground up.
Even this was no great concern, until you factored in the statues. Little statues of a strange, unidentifiable rock, glittering a strange green-purple colour, depicting a hideous figure, a humanoid with crustacean features, only half-realised in a crude, messy carving. They were a harbinger of something more.
--
A new movement was emerging, shrines and symbols spreading across the rainy, coastal cities of the twin planets like a cancer. The hideous little statues were found in shrines festooned with nautical goods, sea life, and daubed with a crude pair of lines that appeared in the shape of a pincer. The easily-replicable icon was everywhere you looked, on clothing pins, backpack badges, graffitied on walls, and Volksfahr had received an urgent report from the JIAN which pointed out some worrying parallels.
The movement kept mentioning a single name. Carcaros. He had been unable to find an in, but he had observed several clandestine meetings and, crouched outside a boat shed in a town north of Hornqvist, listening to a tiny drone that he had slipped into the curious, canted building, he had heard a nasal voice telling him and the audience all he needed to know. ”Bergon has spoken. The Adventurers are with us. But a little more patience, and the Great Wave will cover the lands and wash away the Dissenters. No more will we fight our brothers, but instead Sarnath will be cleansed and we will carry His message to the stars. So Carcaros wills.”
This sinister movement clearly had tendrils snaking all the way to the top of Sarnathi society, which was why Volksfahr had been trying to secure an audience with Gulnak and Pardok, ostensibly to arrange a vast government contract. He needed to gauge just how far this rot had spread and what their goals were.
He was about to find out.
There was a knock on the door of his hotel room. It was a little small, Marchanders being barely five feet at their tallest, but it was cheap and unobstrusive. His instincts immediately told him to be careful – at best, some rowdy neighbor wanted to use his minibar or borrow a lighter. At worst…
--
A silenced old-school Tower S006 Handgun in his left hand, he peeked through the eyehole of the door and saw a disheveled Marchander with a trolley of food and drink. Refusing the man would draw attention to himself and besides, he was thirsty, so he opened the door and, with his right hand, fished for some local chits. “I’ll take the-“ he began, and then realized the cart had no e-reader to accept payment. He glanced at the vendor and twisted backwards out of reflex as the scrawny figure lunged at him, claws and two shovel-teeth stretching for his neck.
His left hand came across and pistol-whipped the Marchander, throwing him against the wall. In another heartbeat he had stepped backwards twice and, as the assassin recovered and lunged forwards, he squeezed the trigger, two muffled thuds and clicks sounding in the hallway as the Marchander’s head exploded, half blown to pieces.
Before Volksfahr could react, footsteps thudded in the hall. He did not hesitate. All the compromising data he had was safely on his holo in the rings on his left hand, and the only equipment he had other than some spare magazines and a grenade in a messenger bag was civilian. Snatching the messenger bag, he ran for the window, springing down to the street one storey below, rolling and thanking the ancestors that the small Marchanders built their buildings low.
There were many people on the crowded street, locals and visitors alike, but almost immediately pouring from alleyways uphill came a horde of Marchanders, furious and armed with all kinds of improvised weapons. Oblivious to the slight rain, his boots splashing on the cobbled streets of the old town, Volksfahr ran. It was clear his cover was blown, but if he could get to the docks he could find an escape route. He opened his holo as he ran, opened what appeared to be a fitness app, and started the 40 minute run program, alerting his handlers that he had been made and he was attempting exfiltration.
--
He skidded down a slick flight of uneven stone steps that led to the quay, where small skiffs waited to ferry people out to the great floating pontoons of the city’s spaceport. Pausing in the shadows, dimming his glow, he cast his gaze along the stony waterfront and spotted a wherry about to put off. He stepped out of the shadow of the buildings behind him, and almost immediately felt a blow to his side. Turning, he saw a Marchander grasping some kind of boat hook, the spike buried in his side. With a practiced movement he struck his attacker in the face with the palm of his hand, breaking the oversized snout and driving bone and cartilage back into the alien’s eye orbits, blinding it. A single round to the chest threw it down even as the roiling crowd spilled out onto the quay.
Volksfahr staggered towards the wherry, but the pilot stood and tried to wave him off. Raising the gun, Volksfahr mowed down the pilot and two passengers, the others diving for the safety of the water. Tumbling into the wherry, he watched as the furious mob filled the quay, hurling objects after him and screaming their fury. His momentary respite soon faded though as he saw figures push to the front, holding long shapes that even in the dark of night were clearly firearms. He recognized one, wearing the black-and-gold tunic and conical golden hat of a Trade Baron. It was Gulnak, the man he had hoped to meet. Never meet your heroes Volksfahr thought to himself, bitterly. Exposed and without cover, there was no way he would survive the coming fusilade, and his pistol was nearly empty.
He tugged at the satchel and withdrew a grenade, priming it, when a blast of energy from the quay caught him in the shoulder. He dropped the grenade and felt himself tumbling, felt the roar of heat and the freezing crash of water, and suddenly knew no more. His camdrone, hovering faithfully behind him, transmitted its last moments as it too plunged into the depths.
--
SANRIN SYSTEM
Zhang-Yu Castle, some time later
“It is beyond dispute, Your Majesty. It is clear the Sarnath System has been corrupted by the Merger. Our operative there was murdered by Guild Baron Gulnak, the Marchander Guilds are turning away our business and refusing to receive our diplomats, and there have been confirmed reports of MAH vessels from Zdeno raiding Imperial trade lanes. What’s more, a comprehensive review of intel gleaned from the Alejandra District makes it clear that the cells there had contact with Sarnath. “
The woman speaking was Avery Johnson, the director of the Jade Intelligence Agency Network and, by coincidence, the mother of the Jade Empress, who was listening intently. It had weeks since the failed Merger kidnapping that had caused the disappearance of the crown princess Mariko, and whilst Gauss assets had confirmed she was alive and somewhere in the Ancerious Galaxy, the righteous anger felt by the Jade Empress had not cooled. Finally, they had a hard target, an entire system Corrupted and Jade blood spilled by foreigners. In the quiet, faintly smoky Lantern Room, one wall open to the cool night air, Takara took only a few quiet moments to contemplate her response.
“Send reinforcements to Admiral Minowara. He shall burn the Sarnath system.” was all the Jade Empress said, the cold fury in her normally composed daughter’s voice giving Avery just a frisson of doubt…
--
TWO MONTHS LATER
Sarnath System outskirts
When the Imperial Jade Navy finally arrived, it was dramatic and without warning. Where moments before there had been nothing but a few remote waystations that served to funnel traffic in and out of the crowded system, suddenly a dancing display of emerald light marked the arrival of hundreds of Imperial Jade warships.
The bulk of the force was composed of the IJN 7th Fleet, the Sharks, sailing new-model Botas Reform vessels. A hundred frigates, thirty destroyers, a quintet of cruisers and a command core of artillery ships, three carriers, ten tugboats and a diminutive flagship, they gleamed in jade and ivory. Around them a mixture of other vessels from the 102nd and the 55th, some older classes and some newer, filled out the formation, more than 200 capital class ships suddenly emerging across two key access points at the system’s edge. In a sudden burst of violence, the huge guns of the fleet opened fire, bright pinpricks of red-orange light winking across the sky to shred helpless waystations and civilian craft, as well as the few patrol vehicles that were out this far. The screams and cries of the surprised crews were brutally silenced.
An open broadcast was made, audio only, repeating on a loop.
This is the Imperial Jade Navy. In the name of Jade Empress Takara we demand the unconditional surrender of all authorities, forces and peoples of the Sarnath System. Any who resist will be deemed collaborators of the Merger and will be executed.”
Admiral Prescott of the 7th came forwards from his console to peer out of the viewport at the system ahead of them. Even the star ahead of them seemed faded and dull, the planets barely visible as specks of light far beyond the expanding cloud of debris and frozen gases left behind by his violent arrival. This was the first blow the Jade Empire would strike in revenge for the terrible curse laid on them by Corruption, and he had been honoured with delivering that blow.
New Sania System: FRK Space
“Alane you’re well aware that you do not need to pass by such an act with me, your nation may be part of the Union but you were given autonomy. If the senate has passed it then I have no power regarding it be carried out.” Eiasten exclaimed sounding confused.
“I wanted to speak to you regarding its potential, and to discuss the possibility of the Union contributing forces to the operation” Alane, President of the FRK smiled back in reply. Eiasten looked almost like she had made some sort of poor joke.
“Aiding in military matters? You know very well my parties stance of getting involved in places where we are not. There’s a reason we only have Special Forces and covert ops units in the Emerald Republics. Alane, you can’t be serious surely” The women leaned back watching the hologram of the Unions Prime Minister flounder.
“I can and I am. Far Reach has been a massive success, you know it is only a matter of time before the Union becomes the economic power house it once was. You espoused peace and prosperity and standing up for such across the galaxy. If the information shared by the Jade Empire is anything to go off these Merger individuals could become a serious problem down the line, the forces they have at their disposal are already serious and if my intelligence is correct, and yours too, even Orillia is judging them with suspicion. If we act now, we can aid in nipping this in the bud. You avoid your head on confrontation with Orillia while also seeming to continue on the peacekeeping route that the Union fought so hard for” Alane could make a convincing argument when she wanted, Eiasten merely sighed.
“You know that if I commit forces to this I am once again setting a precedent, I already got this talk from Administrator Tetlisun, I do not need it from you. The FRK is fully independently able to do as it wishes, but for me, my hands are tied” Eiasten said ironically holding his palms out.
“Bullshit. The Administrator was right, as much as it pains me to say it but he was. The Union set that precedent in the 2nd Ancerious war, if you had not we would not be here having this conversation and the FRK would have ended up under APP and Barony oppression. Don’t back out now, I know your entire platform and policies revolved around turning to semi isolationism and trying to cut down on military involvement. But that was to safe face, economic costs and focus on rebuilding the home. That rebuilding is almost done, the people of the Union were built upon a principle of standing up and helping. The 2nd Ancerious war hurt them yes, but now sitting back and doing nothing will hurt them further. It’s true, the FRK will be sending military support to the Jade at once, my only wish is for the Union to accompany us and help guide our efforts. You don’t even have to send a big force, make a statement Eiasten, or things will begin to turn south even with Far Reach” Alanes tone had turned serious, while the two were trying to pursue a possibly relationship which was difficult enough as it was, the President knew this was not a personal matter but a political one. The FRK Senate had voiced concerns about the Unions reluctance to intervene or engage with galactic affairs, and when Alane had heard of what the Telirans had said, she couldn’t help but agree. Eiasten looked angry, and for a moment she thought he would terminate the call.
“65 ships and 3 divisions. That’s all I can spare, I will have the taskforce be ready within two days. They will operate alongside the FRK but for all intents and purposes they will defer to the FRK commander, I hate to say this Alane but if anything goes wrong it is on your head.” He paused for a moment before looking defeated “We will do our best to not only support you but also support the Jade. You are right, it is time we started to turn to what we were truly fighting for. Just ensure this goes well, again I have no jurisdiction to tell you no. You have our support, don’t worry about the Congress I will deal with it” He gave a brief bow before terminating the link. Alane slumped back and shook her head. The bastard was stubborn as all hell sometimes. But at least they had Union support, and at least now Eiasten had gotten a second taste of displeasure about the Unions reluctance to act.
They may have the CGSS. But that wouldn’t save them when the time came for action.
-------
New Corea System: FRK Space
“Everything green?”
“Yes sir, did something come up on the systems?”
“No. But I like to check with my crew directly. Thank you”
Captain Bradamont nodded to himself as he got the confirmation that the fleet was green across the board. Task force 3 was the official designation of their unit, 238 vessels of the Federal Republics Space Command hung in loose open formation, the last shuttles and supply ships making their runs and breaking off now as the countdown to the official jump reached the two hour mark. It was quite an assembled force, but then they had been informed that the enemy had a substantial space force and also a tough ground nut to crack. As such they had with them 5 divisions of the FRK Army Command attached to them in 5 transport vessels which would accompany them in. It would be a tough fight, Bradamont himself had never actually been in a full on military fleet battle. He had fought pirates and dealt with small engagements near the Union and FRK borders but never had he faced down an organised enemy battlefleet, he was nervous of course but he would prove himself.
“The Union 33rd Fleet is reporting status green as well, Captain Mephissa has indicated that her forces will provide heavy supporting cover for our fleet and that the 3 divisions that she has of Army Core forces are also ready to go. It seems we are all set sir” Bradamont nodded in response.
“Excellent. We have two hours to jump, ensure our two stop off points are still clear with forward scouts and tell all ships to move into Formation Delta, get the spearhead up” He intended to put his ships into formation before they made the jump hops to the enemy held system. Once there it would allow them to leave FTL at speed, clearing away any enemy forces which may be stationed where they intended to drop out. With the Union with them they now had a powerful defensive aid, he was glad the Prime Minister had officially publically sanctioned their help. From initial looks the Congress had felt uneasy but the Union population had seemed positive in reception, at least the FRK Senate had been all for proving themselves as peacekeepers. Bradamont just hoped he wouldn’t screw this up and turn this into a bloodbath.
The two hours went by almost painfully slowly, the last supply runs having been completed and all ships having completed system tests now moved into the designated formation swiftly, RCS and main drives allowing even the largest vessels to glide around in the vacuum with ease. With the formation set and the clock now about to hit zero Bradamont braced himself, they had two drop out points before the main arrival but he knew this was the start, no turning back now.
“All ships this is Captain Bradamont, Task Force 3 jump!”
----
Sarnath System
The FTL wakes of Task Force 3 rapidly and violently burst to life as the 303 ships of the joint forces group appeared in system. They were immediately accelerating as the spearhead moved in system, the transport ships kept neatly tucked in behind the spear to protect them. All defensive systems were active and interdiction was almost instantly brought online as weapon systems powered and attack craft readied to launch CAP.
“This is Captain Bradamont of the Joint Forces 3rd Task Force. I am here to assist in the pacification of hostile elements in this system and to ensure that they pose no threat to the greater galaxy. I call upon all forces operating under the authorities of this star system to surrender immediately and power down your weapons”
Gaussian High Command, Secure Location, Assiduous System
The new military meeting hall was set. Not that much different from the old one, though the new one was more spacious aboard the Assiduous Starlifting station. Many of the artifacts had been moved from the old war room into the new one which had the flags of the Farrian Socialist Republic, New Go’shii Republic, People’s Republic of Katharis, United Cauldarion Front, Medoicine Tribemind and Hoytachian Enclave, in addition to a large polished chrome bowl in the center of the glass holographic computer table which produced a rainbow flame. Whether this was by way of some sophisticated full color holograms or a carefully tuned chemical gas mixture was left to be seen.
Garo made his way to the room, briefly stopping next to a Cauldarion in full armor who stood as one of a pair of sentinels at the entry to the room. A long series of decontaminations, magnetic resonance pulses and a grid of headlight vectors.
“Battle Brother Callegio. It has been too long.” Garo said, looking longingly at him.
“In my absence my love for you has only grown.” He responded. “I look forward to being able to fight by your side again my brother. The Knights of Gokatoma stand ready.”
Golden robed Admirals and Marshalls of all shapes and sizes made their way in, exchanging bows before seating themselves on floor cushions at the roundtable.
“I have brought the council here to convene on a new matter. We have word of our brothers in the Jade Empire facing the Merger.”
“The Merger? The ones who took Admiral Peldon?”
“Indeed.”
“I must confess, these Merger are eerily similar to the Courdeel in many respects. Their tactics… their corrupting influence of mind and body.”
“I to see the similarities, and I too have my reservations that one day the Courdeel find us here in this galaxy. But I do not think they are the same enemy simply being called by a different name. I suppose it is time that I make known a secret to all of you. You must never speak of this outside of this room.
The Courdeel… every monster we faced in the millennia back home, every monster which forced us from our home galaxy and to this bastion here are but extensions of a single entity, a higher dimensional force with uncountable perturbations into our reality. They are all slaves of but one entity servicing a larger enclave. These entities… they are the truest, most refined and most insidious evil in all the multiverse. They scour universes into desolate husks servicing motives beyond our comprehension.
I believe these Merger… are another such entity like the Courdeel. Not the same, but servicing the same end goal.”
“You seem awfully assertive making such a claim. On what grounds do you claim so?” Luss asked.
“That’s absurd.” Another admiral chimed in. “How can you claim to know of being so far advanced beyond us in power and sophistication.”
“The Courdeel aren’t apart of something bigger and more powerful… they can’t be… that’s impossible.” A young Marshall who had only recently been promoted out, a bit fearful both of the concept and of speaking out against a higher commander. Though most of senior command was pretty stone faced, Garo could pick out the subtle hints of skepticism on just about everyone’s faces.
“They are the words of Kragleosha, not mine.” Garo added disparagingly, yet with a hint of understanding in his voice. Everyones skepticism vanished without a trace.
“He created the dominion… united all of us and protected us such that we could amass power. Such that we might be able to one day take a stand against these destructive gods and end the cycle of death. It is the will of Kragleosha himself that we confront this enemy and stand with our allies. Galactic Admiral Sulumai Luss, I understand your Paragon stands ready. I am assigning my personal battle brother Callegio to act as your Marshal and his legions as supplementary support for ground combat, and will provide you all intel the Jade Empire has given us.”
Sarnath System
Luss sat in the omniscience sphere onboard the Paragon, sitting in meditation in the command holodeck. Projecting an empty black void as she began to take breaths. She switched to her index finger, calling upon her antimandala and reinforcing it to a metaphorical diamond; impossibly hard and reflective. The Machinations of psionic entities could be vast and insidious, and she had to reinforce herself before delving into the thick of it.
She switched to her middle finger, taking another breath. She let all the possibilities of the battle, all of the potential outcomes both good and bad be clear. Absent of emotion, personal attachment or judgement, she was to be an implement of power and military might and nothing more. She could not allow the fact that millions of both her own men and her foes were likely to die by her order to weigh on her mind or afflict her decision making prowess.
She switched to her pinky finger, drawing up another breath as her implants began to interface with the ship and then the fleet. Communications, comms channels, ship systems. The ship’s computational power through which she could outsource her own thinking, access predictive algorithms and simulations, administer thousands of orders in a timely and concise manner. The smaller ships arrived first, filling out a ring-like formation. Once it could be ascertained there were no mines or traps in the immediate vicinity the larger ships began to file in with her command ship being among the last to arrive at the center of the formation with a mighty blast of radiation announcing its arrival.
Her immediate course of action was to cue a vast sweeping scan of the nearest portion of the system, diverting all reactor power to the induction scanner system. The Paragon’s sensor suite, looking through the folds of spacetime itself began to probe the system, and found the tangled arrays of FTLI interdiction present as little more than a minor inconvenience to such detection. Subordinate ships contributed to the data matrix they were created with slowly began to culminate in a realtime full holographic display of the star system. Her battle strategy while no doubt simplistic and subject to modification should new data arise could essentially have been summed up as mustering the fleets and methodically advancing through the system like a rolling glacier. However in order to orchestrate the first moves she would need to get a bead on the situation.
During this time she orchestrated the establishment of secure encrypted communications lines with the nearest ingenious fleet, ensuring every precaution was taken not to allow any sort of trickery before opening comms proper. She would allow her Marshal to communicate her plans.
“This is Grand Chaptermaster Callegio Gokatoma of the GDAN Second Fleet headed by Galactic Admiral Sulumai Luss, speaking on her behalf. We have arrived to assist you in handling the merger threat. Might I ask of you to report on the situation.”
Pordish Space, Nykalakeltyt Shrine
Some Time Before the Present Day
Kazhel nam-Ilglat frowns. For the first time in a long while, a great uneasiness caresses his mind. A feeling that... He paces slowly around the edges of the room; three other Pords stand silently with him. A single hologram flickers from a projector sitting in the middle of the chamber.
I don't doubt the JIAN. But this... The implications here... By Jlokhemit's Trident, the Sarnath System isn't very far.
You're right, it isn't far, mumbles one of the other Pords from behind a long auburn beard that dangles nearly to his stomach, and if they really are the Merger, this requires a response, you know this.
nam-Ilglat nods. The red-bearded Adgu agent is correct. Very few threats are quite as troublesome as the Merger. If they've hopped realities to set up shop in Ancerious, well, they can't rightly be ignored. What else have you been able to figure out about these... Sightings? You say if, are you not confident they are actually the Merger?
We have enough information, the Adgu shrugs callously. An investigation had been opened into the matter not long after the Ingenious reached out to Pordish intelligence concerning the probability of such a ghastly infestation, but as with most things, caution tempered their expectations. We are mostly certain they are Merger, he clarifies.
The central hologram begins to flicker past many different objects and scenes, with nothing in common except for some strange symbol. nam-Ilglat takes a deep breath as the images speed past. Alright, alright, he stutters. We will look into this. I will set up a council to discuss how to best proceed.
The Adgu nods. Those of Klovnar, Reknu, and Voznayte must surely be in a position to strike against these incursions, he bows.
nam-Ilglat returns the gesture. VRZ hasn't said anything to us about this yet. Are they... He stops talking. Abandoned by his train of thought, he slows then halts his pacing, and then places his hands behind his back. His gaze, while cast towards the hologram, darts between the projection and the bearded Adgu agent, before finally settling on the projection.
They are aware, the Adgu says finally with a curt, cryptic, snap.
Why are they here? Why now? It's - he holds his tongue - you know what, nevermind. If you have nothing else for us? I will start preparations here shortly. If you can spare the manpower, I would like to request at least two Adgu to remain on my prospective council to act as eyes and ears.
I will relay your request, the bearded Pord says.
nam-Ilglat turns away from the projection towards the Adgu. Other than tha - he begins, but once again holds his tongue upon realizing the Adgu have left. In their place, the now empty room stares back but says nothing. Oh, Right.
Thus free of conversation, his mind drifts to the various specifics of what he'll need to gather to deal with the Merger threat. The uneasiness hasn't left, no, but now is joined by the busy thoughts of purpose.
He heads for the exit.
Sarnath System
Present Day
The vanguard of Panuktaq's Skirmishers, a force of no more than 54 dedicated warships of varying size and composition, arrives along the edges of the interdiction of the Sarnath System. With all systems online and raised to peak readiness (including interdiction), they begin to sail inward just ahead of the attached logistics formations (gravitic tugs, transports, reactor ships, and other non-combat types) which hesitate a few paces behind them.
A message is relayed to the assembling fleets from Panuktaq's flagship:
This is GrazhniJloknam Kazhel nam-Ilglat. By the will of the gods, we are here to assist in the eradication of the Merger threat from this system.
SARNATH SYSTEM
Bridge of the IJN Mako
Warnings flared as nearly three hundred FRK ships, two hundred Gauss ships, and a similar number of Pordish, arrived on-station on either flank of the Jade forces. Prescott knew from experience that most of the Pordish ships were support and logistics, but they had still dispatched a powerful force to assist him.
He opened a communication line to all three commanders. Somewhat older, he seemed in surprisingly good humour, his eyes wrinkled with crows feet that spoke of a frequent smile.
"Captain Bradamont, Grand Chaptermaster, General, thanks for coming. Admiral Prescott, IJN 7th, at your service.Your assistance is appreciated. I mean to invest this system and dismantle the Marchander Guilds and Merchant Adventurers' Hall, burning out the Merger infestation to protect the Tuvian Arm and the wider Ancerious Galaxy. I am transmitting relevant tactical data to you now."
Even as he spoke, his comms officer signalled him. They were receiving a transmission from further in-system. He answered it, still smiling. Looming close to the camera, wearing a tall conical golden hat and decked in heavy robes of black velvet and cloth-of-gold embroidery, was a vaguely unpleasant face with a large snout, significant underbite, and bulging eyes that did not quite face forwards.
"Good morning, Baron Gulnak. I-" began the admiral, before the Marchander cut him off.
"This is completely unacceptable! The Great Marchander Guild of Commerce protests in the strongest terms against this unwarranted intrusion! If you and your lackeys vacate the system now, I might consider not pressing criminal charges and suing the Jade Empire for the massive damages you have already incurred! Rest assured, your days trading in the Sarnath System are numbered!" Gulnak snapped, his voice hitting the vowels with an unpleasant squeak despite his gravelly voice.
Prescott raised an eyebrow. "Now listen here, you. There's no court that can stop the 7th fleet right now. We know that the Sarnath System is home to some unconscionable individuals, and I hope you're not one of them, but we're here to put a stop to it. The piracy by the Merchant Adventurers alone is enough to justify my presence here, but you pushed it too far with the murder of Gandr Volksfahr. Either you stand down your ships and allow Imperial investigators planetside, or we do things the hard way."
Gulnak seemed as if he had been expecting Prescott's answer, and he pounced. "You mean the government agent you sent to incite trouble here? Unfortunately he was indeed attacked by criminal elements, and the Guild is doing its best to bring them to justice, but perhaps they were acting in the national interest! It seems Ingen's days as an imperialist power aren't over, despite your protestations to the contrary. We will discuss nothing whilst your fleets threaten our peaceful system with their guns!"
Prescott turned to glance at the rest of his bridge crew, almost theatrically, hands outspread as if to say what can you do?, then turned back to the holoscreen. "Hard way it is. Let me know if you change your mind."
With that he cut the feed and signalled a general advance.
Their first target was to be the moon of Ba-sten and the orbital cross-dock, which would provide a staging post for an assault on Marchand itself. The JIAN had reported that, although the trade barons of the Marchand system could muster several thousand warships, they were not uniform or well-disciplined, many of them designed as security, patrol or privateer vessels, and Prescott was confident of a swift naval victory.
The first obstacle to their advance was a picket line of nearly two hundred enemy ships, mostly frigates and smaller, of a variety of classes. Mustering ahead of the allied advance, they began to flicker and readings began to flare as they activated a range of decoys, designed to confuse allied sensors.
Prescott scowled. It was annoying, and meant he couldn't simply advance blindly without risking suicide attacks, mining attempts or even boarding efforts, but nor did he want to flood the area with lighter craft that could be ambushed and easily damaged by the enemy's guns. Beyond the picket line, it was clear that larger enemy fleets were mobilising, scrambling into action in an untidy but large flood of ships willing to fight and die for Sarnath. Which itself was odd, because they were almost all mercenaries and private contractors, whose job was normally to shred pirates and bully tariff-dodgers, not go toe-to-toe with the professional deepwater navies of foreign empires.
He wanted to blow past this picket line and deny the enemy a chance to fortify. He called for the Thundercloud TILT generator to be partitioned. It fired two brief pulses of gravatic energy, ripples in the spin-foam which did little damage but caused all ships in their path to rock gently, like a ship on a gentle ocean swell. The enemy ships and decoy buoys moved slightly on the Kaisigi's powerful sensor readouts. Their faked signals did not, were not advanced enough to make the adjustments.
Across the allied fleets, target designations lit up amongst the cloud of nonsense being offered to their sensors. "Folks, there's our targets." came Prescott's lackadaisical voice as the Imperial guns opened fire.
ELSEWHERE IN THE 7TH FLEET
Lieutenant Kuribayashi listened as the thunder of guns shook the ship. He, and most of the 77th Regiment, had been earmarked for this campaign. Specialising in CQC and night-ops, they had been an obvious choice for the dark, rain-lashed cities of Marchand and Zdeno, but for now all they could do was wait as the fleet clashed with the merchant militias and forged a path down to the surface below.
The anger he felt over the death of Captain Esposito had only grown in the months since their arrival in the Ancerious Galaxy. Coronans, Marchanders, Zdenii, they all whittled away at the Jade Empire, killing it with a thousand cuts, ending lives that could otherwise have gone on for centuries, or even millenia. He had been praying that the Kokobusho would approve more direct action, but now that it had he found himself even more impatient. He stripped the action of his AA-42 in silence. Soon, Imperial spears would carry the fight into the belly of the enemy, and the Ancerious Galaxy would learn what it was to cross the Jade Empire.
“This is Captain Bradamont, data and targets received” It seemed the people of this system were not content with rolling over and letting the assembled force get at the black elements beneath, maybe the Jade were right and this went right to the top.
The 303 ships of the 3rd Joint Forces Task Force were already in combat formation and they kept steady pace with the Jade ships as they moved forward, the sensor scans of the enemy force revealed both decoy and real targets that the fleets systems were slowly analysing, made all the faster when Prescott’s group confirmed the forces own estimates.
“Get us a CAP up I want Mephissa providing group shield coverage, weapons to full power and get us a targeting pattern for long range potential missile attacks. Tell the Union to ready their Hyper frequencies, if anything big comes at us I want it crippled immediately” The orders were acknowledged across the joint force but Bradamont felt strange, she was giving orders to the Union. She had never imagined that the nation her people were under even as an independent member would be accepting her authority over their own in a combat situation.
But then this was also a matter of trust. The FRK wanted to reach out and act like its benefactors had, this then was the Union both helping them, and testing them. Bradamont would not fail this test.
Across the fleet F-70 Sundogs of the FRK and Mk.X Firestorms of the Union of Worlds launched from electromagnetic rail catapults in hangars and dedicated launch tunnels, the fighters immediately forming up into their respective squadrons and moving into a dedicated defence pattern to provide CAP to the fleet. It would assist in anything long range these enemies threw at them while the Union confirmed that fleet wide shield systems were green, she couldn’t see them but then Bradamont knew that the shields only generated at projected impact points.
“Firing solutions coming in on enemy ships, Jade ships are firing” one of the bridge officers reported. Bradamont nodded.
“Understood, target with N-Missiles and bring the Meson lasers up to fire, keep the barrage small we don’t want to waste everything on escorts” At the command hatches flipped open and missiles were expelled into the vacuum with puffs of gas, within moments the RCS aboard the missiles re-oriented the cylinder before firing their main drives and propelling them towards the enemy. The first volley was away.
Immediately upon seeing the wall of false pings and plethora of jammed signals, Luss knew her decision to bring the Paragon to bear against the merger had been vindicated. Peering down from subspace, the 3D battle-space appeared as a jarringly narrow and minuscule slice of a higher dimension, typical stealth and jamming measures would seem inconsequential, and in all likelihood would burn through their jamming in short order. Such scans took immense amounts of power and even greater amounts of computation to compile into usable data; though the dreadnought’s supercomputer system was more than up to the task. Establishing tight beam communications lines with their allies they began to beam critical data packets, spotting decoys and targets.
She cared little for the political repercussions Gulnak had indirectly threatened them with. When the battle concluded, the deeply rooted and insidious nature of the merger was exposed to the galaxy, they would be hailed as defenders of the peace. Just as they had been… just as Kragleosha had intended… Just as they had when they had vanquished the Coronans and Dinok.
Thus she began her own campaign of interference, cuing a salvo of electronic warfare to target the enemy; mostly originating from her supporting cruisers. Her fleet adopting a fairly tight formation with the command ship in the center, ships maneuvering randomly in anticipation of high powered light-speed weapons, but maintaining approximately the same positions in a large parabolic formation. Her battleships and cruisers deploying their vanguard gunships into organized formations, as well as fighters to run interception of any ships or inbound missiles; secondary scans sweeping their flanks and rear in anticipation of an ambush or stealth ship. A small but powerful array of interdiction fields dropped around her fleet negating teleportation, phasic weapons or unwarranted close to mid range FTL ambushes. The carriers concealing themselves towards the rear of the fleet. This formation lagged behind the Jade advance, staying near to the FRK forces.
Nevertheless the GRKKVs had finished antimatter production fueling and their accelerator tubes completed charging. A salvo of RKKVs with high speed antimatter-matter annihilation thrusters and the most advanced guidance and evasive maneuvering software money could buy were released. What power the Paragon had to spare had gone into readying its launch tubes of which it had around two dozen. Her new battleships also had a quartet of such tubes meaning together they eclipsed the capabilities of the dedicated artillery fleet. Around 150 such projectiles were fired in total, guided by the command ship’s near-peerless sensor and communication arrays they aimed past the frontline force to eliminate the more imposing warships and defenses that lay beyond.
A token few torpedoes and low powered bursts from the spinal hard light vector launchers were fired attempting to divert their enemy’s attention and mitigate their response to the RKKVs, though intercepting them would be a challenge for such a ragtag fleet, it was obvious that Luss was keeping the rest of her cards close to her chest. She wanted to take her time with this…
Sarnath System
Taldovat type Rift Cruiser Y-66012
Flagship of Grazhnikarüchszhälnar Panuktaq, VRZ Brigade Commander
Kazhel nam-Ilglat says nothing in return to the Jade Admiral. Panuktaq, the Grazhnikarüchszhälnar in overall command of naval matters in the system, is swift to acknowledge receipt of the tactical data: We have received your tactical information, Admiral. Updating our records; please stand by for cross-referencing with our own sensor suites.
The Pordish vessels advance alongside the allied elements and make note of the first defensive line materializing before them. Aboard the runners and relay ships, the sensory networks adjust themselves to the field-conditions as they compare and contrast the data flowing into their suites, and soon add their pieces onto the puzzle being solved by the gathered forces.
Panuktaq munches on a stick of jerky as his subordinates organize and direct their formations. A relatively new officer - one recently promoted in response to the VRZ's expansion - he is more than willing to allow the specialists under him do what they are familiar with. But now that battle has joined, he eyes the developing lines carefully and - on the heels of a swallow - addresses the situation:
Let's not get hung up on this first line, he says. Fire when ready; focus down the nearest ships first.
His chief tactical officer, a shorter Pord with clever eyes as verdant as the ghastly realm, takes the opportunity to speak. We should establish orbital screens at these points beyond the edges of our formation, she explains while demonstrating the suggestions, and maintain a defensive stance with our Arrays.
Panuktaq digests the suggestion. Tasi, I think that is a good idea, he agrees after a moment.
As RPDCs bark and a mixture of drones, missiles, and scouts take shape along the vectors the tactical officer recommended, nam-Ilglat watches the unfolding battle in silence. Once they are planetside, he will be at home, but the void is a far different beast. I need to meet with my officers, he says. If we arrive in orbit before I am done, come get me.
Tasinehdao, Kazhel nam-Ilglat, Panuktaq salutes. We should make good pace here.
nam-Ilgat nods and makes his way towards the exit.
The advanced targeting data provided by the Gauss lent an added lethality to the combined weight of the allied barrage. The exchange was hideously one-sided, with the vast battleships of the attackers outnumbering and outclassing the poorly-led mercenary line. Pordish RPDCs twisted hulls apart, FRK N-missiles demolished entire vessels in violent bursts of energy and Imperial noroi guns burned through enemy superstructures. Even as the allies advanced, the survivors began to flee, pursued by small kobaya ships that rushed forwards from the Jade formation, sinking even those vessels which attempted to surrender. Across the line, here and there, a frigate or corvette would come to a halt, either by choice or because of crippling damage, and beseech the other allies to show mercy where the Imperials were not.
Through the confusion, the volley of Gaussian RKKVs streaked towards the larger enemy formation beyond. Implacable, they screamed through the void, and as the allies watched lesser vessels, freighters and gunships, began to hurl themselves intentionally into the path of the projectiles. Flashes illuminated the distant void as countermeasures, shielding and interceptor weapons threw back the Gaussian volley, mingling with the flames, flash-frozen gasses and spiralling wreckage of the smaller Sarnath ships that had sacrificed themselves.
Prescott raised an eyebrow as the reports filtered back. "I don't like this at all," he muttered to himself. "That's not like any mercenary fleet I've ever seen."
He opened a line to the other commanders. "Admiral Luss, would you mind focusing your super-scopes there on the Galactic Crossdock and the moon of Ba-Sten? I have a feeling things might get hairy and I want to be prepared. Everyone else, let's continue advancing. We don't want to let them get formed up there."
Ahead of them, the enemy was coalescing into a distinct formation. Two huge horns, composed of smaller vessels, snaked from either flank of a central wall of warships, some of them significant in size. Among them were some of the vast warships of the Guild of Commerce, including the personal flagships of Gulnak and Pardok, each nearly 30 kilometres in length and bristling with armaments.
Their left flank was anchored by the bulk of the Crossdock station, whilst their right trailed out into space. Prescott reminded himself that the ease with which they had dispatched the picket line meant nothing - anything other than a swift victory there would have been an embarrassment given the situation. As he glanced down at the ongoing tactical evaluation on his console, he was surprised to see that the enemy formation boasted a few more heavy ships than they had been expecting, but they were still an inferior force overall compared to the allied ships that had assembled. At least technologically, if not numerically.
He opened a line to the others again. "They're going to come at us fast, try to flank us and use their edge in numbers to compensate for the fact they're flying a bargain bucket of three-for-ten-yen warships. I can hold their left flank by the Crossdock if someone else volunteers to stall their centre and two of you hit their right flank hard, then we can roll them up and force them back against the moon."
Accordingly, the Jade ships began to orient to assault the Crossdock and the enemy's left flank, although at this range they were still limited to the vast Type 84 VL-HVEA guns which sent 500mm slugs of void-titanium screaming at the enemy, moving so rapidly they partially destabilised into hyperdense particle beams. He was waiting on feedback from Luss to begin launching the titanic Kukulkan missiles in the bellies of his Cornewaille-class atakebune warships...
Admiral Luss’ voice came with hints of being oddly synthetic and having abnormal structure. As it was processed via cognitive interpolation rather than directly spoken.
Her scans had returned showing the full enemy formation and their present locations, which she thusly passed to her allies for viewing, as well as the locations of the fortifications on the moon. The ship’s system began compiling the ships and classifying them and their capabilities before forwarding this information to their allies. Reporting in full that there were around 2800 ships total with 300 cruisers forming the bulk of the front line and around 1200 destroyers and light artillery ships.
“Be advised their are concealed fortifications on the moon of Ba-sten. They are likely concealed weapons platforms designed to disrupt our advance. I advise caution.”
“Happy to oblige. All I ask is for in return is assistance in handling the “rightward” flanking formation.” She returned, as the computations for the scan were initiated immediately. Luss reserving her more private and less savory thoughts about there being a proper “up, down, right or left” in space combat and what kinds primitive and backwards civilizations would still use such terms to denote direction. Nevertheless, to initiate such a pedantic discussion in the heat of battle would likely be seen as immature nagging.
The main scanning array retargeted on the dry dock at Ba-Sten as her fleet simultaneously received orders to be mindful that their main scopes would be concentrated far from the battlefield, and to devote all personnel and resources to protecting the flanks of the command ship. Initially appearing as only a massive tangle of seemingly random numerical matrices upon return from the ship’s sensors the data began to coalesce into a meaningful scan, the structures becoming apparent as the effects of various interdiction fields and mass distortions caused by materials shifted across higher dimensional planes were taken into account.
Eventually the dock appeared before her, its structure oddly bulging and distorted hyperbolically for a few moments as the ship’s computer began to apply texturing and colors to the model to render it with a best guess based on data from the innumerable ships in the battle and the long range visual read they had on the dock. Wherein similar models spotted in the field could be matched with their subspace profile and used to render a near photoreal and interior true-to-life model. The final distortion was scrubbed from the model a few moments after texturing had begun, forcing the long spike and surrounding region to need to be retextured.
Virtual avatars began to comb the scan, a thousand invisible eyes navigating the holographic recreations of the interior of the station with impossible speed, attempting to find objects or ships of significance. A fully powered scan was so vastly data dense that transmitting it even over their highest bandwidth communications devices would take hours and leave them open to having their encryption cracked. The exact specifications of the Paragon’s sensor were top secret, as well and sending the direct scan would entail leaking critical intel. Once key intel had been found it would concisely be reported back.
Simultaneously, she focused her efforts on the more physical battle. She had briefly pondered sending several falconer battleships against the enemy command ship to test their close combat capabilities, but declined to do so. Though she was maintaining a very defensive mindset, reluctant for aggressive plays she foresaw the other forces present may call her out for her lack of more direct assistance, and did requisition a second volley of RKKVs. She organized lower level Cies and AI to begin modifying the variable weights in their guidance algorithms to better evade suicidal spacecraft attempting to intercept them. The salvo was fired, much to the same tune as the first.
Like the wavering armies of dusk that rout before the rise of night, the initial picket line collapses against the weight of the allied barrage. It is only fitting, and even as the stragglers are picked off by swift Jade warships that dart ahead of the van, Panuktaq and his tactical officer, nam-Talyn, consider their options.
The Ingenious are suggesting we strike along the flank, echoes Panuktaq: a sentiment far less thorough than Prescott's initial observations and commentary.
Indeed, the tactical officer even reviews a few simulations of Prescott's suggested avenues of approach before looking up from her console, itself replete with increasingly more detailed renditions of the battlefield courtesy the combined effort of the gathered fleets.
Tasinehdao, that is correct, she nods, I suggest we focus our strike here, at the joinder where the "horn" connects with the main body of their force. Shift the bulk of our defensive suites to the left to protect against these lighter warships gathering here, and swing right with the cruisers against these heavier ships.
Panuktaq nods thoughtfully. nam-Talyn's concern for the largest elements of the enemy's line does not go unnoticed. Leaning forward in his chair, the brigadier furrows his brow into a seamount, then rotates the axis of the battleplan drafted by his subordinate, in effect amending the objective of the thrust. What about the Dominion? Surely they can hold the center while we sweep against the horn?
The tactical officer begins to reply, but is cut off by Panuktaq turning away to face the holograms of his battalion commanders:
The axis of our assault will be against this point here - a narrow thrust with engineering and screening forces supporting along these vectors, he says swiftly before nam-Talyn can continue, then shifts the comms channel back to Prescott and the other allied commanders, we will be moving against the enemy right flank.
It does not take long for Panuktaq's orders to begin taking shape among the VRZ detachment. The various battalions roll into position, and the vast gravitic signatures of their ablation drives opening up ripples out across the battlespace, followed very shortly by a focused salvo of RPDC fire against but a sliver of the enemy line. By now, however, the Pordish artillery is not alone, and many of the missiles previously gathering since the breakthrough against the picket line reorient themselves; a collection of myriad types centering on formations built around Array and escort missiles jets into the fray, led part of the distance by scouts which peel back before straying too close to the punishing PD suites of the hostile battleline.
Yet still ever-silent are the fleet-level Array suites, seemingly held in reserve, as reactor ships and foundry ships begin to erect Panuktaq's requested defensive aegis, unmistakable by their signatures and blackened-charcoal tint as they fade into coherence along the centerward flank anchored by the Dominion fleets, as redoubt against the heavy-hitters of the enemy center...
Bradamont watched as the continual targeting data came in and updated the holographic display which hovered in front of him giving the full tactical and strategic view of the battle. The initial barrage had clearly gone well but the enemy was not breaking, if anything they were reacting happily to the rolling tides of the engagement and that was not usual for mercenaries and sellswords. The prospect of fighting so many major nations would make many flee, the fact they were happy to stand their ground told Bradamont there was more to this than could be seen, especially when the enemy began to move their formation into a specific attack pattern.
“Your report is acknowledged Admiral Luss thank you for identifying the concealed positions” Bradamont called out over the coms as the hologram once again updated, showing the enemy traps which they had not seen before.
“The Pordish contingent is moving to engage the right horn at its root, I suggest we move up and clear out the horn remnants altogether. If we allow it to go unmolested they can hit the Pords in the flank while the center wraps around to engulf them” Mephissa gave her input in holographic form to Bradamonts side and he nodded in agreement.
“The situation does seem to indicate that is the best move. I was toying with the idea of splitting our force to cover the pords and also follow them in but those large dreadnoughts pose an issue. We will go with your suggestion Captain” Bradamont was somewhat annoyed that the Union Captain had shown him the correct course of action but then she was also here to help tutor him, though he would never admit that. The FRK fleet had not seen proper combat, even in the 2nd Ancerious war the fleet had only ever been involved in small engagements or flank attacks during the larger battles. They had been far too busy in covering the withdrawal from their territories to those closer to the Union. Bradamont remembered those days, aboard his old Titan class battleship, defending against raids by then Black Fang forces as they escorted civilian ships out in the great Exodus.
Many had been resentful at the Union for initiating that move, they had left their homes for unknown shores and some had stayed behind. But now they had their own proper homes, rebuilt newer and better, a gleaming nation who had spent much of the war building themselves into something distinct. The FRK was no longer an offshoot of the United Federation, they were their own people now. The new fleet was no different, and Bradamont would take these new and latest ships over their old fleet any day. They had carefully obscured these ships capabilities too, only using them on small fry and several smaller engagements. Even now Bradamont kept close to the Union and mimicked their moves to show that his ships were similar to the Unions, when the time was right they would act.
“All ships move to indicated attack plan” Bradamont ordered as he sat down into his captain’s chair again, his fingers flipping between automated order systems “Our joint task force will target the right horn and keep the fire off the main force as well as secure the Pordish flank as it hits the joint, you have our word it will be done” The communication was sent and in an instant the joint force ramped up to combat speed, the ships of the formation moved into three sub divisions each centred around a cluster of larger vessels, they aimed to hit the centre of the horn in quick succession punching a home through. Bradamont had ordered the fleet to focus fire if it could on the enemy dreadnoughts of the guild, Union Hyperfrequency lasers jumping out to try and cripple it from afar while the fleet came in hard and fast, weapons fully primed and firing, fighters surrounding the force for interception and bombers on standby in hangars for the signal to launch.
ABOARD THE CLINK OF GOLD
Baron Gulnak smiled. A second volley of RKKVs was inbound, and whilst it was sure to do some damage he was not personally concerned for his safety. Even as he watched the vehicles began to detonate, destroyed by the defensive systems of his powerful ship. Further down the line, he saw some ships hit, struggling to handle the damage or simply breaking apart under the pressure, but it was not significant. The enemy were rushing forwards, aiming to overwhelm his right flank and roll it up whilst they kept his centre and left flank busy. Their strategy was sensible but obvious, and he calmly began issuing orders, his crew scurrying to and fro as the vast mercenary fleet began to turn. He looked over at his adviser, a towering Zdenii shrouded in robes that themselves were littered with netting, gewgaws and what seemed to be seaweed. The figure did not turn, but seemed to sense his glance.
"Be patient, Baron. The swells of the ocean seem slow until they are upon you." rumbled the figure, annoyingly enigmatic as usual, but the Baron took heart from his words. The mystic seemed unflappable, all-knowing, precisely the kind of aura Gulnak had tried to cultivate as Guild Baron all these years. Maybe this was how his own subordinates felt.
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SARNATHI RIGHT FLANK
The twin forces of the FRK and the VRZ bore down on the right-hand horn. Even as they approached, the ships constituting it began to shift, accelerating to attack speed and returning fire with an impressive variety of weapons, everything from bog-standard plasma cannons and linear accelerators to complex beam weapons and advanced kill vehicles. Composed largely of smaller vessels, they proved harder targets, although when allied fire did land it was devastating, hulling frigates and vaporising corvettes in an instant. In response, the enemy ships made sure to concentrate their fire, focusing on one ship at a time with the hopes of crippling or killing it and so blunting the allied charge. The fast movers of the horn formation fell back in the face of the allied charge, surrendering their position somewhat in order to prevent their line being broken. Left largely unchallenged, the bulk of the center turned their fire on the flanks of the FRK and the VRZ, hammering them from an angle with a wave of combined arms. Torpedo volleys thumped away, the preferred weapon of the Marchander guilds. They mounted high-density warheads which would detonate prematurely, creating a cloud of fast-moving hypervelocity matter which would envelop their target. Perfect for swatting down hard-to-hit pirate ships, they were also useful for overwhelming point-defense systems and countermeasures and wearing down enemy hull integrity.
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ABOARD THE IJN MAKO
Prescott watched as the two lines came together in a staggered clash. The Gauss were standing off, opening fire at range with RKKVs, which meant that the centre formation were free to pour crossfire into the attacking Pords and Karzan. Ahead of him, the enemy's left hand horn was moving to intercept.
"Mako?" he asked, and his ship's AI, who had chosen the unsettling appearance of a woman with dead black eyes, gills and rows of razor teeth, materialised beside him. "Sir?"
"Give me a comparison of the classes and known records of ships on the left and right flanks."
After a moment the information appeared on his console in a couple of easy-to-consume graphs. As he suspected, the enemy had placed smaller, older ships commanded by less reputable captains on the left flank, presumably hoping that they would be bolstered by the Crossdock.
"Gunnery, launch a half-dozen Kukulkans. Have them orient towards the Crossdock and then redivert when appropriate to strike these targets," he said, marking three of the largest vessels in the left-hand horn of the mercenary fleet. "We'll advance, cause a mess and force the enemy centre to split its attention."
He watched in satisfaction as the missile bays in the belly of his ship opened. From beneath the vast metal slabs, six huge rockets rose into the darkness on plumes of flame, 45 metres in length and flanked by clouds of interceptor Atlatl missiles. His fleet accelerated behind them and, sure enough, just as the volley reached the edge of point-defense range for the Crossdock, it arced around to scream across the face of the enemy formation. The flicker of dying Atlatl interceptors and point-defense systems rippled along the mercenary fleet, and he saw argent flashes as three of the vast missiles were stopped one after another, but three made it through. One ploughed into the side of an enemy cruiser nearly twelve kilometres in length, and in a single violent flash it was gone, torn
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apart from within by titanic detonations as its reactor collapsed, the explosion overtaking the ship in seconds.
The last two crashed into another battlecruiser, a behemoth 16 kilometers in length that Mako had identified as the Hearty Saera, the flagship of a Trade Marquess known as Don Cha-Ree. The first missile crashed into the hull, the plasma blast and shaped charge failing to penetrate the heavy armour and the huge explosion washing along its flank, buckling it. The second hit plumb, ploughing through a central hangar array and ripping the guts from the vessel, debris and wreckage spewing in a hideous burst from its underbelly on a wave of actinic fire. The titanic ship lurched and began to drift, helpless, as its surviving engineers struggled to recover from the devastating blow.
So far, so good though Prescott as the 7th advanced into range, but now the real fighting would begin. Even if he routed the rabble before him, the 7th would still come under fire from the Crossdock and the moon-side facilities, let alone if he was able to draw the attention of the central enemy formation away from the FRK and VRZ as was his plan. He turned and barked orders at his captain of marines, who in actuality was a general in charge of ten whole regiments of Jade Marines.
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77TH REGIMENT, APPROACH TO BA-STEN
Flanked by fast-moving Katsumoto-class hayabune and Yoshi-class kobaya, the squadron of dropships arced in a wide path trailwards of the combat. Each of the five ships carried a battalion of the 77th, and their goal was to insert on the planet's surface and assault the anti-orbital weapons there in order to expose the Crossdock. Inside their vehicles the assembled marines waited patiently, going through last minute rituals as they listened to the ominous sounds outside and felt the pressures of changing gravity on their bodies. There was a grinding crash as the ship made what was clearly an impromptu landing, the marines' harnesses holding them tight against the sudden motion, and the various ramps and bays of the lander began to open. Overhead the two huge barrage lasers already firing to suppress enemy resistance as company after company stormed out, hurrying to take up position and prepare to advance.
Mitsu was a member of C-Company, a mechanized infantry unit, and his Halcyon Armoured Fighting Vehicle leaped forwards, repulsors whining as it and the other vehicles of its formation hurried into position and turned to advance. They were passing down a long defile, in conjunction with D company and covered by the gunships of H company.
"How are we looking, sir?" called one of his marines over the intercom. Mitsu suppressed a flash of irritation - how the fuck was he supposed to know, he was inside the same metal crate - and replied without opening his eyes. "Good. Get ready. The moment those doors open we've moving up. We get inside those facilities and we take them out. Move fast, don't give them a chance. Half of them will be engineers and jannies, but they're all going to die. Banzai?"
His marines chorused BANZAI back at him just as an explosion rocked the vehicle and it hit the dirt with a crash. "Fuck! Bail out!" called one of the crew from the cockpit, and the hatches opened into chaos...
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Post by ingen on May 17, 2021 18:52:08 GMT
“Razor out of action! Trevas destroyed, Angelus reporting heavy damage to forward weapons…”
The reports kept coming in.
The combined force kept pushing, the three subformations acting as a repeated battering ram as they ploughed through the smaller out formations of the enemy and caused the right horn to pull back and collapse upon itself. Railguns blazed and fighters jinked as outgoing and incoming fire continued to be exchanged. 9 ships had been destroyed so far, despite the best efforts of the combined fleet shield, fighters and point defences nothing was infallible. The enemy had focused on individual ships, jumping from each as they died, it overwhelmed defences and ensured kills and Bradamont didn’t like watching ship reports go red. He had watched the Trevas, a Manta class cruiser overwhelmed with kinetic fire before it was torn apart and detonated before the enemy fire had focused on the cruiser next to it, the Angelus, which even now was suffering from heavy damage. A bright flare however answered in kind as the Union fired off their Hyperfrequency lasers, while the small fry had pulled back to expose the enemies larger vessels the Union had been watching and finally Mephissa had seen the chance. The huge energy weapons which were spinally mounted projected their power, aiming to hamstring and cripple key enemy warships as they made their attack. The enemy may now be able to use their heavy weapons, but the enemy heavy weapons were now clear to target. QAC cannons, N missiles and Spearhead drones flew out in force to try cripple key heavy targets which were proving to be on the most dangerous vectors while the lighter escorts in the formations continued to fire against the small vessels which were repositioning.
“Captain Mephissa the crossfire is getting worse, if the Gauss Dominion doesn’t move into position to pin the centre in place we will be forced to weather a great deal more power. I propose if that happens in full then our fleet will get to work in full and take care of what’s in front of us ahead of you” The Mako that Bradamont was on shook as another round of shots came in, already alerts chimed as hypervelocity munitions and shrapnel storms were fired from the centre “We can’t take this fire, you can. I am moving now, creations speed” “Understood Captain Bradamont, use your speed and advantages, we can hold” Mephissa upon the Union flagship watched as almost if from nowhere the FRK fleet brought their drive cores and engines up to full power, the sensor spikes revealing the ships to have far more speed capability than they had showed upon arrival. The FRK ships rapidly sped forward, outpacing the Union force which re-orientated to form up into one close knit formation, immediately Mass drivers switched over to defensive flak fire as meson lasers were defocused and swept the incoming shrapnel in a storm of lasers and explosions. While the Union could tank the additional fire from the centre the FRK could not, their ships were a mirror image of the Unions, speed above survivability.
“This is Captain Mephissa of the Joint Task force to Admiral Luss, requesting immediate engagement of the central enemy contingent we cannot continue assault on the enemy flank without them being dealt with” The message was sent as she watched the FRK ships accelerate away, their frontal weapons continuing to focus on the heavier elements of the right horn, their manuvers now allowing them to dodge and weave with impressive capability that the Union ships lacked.
“We are in position.” An aggrivated voice in Luss’ head privately returned the moment the communique from Mephissia reached her. “An enemy such as this requires patience. A careful, methodical dismantling of their formation. Such brash and aggressive maneuvering only services their chaotic nature.” She continued to herself, lamenting the lack of a proper stratagem having been formulated before the battle began. Such was usually protocol for multinational fleet actions.
She poured over predictive analysis, her computer system taking into account the countless ships and the stratagems and personalities of the various commanders at play, playing out countless variations of the same continuing battle over and displaying to her all the permutations. Some permutations showed the FRK, Pords and IJN succeeding on their own, but only with heavy losses. Others showed their attack being repelled entirely and the supporting fleets destroyed. She knew full well the political repercussions such inaction could lead to, with two of the dominion’s most respected allies in the field. Her interface with the shipboard computer accelerating her thinking, protracting a few seconds into hours as she combed over simulations and various alternatives. She swallowed, her jaw clenching. Even with all the power she commanded, all the technology she held, even knowing there was no true risk of death even should she fail completely; completely shaking off her lingering fear that tied her innards into knots.
Her thoughts and memories intermingled with the ship’s computer system, historical records of battles long past playing out in her head in vivid, immaculate detail that an unaugmented organic had no chance of fully perceiving or processing with their limited senses and brainpower. A vast fleet, far larger than the entirety of the current GDAN was in a tangle. Countless ships firing wildly at vast whiplike tendrils hundreds of kilometers in length sheared apart cruisers in a single swipe and ensnared larger ships, crumpling them like cans as explosions erupted from their hulls. Confused screams and distorted warbles of electronic warfare screaming out on a thousand frequencies.
Withdrawing to her command ship, one of half a dozen Paragon-class ships seated amidst dozens of dreadnoughts and hundreds of battleships. The armada unloaded unimaginable firepower, blinding hard light beamers bisecting the void as uncountable torpedoes shot fourth in valiant defiance of the darkness. Immense explosions fanned out across the entity, fading from blinding spheres violets and blues to expanding orange and red gas, though to the demon they appeared as little more than an inconvenience. The futile barrage continued as the beast drew closer, letting out a horrific psionic shriek.
It wasn’t enough. It was never enough. She returned to reality. Reality being something of a nebulous concept on the bridge of a ship baring photorealistic holograms. Visions and distortions danced around the periphery of her vision, her mind still swimming with untold horrors and possibilities. She drew in a deep breath, and then released. It had felt like hours had passed but in reality, it was only a couple seconds. Even with her mind clear and thoughts concise she maintained that very primal concern.
Sending just a few ships forward would not compromise her defensive standing around her flagship, but would not be enough to draw them off. Sending too many forward left her command ship exposed, and should an ambush or surprise attack arise it would no doubt be the premier target. There was but one compromise that provided her the best of both worlds to keep her command ship fully protected and to attack the enemy, albeit it was a bold one. It of course carried with it the condition that the battle was likely to result in a close range and chaotic brawl.
“Confirm. Captain Mephissia, we are advancing into range to support you.” She began working with the ship’s holographic interface, using all four arms to orchestrate her most important orders as she distributed a thousand minor commands and tweaks via her connection to the ship. “All subgroups, Maintain defensive posture. All ships, maximal acceleration on forward vector. Shipmaster, distribute targets. Deploy all bomber frigates, fire torpedo salvo.” The entirety of the fleet surged forward in tandem. The weapons fire from the larger ships at the moment, sporadic as they were still too distant to properly engage with unguided munitions. As it advanced, countless torpedoes were ejected from the ships, left floating in the void before making a brief pivot on reaction thrusters and then accelerating forward. Well aware of the enemy’s numbers countermeasures electronic warfare was focused on them and the torpedo strike; rather than a singular wave was distributed in to several sub-waves; each substantial in their own right and each targeting a different subsection of the cruiser line. Paired with one would be a concentration of their electronic warfare and scanning resources on that portion of the fleet, and skipper warheads were to be used in full effect to bypass close range flak screens.
The Paragon disembarked its eighty bomber frigates. Each accompanied by several dozen gunships and countless fighters and their supporting drones they would accelerate ahead of the main battlegroup. The bomber frigates were the apex of the plan, and had a good chance of eliminating many larger ships with swift drive-by deployments of high-yield ordinance. The smaller fighters and gunships servicing mostly just to protect them from missiles and enemy fighters. This attack wave, in conjunction with the torpedo volley would bide crucial time until her larger battleships and cruisers could close the distance.
...and the enemy responds.
The light warships standing against the allied thrust hurl forth a torrential rain of fire. VRZ Y-60600, leading the way at the fore of Halochaq's Pickets, is focused down by the incoming avalanche, her entropic and kinetic-phasic barriers bleeding away in the face of the awesome fusillade, before her hull is shredded by follow-up impacts. No escape pods are seen leaving the vessel, and a nearby cruiser is forced to skip around the expanding debris field as chunks of Chürzhna scream past and disassemble in climactic fashion.
Three more cruisers advance around the grave of Y-60600, along with the far smaller runners of nam-Dagloch's Light Pickets. They throw their weight of fire against the enemy, too, and vast plumes of putrid emerald filth cough from their funnels as they demand more from their power suites, their captains no doubt wishing to avoid the fate of Y-60600. In the path of such destruction, however, the desires of vessel-captains are but snow in the wind: inconsequential, irrelevant, and subservient to the designs of fate.
The central line is engaging us, nam-Talyn's blunt critique rises over the chattering of the battalion commanders. The information provided by the sensory officer has clear implications. The Dominion are holding, but not pressuring the center.
I know, Panuktaq snaps back. The myriad officers around him, in various states of concern, say nothing of this, busy as they are with tending to their own sections of the front. A number of indicators, however, fade into more ominous hues: vessels taken by the void, their very souls rent from the realm corporeal by the wicked machinations of man. He consciously counts four or five before turning his attention more specifically to the engineering and scouting detachments he ordered to the flank. They are in position now, and working against the center's ferocious cross-fire.
PSKM and entropic lance batteries dominate the defensive effort along the Pordish right flank, in conjunction with Array probes and the agile craft of the scouting formations, which lacerate the void with shimmering beams of atramentous destruction, matched in tenacity only by the endless missile walls of the enemy whose - as they explode some distance from their intended quarry - expansions are assisted by the local PAI fields of the Pordish fleet. Thus compelled into incoherence, they are either ignored or mopped up by lesser defensive elements where they can be spared. In many regions of the front, however, even the PAI fields are taxed by the sheer volume of fire, and in one section in particular, the VRZ Walrus of the Divine - a Grazhnichonzheron type reactor ship - veers out of line, her vast Lynak seas and hull beneath fully compromised by the unwavering deluge, exposing her innards to the void.
Further behind the defensive works, the flagship of the Battalion Chor Magsoq is caught within the crossfire. Unfortunate positioning - and no time for her combat AIs to adjust - leaves the ship open to a severe pummeling; two vast chasms are ripped open along her hull and explosions reverberate from deeper in the ship as systems fail. Panuktaq sees Magsoq's hologram gesturing wildly before disappearing entirely from the chamber (only to be quickly replaced by his second in command on another vessel) followed shortly by the indicator for Magsoq's vessel fading to sunk.
And in that moment, the Gauss Dominion make their move. The Pordish displays alight with contacts from their barrage: additions gladly welcomed for their promise to help alleviate the pressure now hammering Panuktaq's flank. Here they come, the brigadier says, they're moving up to support our thrust!
nam-Talyn nods and adjusts a few markers on the displays. The enemy continues to foot animated resistance - extremely strange given their composition and purported purpose. Greater fleets have fled against less. The notion is unsettling, but she does not mention any of this to Panuktaq. No, she simply reviews the incoming tactical data and requests clarifications every now and then on a few points from the sensory officer.
IJN MAKO
Prescott watched in relief as the Gauss warships suddenly surged forwards. The FRK and VRZ had been taking heavy fire and had begun to take losses, but as the Gauss ships advanced it was the turn of the mercenaries to bleed. Even as he watched, a destroyer in the colours of the AuSpoke Security Consortium billowed with fire, veering off-course and trailing corpses and wreckage as it died. Along the front lines, torn by Gauss bombers and missile volleys, enemy ships were beginning to break apart, whilst the right flank was starting to splinter into disparate units as the columns of FRK and VRZ ships plunged deep into their formations like colossal spears.
Prescott turned his attention to his own attack. They were already coming under long-range linear accelerator fire from the Crossdock, but to close in and put an end to it would bring his ships in range of the surface guns on Ba-sten so he must endure that punishment for now. The expendable panelling and reactive systems on his ships were beginning to fire off, and whilst they afforded excellent protection, they were neither limitless nor flawless. A Katana class destroyer, the IJN White Lamia, shuddered as its engines collapsed. It came to a gradual halt and appeared to 'sink', spin foam climbing higher and higher up its hull, everything below rendered into a fine black dust, barely visible. He saw escape pods and shuttles leaving the ship, but knew that there was no way everyone had escaped in time. Across his front, more ships either flickered to fatal red on the tactical readout or into shades of orange and yellow as they were wounded, some turning to limp away, others resigned to their fate or determined to continue fighting.
Despite this, Prescott was pleased with the situation. His own guns were tearing apart the mercenaries, spilling them into the abyss, and without leadership the left flank was crumbling ahead of them. - THE CLINK OF GOLD
Gulnak growled in frustration. Just when his forces had been starting to grind down the enemy's left flank, absorbing the massive blow and catching them in crossfire, the enemy's reserves had piled in, and were wreaking havoc on his center, whilst to his left the Crossdock was failing to hold off the Ingenious attack. The Karzan ships were fast, and were frustrating his own ships' attempts to outmaneuver the advance, but any attempt to bring them to bay resulted in destruction as the slower Union and Pordish ships advanced in formation, grinding away at his forces. As he watched, the right flank was split in two by the allied advance, several hundred ships isolated from the centre.
He barked orders and his own vast warship began to pick up speed. He would charge the Gauss Dominion head on, break their backs and put an end to their sniping, and then loop around and take the Karzan and Pords in the rear. Once they were gone, he would have the IJN at his mercy and would hammer them against Ba-sten. Prisoners and salvage galore, and greater rewards from his newfound allies...
Perhaps half of the central formation lurched forwards, into the hail of fire from the Gauss, heedless of losses. The 30km Clink of Gold was a true bruiser, equipped for boarding and close quarters actions, and Gulnak sought to bring the Gauss to heel and beat them into submission. His smaller craft raced ahead to entangle the enemy, whilst his ventral cannon began to charge, a huge particle weapon ready to lash out at the enemy.
Unnoticed, behind him, the other half of his central formation began to tighten around Pardok's ship, the Bad Bargain, holding their position. Already, some ships from either flank were falling back on Pardok's position, desperate to escape the growing carnage as allied and mercenary ships tore each other to pieces either side of Gulnak's charge. - BA-STEN SURFACE
Mitsu thudded out of the hatch of the disabled AFV and was almost immediately hurled to the ground by an explosion as a conventional shell detonated a few metres away, throwing rock and dust into the air. Shaking his head to reorient, he saw the towering cannons of the anti-orbital facility ahead, ringed by bunkers and a morass of trenches. From far behind him, artillery fire from Blessing guns screamed down on the enemy, whilst a Raijin gyorokitai was shot from the sky by the sheer volume of enemy anti-air defenses on the ground.
Sprinting forwards, he led his platoon towards the enemy. It was dark, the battlefield confusing and lit sporadically by gunfire and searchlights, but he spotted a concealed gunnery nest ahead. Silently, he painted it with his holo, and one of his marines stretched her bow, loosing a Kasen rocket at the bunker. After a split moment of silence, the rocket ignited, drilling a flaming firework into the half-buried bunker and silencing its repeating gun in an explosion of dirt and flame. The tanuki-masked samurai poured into the wreckage, rushing down the trench in silence, using their crystalline blades to butcher enemy infantry, the sounds of their death struggles masked by the sheer volume of the battle around them.
Turning a corner, Mitsu was thrown back by a blaster bolt that crashed into his chestplate, only the vitredeur coating saving him as it was burned away by the powerful blast. He fell to the ground, which saved him from the following volley. "Emplaced repeater. Go!" he called to his sergeant, who let her drone loose to gauge the range and then tossed a grenade over the lip of the trench. There was a muted thump, followed by screams, and then the sergeant led the platoon into the smoke, opening fire with orange-red beams of Na-He superfluid.
Mitsu struggled upwards and followed afterwards. And now they know we're here he thought to himself, checking his holo to gauge how the wider assault was going...
Just as she had feared, within mere minutes she’d gone from being artillery and support to being caught in the middle of the most intense sector of the entire battle. Regardless, Luss was no stranger to intense close range engagements, and fully recognized the threat of Gulnak’s command vessel bearing down on her, power being channeled into the main weapon. This was an outcome that she could not allow.
She had been wise to place her battleships at the forefront of the engagement as the class of the fleets climaxed. The Battleships discharged their hardlight beamers into the nearest cruisers once the enemy had eclipsed ranges too close for evasion, before switching to their close range mass drivers to further blunt the enemy’s aggressive advance. A coaxial system prototyped on the Falconer-class battleship fired relatively low-speed projectiles tipped with fusion warheads designed specifically for such close range engagements, operating on the same power supply systems and mountings as standard mass drivers. The rounds afforded a vastly higher rate of fire by their relatively low velocity, deriving most of their damage potential from the warhead rather than their raw kinetic energy of the projectile. In spite of her reservations against a close range battle a small part of her was grateful the system now had a chance to prove itself.
The ships at the rear of her fleet, the dreadnought carriers, artillery ships and smaller cruisers made their contributions to the engagement to the battle while maintaining distance, emptying their torpedoes and firing off a third, more disorganized salvo of RKKVs and Hardlight beamers hoping to reconcile the roughly 30-1 odds the battleships faced. Carrying countless troops for the inevitable ground invasion the ships were too valuable to risk advancing into the most intense combat zone. Regardless the close range exchange was by no means one sided… they hardly ever were. Uncountable drones, gunships and fighters were destroyed upon the close range collision between the two forces. A vast, intricate and only partially coordinated tangle of point defense hard light nodes, short range interception missiles and small mass drivers which as it began to climax became so intense that sensors and guidance began to fail. Larger ships were not spared from the carnage either. The smaller and older Odium-class battleships at only half the length and a tenth the mass of their larger cousins were dispatched in short order, half of them lost as the engagement intensified and those that weren’t heavily damaged.
Even one of the larger battleships went down in the fray, Luss watching with a solemn acceptance as the she heard the bridge commander say his final vows before being consumed by explosions and cutting to static. Enemy fire began to perforate the hull as plumes of blue and violet plasma and flame billowed in space. The forwardmost guns seemed to maintain power for a few seconds longer, still firing defiantly back at the enemy, until they too were consumed by explosions and debris. There was a final tremendous blast giving off a circular shockwave as the midship was atomized, leaving only the nose and a few larger sections from the rear. A smoldering ring-shaped structure a few kilometers across; the skeleton of one of the aft engines glowing red hot and shedding debris struck the hull of her dreadnought and disintegrated. The relative velocity was low and the damage only superficial, but the impact still rocked her command ship. A deafening thud reverberated throughout, causing her ears to instinctively drop as she winced. Through the thick of the combat she could see the enemy command ship bearing down on her, the sensor deck bringing to her attention that a weapon was charging and targeted directly at her command ship. She knew she had precious little time to respond, opting for a trio of diverse tactics to handle the situation. Any singular course of action had vastly too high a probability of failure.
Her first act against the Clink of Gold was decidedly the most direct. Ordering the discharge of her hard light vector emitter directly at the enemy dreadnought with all of their power that had originally been reserved for a third GRRKV volley which would never come. A pylon of compressed hard light several meters wide thousands of kilometers long would not go unnoticed even by the most formidable armor and shielding.
The second was to directly order the 292nd fighter wing to make an attack run, as they were the nearest and presently unoccupied. An group of five highly augmented Go’shii pilots, typical of V19 pilots members of a polyamorous couple with a deep familial bond and experts coordination lined up an attack run. They readied their courser nuclear missiles for close-range strike directly on the weapon aperture, their drones forming up around them. As they closed range, they activated their Hololith systems. Projecting photorealistic holograms, five fighters and sixty drones suddenly multiplied to what looked to be fifty fighters, six hundred drones and two thousand approaching missiles weaving and rolling around point defense measures. Her third and final tactic was perhaps the most elaborate. One of the Falconer battleships (GDAN Unyielding Guardian) broke formation, rushing for the Clink of Gold, exchanging fire with opposing ships as it approached for a broadside attack. It was unlikely the exchange would go over well for the ship; just over half the size of its opponent, but it was a risk she, and the ship’s captain understood and agreed was worth it.
As several interdictors were concealed behind the battleship, protected by its mass. On closest approach they (or the Battleship itself) could normalize the tangle of FTLI and create a brief window in where the Paragon’s Electrothermal Energy Dispalacement weapons could fire through subspace and absorb the charged energy of the weapon, biding her more time. As the battleship closed, all of its turrets pivoted sideways, flush with the hull as it fired its reaction thrusters and acquired a roll, such that on its pass it could continuously expose undamaged hull sections and fresh weapon emplacements during the broadside attack.
“The Gauss Dominion fleet has finally moved to position, they have acknowledged and are engaging” the call came with relief for both Bradamont and Mephissa as the firepower of the enemy centre force veered away from the engaging of their joint taskforce and now focused on the Gauss. It looked like they were not going to be totally overwhelmed just yet.
“Its about time” Bradamont growled as he watched another three escorts out in front get overwhelmed by sheer firepower, their PD firing even as the ships came apart in a storm of fire, the resultant gap in the defences leading to one of the carriers being torn open by a lucky spinal kinetic round which went straight through the PD gap and found its mark. The now spiralling out of control and blazing carrier made Bradamont grimace, the rush was working but they had to keep up the damage output. “All Bombers launch, deploy straight into their formation and target their heaviest warships, tell the Sun Dogs to cover them” The crewmen looked back to him for confirmation as if ordering bombers into a close brawl was suicide he subsequently repeated his order “They have a chance to help turn this tide, its either they launch now or die aboard their carriers like we have seen! At least out there they have some kind of chance to strike back” the bridge crew acceded to the order and relayed it, moments later B-90 Ball Lightning bombers launched from magnetic rails and hangars into the turmoil of combat, most had not even left their launch tubes before their on board targeting systems had already achieved locks on the assorted enemy ships and barked warnings of proximity to pull off. But as they launched they kept close to the FRK ships, firing off their anti-capital N missiles and one shot laser canisters mostly targeting the larger ships of the enemy and adding to the FRK main forces barrages. Still losses were high, the sheer amount of shrapnel and fire filling space while mitigated by the far larger FRK starships proper could not be by the B-90s. Bombers disappeared under impacts or were picked off by enemy laser fire but at least their crews knew they could get a chance to strike back.
Bradamont watched another carrier get focused down by missiles and closed his eyes in anger. The formation continued to drive forwards, using their speed and firepower to keep the enemy on the back foot. The Union contingent, while lagging behind followed up with their own attacks. Whatever ships had not been destroyed by the FRK charge were quickly focused down especially those which were damaged. A Dart class cruiser exploded spectacularly as its ZPR unit was breached by a concentrated effort by a whole squadron of corporate destroyers, lasers and kinetics punching through engine housing and armour alike. The Razor class escorts which had been protecting the vessel swiftly enacted retribution however, firing with their rapid Mass drivers and missiles to remove the squadron from the threat list. Mephissa was too focused to be worried, directing minute changes in target priority, manuvering overlays and acceleration rates. Now the Gauss were being charged in the counter attack the Union pivoted slightly, bringing their bows around to focus their firepower on the centre forces which had advanced. In an ironic turn of events it would be the Union now firing into the enemies exposed flank as the FRK assisted the Pords in keeping the flank pinned.
Very few things were as abundantly clear to Kornat Aglatsat as the implications of their current predicament. When the first rounds met with the outer barriers of his vessel, and pushed past them into the armoured belts below, before laying waste to two or three underlying compartments - supposedly protected by the very constructs o'er which the slugs triumphed - he thought little of them. Battle is where ships go to die; where they earn scars and are pained; where even the best are trialed and fall before the void's crimson orchestras. No matter, he thought to himself, this ship is a lucky ship, and will bring us through this fight in one piece. Tasi, tasinehdao - we'll surely make it.
It wasn't until Panuktaq's charge pitched deep into the enemy ranks did Kornat's opinion shift. The armadas to their fore, hired navalists - mercenaries, by whatever will of Voznayte gathered them here - yielded to the strike and parried with impressive frenzied lust. As a communications officer, he couldn't see the dying ships of the two battalions along their flanks, but word of Magsoq's death skipped along the line with godclip, and when it stopped upon Kornat's ears... Well, Magsoq's ship was a lucky ship, too, but the engines of consequence powered on nevertheless. They paid little heed to what may or may not have graced that rift cruiser of the High Hunter's Navy. And like many ships before her, and still so many more to come, she was taken by the foul black.
Ruinous volleys came on as messengers of this truth, it seemed; the muted thrum of reactors were overtaken by the desolate noise of failing bulkheads and collapsing Arrays, and the vessel-AIs of the battalion agreed in concert, beyond Kornat's perception, that their field position was... Unfortunate. He felt the rolling of the boat as ablation drives shoved into the void, and he shook with the heavy impacts that rose in commonality with each meter of battlespace they crossed. It was only a matter of time before the volleys landed near him, and when they did, he was sent to the floor with the few officers of the command room. Though alive he wasn't unscathed, but he was better off than the others - they were dead or dying, and made mournful concert of their final agonizing breaths.
As the fires raced from stem to stern and wandered through the decks, the ultimate fate of VRZ Y-21091 seemed to be a mirror of Magsoq's vessel. It was not the saga of a truly lucky boat. And deep down, Kornat knew fortune favoured none in perpetuity. He could only fight in the shade along her banks - dipping his feet in the streams of chance and time and will - waiting for his turn to be banished alongside the echoes of legends past. It wasn't a comforting thought, no, but it was perhaps more than any other a true thought, and that made it troublesome. Alone in the corridors of the fading ship - as he sought refuge from his home-turned-hellscape - there was nobody to distract his wandering mind. The other officers, his friends and peers, sat forever-still in darkened compartments consumed by flame - leaving his revelatory chorus bereft of witness.
An RPDC mount fired defiantly against a distant target; a salvo of plasma munitions made the cruiser's upper works their home.
He crouched low in the corridor beneath the acrid smoke. Every so often the walls and floor shook in mighty protest; twice or four times he came down hard on the unyielding surface, and two or four times he forced himself back up. It seemed so much longer in the dark. And so much easier when bulkheads weren't shut to contain the rushing flames. And so much faster when twisted metal didn't snake across missing walls or ceilings. He coughed and laid down to rest for just a moment, and thought of which way to continue. If he could just get off the ship... He forced himself up once more, it seemed easier this time, yes - tasi - the floor rose with a bulge and he crouched against the rise and thought of the corridors still before him.
Yet when he squinted to make out what lay ahead beyond the smoke, it wasn't the choking fumes that blocked his vision, but the sun glinting off freshly-fallen snow.
The Dominion have committed, the unhappy growl of one of Panuktaq's battalion commanders spits from his hologram. He gestures towards their field-position. Maybe now we can destroy this flank and strike against their center.
The various other battalion commanders nod in agreement as Panuktaq adjusts his focus to the disintegrating horn of the enemy formation. He stands from his chair and leans over the central console to gain a better view, then turns to the long-haired KarüchsJloknam leading one of the battalions at the fore of the Pordish advance. These coordinates here, let's drive them to these coordinates here. We'll crush them with the FRK and Union.
Now locked into close-quarters battle, the secondary suites of the Pordic host add their bit into the fray. Amidst the heavy rain of enemy fire, however, their opportunities to do so are fleeting: even mere moments taken away from point defense duties are risky propositions - but vessels across the fleet manage to do so as they press against the mercenary fleet in earnest; colourless beams and simpler kinetic salvoes twist around the field towards distant targets as the runner VRZ R-6012 gleams in the sun, her dying form but a shadow of glory long forgotten. Panuktaq eyes the foundering vessel as he seats himself once more. This isn't how he thought the battle would turn out, but it could be worse.
Elsewhere, a formation of nam-Künaan type scouts glides around the wreckage of corporate warships and overwhelmed Pordish vessels alike. The battalion commanders, generally hesitant to send their scouts directly against enemy warships, are given little choice in the matter now that the fight has devolved to such a degree. The reports of shattered scouting formations are their fears made manifest, but unlike the warships, scouts are numerous - yet though they are better suited to absorbing the losses, waste is still greatly criminal. And so the nam-Künaans operate in tightly coordinated formations, their Arrays combined into singular attacks to boost their effectiveness against the armour and shields of the opposing fleet. One formation, attached to the Battalion Chor Magsoq, lets off a flurry of attacks against a few lighter corporate vessels while taking return fire; their numbers are halved by the point defense suites of the enemy before they are forced back out of range where they begin to reorganize and prepare for another strike.
Gauss fleet is drawing fire away from our contingent, the tactical officers interjects. It might be wise to shift defensive Arrays to an offensive stance to assist them. The movement against them by the center is major.
The sensory officer corroborates the claim: There are massive energy spikes emanating from the charging fleet, she says. They appear to be consistent with heavy DEWs.
Panuktaq clasps his hands together and hides his mouth behind them. His elbows rest firmly on the console. How much can we devote?
Half of our current Array output, by my estimation.
Hmmmm, Panuktaq questions. His eyes trace a path across the displays but he doesn't move from behind his clasped hands. Such an action would lead directly to heavier losses among his own forces. He shakes his head. They've bled enough, if the new faces at the command table are any evidence. No, I won't shift. We will maintain defensive posture against the center. Once the flank has been dealt with, I will shift our stance then and only then. With a satisfied nod, he turns his attention to laying the groundwork for the eventual transition.
And nam-Talyn does not question the logic. Very well, she says after some consideration.
Thus, in the wake of Panuktaq's decision to delay action against the center, a number of scout formations held in reserve supported by heavy Array redirection probes begin to reposition themselves. Two distinct groups set course for above and below the main plane of the Pordish fleet, while the remainder adjust themselves within their sectors of influence closer to their parent vessel.
CLINK OF GOLD
Gulnak bellowed the order to fire and the main cannon of the Clink Of Gold roared into life. A two-part particle beam weapon, it first fired a particle beam through a huge block of mercury, stripping protons from it and creating a devastating proton beam weapon. As the mercury was stripped of protons, it turned into highly radioactive gold with a surplus of neutrons, which itself was deconstructed into a semi-solid beam of radioactive particles. The roiling blast, thick and with a core of shimmering gold, leaped out towards the Paragon even as the Paragon itself fired a beam back. For a moment their two weapons crossed like lances at a tournament, but then the mercury was depleted and the beam wavered out.
The damage to the Clink was devastating. Luss' hardlight vector emitter bored a hideous gash along the side of the prow, exposing it to the vacuum and sending flash-frozen gas and debris tumbling along the hull. On the bridge, Gulnak heard Pardok repeatedly calling for him to fall back, but he had the Gauss flagship in his sights and he would not falter. Not with the giant figure by his side watching his every move.
Around him he watched as his followers were eviscerated. Although they had inflicted damage on the invaders, his entire right wing was in shambles and now the enemy had turned to assault his centre. FRK, Union and Pordish ships were ripping into his flank, wearing away his forces like a blowtorch. Even as the Clink began to load a new block into its fore cannon, the entire ship shuddered. A flotilla of bombercraft had managed to brute force their way through the screen of fighters at his prow and deliver some kind of warheads into the hole punched by the hardlight vector emitter, and suddenly the entire prow was coming apart in a series of rippling explosions. Alarms blared as his bridge crew looked at him expectantly. The Clink was designed to overawe business competitors and destroy rival facilities, not stand against - the professional warfleets of foreign nations. As a battlecruiser closed in, Gulnak wavered. He turned to the figure at his side and started. The man had disappeared. Gulnak looked around him at the scared faces of his crew and a wave of regret and panic washed over him. What the hell was he doing?! Everything he had worked for, a lifetime of scraping and grinding and maneuvering, of hard-nosed trading and long sleepless nights, gone in an eyeblink, thrown away for what? His mind raced as he tried to make sense of everything, flooded with thoughts he had not thought in a long time, but before he could come up with a way to extricate himself from this disaster the battleship opened fire, thumping its powerful guns into the torn and dying skeleton of his flagship. The Clink did not die in a grand explosion, but rather shuddered apart, explosions sending parts tumbling into space as the vast ship was riven into a cloud of broken bones, tumbling aimlessly through the void towards their killers. Gulnak lived for a few moments, the enemy fleet lost from sight as his section of ship turned slowly. He caught a glimpse, through the viewport, of distant Marchand and Sarnath, glowing in the darkness, before the atmospheric emergency barrier failed and his blood boiled in his veins....
ALLIED RIGHT FLANK
Prescott watched as the Gauss Dominion clashed with Baron Gulnak, and as the Clink Of Gold was gutted by the combined arms of Luss' assault. His own forces were taking increasing losses from the Crossdock's raking fire and the stubborn resistance of the remaining forces on the enemy's left wing, and more than two dozen ships were now out of action, whether sunk or forced to retire, but he pressed on. Turning, he swept away from the Crossdock to drive the survivors in towards the centre, his ships tightening the vice and cutting across the enemy line of retreat. He watched as the Type 84 aboard the Studley Royal punched clean through an enemy frigate, even as the - Royal moved to cover the Two Hundred Steps, a 700m Katsumoto-class hayabune that was in serious trouble and was trying gamely to stage a fighting withdrawal. Ahead of them, the enemy finally started to break. One by one the surviving ships began to peel off, fleeing towards the new line Pardok had established much further back, some of the enemy vessels even colliding with one another to escape the looming encirclement as the IJN and the FRK raced to close the circle formed by the heavy Union, Pord and Gauss formations. The carnage was unbelievable, with some ships turning to flee the system altogether, and Prescott turned his attention to his own fleet even as they pressed onwards, assessing battle damage and losses. It seemed that the enemy had lost nearly two thousand vessels all told, either sunk or fled, including Gulnak's flagship and many of their cruisers. Pardok had established a new defensive line ahead where he was even now bullying survivors from Gulnak's group into line, but barely a thousand ships stood there compared to the three thousand that had begun the day.
Prescott's own formation had suffered, though. Of the two hundred ships he had begun the day with, he had only 168 operational. Eighteen had been sunk, the others so badly damaged that they had had to fall back or be towed to safety by Takeshi class zhao utility vessels. He still had all his heavy Cornewaille akatebunes, but the Bad Wolf, an older Kaminari battlecruiser of the 55th, had been utterly destroyed and his hayabunes in particular had suffered.
PARDOK'S FORMATION
Pardok concealed his grief. Gulnak was almost certainly dead, the Clink Of Gold brutally sundered and his formation shredded. Along with it went much of their fortune - even if they somehow won this battle, the Guilders would have his head for the ruin the day had bought. Carcaros be damned he thought, ruing the day his cousin had introduced him to the shadowy cult, but it was too late for that now. _ He still had nearly a thousand ships at his command, and although the promised aid from their mysterious allies had failed to emerge, it was enough of a force that he could perhaps use it to bargain with the invaders. They had suffered too, and he was sure that they would agree to negotiate rather than spill more blood. It would mean concessions, but he planned to gather his fortune and flee the Sarnath System anyway. Let them suffer the consequences of their religious fervour!
But first he had to convince the enemy that he was a pill too hard to swallow. He barked out orders to his ships and to the survivors of Gulnak's formation, forming them into a new line between Marchand and Ba-sten. Gulnak had been a fool to attack. He would defend, let the enemy blunt themselves once on his defenses, and then offer a truce, one they would be sure to accept.
If he didn't think about it too closely, he could almost believe it was possible....
BA-STEN
The attack was succeeding. Succeeding was perhaps a generous term, as the enemy were putting up far stiffer resistance than anyone had expected, and Mitsu's platoon was already down three marines, two killed and one bundled into a Halcyon IFV for medevac, but they were inside the base at least. Mitsu and another platoon had managed to flank an enemy strongpoint on some high ground, storming them from the side and opening the way for the main force to pass through the main gates and begin to hunt the survivors through the facility. Already marines had secured one of the huge anti-orbital gun control centres. Mitsu and his warriors were in the bowels of the structure, scrubbing out the few engineers and guards who had fled into the maintenance and power cores underground.
Mitsu poked his head into a large, poorly-lit room that appeared to be parts storage. He and another marine swept the room quickly and found nothing of interest, so moved out again. His drone was hovering ahead of them, scanning for biological feedback _ and painting any readings onto their HUDs. It seemed like there was nothing left on this floor, although the one floor below had a small cluster that could well be technicians trying to hide from them. Mitsu and his men finished their sweep and headed to the bare concrete staircase, unlit, that led down into the basement. The light from their spears served as a torch and lifeline both, keeping them alive in the murky bowels, but Mitsu could feel his trooper's discomfort. He activated his comm to ask company HQ if someone could find the lighting controls for the basement and activate them, but he got no signal. He grunted in annoyance and muttered for one of his troopers to send her drone back up until it could relay the message, and at that moment, as his back was turned, he saw his marines recoil, their gunspears coming up.
He whipped around to see a huge figure, barely visible in the darkness, the confusing light provided by the gunspears giving off crazed impressions of bulk, of chitin and reaching claws. There was movement and a scream, and he saw one of his marines hurled away down the corridor, spraying blood, and then a vast pincer covered in fresh gore lashed out towards him. He jerked up his spear and it was torn from his hands, but it saved his life.
He snatched out his hikatana, activating it with a thumb as argent red light filled the crystalline blade and a hazy flame seemed to ripple along its length. Another claw snatched forwards at him and he hacked at it with a yell of effort in a kesa-giri, a powerful dropping blow which cleaved the chitin apart. The monster recoiled with a scream and Mitsu bellowed in response, half from anger and half from fear, an automatic response to bolster his courage. Almost by instinct, he rushed forwards, slashing sideways at the monster's midriff. He missed, but smoothly stamped his left foot forwards with a tight thrust to drive the enemy onto the backfoot. He twisted his grip, the tip of the blade coming down and _ to his left, almost scraping the floor, as he arced the blade around and behind his body to launch a brutal overhead slash, this time throwing his right foot forwards to give the blow extra force. It ploughed into the mysterious figure, erupting in a cloud of dissolving blood and fluid as the fiery sword ripped the enemy apart. There was a clank as the hikatana hit the floor just inside Mitsu's right foot, hissing faintly as it burned away the concrete. As the figure toppled, Mitsu turned off the blade, stepping forwards and activating his helmet headlight to get a better look.
The vast crustacean form sprawled in front of him was clad in mildewed robes, embroidered crudely with strange symbols that spoke of leviathan depths and dark abysses. Smoke rose from the hideous wound he had inflicted, the figure twitching slightly as its nerves died.
"So that's a Zdenii." remarked one of his marines, attempting a laconic air but betraying a faint sense of awe at the size and power of their fallen enemy. Compared to the diminutive, rat-like Marchanders they had been fighting up until this point, the Zdenii was a true monster, a behemoth from the depths come to prey on landwalkers. Mitsu just nodded at the marine's remark, using his sword to tilt up the hideous head with its gaping, mandible-flanked maw and gain a better look. Casually, he leaned on the blade, driving it into the braincase of the enemy, then wiped the blade on its robes and flared energy through it momentarily to get rid of any gore clinging to the weapon.
His sergeant stepped up beside him. "Otaro's dead, sir." she reported, glancing down at the Zdenii warrior's corpse. "Dragon's teeth. You truly are your father's son, you know that?"
Mitsu did not reply. Sheathing his sword and retrieving his gunspear, he checked it over and then gestured towards the distant life forms. "We have a power assembly to cleanse. Keep moving, marines."
Kazhel nam-Ilglat clanks back into the command room - the first person to enter the chamber since the start of the battle - and moves towards the central chair-ringed table. He looks around at the officers, then to the displays, then over to Panuktaq.
He frowns.
I thought you said we'd make good pace here, he complains with a glance towards the local time and then to the current state of the fleet (displayed prominently for all to see).
We have, Panuktaq assures him. These fleets-
The opposing fleets are providing greater resistance than our initial projections predicted, the tactical officer, nam-Talyn, interjects. But they are being driven back, and we are working on engaging their remaining sectors of resistance.
nam-Ilglat nods. On the displays, a line of enemy warships stretches accross the gap between the world before them and its small moon. His frown begins to abate. Alright, he says. Bring us to a point where I can disembark. And, he goes on, do remember to keep their anti-orbital systems busy. I don't need my army to be destroyed before we make landfall.
Panuktaq nods. I haven't forgotten, he says somewhat annoyed. We aren't quite there yet, though.
The brigadier's gaze shifts to the console once more, where the indicators of rift ships and runners, of scouts and interdictors, of relay, reactor, and foundry ships, and many more move against the reformed enemy line. Though battered, the opposing fleet managed to retain some semblance of structure as it fell back and reordered for continued defense. In response, Panuktaq orders the shift in Array stance whose darkened beams answer the wayward salvos cast against the ships of the allied formations.
With nam-Ilglat wanting to land soon, Panuktaq considers his options. He shouldn't rush things - his cruisers haven't been the only vessels bloodied thus far; the VRZ Walrus of the Divine never made it to the rear and became easily the largest Pordish vessel sunk in the engagement - and so he turns to nam-Talyn with unsure and ruffled brows, and asks: What do you think? Can we cover a landing relatively soon?
nam-Talyn shakes her head. I'm thinking - let me see, she replies. Let me run some numbers.
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Post by ingen on May 17, 2021 19:02:50 GMT
Luss’ jaw unclenched as she saw the enemy command ship fall, the crescendo of combat declining as Gulnak’s forces withered or withdrew into the secondary line. In all her countless years and simulations, never had she seen such an unlikely occurrence in timing or distance and was only relieved that she had been the victor in that engagement.
Yet the battle was ongoing. Her frontline force of battleships, once 20, had been halved in the chaos. Eight of the survivors of the newer, larger class of warship and many suffering some degree of light to moderate damage. Seven destroyed ships… or what was left of them drifting in multiple kilometers wide pieces only vaguely resembling the components they once were, made of charred metal and molten slag, some left on sub-orbital trajectories to fall into the atmosphere of Marchand in the coming days. And three, shedding debris, lacking numerous weapons emplacements slowly allowing the fleet to pass around them such that they could be evacuated and then scuttled. Around a two dozen smaller cruisers and a dozen bomber frigates which had kept to the periphery of the fray had gone down as well.
She made a mental note that the new battleships were preforming amicably in the engagement. Regardless she had a void to fill. It was a risky proposition, advancing the Instigator-class carriers to fill in for her absent battleships. Each one carried millions of troops for the coming invasion, rather than the mere thousands of crew aboard a typical battleship. However they had both the firepower and durability to break orbital defenses and deploy troops.
The admiral privately took solace in the fact that even though she had been inordinately called upon to a close range battle which she wished to avoid; her allies had supported her advance.
Nevertheless she was not poised to let her guard down even with the destruction of the enemy’s command ship. She cued a fresh round of scans from her command ship on both the planet and its moon, looking more closely at the arrangements of anti-orbital defenses and searching for potential landing sites for the coming ground invasion. She was also still suspicious that this was too easy… that the enemy had some as-of-yet-unrevealed trick up their sleeve, like a coiled venomous predator waiting to pounce and send countless millions to their grave for her ignorance.
“All fleets. Judging by their maneuvering, the dreadnought that engaged us was a command ship and they have diverted command to the next ranking officer. I anticipate their tactics may change under a new commander. Ready yourselves.”
By now the dominion’s rhythm of combat was likely quite familiar to both her allies and enemies. The fleet maintained a singular impenetrable yet ever-shifting formation around the command ship. A volley of guided RKKVs fired from the artillery ships at the rear of the fleet. The bomber frigates had successfully restocked and were preparing to make another pass on the enemy lines, and the scattered fighters and gunship wings started to reorganize and bring themselves back onto the offensive. The battleships kept up their momentum and advanced, continuing to sweep hard light beamers across enemy ships and fire volleys of nuclear-tipped shells. At this close to medium range, the fleet adopted a focus fire strategy, hoping to dwindle enemy fire by completely destroying their enemies a few at a time rather than spreading out their damage potential across the fleet.
Bradamont watched the enemy command ship fall as it duelled with the Gauss flagship and nodded in respect. The warning blare of heavy damage to the portside mass driver arrays brought him back to the fore however as his own ship took a heavy kinetic impact, blowing out one of the large pyramidal structures towards the bow and taking down the ships weapon complement by a large margin.
“Repair crews are on station, MD stations 47-80 are destroyed, approximate dead 147, emergency bulkheads have deployed!” The call out made Bradamont wince, another huge amount of sailors dead in this fight. Out of the 253 ships Bradamont had brought with them only 172 were still in the fight. Many of the vessels which had been crippled or made mission killed had evacuated, seeding the entire area behind the FRK with escape pods, thankfully the Union had moved several escorts in to recover as many as possible. Still so many ships had been destroyed, even with the numbers advantage the enemy fleet had proven much more capable than they had imagined. Even the Union, having lost around 17 vessels had taken some serious damage and Mephissa was keeping him updated constantly with their situation.
But the sight of the enemy fleet starting to break was enough to make him at least smile. As the FRK fleet now moved to intersect with the Jade force to cut off the withdraw the Union, Pords and Gauss were in the perfect position to hammer those who were withdrawing. Encircled the enemy ships caught would be annihilated in no time. As such it was only right that Bradamont offer a surrender, only Mephissa got there first.
“This is Captain Mephissa of the Union of Worlds. Your fleet has been turned into a non-factor and we have your main force surrounded. Surrender now, power down your drives, weapons and defences and we will ensure you will live. Keep fighting and you will only face certain death. Make the right choice, Mephissa out”
Bradamont nodded to himself in agreement. The Gauss communication from Luss making him tense. If the enemy changed tactics then perhaps they should too.
“When we have encircled the enemy force we will move to fast harassment not head on spearhead assaults. We will give any who wish to fight something to chase” He commanded.
“Yes sir, Mephissa is asking for your orders on the assault force. Do we deploy them here to assist or save them for the main drop?” Bradamont took a moment before he replied.
“Save them. I am sure the Jade forces have the place locked down, and the Pords seem to be moving to assist. Keep our forces fresh for the main assault, we will need them”
BA-STEN
Mitsu and his remaining marines re-emerged into the pale light of the moon's surface. The black rock of the surface, shot through with veins of yellow, reflected the flames of wrecked vehicles and outposts, whilst overhead landers and gunships cast shadows that competed with the light from Imperial weapons and onibi. The trio of giant anti-orbital gun platforms were angled towards the Jade fleet distantly visible as specks in the sky, whilst much closer was the bulk of the Crossdock, visible even in the darkness.
The marines trudged towards a rally point, where a temporary command centre had been set up. Little more than some desks and pallets of supplies beneath a tent, it was being used to co-ordinate the 77th - other units were already working on the guns and securing the compound with more permanent measures.
Colonel Blunte glanced up as Mitsu and his platoon arrived, alerting Major Nissa Amrynn of Fifth Battalion with a jerk of his head. She turned. "Ah, Lieutenant Kuribayashi." she said, even as her HUD pulled up his mission log, which had been transcribed and compiled by the regimental overwatch AI. "Seems like you had an eventful morning. JIAN agents want to debrief you about your fight with the Zdenii. Dismiss your marines and be quick with the debrief, the regiment needs to be ready ASAP to act as a reserve force for the assault on Marchand."
Mitsu saluted, fist to chin, a leftover from the tradition that samurai would pull down their mempo mask out of courtesy to speak with one another. As he turned to leave, one of the vast guns fired, its sleek casing booming with sound as it hurled a warhead into low orbit. There were a few seconds of peace as the echoes died away, the backdraft raising moondust in gentle eddies. Silently, a flash above blossomed as the warhead hit the Crossdock, a tiny fire in the night sky.
Nissa glanced at him and offered a rare smile that betrayed her relative youth. "Guess they got the guns working."
_
ABOARD THE HONEST LABOUR
Pardok watched in despair as the enemy mopped up the last few remnants of Gulnak's fleet and advanced towards his position. The Union seemed to have no intention of slowing down, and a hail came through from some captain demanding Pardok's immediate surrender. Even as he began to hail the Crossdock to co-ordinate fire and slow down the encroaching enemy, he saw the bloom of flame as a warhead crashed against one of the weapon emplacements of the huge station. His comms officer silently patched a line through to his console, and he caught the open communications.
"This is Colonel Dawnstar of the Jade 7th Regiment. Surrender the Crossdock facility immediately and have all staff gather in the hangar bay designated by our IR beacon, or I will fire into you. If you surrender you will not be harmed."
Almost immediately the station administrator came back. "Cease fire! Gods, cease fire! We'll comply!"
Pardok swore. The aid he had been promised had failed to materialise, his cousin was dead and now his position was untenable. "All ships fall back, drop into geosynchronous orbit over Marchand. Our objective is now to interfere with any landing efforts the enemy make." he said, sounding calmer than he felt. In truth he was no admiral, but they had to do something.
"Attention, invading forces. This is Baron Pardok of the GMGC. We are willing to discuss a ceasefire - enough blood has been shed. We will stand down and allow investigators access to the system in order to track down those responsible for the recent attacks on your people, provided you cease your advance immediately and return control of the Crossdock and Ba-sten facilities to the Guild."
-
ZDENO, MERCHANT ADVENTURER'S HALL, PATIRE
In the great coastal city of Patire on Zdeno, shadowy figures communed in near silence. They beat their pincers on their chairs or waved them in elaborate patterns, sometimes individually, sometimes all at once. The Merchant Adventurer's Hall was dark and close, filled with briny seawater, and the luminescent anemones along the walls and ceiling barely penetrated the gloom.
Eventually one figure, a giant among giants, turned to the man sat next to him. Clearly uncomfortable, the man was wearing a rebreather just to be there. Whilst most Zdeno buildings were above water, excepting their sleeping chambers, for convenience and cost, their oldest and most valued buildings were underwater. These were havens that only the Zdenii could easily access. The Merchant Adventurer's Hall was truly ancient, one of the first great works carved out millenia ago, with walls of tended coral protecting the stone beneath.
Captain Bergon gazed down at the human. "It is agreed. The Zdenii will not intervene to save Marchand. Let them suffer the wrath of the outsiders. Finally, we shall have control of the Sarnath system." he rumbled, his voice only audible thanks to the microphone system the stranger was wearing.
"No. This is not the will of Carcaros. You must crush the outsiders. replied the figure, a gaunt man with hollow eyes.
"Worry not. We shall, in time. Let them first waste their energies on the ratfolk of Marchand. Are your folk ready?"
The gaunt man nodded. "The Great Wave approaches. It will consume all."
“So it seems they are willing to surrender to a ceasefire but under certain terms…” Bradamont rubbed his chin. Honestly he didn’t like it, they had taken a great deal of losses and while he was perfectly fine with ending the bloodshed here and now the fact the enemy wanted to negotiate for it despite being in such a position made him angry.
“It’s almost certainly a ruse, they need more time to prepare. Their forces are scattered and broken and they have just lost infrastructure and other assets, If I was defending this system I would buy as much time as I could too using any means. They are not stupid, they know our rules of engagement and they plan to exploit them” Mephissa replied almost with venom at the hint of the enemy exploiting their kindness.
“Then what’s your suggestion Captain?”
“We consult with the others, if we have enough grounds that this ceasefire is one purely to exploit the situation and use it against us then we can deny it on adequate grounds. I for one do not wish to face a civilian tribunal on the return home over breaking a ceasefire” Bradamont then nodded with a smile Opening a communications channel to the other forces.
“This is Captain Bradamont of the Joint Task Force. The enemy seem to have accepted the ceasefire proposal but are trying to negotiate terms for it, it is with no doubt that they are attempting to use this as a method to recuperate and reform their forces under the guise of diplomacy. What are your thoughts on this overall situation and how we should proceed?”
Even as the discussion was being conducted the FRK forces began to decelerate. They pulled away from the enemy fleet and began to head back to where the Union force was now holding position. They would not engage while a ceasefire was being potentially negotiated and they too needed to take a breather and perform repairs where able.
One by one the fleet began to slow, plumes of plasma deflected at angles from behind the larger ships. The weapons ceased firing but it was very obvious that they were not letting their guard down, instead simply taking the opportunity to recharge their spin capacitors and fuel another round of RKKVs. The mass drivers found targets, their gunnery crews keeping their fingers on the trigger. Fighters began to cycle into the hangars, enacting emergency repairs and rearmament with all the haste of active combat. Damage control teams scurried about the battleships, racing to repair the systems that were repairable and have them operable should the fighting resume.
As the ships came to a halt the admiral overheard Bradamont’s proclamation she agreed. Through her neural link to the fleet she already began ordering the fleet’s lineup of Marshalls to have boarding teams of knights and marines assemble and prepare to take custody of the enemy forces.
“I concur, Bradamont.” Luss began on the public comm. “They have nothing to bargain with… there is no debate to be had. The only terms I will accept are unconditional. They are to stand down immediately and allow boarding teams to take custody of all crew and disable their warcraft’s automated systems. With your assistance we will take them all as prisoners of war.
If you share my sentiment that this is a trick and that enemy reinforcements may be inbound, then perhaps I should deploy my interdiction to its fullest extent. I would not want to cut off any options for retreat or maneuvering but I also would not like us to play victim of Octaronhogen’s folly.”
The request for a ceasefire arrives to the shock of none in the command room of Panuktaq's flagship. It was only a matter of time; the enemy fleet was falling apart from beneath them, and the weighty impulse of the allied armada was irresistible.
I don't recommend accepting their request for a ceasefire. We have the initiative. We should destroy the rest of the fleet, and then move in under the glow of our weapons, nam-Talyn says. She points to the regrouping enemy armada even now withdrawing towards the high orbitals of the world. They're regrouping as we speak, she says, they still have enough ships to cause us problem.
Panuktaq nods slowly. Tasi, he agrees after a moment. I see that. Then again, they may really be willing to allow us through. Might be worth the risk.
No, nam-Ilglat interjects, entirely too aware of his fate if caught by the enemy fleet while trying to peacefully land. The Merger cannot be trusted. Even now they're probably plotting, scheming, working their way deeper into the channels of this world. Every minute we waste in orbit is a minute we could have spent cleansing this infestation. A dour expression creeps across his face as he considers the implications. They are not good; he gathered this force for a reason. In any other situation the notion of a ceasefire might put his mind at ease. But here? Here such things are disagreeable. Here, the notion is unsettling.
Panuktaq nods. Understood, and it seems the others are in agreement.
nam-Ilglat opens the comms channel: GrazhniJloknam nam-Ilglat here. The enemy forces are in no position to make demands. I agree with Admiral Luss. They must stand down or be destroyed. He looks over the displays quickly to verify the positions of the myriad fleets, then, he goes on from where he left off: We still have work here to do, and a thousand ships are far too many to leave unattended under the effective control of the Merger.
Like the other fleets present, the VRZ force begins to slow to keep pace with them so as to not overextend. The vessels take the opportunity to oversee what limited repairs can be made in the field, while a more thorough review of sunken and severely damaged craft is undertaken.
ABOARD THE IJN MAKO
Prescott listened as Pardok made his demands, and then took in the responses from the other commanders. They did not surprise him in the slightest - caution and sober judgement from the FRK and Union, confidence and forthrightness from the Dominion, and simple pragmatism from the Pords. They confirmed what he had already been considering himself; that the best option was to refuse and continue the attack. He opened the secured communications back to the allied commanders.
"I do believe you're right. At best he's bluffing with a bum hand, at worst he's stalling to pull some last trick out of the bag. We should continue the attack."
He turned to look at the tactical disposition of the fleets. The moon of Ba-sten was anchoring the enemy's left flank, but it provided the perfect cover for a flank attack against them. Allied ships would be able to slingshot around the moon and arrive behind enemy lines, their path clear now that the ground facilities had been overrun.
"I would suggest that we detach our fast attack vessels into a joint flanking force and slingshot them around the moon. Our heavier vessels and support ships will pin the enemy with a frontal attack. When our flanking force moves to strike, they will be supported by fire from the Crossdock and the surface guns on Ba-sten, and will be able to roll up the enemy formation."
Whilst he waited for the allied responses, he began issuing orders to his fleet. The lighter destroyers and frigates began to peel off, a force of perhaps fifty separating itself from the bulk of his fleet and forming up under the command of Commodore Nighthorse, forming up and heading towards the dark side of Ba-sten whilst his main fleet reorganised and moved to threaten the front of Pardok's position.
"This is Admiral Prescott. Your terms are rejected. We demand your unconditional surrender immediately or we will open fire."
_
ABOARD THE HONEST LABOUR
Pardok hung his head, hiding his face from his subordinates. His bluff had failed, and the enemy were forming up for another attack. Perhaps he had underestimated their hate for this Merger, or perhaps he had overestimated their fear of it. Either way, they were not deterred and were moving to attack his surviving fleet.
They had some reinforcements by way of gun emplacements on the surface below, but they were fewer in number and less effective than the guns of Ba-sten. Residents did not appreciate towering gun structures near their homes, and the gravity of the planet made weapons emplaced there far less efficient. He drew a deep breath and suddenly felt a sense of calm. All the maneuvering, the power struggles, the fear, the whispering was over. Either he would win this battle, and his position in the Sarnath System would be undisputed, or he would die and be free of it all.
"All ships. Open fire." he ordered. His bridge crew gave a ragged cheer, and the thunder of guns shook beneath his feet as a staggered salvo of linear accelerators hammered out from the defenders. A volley of torpedoes followed soon after, and even some plasma and laser weaponry, although the caliber of weapons available to the mercenaries meant most of the directed energy weapons were wasted at such range and amounted to little more than a light show.
Still, it bolstered the survivors' resolve, even if Pardok could see the signal indicators betraying the fact that some ships were already turning to leave, discretely dropping out of the battle line and turning tail to run...
ABOARD THE IJN FAR HARBOUR
The elegant Ayuko class hitarabune was in the rear of the IJN formation, awaiting her turn to begin disgorging the marine regiments she carried in her belly. Aboard, the 305th and 642nd regiments, nearly 15,000 marines, readied themselves as the first wave for a planetary invasion.
The second fleet spurred back to life with a signature volley of headlight beamers and guided RKKVs. Having halted at more or less an ideal range to where unguided kinetics could be anticipated and dodged but light speed beamers and guided kinetics could be fired and receive reasonably high hit ratios. During Padok’s plea for surrender on the open comm, Luss had taken the opportunity to triangulate the ship which was origin of the signal and disgorged a salvo of around six GRKKVs fired directly from her own command ship with the clear intention of beheading the enemy command for the second time that day.
Her carriers had been brought forward to bolster her firepower and were just as engaged in the conflict as her direct combat warships. They were after all, just as armored and armed as their direct combat equivalents, sometimes more and carried huge numbers of drones, fighters and gunships from which they received tremendous defensive screens against missiles.
She contemplated Prescott’s proposal, seriously considering the possibility that one-time defenses may well lay in wait on the far side of the moon. She had scanned thoroughly for ground defenses and meticulously mapped them, but still held her reservations that she might be blundering into a trap, that they might come over the horizon only to find a wall of short-range missiles or BPLs that had somehow evaded the prying eyes of her command ship. Ultimately deciding that the risk was worth the potential reward and practically the perfect role for her high speed bomber frigates. Smaller gunships and several dozen fighter squadrons, including the 292nd would support them.
Relaying a myriad of simultaneous orders to the crews they began to form up into a two dimensional parabolic formation primed to skim the surface of the moon from a mere few hundred meters above the surface. Opening an encrypted comm line to the jade detachment which came through as a red-robed commodore came through; a heavily augmented Farrian who was more cybernetic than organic, both in appearance and voice, to the point that it made their gender unclear. They sat on a bridge identical to one that a few rouges presently stranded near Lost Star would find familiar, save for his was fully staffed.
“This is Commodore Xaitol of the GDAN Infinite Arrow, we’re ready to support the slingshot maneuver.” The Commodore’s voice flipped from stern and formal to that of an excited thrill seeker. “Open e’r up! All ships, max burn, maintain formation.”
FRK and Union attack craft made rapid returns to ship as they restocked ammunition, refuelled and repaired. The ships themselves now met up again and moved into a defensive formation as missile stacks were reloaded and hasty repairs were made to already damaged ships. More shuttles and escorts peeled off to rescue escape pods both friendly and enemy, the hostile ones were treated with dignity and taken back to maximum security and contained areas of the joint task force ships, special intelligence officers trying to find out what they could from any of the retrieved individuals if anything.
Bradamont and Mephissa meanwhile got their responses.
“They agree, no surprise, this entire situation indicates biding time. It seems the attack will continue. Do not worry Captain you will have our backing for any review you encounter at home.” Bradamont smiled to Mephissa as he then responded to the others.
“Good we are in agreement then. Unconditional surrender if they do not accede we continue the attack. You may count on my FRK contingent to aid in the flank attack, we have the speed and firepower for it, Captain Mephissa here will anchor the frontline” Mephissa nodded, still somewhat reserved.
They both watched the response send out by Admiral Prescott and finally the true reply came in a renewed barrage of fire.
“Idiots. Such a waste of lives” Bradamont muttered “All ships of the proud Federal Republic! With me, meet at the co-ordinates provided by the Jade fleet and accelerate to maximum speed. Let’s meet up with our friends and hammer their side, all weapons also keep on station and be ready for any fire missions given to us by our friends on the surface” With the statement made the FRK ships turned with a burst of RCS and their main drives grew brighter as they accelerated from the Union once more, their course taken to link up with the lighter elements to slingshot around the moon and at the same time offer precision guided support to the Jade forces on surface.
The breakaway was covered by the Union. As the enemy opened fire once more meson lasers shot out to engage incoming munitions, flak walls were rapidly erected to destroy the incoming missiles and attack craft were also launched to help cover that front. Return fire mostly consisted of what few QAC cannons the fleet had in its disposal, each targeted at heavier vessels while heavier mass driver fire was directed at the smaller ships. The Union would hold the line.
It seems the others are in agreement with us, the communications officer says.
nam-Ilglat places his hand down on the console as he nods with the revelation. There wasn't a choice in the matter, he says after a moment. We came here to destroy the Merger; that is what we are going to do.
Hmmmmm, Panuktaq drones. We're almost in position to begin landing operations, he tells nam-Ilglat, are your troops ready to disembark?
Tasi, nam-Ilglat tells him, somewhat amused by the question. He's spent more than enough time conversing with his officers about the upcoming operation and readying the elements that need be readied. They are more than prepared by now. He says nothing more of this, to which Panuktaq nods.
Alright, the brigadier says, shifting his gaze to the suggested movements put forth by Admiral Prescott. A swift flanking maneuver should more than serve well as a part of a final killing blow. After thinking on the notion for a moment, he concludes separating his cruisers from their slower support vessel complements isn't the greatest of ideas; he settles for a different plan. His hands move deftly over the displays as he cobbles together a battleplan and sends it down to the formations in question.
A line is opened to the Jade commander: Admiral Prescott, we will support the flanking strike. Our forces are moving to group up.
The line is cut as the Pordish vessels opens up against the hostile fleet once more. Two formations of strike craft joined by a collection of heavy redirection probes slip into formation not far from the FRK forces as the main fleet shifts to meet the incoming salvoes from the enemy.
The surviving Guild vessels were putting up a fight more for show than anything else. They made no effort to move forwards from their positions, nor to try and split the allied forces up, but rather continued pouring fire at the enemy heavies even as their ranks were whittled away by incoming fire. Prescott watched as the odd shot found purchase among his vessels, but the defensive systems of the combined fleet, including Union flak walls, Pordish redirection probes and Dominion gunship screens, meant that the ragged attacks were far less damaging than previously.
By the time the joint strike force came screaming around the dark side of Ba-sten, the fight had already left the Marchanders. Their line punctuated by debris and dying hulls, some ships were already bugging out, heading for the surface or turning to flee out of interdiction. Aboard the Honest Labour, Pardok told his second-in-command to assume control as he organised a boarding party to attack the Pords directly. Once he had assembled the bravest volunteers from his crew, he loaded them onto shuttles and led them down to the surface instead, leaving the remnants of his fleet to buy their ground forces time.
Behind him, the Jade marines aboard the Crossdock had seized control of the platform's weapon systems and opened a volley just as the strike force came into range, confusing the enemy response and shattering their left flank. The joint allied ships roared into the enemy's flank and they crumbled almost immediately, simple mathematics meaning that the narrow formation of Guild ships was rolled up one by one by the wave of attack craft. After the first two dozen fell, the rest got their feet under them and began falling back. Even though some of them attempted to reform a line facing the new threat, their movement was misinterpreted by those further along the line and the reposition quickly became a rout. Individual captains panicked, seeing a confused mess of friendlies driven before a freshly arrived enemy force, and they turned tail to flee. In moments, the battered remnants of the once-powerful navy of the Great Marchander Guild of Commerce were in full flight, most with no option but to drop down to the planet's surface and seek refuge there. Explosions yet again rent the sky as ship after ship was destroyed, spilling flame and debris into the upper atmosphere. This close to Marchand, the wreckages were caught in orbit, creating a ragged Kessler field of ship skeletons which dotted the skies of the planet.
Prescott watched with pride as the enemy melted away before the combined might of the allied fleets. Although he knew they had suffered serious losses, roughly a fifth of his own force sunk or rendered ineffective, they had destroyed the Guild as an effective naval power in the region. The Zdenii, he knew, were tougher fighters, but far less numerous, and he doubted they would care to put up much resistance once the allies had crushed Marchand.
He opened a communications line to the allied fleets as they assembled over Marchand. The few anti-orbital guns Marchand had, which were all sited at the two major industrial sites on the surface, remained silent, as if not wishing to attract the allies' attention.
"Hello all, and congratulations. We have just won a significant victory. Let me be the first to thank you and your crews for their bravery and sacrifice in ridding the Tuvian Arm of the menace of the Marchander Guild. Our next job is to go down to the surface and straighten things out, but that task falls to the infantry, not us sailors, so General Terusada if you please?"
Prescott's hologram was joined by a severe-looking woman in full Jade warplate, a GBUS-H uniform in the white-and-jade colours of the imperial house. Her hair was drawn back into a tight bun and her arched eyebrows were already furrowed as if irritated. Wasting no time, she drew up a map of the planet's surface.
-
"The enemy have an estimated twenty million regular personnel on the surface, presumably reinforced by whatever ship crews survived the Battle over Marchand. We know that they have a strong military infrastructure with large numbers of effective SAM and artillery equipment, but their ground forces are much like their navy in that they are a collection of disparate mercenary and contractor units in the employ of various departments, guilds and trade organisations. Their lack of discipline and training should blunt the logistical advantage they enjoy as a mass manufacturer of export weaponry.
On top of their regular forces, the JIAN reports a significant risk of irregular and guerilla activity in the form of the Cult of Carcaros. Believed to be a Merger front, the members of this cult have proven to be violent and fanatic in their beliefs. Although poorly organised and effectively untrained, they could still pose a serious asymmetric threat, especially in urban environments."
She moved to highlight a coastal city on the south-western edge of the planet's single continent. "I have a force of eight regiments, mustering 60,000 marines. I intend to force an initial landing with two regiments here, at Cass City. This will gain us a foothold away from their orbital guns and provides us a base from which to assault Hornqvist, their capital and the centre of the suspected Merger infestation."
She glanced at the other commanders. "Questions?"
BA-STEN
Mitsu and his platoon trooped back aboard the Kankyo dropships. Rumour had it the regiment had suffered nearly five hundred killed or wounded, nearly as many as the defenders, which was causing some concern amongst the infantry. The Marchanders were supposed to be dogshit, but a 1:1 casualty ratio didn't bode well when the garrison of Cass City was expected to outnumber them sixty to one.
The 77th rested easy, however. The 642nd and 845th were to be the first deployed, whilst the 77th recovered from their victory..
The Admiral reestablished their highly secure encrypted connection, her stepping aside as the video feed became dominated by Callegio. Wearing full battle armor despite being in the safety of the Paragon’s bridge, the Cauldarion walked into view with heavy footfalls. Callegio was distinct from the fellow knights of Gokatoma for he possessed a scar. It was common knowledge that Cauldarions possessed mild regenerative abilities, thus having a grizzly and obvious scar down the left hand side of his face had been a longstanding source of speculation amongst his subordinates.
“Aye. Fear not, we the numbers to take the cities, we’re going to set down on the eastern side of the continent, clear the landing zone of any hostiles and push north as well as west.
Do you have any additional information on the enemy ground forces and the equipment that they have the capacity to manufacture? Additionally… how… for lack of a better word… intact do you want these cities taken?
Regardless we’ll be beginning our deployment to the surface shortly. I’m going to be deploying the 2nd Gokatoman Legion in addition to the 232nd, 233rd and 234th army divisions. Naval support will provide fighter cover and close in bombardment while the divisions have their own air support. We have… to put it lightly… more than enough forces to deploy many more waves however.” He received a pinging sound on his holographic display informing him that the transports were ready to depart. “They’re going to form the first wave.”
Three of the tempest-class carriers peeled off from the main fleet and prepared to make a landing, each with a pair of Sentinel class cruisers in tow and fighters and gunships providing cover for the landing. They approached low orbit cautiously, firing a volley of torpedoes into the debris. Rather than explode, these torpedoes matched velocities with some of the larger debris fragments before firing their thrusters, ejecting them from the system retrograde such that they would be pushed out of orbit of the planet and placed onto a sub orbital trajectory to fall into the sun.
Many pieces of smaller debris were targeted by their point defense. Originally derived from a civilian system designed specifically to clear debris and micrometeorite fields, the military grade system could easily be configured to service the purpose its ancestors had for thousands of years. Given time they could have easily cleared planet’s orbit in its entirety but for now they simply opted to open a temporary hole to allow their wave to land. Gunships were instrumental in this role, protecting against any fighters bold enough to attack them and clearing the debris.
...
Klaxons blared as naval crew on corridor skimmers gave the knights a wide berth. Even the tallest and burliest Farrians and goshii appeared only stood at chest level to a fully grown caulgaten and were half as wide at the shoulder, their hulking off white exoskeletons making a deafening thud which shook the floor plates with each step as they made their way to the hangar where they assembled. The carrier rocked slightly as it began the descent for landing, though the dampeners kept everyone’s apparent orientation upright even as the ship dropped onto a sub orbital trajectory.
The knights assembled in lines with jagged spacing several rows deep. Brother pairings plainly visible as veteran widows stayed more evenly spaced in the rear.
Paulduran and Brachor Gokatoma were two such brothers, veterans of the 100th courdeel war, but still green with respect to the senior members of the chapter. They stood at attention in, as their brothers did with their war picks in their right and left hands.
The legion's master; Batangok stood in front along with a quartet of squires in simple but elegant gold and bronze cloths.
"Brothers of gokatoma, This world is infested… an insidious rot has spread its population. The warriors we will face may seem disparate and self righteous…"
A container drone approached The drone was ubiquitous, there were tens of thousands just like it on the mile long ship, but its contents were unique and irreplaceable. A set of clay bowls, a corked urn and a ceremonial dagger wrapped in cloth in a custom foam padding.
"They will claim that we are the invaders… that we are the villains. But make no mistake, and yield to no surrender for they serve ruminous powers…"
The squires removed the urn and arrayed the clay bowls, before pouring a coarse black powder into them from the urn. One squire unfolded the cloth presenting the dagger tho the legionarie who slit his own palm.
He squeezed the dark red blood out in a stream, offering a few ounces to each of the four bowls. On contact with his blood the black powder ignited into a billowing plume of rainbow flames.
"The same powers which drove us from our home!"
"Banoku Rahbakun!" The legion bellowed.
"The same powers which for generations burned our worlds and slaughtered our families!"
"Banoku Rahbakun!" They roared again stomping the butts of their war picks on the floor with agitation.
"The same powers which stole the Omniscience from us, and killed thousands of our brothers in house Vondar!"
"Banoku Rahbakun. Yahtan Tae'San Gokatoma! Yatan se Kragleosha Gauss!"
The squires began to make their way down the line. The flames had died to a slow smolder and the powder had melted into a thick black oily substance. The squires began to make their way down the rows. One of the women approached Paulduran and Brachor and dipped her five forefingers into the liquid. With an unusual tenderness she drew down the faces of the brothers, leaving five verticals of the still-burning mixture.
Neither of the brothers winced, in spite of the incredible pain the burning ore produced. Banoku had made that mistake as an initiate when this ceremony had been rehearsed, and been punished severely for it. The five flaming marks represented the five pillars of strength of a knight.
His weapons, the rocket-assisted hardlight picks of house Gokatoma designed to rend even the toughest armor, in addition to belt axes and twin rocket rifles fed from backpacks.
His armor, forged of Calura Muros (Literally meaning strongest metal in their native tounge) granting the knights immense strength and resilience.
His body, honed from childhood for the brutality of combat.
His mind, also honed through years of tireless training and meditation to have unwavering loyalty to their brothers, their legion, their house, and the dominion.
His brother, whom he would fight alongside and defend to his dying breath.
Pauldran and Brachor drew in breath, the fumes from the burning salts made their hearts begin to pound and their lust for blood rise.
“We are not expecting heavy resistance immediately upon landing, but as you all know there are no guarantees in battle. That is why Chaptermaster Callegio has ordered us to be at full battle readiness. Further orders from high command will come once we have reached the surface. ”
Their helmets unfolded from their collars, self-assembling and then sealing over their still-burning faces. As the carriers descended, the smallest pieces of debris audibly echoing throughout the ship like the roar of rain striking a tin roof as countless pebble sized fragments of the defending fleet struck the outer hull.
Meanwhile elsewhere in the ship, tanks were being readied for deployment. In the lower hangar the tanks were being assembled for the assault in a quite literal faction. For compactness the modular conversion walkers were stored in internal racks disassembled into their main components, with the chassis, turret and legs all being separate for transport. Several sets of platforms surrounded in heavy duty robotic gantries would bolt together the modular vehicles a few at a time with specialized tools, reserve components kept on the ship or sent out with supply convoys for field repairs. The process took less than a minute thus the hangars would be packed with entire columns of tanks by the time they landed. They were expected to be some of the first units on the ground.
Kauldesi Anturan and his junior co-pilot, Mataya Huen would be operating Tank 1 of the first armored brigade on the 233rd division. The two jogged up to their heavy tank, as several other pairs did the same. The robotic gantries finalized the tank, specialized arms loading the missile magazines from a feed and arming each warhead as it was loaded, topping off fuel and kinetic penetrators. A wormy-looking Mediocine engineer jumped out of the back door and onto the floor, nodding to his supervisor affirming that the tank was fully stocked and that its diagnostics were all in the green before moving on to the next, before the tank’s actual pilots boarded. Most of the tanks in his brigade only used a single pilot and allowed the automated systems to handle most of the work, but him, being the field commander utilized both seats.
The tank autonomously squatted as they entered through the rear. A narrow passageway led them past the two bunks, medical compartment kitchenette and all-in-one bathroom. Making their way to the cockpit the two seated themselves in gyroscopic chairs complete with five point harnesses rimmed in neon blue holograms, like those of a fightercraft or high gee spaceship. The foot-thick rear door sealed behind them, a reinforcing door closed behind that.
Some deemed such seating an unnecessary, but for a vehicle that could undergo rather extreme accelerations and was expected to ascend vertical cliffs or be completely capsized and still recover. The crew strapped themselves in as Mataya took control of the tank via holographic hand controls. She ignited the tank’s miniature fusion reactor, briefly panning through the diagnostics confirming they had been completely fueled and that the reactor was working optimally. A series of LHDs unfurled like a blooming flower from a module on the gyroscopic chair, ecasing the two in an expanded full color and photoreal holographic view of the outside. The vehicle made an effortless, almost uncanny glide across the hangar floor on its omni-wheels, rotating as it reversed and entering the center of the phalanx.
“All tanks, Full system diagnostic.” Kauldesi said sternly.
“Aye boss.” Mataya returned, initiating the test sequence.
Like some exotic and mechanical synchronized dance routine, every tank in the column played through a plethora of actions. They lifted each leg in synch, taking it through its whole range of motion as the armor panels unfurled around the knee joint revealing the leg-mounted point defense system. The omni-wheel spun in all four cardinal directions and then the intermediates as it cycled through traction modes, altering its traction texture and firmness to adapt to pavement, soft, loose or hard terrains. The leg finished by raising and briefly extending the climbing spikes, before the leg lowered and the armor panels shifted back into place.
The turret traversed a full 360 degrees, the main gun raising and lowering through maximum deflection as the concealed missile launchers extended and all of the protective covers flicked open to reveal the readied warheads before retracting. All the while the computer cycled through a majority of checks, cycling through communication frequencies and encryption codes and temporarily displaying alternative sensor feeds such as thermal, ultraviolet and ground penetrating radar which simply revealed the robotic gantries and supply modules concealed within the floor.
“She’s purrin’ like a fat nushu after a meal, boss.”
--
As the ships entered the upper troposphere the final preparations were being made. The Sentinel cruisers stopped and leveled out around five kilometers up. Each one surrounded by a ring-formation of gunships slaved to its velocity and heading in anticipation of inbound cruise missiles.
The cruisers began to sweep the landing zone for mines or traps with their immense sensor systems, a few of them identifying a crippled Marchland ship a bit too close for comfort they began firing on its position before its crew could retaliate. Capital grade mass drivers being fired in atmosphere were a sight to behold, brilliant cracks of plasma like lightning bolts hammered the beached vessel as the carriers made their final approach to land...
The FRK fleet had come in like a hammer, weapons blazing on critical enemy targets they concentrated fire one by one as the targets were destroyed and contacts taken off the grid. It was methodical and Bradamont couldn’t help but admire the work of his forces as they performed clinically and effectively, they had come a long way from the rag tag force of splintered military units trying to protect their people and future from the United Federation. He was proud of that. Even though it brought up memories of the great withdraw and abandoning of his home planet. He was morose for a few moments before smiling, if this was what the FRK fleet could do now then Metzergerstein would be no match for them taking back their original homeland. He would see the golden corn fields of his home again one day.
As the enemy fleet began to flee the FRK units moved to cut down as many as possible. The Union having held the frontline still making long range strikes as and when needed, still the battle in space was all but won and as the FRK and Union once again formed up close to Marchand they readied themselves for the next stage. The transport ships containing the ground forces had been unharmed, much to the damage sustained by the joint taskforces space assets, however. Still the message from Prescott brought smiles across the taskforce.
Both Bradamont and Mephissa joined the holo conference to observe the next step, along with the two generals selected for the ground operation. Unlike the space engagement however the Union was heading this bit. General Grissom would be overseeing the joint task forces official operations while General Takine of the FRK would observe and assist.
“No questions from us. We will be dropping 880km from Cass City on the South Western shore to assist Jade forces. Both enemy divisions sighted there will be dealt with us together and we will capture the city alongside you. You have our word” Grissom smiled. The Union commander having already dealt with heavy insurgency ops and being completely outnumbered on Addas, although he would never talk about some of his encounters during that campaign.
No Union and FRK ship launched their dropships yet, however. Numerous recon aircraft and drones were instead fired into the atmosphere, as Meson lasers switched to wide angle fire to incinerate much of the debris now blocking their path. Not all of it was removed however, many of the Union vessels actually moving into ‘catch’ as much of it as possible to top up their own particular shields. The recon flights would move in over Halak and the surrounding area, loitering with both stealthy drones trying to eye air defences and anti-orbitals while other non-stealth drones made full spectrum sweeps to try and garner a reaction from the enemy AA units to identify their positions. As the recon flights did their job the divisions readied for drop aboard the 5 transport vessels. Vehicles were checked and infantry geared up as logistics were also readied to help rapidly establish an FOB. All attack craft were readied too, fuelled up and equipped with different payloads dedicated to ground attack.
Everything was readied in orbit, but right now it was the job of the recon to tell the Joint force exactly what was going on.
--
The fading will of the Merchander defenders dissipates like morning fog and - with each passing moment - their salvos grow lighter and less determined in servitude to this reality. Brave though they may have once been, they cannot claim such lofty stations now. Their guns soon fall silent against the combined fleets present - a field situation that is not lost on Kazhel nam-Ilglat.
It looks like they're about done, he tells Panuktaq. I think it's about time to begin moving.
Panuktaq nods but does not voice his agreement, while nam-Ilglat - for his part - is swift to bring up his communicator to relay his desire to begin to his other subordinates... To which Panuktaq smiles.
For ground battle has always intrigued Panuktaq. So different from fighting on the void yet so similar all the same. The trials and tribulations of the infantry are entirely foreign to Panuktaq - he who battles with castles of iron - maybe one day he will taste the rush of the offense and the thunderous applause of distant batteries. But nam-Ilglat's conversation, mere meters away, reminds him that no. He will not be among those planetside. Actually participating in such engagements? Perhaps better left to those more tied to the ground than VRZ navalists.
Battalion commanders are giving their thoughts, the tactical officer interjects. The comment brings Panuktaq back to the situation at hand.
Tasi, yes, he stammers, where were we?
nam-Talyn rasies an eyebrow as she glares back to her superior. It is obvious he hasn't been listening. Loss verification. Cross-referencing with our own counts, she says; losses among strike craft and the vessels of the baggage trains are within expected levels.
The brigadier nods. The strike craft have been in the thick of the fray. In contrast, the baggage trains were kept, as much as possible, out of the direct line of fire. Nothing out of the ordinary, he concludes after skimming through the detailed datapacket.
His attention, then, is taken by Prescott who cedes the floor to General Terusada. After she speaks, and both the Dominion and Union commanders add their bit, nam-Ilglat looks up from his communicator. Addressing the allied commanders, he too motions to a city - one gracing the far eastern shores - on the opposite end of the continent from where the Jade and Union plan on arriving.
We have no questions, he says first, then turns to the Dominion officers, we will land here, out to sea. If your forces are pushing north, among other vectors, we can assault this city simultaneously from the east and south.
And even as nam-Ilglat speaks to the allied commanders, the first leg of the Pordish landings begins in earnest. Gravitic tugs dart out from the protective bulk of many of the vast support ships with vectors that lead them to many of the outright sunken or heavily damaged vessels. They begin to assist these hulks as the ballooning debris fields are targeted by the PD suites of the fleet, a motion that swiftly begins to reveal a path to the Pords - a path that eagerly beckons for their approach. Half a dozen vessels answer its call, and begin to drift closer to the world as lighter scouts, nam-Künaans and nam-Zoshnars, pre-empt them with their demi-ablation drives whisking them into the air column where they dedicate themselves to investigatory duties as the landing forces finalize preparations to disembark.
NORTH-EAST OF DEBRUSK
The Gauss landing force hit dirt halfway between the mountains of Debrusk and coastal Halak. An abandoned Guild frigate, nearly 160m in length, was gutted by plasma blasts from above, flames crackling brightly as a plume of smoke piled into the sky. There was no sign of enemy ground forces, although scattered upland villages glowed their lights in the distance, and the pale blue aura ubiquitous to Marchander settlements was unmistakeable.
PORDISH SCOUTS
Flying high, the Pordish scouting craft met no serious resistance. A couple of fightercraft sortied, but they were far too slow to catch up to the distant Pords. Orbital imagery revealed a full regiment of Marchander mercenaries throughout the coastal city, nearly a million troopsand their equipment, with artillery guns to the north and south of the city, shield generators and anti-air units half-hidden amidst the tangle of warren-like buildings, bridgewalks criss-crossing the streets between skyscrapers.
UNION-FRK LANDING SITE
Unlike the others, the Union and FRK task force was contested almost immediately, despite being out of range of stationary SAM and artillery positioned in the city. Several sorties of aircraft, flying low and fast, rushed east from Cass City to harass the Union recon fighters even as they scouted the potential landing sites.
Meanwhile, Union reconnaissance would easily detect troop movements as the two regiments stationed in the sprawling harbor city began to position themselves to meet the threat, sapper units working to turn the eastern and north-eastern flanks of the city into a maze of minefields and temporary defensive positions to slow down and ensnare the imminent attack.
JADE POSITIONS
With General Grissom’s forces preparing to land to the east of Cass City, the two Jade regiments held in orbit and began designating their own targets to the west of the metropolitan area, in the lightly-populated satellite towns on the peninsular that curled around Cass City’s massive bay. General Terusada’s plan was to strike hard and fast whilst the enemy were still engaged trying to stop the Union onslaught in the east, using Imperial gunships and fast-moving ground vehicles to strike right into the heart of the city and cause chaos amongst their rear echelons.
Even as the Jade ships began moving into position in orbit, readying their landers and disseminating information to the marine officers who waited eagerly, they dispatched wings of fightercraft to station themselves above the Union and FRK landing force, disguising the true Jade intentions.
HORNQVIST
Pardok had arrived in Hornqvist just behind the news of the catastrophe in the skies above them. The city was in a state of unrest, and to his dismay preachers were on every street corner, gathering angry crowds of his fellow Marchanders who screeched in fury as they were told of the violence the foreigners had already brought to their system, and had the impending atrocities that were to be visited upon them outlined in great detail by the roaring cultists.
He turned from the window of his offices overlooking Sixth Plaza and slumped in his chair, looking over their dispositions. Nearly eighteen million mercenaries, security contractors and gendarmes were ready to repel the invaders, two million in Hornqvist alone, but he knew their positions were precarious. They were mostly just bunkered down in the cities, with two regiments stranded in the forests west of Halak and two more on the islands to the west of the supercontinent.
The enemy were already sniffing around Halak and Cass City, and he lacked the logistical infrastructure to get reinforcements to Cass City. He could commit the two regiments in the Forests of Orr to the fight for Halak, and perhaps give the Gauss a mauling there, but overall he had little choice but to surrender the initiative to the invaders. The enemy would pick them off one by one, defeating them in detail, and Marchand would fall. The treacherous Zdenii were nowhere to be seen, and centuries of rivalry would be ended by barbarians from out-of-system, an ignominious end to the great Guilds of Marchand.
A DARK BUILDING IN CASS CITY
”They approach. What do we do?” asked one figure, barely visible in the gloom, the room illuminated by a single candle whose flame glowed a pale blue.
“We let them land. We will fight them, destroy their landers and slow their approach, so that when they reach the city they will be disorganized and tired. Then, in the tunnels and alleyways of our homes, we will tear the invaders apart. What are the Guilds, but glorified clans? And the clan will always prevail.”
“Even against the guns and airships of the enemy?”
“Especially so. Their levies, their soulless lackeys and their sleek machines, all will falter in the face of the wrath of Carcaros. They will be swamped by a great wave. We will drag them into the darkness and drown them in blood.”
The assembled speakers nodded approvingly. The invaders were over-confident, and whilst they had mastery of the skies, the surface of the planet was something entirely different. And they lacked one important thing; faith.
--
“Two large enemy troop formations confirmed. Defensive positions are being reinforced and they are responding to our recon flights. Several aerial engagements are underway”
“Thank you for the update” Grissom nodded and looked back over the holographic map. His forces were ready and already the others were deploying “All forces, Plan Blue, let’s begin”
Almost immediately several projectiles were fired from FRK vessels in orbit towards the landing area, each one exploding in the atmosphere to reveal submunitions containing chaff, decoys and slow falling jammers. All designed to confuse and blind as many of the enemy’s sensor systems as possible. Next the attack craft that had been held in orbit descended, Firestorms and Sun Dogs, engulfed in the flames of re-entry dived downwards targeting the enemy craft which sought to destroy the recon elements. Missiles and gunfire spraying out to explode in the sky above the city as the air war began. It was quickly followed by the bombers, all bearing SEAD elements as they tried to identify enemy SAM and artillery installations. Drones were sent in first to bait the enemy so that the bombers could engage and destroy any that revealed themselves.
It was all the preliminary attack of course, designed to destroy and suppress as many enemy elements possible. Both FRK and Union transport ships along with several escorts waited in low orbit, all were open to attack however but the escorts waited patiently to identify and engage any AO weapons that may threaten the transports and to cover the attack. As one doors opened all along the transports and the first way deployed.
Drop pods, Anti grav landers and drop ships roared out towards the surface below, each carrying the Union Marine contingent and their lighting warfare style of operation. They were to secure an LZ and pave the way for all other forces to deploy ground side. ECM was deployed by support craft and several more jamming projectiles launched to cover the marines as they came down. It would be a hard fight, but then that’s what the Marines were made for.
In the hangar of Panuktaq's flagship, nam-Ilglat stands next to a shuttle. A few holograms flicker lazily from his communicator.
The response was negligible, one of the officers says. The white trim of her garb reveals her as the commander of the aerial forces dispatched to scout the potential landing zones. I've relayed the data.
nam-Ilglat nods. Good, he replies. Shift your scouts to an offensive posture. Keep the air column clear for our landing parties and secure the area around Halak. We will sortie shortly.
The white-cuffed officer nods with a salute. Tasi, tasinehado, she says and cuts her feed.
Turning to the others present, nam-Ilglat's demeanor shifts. He ponders for the briefest of instances before bringing himself back to the present. Each of his remaining officers are given a glance. After eyeing the final Pord, he speaks up: We're in position, he says. Begin landing operations.
Upon nam-Ilglat's orders the various landing elements respond. A flood of spherical probes, ranging in colour from pitch-black to dusty gray, sail out alongside the various scouts joined, moments later, by the landing elements themselves (of particular note, a number of the heavy redirection probes from the complement of the six ships near the world join their lesser brethren in this action). Unlike the Union and FRK forces landing on the other side of the continent, however, the Pordish arrival is not directly on top of the enemy; a stretch of open ocean, well away from the shore, is their landing zone. A number of scouting formations arrive to reconnoiter these landing areas specifically, but the lion's share - per nam-Ilglat's orders - rush westward, seeking to elicit response from the defenders and, with luck, to engage and summarily destroy aerial assets that might rise to meet them.
--
232nd/ 2nd Cauldarion Legion of Gokatoma
The armored columns continued their advance across the open plains, with little regard for the roads or scattered farmland. For the knights, the ride was smooth, regular chatter emanating from the front cabin of the conversion walker APC as small fleets of drones swept ahead. Eventually the armored columns came to a stop as they approached the nearest village.
There was no certainty that the village held insurgents or merger cultists. For as tedious as it would be it would seem they would have to sweep every settlement on the planet. From the commanders in comfortable quarters on Luss’s flagship to the drone pilots and advanced recon units out on arc cycles scouting ahead, everyone was aware that they were going to have to step on some toes to purge this infestation. But it was still best if needless casualties were averted.
Thankfully this monotonous task could be mostly offloaded onto technology. Deploying canisters of small baseball-sized recon drones which swarmed into the villages, going block by block, building by building looking for holdouts, weapons caches or improvised command centers utilized by the cultists.
Pauldran and Brachor sat in the rear of the APC. They, along with the other knights had withdrawn their helmets and sat in meditation. Many had wiped away the residue of the burning sap they had applied in the ceremony at the start of their journey and were busying themselves resting their minds for the coming battle.
233rd/234th
Mataya’s armored platoon continued across the countryside, traveling west. It was their duty to to take positions above continent’s largest population centers, thus they did not trouble themselves with smaller settlements. Their advance was steadfast, formations of drones forming a vanguard to prevent them from being ambushed. Being a heavy tank pilot Mataya was at the head of the formation. Her attention regularly shifting between her vehicle’s diagnostics and the ground-penetrating radar and anti-mine laser system. She could see the mountians rising in the distance, growing closer with each passing minute.
GDAN Paragon, High Orbit
Fleet tenders were scattered about the surviving fleet, enacting repairs and resupplying torpedoes for the fleet without compromising their standing in orbit. Luss was busy overseeing and reviewing which repairs to prioritize while Callegio established a secure communication line.
“Everyone…” He began with a bow. “We are putting our forces in position to assault the cities at the center of the continent and secure their industrial centers. I am requesting aid from you… or the other acting invasion commanders to assist us in an attack. We will attack from the east of the cities, laying fire from the mountians. If you are unable to support us in a sufficent capacity, I can deploy additional forces and take the cities.”
WEST OF CASS CITY
Ciri Brigantum checked the readouts of her Senjin fightercraft, nodding in approval. The enemy were largely already distracted by the Union assault, many of their intercept craft already committed to a battle that promised to be bloody and spectacular east of the city.
She gently pushed the controls forward, putting her fighter into a dive which dropped it close to the planet's surface, and then levelled out over the sparse trees and low buildings of the mossy coastal territory. Ahead of them, a flight of enemy aircraft, incapable of spaceborne flight, were sweeping high over a valley in a recon pattern. She snapped an order to the other two fighters in their squad and then gunned the engine, the thrusters roaring as the arrowhead-shaped craft accelerated. Saving her AAMs for more dangerous prey, she angled to intercept and sprayed a burst of nahey, neon-helium superfluid, from her Type 30 repeaters. She barely had time to register the burst of flame, shot through with scarlet red, as she passed the dying recon craft, her wingmate Kikuchi shredding the second Marchander aircraft with a whoop of excitement.
As she suspected, the enemy had reinforcements, a VTOL gunship loitering beyond the valley lip. It popped up and began acquiring a target lock, but before it could the two fighters Ciri had previously detached swooped in and destroyed it in a blaze of fury.
This was much easier than their last fight, a desperate rearguard action against the Wasting at Yog Narr, but Ciri wasn't complaining. She watched as the fleet above painted further targets for her - it looked like they might be able to achieve local air superiority by the time their troops even hit the ground, what with the Jade marines holding back until the enemy were fully committed to the eastern front.
-
EAST OF CASS CITY
The aerial response to the Union landing was surprisingly co-ordinated, with several wings of fightercraft of differing size and provenance working together to form a credible and cohesive threat to the Union landing. The sudden bombardment of countermeasures, however, wreaked havoc on them. Even as they were shaking back into formation, the Union Firestorms and Sun Dogs hit them from above, sending fighter after fighter burning to the ground. The defenders' SAM and artillery systems could not reach the distant Union landing sites, other than a few scattered units which were quickly located and destroyed, but closer to the city the Union probing forces met stiff resistance as the drones were targeted by a dense and closely-controlled network of SAM fire and interceptors.
The ground moving towards the city was uphill for the Union, a sweeping vista of pasturage on which bloated-looking hippo-like herbivores with droopy jowls grazed quietly. The blue-green grass was dotted with slate-grey outcrops of rock, and farm buildings and small hamlets punctuated the scene, leading in the distance towards the clustered lights of the city nestled between coastal hills. In one of these houses, a quartet of Marchanders gathered at an attic window. They were hefting a long rifle, a conventional firearm that nevertheless packed a giant punch, designed to kill the amphibious predators that sometimes slithered from the ocean to claim their precious bourque cattle. The farmer, his eldest son, his nephew and a neighbour's boy, bickered over what to do, but age won out and the farmer settled the rifle on the sill, taking aim at a Union marine who, despite bearing no obvious rank insignia, seemed to be issuing orders to debarking troops, who all seemed giant to the little Marchanders.
He paused, afraid, and then squeezed the trigger. He fluffed the shot, firing low at the chest instead of the head, but the youngsters cheered anyway. He held his breath...
THE SEAS EAST OF HALAK
A scattering of craft came out to oppose the Pords, but their ocean landings seemed to disconcert the defenders. Individual fighter wings approached, flying low to the earth, skipping through the crests of foaming waves before springing up to unleash fire-and-forget missiles at the overhead Pordish landers, but no concerted effort came through, this far from the shore, and they were well out of range of land-based SAMs.
The waters of the Marchand seas were turbulent out here, towering waves of blue-green water topped by roiling spray, but should the Pordish vessels choose to land it was nothing they had not seen in their home realms. The deep waters betrayed little, but the scouting craft would find no enemy bluewater presence. Pings suggested something closer to shore, but that was to be expected.
EAST OF DEBRUSK
The advance Gauss scout drones would find nothing of real interest in the small villages. The occasional villager took angry potshots with hunting weapons, but there was no organised defense visible in the plains and pastures east of the mountains.
As the 233rd began to climb into the foothills, however, they could eyeball black specks on the mountains in the distance. There was a distant boom, and the Gauss sensors would light up as giant rocket-assisted shells began to rain down on them from afar, the rounds taking seemingly forever to arc lazily across the long distances between them before screaming down at the invaders.
It was clear that whoever was responsible for the defense of Debrusk had long since recognised the importance of the mountains, and had not left them free for the taking.
GDAN PARAGON
General Terusada's face appeared on the Paragon's commscreen. "Apologies, but I am retaining my ground forces for our push on Cass City and then north to Hornqvist. If developing conditions allow, we may have the time and reserves to apply pressure on the western reaches of Debrusk."
232nd division/ 2nd legion (Eastern Plains)
With the probes finding little, the division continued thier advance twoards northeastern city. There was little for the legions to do. Pauldran and Brachor checked one another’s gear. Simply inspecting to ensure their sidearms were in working order and loading spare clips of high explosive rounds.
Batangok was outside as the second leigon recalled their drones to recharge and refuel, exchanging for a more typical vanguard of drones which could watch for petty ambushes. Heated debate about doing a more thorough search underway, though it was quite obvious which way the division commanders leaned. As the armored columns began to move again, one such disgruntled villager took a pot shot which skipped off the legionmaster’s chest plate.
He let out a disgusted snarl, slamming the hatch shut as they began to move again.
“These people ought to be ashamed of themselves, ungreatful and without honor…”
“When they see the evils that are the merger, they will be down on their hands and knees thanking us.” Brachor returned.
“And you have faced the Merger before, knight?”
“No… but my blood-cousin did. He was onboard the Omniscience…” Brachor returned. “Killed by the denizens before the ship was scuttled. I seek to avenge his name… and all of our brothers lost in that tragedy… And to avenge our dignity to the Jade Empire.”
“As do I.” Batangok returned.
233rd/234th (Debrusk Eastern Moutians)
Kauldesi sat up a little in his chair as pings lit up on his display and he pressed his headset against his ear. His drones having spotted the guns a moment prior. The vaugely casual atmosphere in the cabin evaporated in the instant before he spoke and one by one markers appeared on the interior display.
Mataya could vaugely make out the crew of another vehicle over his line. “There are guns on the ridge… high caliber… low velocity. Opened fire. Inbound guided projectiles… ETA approxomately 90 seconds.”
“Raise all defenses, all tanks standby to return fire.” He responded.
A series of blinding flashes originated from the forces, the shells still distant. Their numbers seemingly far larger than originally reported.
One pilot had opted to fire a handful of missiles. They sailed through the air for the first few moments from a cold launch, nearly touching the ground before their plasma engines ignited and they darted away, meeting several of the shells halfway. An electronic warfare vehicle at the rear of the formation locked on to a pair of the shells on a narrowly similar trajectory, and a moment later the two careened into one another, bursting into fireballs.
The remainder were thinned off by hardlight beamer defenses. Only two achieved something resembling a hit. One struck an MLRS walker near the rear of the formation, but rather than find the walker itself, it the walker flashed out of existence, leaving only the disintegrated remains of a drone and a spray of rocks and rubble. A holographic decoy. The other targeted a light walker not far from Kauldesi’s tank. A strip of accellerator rounds from the main gun whirled around it. One managed to glance the shell, deflecting its terminal guidence such that it struck the ground beneath the walker.
The explosion caused only superficial damage but sent the vehicle tumbling backwards down the slope, stuck on its back like an overturned beetle. Though this seemed to only be a minor inconvenience as its neighbor wedged its front legs beneath his overturned comrade and helped to turn him back upright. The walker shook off dirt and rubble like a canine after a bath, and continued the advance.
Mataya picked out one of the guns on the ridge, their neighbors in the heavy tank company each selecting a target on the ridge and them being plotted on her display. The walker shifted as they drove their anchoring spikes into the ground, not wanting to slide downhill under the recoil. Kauldesi gave the order. She gripped the hand control pulled the trigger, and in near synchornicity hyperaccelerated darts were returned to the artillery positions, the entire walker bucking back with the force of the gun.
GDAN Paragon
“Very well.” Callegio finished. “We’ll take the city ourselves.” He said, growling, somewhat dissatisfied at the lack of support.
He had a theory which could potentially establish him a swift superiority over the cities though it would take time to properly execute. He breifly glanced at a developing situation regarding guns on the mountian ridges but the commander had assured him it was managable.
He knew that the cities were heavily defended by anti aircraft weaponry but became curious about exactly what these systems entailed. Though not wanting to risk any lives he simply added orders to a few squads of fighter drones to break off from the second wave once deployed. Suicidal and a waste of assets, perhaps, but their data logs would be vital in potentially spotting the defenses for precision artillery bombardment.
Regardless the second wave was set to deploy. The 219th, 220th, 221st, 222nd, 223rd, 224th and 225th, along with the 4th and 5th legions of Gokatoma. Much like the first the ships and their accompanying escorts began to burn their way through the debris field and find passage into the upper atmosphere. Their entry was going to be far from subtle, more or less the enemy would be forewarned that the second fork of the attack were deploying east of Debrusk from the moment the ships entered low orbit.
Callegio couldn’t help but question why their enemy hadn’t surrendered on the spot, as any rational foe would have. It meant only one of two things; that they held an ace up their sleeve or that they looked only to inflict casualties at any cost. He wasn’t sure which he found more terrifying.
--
The Marines landed with the force of a thunderbolt.
Drop pods decelerated just before impact, forcing the Marines to endure the brief crushing feeling of G forces before the pods hit the ground, the men rapidly spreading out to control the area as dropships came to rest offloading more men and material. A grav vehicles, all normal Union pattern but built around speed and firepower ignited retro thrusters slowing their descent as they jettisoned off scorched heatshields and floated down to the ground on their repulsors, quickly spreading out and forming up.
Scout elements were already moving ahead, taking map of the terrain and co-ordinating with fleet and air assets to locate and destroy enemy artillery and SAM installations that were in range. Anti radiation missiles or light mass driver rounds split the air to explode with the distant crack of explosions as Marine formations formed up into A grav mechanised elements and rolled out. It was never the job of the Marines to casually sit around, already the Army Engineers were dropping in, moving to set up supply depots, make shift runways and command positions with the huge earth moving gear, dropped off by a continuous stream of dropships which descended then burned to escape the atmosphere again.
The Marines objective was to roll out and meet the enemy, to secure as much ground and cripple as many assets as they could. As was always joked, the Marines were there to break things and little else. The idyllic green pastures and herds of animals were disturbed by the roaring hum of Anti grav columns as blue tanks, APCs and more fanned out and raced at speed towards the edges of Cass city. Rapid fire but light artillery began sending hails of shells at pre plotted positions taken by aerial recon drones, the fire intended to suppress the enemy as others fired smoke and chaff rounds laced with electronic jamming particulates trying to help cover the approach. One of the lead Rapier light tanks was taken out by an ATGM, the explosion signalling the sudden engagement between the two forces. Railguns, missiles and machinegun fire erupted from the defenders dug in positions and the rapid advancing Marines with explosions and losses being seen and reported over the Union grid.
The shot went clean through the Marines helmet, even his personal shield not able to deflect the powerful rifle. The man went down leading to a hail of cries ‘Sniper!’ they yelled as the remaining two squads went to ground. One was already yelling, pointing at the house as the Marines leapt into action, four marines began sprinting as fast as their power armour would let them, aiming to flank the house from left and right. Those who had dropped to the ground tried to drag the body of their comrade away, one letting loose with a burst of fire at the window to suppress the contact.
“Marines are reporting initial contact with the enemy. Engineering has already begun on the forward base and is progressing ahead of schedule dare I say. Initial gains indicate we have a foothold” The message made Grissom nod in approval as he looked from the observation dome and down at the stream to the planet below.
“Good tell the Army units and FRK they are up, staggered drop, lets reinforce our marines”
Unlike the Marines who were entirely based around rapid and heavy conflict in a blink of an eye the Army elements and the FRK deployed more slowly. Conventional tracked vehicles were brought down in heavier dropships. Landers and more deployed rather than the waves of drop pods and heat shielded vehicles as the Union and FRKs second wave began to deploy. Their goal was to form up behind the Marines and initiate the conflict proper, with the beachhead secured and AA/ABM systems now in place it was deemed safe enough for the deployment. Even as the Engineers continued to build the rest of the elements dropped down, forming up into units and organising themselves while the Marines still battled at the frontline.
--
A nam-Künaan type craft dances around the white-capped peaks of waves that reach ever-skyward before breaking in the face of gravity's familiar tug. Of the lead elements comprising the Pordish strike, the diminutive nam-Zoshnar scouts remain aloft while their larger counterparts take to the depths. As outer elements, they naturally are the first to encounter the enemy, and although his response is meager, they are efforts that yield result.
The flames of a burning scout flicker against the dull backdrop of the infinite sky, and upon meeting where the sea yields to the heavens, are squelched by the seething waves.
Elsewhere, a formation of scouts burst out of a cloudbank with full power to their propulsion suites; the machines whine as they rumble through the air column, a noise joined by the shrill, piercing, crackle of entropic lances lashing out against some distant enemy, while missiles race off against even more far-flung contacts - craft that linger beyond the effective range of their lances - as other scouts climb again to regain their altitude.
Still - the Pordish aerial commander is content with the overall hesitation that appears to burden the enemy. If the landings can proceed without being destroyed by wings of strike craft, she has done her job.
Behind the scouts are the main elements of nam-Ilglat's force: a total of five divisions with a number of free-floating independent brigades alongside them. As the formations order themselves into battle array, they begin a westward advance a pace or two behind the nam-Künaans that rush onward; a number of contacts, detected offshore closer to the city, are the priority of these scouts in particular, and they make good on this objective. Long-distance scanning and target verification processes are initiated by them as the range rapidly dwindles; encased within supercavitation bubbles, they are not stealthy. Instead, they rely on speed and their own offensive capabilities.
Elsewhere, nam-Ilglat's headquarters section joins the rear-echelon forces of the Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya. Within the heart of the mobile HQ, the holographic forms of his officers sit idly around a large rendition of the local field of battle as they discuss the developing tactical situation. The displays include the aerial forces, elements remaining on the surface, and the portions of the army that have taken to the depths.
We are still not receiving reports of major aerial resistance to our movements. They might be holding them in reserve, one of the divisional commanders explains. He looks around to the other faces to gauge their reception of the notion.
A bearded brigadier shakes his head. No, he says. It's possible they do not have heavy air assets in this sector. They may have shifted them to counter the landings elsewhere on the planet.
Tasi, there do appear to be spirited aerial engagements elsewhere, nam-Ilglat agrees. But I don't think those are all of the forces at their disposal. I want to silence their airfields in this area. So even if they do have air forces, they will not be able to utilize them without dromes from which to fly - he turns to the aerial commander - I am satisfied with your work in the airspace around Halak. I think it is time to move in. Advance your scouts over the city. Secure the airspace there, and take out the airfields in and around the surrounding areas. I will speak with Panuktaq about dealing with airfields further from this theatre, he nods confidently.
The aerial commander salutes: tasi, tasinehdao! she replies.
nam-Ilglat turns back to his other commanders and then pans his gaze to the situational map. Updates now include the handiwork of brigade and battalion level emitters working to establish a cold front - an effort not done necessarily for its direct military value, but rather the morale and spiritual implications. He takes note of the local temperature as the process begins, and taps a few fingers on the table.
Swift progress, remarks a Pord from nam-Ilglat's side. The individual is robed.
The comment, however, does not elicit a reply, but does bring nam-Ilglat back to contemplation. The Merger are crafty, and from what he has seen, their direct influence has been strangely absent thus far. An unsettling thought. At any moment they might unleash some hitherto unseen force or power and bring ruin down upon his campaign. Caution must rule the day. But - he has a job to do. He pushes these thoughts back into the depths of his mind and coughs to clear his throat. I expect we will make landfall here shortly, he replies to the Adgu Agent.
The Adgu nods slowly. nam-Ilglat's commanders have their orders, all they can do now is wait.
--
WEST OF CASS CITY
The 305th and 642nd began their landing. 200-metre dropships loomed through the cloudbanks, surrounded by clouds of corvettes, shuttles and fighters. Each ship carried a full battalion, 1500 warriors and their equipment, and ten of these dropships settled west of the city. They were virtually unopposed by the ragged remnants of the Guild fightercraft, and out of range of significant SAM defenses.
They towered like giant whales, their jutting bows unhinging to allow a storm of marines to boil forth like a cloud of krill. Within minutes, nearly 15,000 marines were forming up for the advance, their lead elements already roaring forwards as squadrons of Shiroyama hoverbike scouts glid into the fog ahead.
Their appearance was alien to the locals. The soldiers of the 305th looked like grim spiders, their masks glittering with many lenses and ornate mandibles, whilst the 642nd took the form of nightmarish bats, their helmet horns shaped like curling ears. Equipped with spears and swords, they seemed barbaric and strange.
General Terusada took in a deep breath of the chilly, humid air. Around her, a forward command centre was being constructed, but for now she let the wind rattle her gear as she stared north-east towards the mountainous sprawl of Cass City, dull blue and yellow lights glowing through the fog. Reports were already coming in of skirmishes ahead as the scouts ran into resistance, but with the vast majority of the enemy maneuvering east to stop the Union and FRK attack, they had left their flank exposed.
EASTERN FRONT, CASS CITY
The Union advance was rapid and overwhelming. Although carefully selected ambush sites and blockages slowed it in places, they were mere drops in an ocean. Bailiwick Zboril, a senior member of the Salt Mining Guild which itself was a subgroup of the Great Marchander Guild, had overall command of security assets in the region, and he watched in quiet dismay as team after team disappeared from sight.
He had known that these delaying tactics would not stop the attack but the blue vehicles carried an enemy that tolerated no interference. An IED, a rocket or a volley of gunfire would go off and then there would be a swift, sudden response from which few could escape. Only those lucky enough to launch their ambushes near to cave networks made it away with their lives. He watched the helmet cam of a duo from AgriCorp Solutions, whose usual line of work was selling security for remote farming planets plagued by dangerous native fauna. They had a huge recoilless rifle, which had made the company a lot of money when used against the armoured crustaceans of Shizukanoumi, but even as they levelled it at a a sleek blue Rapier class tank, the crunch of heavy footsteps made them turn. Towering blue figures, half as tall again as the little Marchanders, were visible only for a moment before gunfire drowned out the mercenaries' cries of surprise. The Union rolled on.
It was not until they reached the eastern fringes of Cass City that they met serious resistance. Here, the Bailiwick had used the natural lay of the land to great effect. Like most Marchander cities, Cass was built on a rock formation, allowing for the construction of a network of basements and caves. Easy to keep heated in the cold, and nice and dark for the rat-like Marchanders, this also offered great defensive protection. Along the eastern edge of the city, as the ground rose, bastions of SAM and artillery, well-provisioned and with overlapping fields of fire, nestled among the low, clustered buildings of the suburbs. The ground itself rose towards the city centre, meaning any advance would be fighting uphill along narrow streets designed for a race barely two-thirds the height of the average human. On their left, the Union were flanked by the grey sea, whilst to their right the land fell away to more pasture.
As the Union came into view, the thump of pre-sighted artillery sounded clear through the fog...
DEBRUSK EASTERN MOUNTAINS
Bailiwick Kuraly grimaced as these strange 'Gaussians' approached his first defenses. They had powerful ranged weapons, it seemed, and even deep in his command bunker he winced as some of his outer positions were scoured from the hillsides, sniper and light artillery pieces demolished as slugs hammered into them, moving so fast that they left a trail of flame that ended in a fountain explosion of rock and steel.
The larger batteries, rather than perched on the side of the mountains or in shallow dugouts, were instead buried deep inside the rock, reinforced with their own point defenses and theoretically impregnable. As he watched the bizarre, spider-like walkers continue their advance, however, one even seemingly returning to life and flipping itself upright, he felt a lot less than impregnable.
He glanced to his right where, through the armoured viewport, he could see a huge gun to his south traversing to aim at the incoming aliens. At thirty metres it was an inelegant monster, designed simply to cough out shells, the barrel poking out into the mountain air. He had been provided with a stock of nuclear rounds for it, but he was unwilling to condemn those living on the plains below to irradiation and immolation. Unlike some of his colleagues he had refused to join the bloodthirsty, fatalist Cult of Carcaros and he had a suspicion that was why he was here in the mountains, not safely inside the defensive network of Debrusk itself.
The gun sounded with a huge boom. It fired no nuclear warhead, but rather a vast shell lined with hyperexplosive plasma munitions that would detonate in-air above an enemy formation and rain down semi-smart cluster bombs. It even had a one-shot point defense system in its nose, though it had never been tried in true combat.
Even as it fired, an enemy slug slammed into the mountain above them, and he saw the bodies of a Guild spotter team tumble past the viewscreen in a shower of rocks and debris.
THE SEAS EAST OF HALAK
Team Leader Ond Rejkase was not having a great day. As a member of ConSec Inc, he and his pilots were more used to escorting freighters through disreputable regions of space, occasionally mowing down those few pirates stupid enough to take their chances. Now, they were being asked to try and stop a full-scale planetary invasion by a regional power, and shockingly it was not going well. Every now and then a cheery signal tone and flare of light would indicate they had downed an enemy ship, but he had also lost nearly half his wing damaged or destroyed and the enemy just kept coming. The bastards from Aeroshield Dynamics had pulled their three wings back after losing only three craft, but Rejkase and his operators were true believers and would fight to the last. Money was not everything. The Great Wave was coming. They just had to keep the Pordish eyes on them for long enough...
DEEP BENEATH THE SURFACE
The Pords had not encountered any oceangoing Guild assets, other than a few scattered mines which suggested there may be more closer to the Halak seaport, but as they reached the seabed to begin their stealthy advance against the shore, their sensors would begin to register new contacts.
A colossal shape emerged near one of the leading Pordish machines, rearing from the seabed in a burst of sand to reach out with giant, curling mandibles. Half pincer, half tentacle, they tried to pull the Pordish vessel towards a churning mouth of ringed teeth, whilst rows of frond-like appendages beat like oars to propel it towards its victim. Along its back, segmented chitin-like armour suggested an invertebrate biology, but in the dark gloom and sudden chaos the Pords were likely not too concerned with cataloguing it in the interests of academic rigour.
IN ORBIT
Mitsuyoshi was still in a state of disbelief. He had been promoted Brevet-Captain after Captain Sugoshi, his company commander, had been injured in a skirmish.
Although Sugoshi was expected to make a full recovery, he would be out of action for the immediate future and so, mid-campaign, Mitsu had been selected to lead Bravo Company for the duration of the action. At first Mitsu had suspected it was a sop due to his royal blood, but then he had read the after-action reports and recommendations from the battalion officers, and the concept that he was doing well as a junior officer had begun to sink in.
Now, instead of a fifteen man platoon, he was in command of 150 warriors, or more precisely 132 effectives. His battered regiment was being held in reserve, along with the five other regiments currently in-system, whilst the Canopy Bats and Temple Spiders had the task of storming Cass City and securing a foothold on the planet's surface.
Before the assault on Ba-Sten, he would have been envious of them, but after what he had seen on the moon's surface he was wondering if this campaign would be as easy for the infantry as it had been for the navy...
GDAN 2nd Fleet (In Orbit)
The Gaussian fleet hastily began to break from orbit, with the exception of a single Instigator-Class dreadnought carrier (GDAN Makariamatra) , and the battleship Unyielding Guardian along with a dozen or so cruisers and carriers; half of which were already invested on the surface. By the time a secure hail to the other high commanders could be established the first ships were already making their transits to subspace.
“This is Galactic Admiral Sulumai Luss. We have recieved orders to return to the Assiduous system on account of urgent matters of national security. General Tagratha onboard the Makariamatra will be responsible for coodinating our ground forces. Commodore Tagrun of the Unyielding Guardian will be the acting commander of the remaining fleet. I am sending you a fresh set of encryption codes such that you may contact his ship. I wish you luck with the remainder of your operation.”
Luss and Callegio gave respectful bows before the video feed closed. The mighty dreadnought kicked into subspace with a powerful wave of backscatter as it vanished along with the remainder of the fleet.
“Thank you.” Rather Bizzarely the generaly to which they spoke appeared to be a pair of twin girls. Both with olive skin and neatly kempt hair. Their only defining difference being one’s hair was ivory white and the other’s jet black. “I am General Tagratha Hagota. It is an honor to be working with you all. Nam-Ilglat… I believe it is…? Our forces are in position and we’re ready to begin our campaign against the city of Halak”
223rd/234th (Debrunsk Eastern Mountians)
The walking tanks continued their slow, steady climb in search of better angles on the enemy guns, a steady exhange of fire. Advancing too quickly was ill advised, as it would negate one of their main advantages; that being their ability to intercept a majority of the guided shells. Kauldesi was in conversation with command, trying to clarify why the fleet in orbit had to depart so urgently while Mataya staffed the tank. She watched a shell sailing in; the system plotting its trajectory; seemingly headed right for them and reluctantly gripped the joysticks in preperation for a maneuver. An MLRS walker on their rear flank fired a pair of missiles sailing to intercept.
The whole thing seemed to happen in slow motion. There was a blast from the nose of the shell, taking out one of the brigandine missiles. The other missile was too low but detonated anyway into a cloud of flechettes. The enemy shell was lost in the blast for a moment before it emerged tumbling and spilling miniature munitions like a cupfull of marbles. Mataya yanked the joysticks and every leg responded in unison as the tank launched sideways several dozen meters. They connected with the earth in a hard landing into slope comprised mostly of loose rock. Beginning to slide, whe fired both grapples (one piercing through a large pine tree and uprooting it) and engaged all six sets of climbing spikes; which were just long enough to find purchase in solid rock beneath the looser rubble. The tree fell on top of them, though was swiftly divided into managable sections of burning lumber by the tank’s hardlight beamer nodes.
The affair had successfuly diverted the field commander’s attention away from high command and realize the battle needed to perhaps be taken more seriously, switching his console to a diagnosis. A holographic wireframe showed the mid left leg of the tank flashing red, technical redouts pointing to multiple instances of damage.
“Mid-Left is toast. Standby to detach.” Kauldesi grunted.
The limp appendage broke away from the walker with a hiss; mangled and half molten as the result of a glancing hit of the plasma munitions which had cut a narrow swath through the formation; too small and numerous for their point defenses to handle. Craters rimmed in cooling slag lined the mountianside marked by several half-melted tanks that had been caught in the weapon’s fire and were not so lucky. Only the hardlight shields of the superheavy walker were unyielding. A near perfect island of green vegetation and unproturbed mountianside in the carnage remained directly beneath the titantic war machine as its hardlight hexes faded away and it took another step forward. The half-melted husk of the MLRS which had fired to defend them just moments ago crumpled beneath the weight its spherical foot as the anchoring spikes perforated what remained of its hull and the bedrock below.
The machine scanned the ridgeline, acquiring its own targeting solutions and spooling up in power as its electromagnetic mass driver rebuilt the stored energy expended from the use of their shield. Firing off several shells in quick succession as it shifted from left to right its fire appeared random but was in fact carefully coordinated. Large guided shells containing an experimental nanothermite compound that burned with brilliant blues and violets; an acidic hellfire of high temperature plasma. They aimed to guide the shells right into the remaining bunkers; break morale and drive the enemy from the ridge.
232nd/2nd Gokatoma Legion
Nothing much happened as the group largely sat by idly waiting for the all-clear to attack. Though there was little else to do as they awaited further orders from a safe range south of Halak and watch for ambushes.
The 219th-225th, 4th and 5th legions of Gokatoma. (West of Debrunsk)
Arasi’s team had been the first to set down on a small outcropping. The city faintly visible on the horizon. They glanced up at the carriers breaking through the stratosphere.
“…Normally I would have deployed you from orbit, but the debris field made that impossible. Though I suppose you’re no stranger to impossible missions. Your orders are to infiltrate the city and recon their defenses. If we acquire any intel on who their commanding officers are we’ll update you en route such that you can make an assassination. If you can, sabotoge their defenses. Otherwise, report back with what you find so the rest of us aren’t taken by surprise. Tagratha out.”
Arasi lamented the lack of ultra-low profile stealth craft able to properly insert her teams behind enemy lines for the deep strike missions they were so often sent on. This meant they would be making the trip into the city on foot. The five cloaked and made haste across the countryside, stopping in an abandoned barn on the outskirts of the ranch country and looked back to see the invasion force deploying to the surface.
“What the hell they having us do recon for? Looks like they brought enough firepower to flatten the place.” One of Arasi’s subordinates grunted, zooming her visor in on the ranks of tanks and mechs exiting the assembly bays and forming up for the assault. She then zoomed out, glancing up to see the trifecta of cruisers loitering overhead, each with their own gunship. Disabling the zoom functionality and withdrawing her helmet she came to the realization that the kilometer-long cruisers were quiet classically visible even at this range. “The hell? Sentinel class ships? In atmosphere? Just what exactly are we up against?”
“the 233rd got ambushed by heavy artillery emplacements on the mountiantops.” Arasi said sternly, gesturing to the mountians beyond the city. “If they can afford that kind of defense for a vector most forces wouldn’t dare try to exploit then I don’t want to know whats in that city. Though with any luck they’ll be as busy as you gawking at the walker parade and not notice the five of us slipping in. They just want us to work our usual magic… take some big guns out from the inside or at the very least let them know whats coming.”
She nodded, re-extending her helm; the five re-engaged bolted across the countryside with supernatural speed, making their way to the city.
426nd Medium Skirmisher Battalion, Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
Halyt nam-Tyrazh double-checks the sensor feed on his nam-Künaan type scout as he leads the elements of his unit forward, a six-ship strong platoon that forms a portion of the division's screening cavalry force. The KZH - the army - prefers manned scouts as the usefulness of an extra body at the front can never be overstated. The navy, with other considerations in mind, does not share this sentiment, and it is in this moment that Halyt is reminded of this dichotomy.
I'm getting a massive contact, closing fast, he advises to his wingmen. Are you guys registering the same?
The machine leading the rear of the formation comes over the communications link; Tasi, I read you, nam-Yünam, the Pord confirms, I'm getting the same contact.
Affirmations pour in from the others, too, and it becomes clear that their suites are picking up something of note - an object moving very quickly and too close for comfort - the signatures of which seem to be consistent with biological life. Instincts take over, and nam-Tyrazh maneuvers the machine with the guidance of the vessel-AI; the creature narrowly misses him as it surges forth, its massive appendages - swiping near meters from the underside of his craft - bringing with them a torrent of seawater that crashes against his nam-Künaan, sending it tumbling out of formation towards the bottom as the sudden influx of seawater so close to the hull rapidly decelerates it.
Take it out, nam-Tyrazh yells. He regains control of his machine and brings it around; the other five scouts within his platoon do the same and soon charcoal-black Array beams power their way through the water.
Shallows of the Halak Sea, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
The rapid rise of the seafloor greets the various Pordish craft here, and they slow their advance in response to the shrinking battlespace. As the scans pour in, more and more mines are picked up and noted by the various units. Given their strict timetable, and the stationary nature of the mines, the Pords opt against efforts to defuse or repurpose them, and instead eliminate them at range and continue westward. The shallower water forces them to adjust their formation depth, however, and they do so in preparation for landfall.
Ahead of his army and above the sea, nam-Ilglat's concentrated effort against local air power begins. Utilizing data gleaned from prior scouting efforts and from orbital imaging, Pordish air forces now initiate their most aggressive campaign as of yet. Fresh strike craft wings rotate down from their berths aboard the vessels in orbit and scream down towards targets in and around Halak; in particular they come against known and suspected airfields, as well as areas of heavy anti-air resistance that were either identified earlier, or added to be targeted after exposing themselves.
Two of the heavy redirection probes join this offensive and take up positions equidistant from the surface and their vessels of origin. Their inky black forms loom in the sky - anchoring the waves of far smaller machines as they swoop down - while less impressively-sized redirection probes and other drones of myriad bulk and purpose add their bit into the engagement. An immediate spike in reported losses accompany these actions as indication to nam-Ilglat and his officers that they have fully committed to battle.
Below the aerial conflagration, the "surface" elements of the Pordish divisions adjust in reaction to the measures taken by the deeper elements. The rise of the seafloor is more than enough to confirm their positioning, and the commanders of the artillery and interdiction battalions elect to establish firebases here. As they bring their formations to a halt, they redirect their subordinate emitter assets to begin freezing over swathes of ocean, to then eventually be anchored to the floor below; nam-Ilglat's logisticians do not expect this to be complete before the push on the city begins in earnest, but the detonations of hydroglacial amplification warheads across the line serve as messengers of the Pords' urgency.
Headquarters of GrazhniJloknam Kazhel nam-Ilglat
Panuktaq's hologram returns the bows of Luss and Callegio. And good luck to you as well, he replies. As they fade from view, his attention is taken by General Tagratha, who begins to speak.
In a chair sitting across from Panuktaq's hologram, nam-Ilglat looks over his situational reports as Tagratha speaks. Her form is, indeed, a marked contrast from that of Admiral Luss. For the most part, nam-Ilglat concludes his forces are nearly in position to being moving against the city proper and whatever forces wait within. He nods to the various officers present.
His adjutant, entering the room, salutes crisply. nam-Ilglat, she says, seating herself.
Well met, nam-Hagota. We are nearly in position, nam-Ilglat says back to General Tagratha. We will send you encrypted positional data so that we can coordinate more closely. He nods to a Pord elsewhere in the chamber. For now, here is our current timetable.
A relatively minute datapacket is relayed to the Gaussian fleet following this comment.
As you can see, we will be beginning short. You may advance when ready.
--
The round came in fast, glancing off the hull and ricocheting off to gouge a huge furrow into the ground just behind the tank.
“Driver reverse! Gunner engage!” The commander yelled, the hover tank sending a blast of retro thrusters to stop its advancement and beginning to arrest its momentum as the railgun swung around to lock onto the anti-tank emplacement. In a moment the gunner had the lock, it had taken seconds.
Still too slow. The hover Seraph came apart in a huge fireball as another concealed position opened fire, putting a hypervelocity shell straight through the tanks exposed side armour igniting the air where it had fired. The Union vehicle detonated, showering the marines nearby with debris as the tank collapsed to the ground and one of the crewmen, half burned and screaming leapt from the wreck. Shouts for a medic were made as the marines leapt forward to grab him, machinegun fire from the rocks strafing all around as another explosion signified yet another enemy artillery barrage.
The Union Marines had done their job, sweeping forward across enemy resistance but now they were fighting a dug in foe against the rocky outcrops and hills. Despite the speed and ferocity of their assault the Marines did not have the heavy armour support needed, and their pinned down companies tried as they might to breach the enemy emplacements and fortifications. Men were gunned down as they attempted to storm pillboxes built into the rocks and tanks exploded as concealed ATGM and railgun emplacements sniped them from unseen locations.
The guys grabbed the half burnt tank commander and dragged him back towards the small depression where they were taking shelter, a round exploding close by.
“Get him painkillers! For fuck sake where is our artillery support!” The sergeant shouted looking over the ridge only for the air to ignite again as the heavy railgun emplacement opened up again.
“They are currently redeploying, enemy gunships have been spotted and their artillery has this whole area ranged!” The man next to him pulled several medical supplies from a pouch, administering medical nanites, painkillers and also preparing to apply several artificial skin grafts to ease the mans burns. The sergeant was about to swear when the ground began rumbling, checking his grid connection the man finally smiled.
“Those wankers in the heavies are here at last” Almost immediately the heavy emplacement began re-orientating as he looked over the ridge, a new Halberd MBT coming into view, its tracks methodically bringing it up next to the burning old hover Seraph. The air lit again as the railgun round found the new Union target, and in a bright flash of light and sparks showering the entire area, causing them all to get down again, the round was vapourised mid flight spashing the MBT with molten metal fragments. Before the Marchander emplacement could reload the gravitic accelerator was already looking at them. The pressure wave of the gun firing shook the area as the rock emplacement was turned into a storm of broken stone and dust. Instantly the second emplacement began lining up a shot but before it could fire a missile screamed into its open slit blowing it open from the inside. Two FRK Sundog fighters whined overhead as they flew past, missiles and rockets roaring.
“Took you Army fucks long enough” the sergeant shouted with a grin.
Repeated airstrikes now followed as the Union and FRK main army units took over from the marines. Heavy armoured units and mechanised infantry took the fore allowing the Marine divisions to pull back, regroup and re-arm. SAM missiles streaked upwards as the aircraft duelled with the defences, the occasional blue streak going down in a burst of fire indicating another loss. Still Union artillery units zeroed in on SAM sites, hoping to knock them out and assist the air war. Still the initial emplacements knocked out the Army began to move into the suburbs, the infantry going first as the gruelling city fighting truly began. Meanwhile anti-tank elements and several forces began to deploy to the open pastures, expecting enemy push to the flank to try and cut into their own assault on the city.
Still infantryman were bogged down as well set up Marchander defences and kill zones proved to be troublesome. Still this was the army’s job, and the Union and FRK prepared to set up for the slog.
The Union and FRK captains bid a friendly enough farewell as the Gauss naval elements withdrew from the system rather promptly. The face of Bradamont somewhat unable to contain a sense of dissatisfaction as they greeted the new Gauss representative for their forces.
“The honour is ours; I only wish you the best of luck regarding the matters elsewhere” Mephissa answered. The Union captain giving Bradamont a slight nod in agreement. The two were tense about how such an operation could be partially pulled out of part way through.
Almost immediately Bradamont, having been watching the ground forces progress thanks to updates from Grissom pulled out several new simulations each one showing a possible renewed enemy space assault given their sudden loss of ships. He narrowed his eyes, not entirely happy with the results.
WESTERN CASS CITY
The towering peak of Mount Blades was visible ahead of the advancing Jade forces. Leftenant Kobayashi crept through a window onto the roof of the small timber house, whilst below Kuda kept an eye on the terrified native family. Sighting through his binoculars, he watched as a platoon of Solace tanks pushed along a major thoroughfare. Behind them a wrecked Balm light tank smoked, whilst on their right flank the rubble of a factory-turned-bastion smouldered. As a pioneer his job was to reduce instances of the former and increase the latter, and he swiveled to sight on a pair of anti-air guns that had set up to create a crossfire at a small junction ahead. He lasered it in and, almost immediately, there were distance booms as Blessing SPAAG launched their munitions. Streaking into the sky, their trails suddenly ignited in a blaze as the rockets activated and screamed down in an impossible arc to hammer the defenders, explosions roiling up over the rooftops as screams echoed distantly.
The defenders were putting up an impressive fight, ambushing the advancing Imperials and turning every twisting road into a threat. Nevertheless, they were short on men, having moved much of their force east to counter the huge Union assault, and the Imperials were already preparing for bombing runs to soften up the positions on the eastern slopes of Mount Blades at the GMGC compound.
He could not see any further defenders from this viewpoint. The tangled city with its short lines of sight was a scout's nightmare, and so he and his partner had to keep moving to be any use to the main formations. Turning, he clattered back downstairs, nodding to Kuda. She nodded in reply, her fearsome spider mask turning to gaze impassively at the frightened local family who cowered away from her spear in the corner. She paused, then dug into a pouch and tossed the youngest child a protein bar before turning to leave, the roar of their Shiroyama hoverbikes receding rapidly...
ABOVE MARCHAND
Admiral Prescott was not thrilled at the departure of the great Dominion warships, but they had already broken the back of the Guild fleets and, if their prepatory scouting was to be believed, less than a thousand native ships remained to threaten them. Still, it was a weakening of their position. He hid his displeasure as he opened comms to Commodore Tagrun. "Pleasure to be working with you, commodore."
DEBRUSK MOUNTAINS
Bailiwick Kuraly hooted in alarm as a hardlight impactor tore the peak off a mountain to their north. The rock erupted in a series of explosions as the ammo bunker below ignited, a man-made volcano that belched debris and dust high into the cloudy sky. The enemy were advancing implacably, stoically soaking up their losses and moving methodically through the foothills, wearing down his guns well before they entered the true killing zone of the lower slopes and mountain passes.
He turned and began barking orders. Across the mountain range, the big guns were gradually falling silent, columns of smoke betraying where some installations had been obliterated completely whilst others simply sat voiceless. Behind him, in the passes, his armoured units began massing. When the enemy reached the mountains and began to push against his line, he would hurl one of his columns in a counterattack to flank them and send them tumbling back to the plains below....or at least so he hoped
WEST OF DEBRUSK
As the strike team advanced, they saw little to concern them. The ranches north-west of the city were sleepy, giant Bucyk herbivores grazing quietly on the long grey-green ferns that passed for grass here. If anyone saw them they did not react, but as they wove along field boundaries and down country lanes they saw Debrusk looming ahead. Built into the wester slopes and foothills of the mountain range, the city proper began on a small plateau. One major highway and many smaller roads led up from the spacious, pine-forested suburbs to the crowded upper reaches. Along the edge of the plateau, gun barrels and ugly concrete blocks marred the cutesy saltbox style homes along the poorer outskirts, whilst behind a wide river lay a commercial district bustling with lights and two small outcrops that sheltered the regional GMGC offices, themselves bulwarked with more defenses.
Traffic began to increase, the little Marchanders using a wide range of vehicles from imported hydrocells to crude fusion and even a few antique fossil fuel vehicles. In the daylight, the ratfolks' eyes were weak, but the sun was beginning to drop down low and Arasi’s team would have been briefed on their superior night vision. Downtown, aliens might have gone unnoticed, but out here in the suburbs non-natives were rare and bound to cause suspicion...
SEA EAST OF HALAK
The huge monster darted impossibly fast after nam-Tyrazh's vessel, its powerful appendages beating the water aside as it lunged again, trying to grapple his vessel and crush it. Two of the array blasts raked its hulking carapace, prompting a boiling hiss of coppery blue blood which the drone-infused beam identified as infused with an analogue of Limulus Amebocyte Lysate. It did not roar, but after a few moments other scouts detected signatures of other large biologicals beginning to encroach. Drawn perhaps by the motion, or by the blood drawn, it seemed a feast was in the offing.
THE ASSAULT ON HALAK
Across the board, flame and fury marked the line of Pordish advance. Their strategy seemed simple - wait for defensive positions to expose themselves and then strike, beating down the anti-air units available to the mercenaries of Halak. Team Leader Ond Rejkase had been shot down, but had managed to eject, and had found his way to the seaport. It was here that the greatest concentration of ground forces was massing, facing the broad seafront from which the Pords were expected to attack. Squinting into the distance, Ond frowned.
There was a building cloudbank in the distance, and pulling out his monocular he saw what looked like tiny floes of ice bobbing on the furthest waves. The seas here were cold, but only the largest icebergs ever made it down this far....
He glanced around at the disparate units and personnel building firing positions, barricading streets and burrowing into warehouses and buildings to fend off the Pordish attack. Hefting his own handgun, he did not feel quite as confident as he had in his cockpit an hour previously...
UNION FORWARD POSITIONS
There were two primary roads leading west into Cass City, unimaginatively named Highway North and Highway South. They ran through rocky ground which rose and became ever more densely populated, where they joined in the industrial district of New Jutland just behind the main line of Marchander defenses. As the leading elements of the Union army made it to the outer ring of defenses, Bailiwick Zboril triumphantly gestured to his adjutant, before leaning back over the balcony to watch the distance conflict.
A rippling line of explosions tore across the eastern edge of the city, along the face of a moderate slope. One after another, plumes of fire, wood, stone and steel leapt into the sky, shaking the city and ripping a swath through the buildings. When the dust began to settle, his intent became clear. A good eighty metres of ground had been torn into rubble and ruin, and at the top of the slope, nestled inside buildings and defensive posts that had been hurriedly fortified, waited a panoply of mercenary infantry, guns and armour. They began to pour fire downslope at the shocked leading elements of the Union army, even as overhead the last few Marchander aircraft fought and died in blazing wreckage against the overwhelming Union attack. They were a mix of uniforms, companies, and weapons in the defensive line, but they were all united by the crude wave icon painted on their gear or stitched into their uniforms.
Bailiwick Zboril allowed a smile to curl his lips as he watched the chaos unfold. He knew that behind him, on the far side of the mountain, the Ingenious were advancing rapidly. Even as he turned his gaze to the skies, a Senjin fightercraft roared overhead, the arrowhead shape hard to spot against the darkening sky as it took advantage of the hole punched by the Union to deliver a missile strike against some unit on the streets nearby.
A glance at his tactical pad, held for him by a nervous aide, confirmed in hazy guesswork the positions of the rapidly advancing Jade troops. They were already punching through the western defenses, it seemed.
He turned to look at the mountain behind him, the dying rays of the sun pouring either side of it, knowing the Imperials were just behind it, and would soon be flooding either side of the great rock.
Good, he thought to himself.
East of Debrusk
The rangers came to a pause in an alleyway.
“Those look exactly like the kind of guns they want us to sabotage.”
Arasi nodded.
“I’m marking targets for sabotage on your HUDs.” She said producing a series of thin disc-like devices covered in chameleon mesh. Magnetic shrunken mines. Small yet extremely powerful explosives designed specifically for sabotage operations such as this. Each member of her team took a share.
Splitting up was not always the wisest maneuver for a standard squad. But where invisibility was prized over combative effectiveness it became a far more viable method.
“No guards… least not that I can see. The natives have good natural night vision. Cloaks up from here… we’ve got till dawn to have the job done. Keep your wits about you and your mind braced for whatever you might encounter. The malignant powers of the merger no doubt have more in store for us than just this.”
“The hell haven’t they evacuated the areas below the plateau?”
“There could be a minefield… or they dont care about the lower class… or they just have that much confidence in those guns… We have extra time after the guns we can investigate.”
The midnight sisters engaged all of their advanced stealth measures. Their chameleon skin rendered them completely invisible to all spectrums of light. Sonic dampeners concealed the sounds of footsteps. Their suits were even stertilized such that they emitted no odor.
From there, they moved through the city, navigating rooftops and running across power lines with the upmost ease; making a concerted effort to stay off the streets and out of the line of sight of the natives as much as possible. Arasi had successfully traversed the district and reached the base of the plateau. Taking a leap from the nearest building to the cliffside she found purchase without handholds; sticking to the cliff like an insect she began to climb. Finding outcroppings in the rock, she lept and flipped, gaining altitude. The bunker loomed above her like the head of some great titan, the barrel of the artillery gun like some comical protruding nose.
Without warning she slipped ever so slightly. Finding purchase she had accidentally sent a loose fist-sized stone tumbling down the face cliff. Behind her mask she winced each time it skipped off an outcropping with a loud crack. The stone shrank away into the lights of the prolitariat district below.
“Shit.” She hissed, praying to some nondescript divine that would not be their undoing.
West Debrusk Mountians
“Multiple new contacts incoming, standby for repositioning orders.” Kauldesi said suddenly, checking the drone feeds and repositioning icons on the map. The vast network of small drones had allotted them a measure of lead time on the flanking attack. Not enough to wholly reposition, but enough time to formulate a measured response. After all concealing the division sized from the prying eyes of the dominion would have been nigh impossible.
He ordered infantry transport and utility walkers off the northern flank, leaving several dozen mech squadrons and anti-air units as the main force that would be first to greet the enemy. That and the superheavy walkers loitering at the rear. They were given orders to fire sparingly and have the overwhelming majority of their power and resources dedicated to shielding. They were a force to be reckoned with in a direct engagement and could no doubt take on several tanks each. But their numbers so few they would be taking on several dozen tanks each.
He gave out a call for air support, one which was swiftly confirmed. Fighters and drones would be inbound on the enemy’s position to make bombing runs. The heavy tanks would in the meantime, be more than capable of following through on the forward momentum of the assault and reaching the ridge line alone. It was risky to divide his forces between two engagements such as this and he could only pray the enemy did not have more tricks up their sleeve.
Kauldesi cued a drone feed as the open engagement began. Thousands of ropelike streaks erupted as rather liberal volleys of brigandine missiles were spent softening up the enemy advance. This followed by flashes of the superheavies discharging hardlight beamers, quite bright even this far from the battle.
South of Halak
The hour had come. The Knights were readied for their assault. Millions of them in glimmering white armor began forming up in the foothills outsize of the southern district of the city; a vast shield wall of nine-foot-tall power armored warriors standing shoulder stretched from horizon to horizon. Holographic banners a hundred meters in height bore the crest of house Gokatoma.
Callegio stepped out onto the battlefield, his billowing red cape fluttered behind him, his voice echoed across the landscape as though it were a god.
“Knights of Gokatoma. Malignant forces lurk within the city, the vile and malignant merger. This day we win glory for our house. For Gokatoma! For the Cauldarion Race! For Kragleosha’s Dominion! Today we win vengeance for all those who have fallen into the shadowy embrace of darkness and death never to return. Rahbakun parakos Gokatoma!”
“Rahbakun parakos Gokatoma!” The army repeated back.
“Rahbakun parakos Kragleosha Gauss!” Callegio roared.
“Rahbakun parakos Kragleosha Gauss!” The army reported in return.
“Charge!”
The galactic Marshall’s voice rang like thunder, and the army’s footsteps came like an earthquake. Their flanks covered by tanks, mech units and the odd legion of knights making their advance into the city.
But it was all a front. And the enemy would be correct in believing the enemy force was vastly larger than had intitially reported. A great horde of tightly packed infantry, charging on foot with spears and shields would, in theory prove both too intimidating and too tempting a target for their foes in the city. Through this was all a grand illusion. Fullcolor holograms. Small drones with larger-than life sound systems; and a handful of support walkers in the rear beating their legs against the earth created the effect of a million footsteps. This great illusion meant to draw fire from both the pords and their own attacks; hoping to draw out and expend the enemy’s greatest energies for little measurable gain.
Only the flanks of the attack were true-to life attackers making an actual earnest charge into the city and giving credence to the illusion with their light, scattered fire as they approached. Pauldaran and Brachor riding an arc cycle; with one driving and one as a gunner. A formidable fast-attack vehicle small and maneuverable enough to traverse the city’s streets.
426nd Medium Skirmisher Battalion, Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
Broken crags of a distant seamount loom menacingly in nam-Tyrazh's displays. As his machine whisks him along at a frightening pace, they grow more imposing with each meter of sea he puts behind him.
This damn thing is tough, he scowls to his wingmen. Unfazed by the Pord's escape attempt, the sprawling mass of appendages and armour plating jets along glued to his tail, managing, somehow, to keep pace with him. In fact, two strikes clearly connected with the monstrous beast from the #2 and #4 scouts in his platoon, but the sheer scale and durability of the creature gave it little reason to yield to the blows.
Another voice comes over the communications link: the rear Pord. nam-Yünam, it's gaining on you, get some separation! More beams lash out against the creature; the sea roils in protest.
nam-Tyrazh, already aware of this fact, runs through his options. Diving away isn't among them, not against such a massive beast. Perhaps a climb with max acceleration - yes, perhaps that. The scout groans with power as its demi-ablation drives whine with output, accompanied by the supercavitation bubble once more manifesting.
More contacts, closing low, closing ahead, the #3 scout calls out. Similar signatures, closing fast!
Clouds of silt billow up from the depths as the seafloor before them gives way to the silhouettes of more enormous creatures; with mighty sprints they waste no time in hurling themselves towards the besieged platoon. They are, however, unwelcome.
By Klovnar, there's more of them! the #2 scout exclaims as nam-Tyrazh throws himself into a tight turn to avoid the claws of the one of the new arrivals. The maneuver is just enough to give their original guest an opening, and despite his combat-AI's recognition of the danger and attempts to correct, the swipe of a massive appendage connects with his scout in a muffled schwap! that rips the machine in half. As the automated escape measures eject him into the sea, the appearance of more contacts stirs interest from his company commander who looks over their stalled progress with displeasure.
Shallows of the Halak Sea, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
The gathering clouds come with the drone of engines. Floating machines that sail just past the wavetops rush over the horizons, joined by falling flakes of alabaster snow. With their reorganization complete, they are the first to commit to the assault - Zhabahontyrnats with heavy entropic lances among them - joined, in good order, by the other elements of the Pordish thrust.
Guided by new objectives, now, the organic scouting and skirmisher formations of the divisions provide direct top cover for the army. Against the first chorus of Marchander missile and long-range artillery salvos they devote themselves. PD suites cough out while shells crisscross the sky above the foremost light elements of the van - veritable clouds of inky smoke drifting beneath brilliant curtains of white - below which the main heavy infantry sections advance...
Chor Dalglak feels the ascent of his craft. Currents crashing against the hull are an unmistakable feeling. Deeper waters sound and feel different from shallower reaches. He can sense it. They are almost upon the landing zones, and as he secures his helmet, his mind drifts to the Merger and what they might be hiding up ahead. Driver, how much further?
Fifteen seconds, the driver, an automatonist, calls back.
Two hours pass over fifteen seconds, fifteen seconds within which Dalglak considers truly nothing of consequence. His second in command, chatting idly with the squad's other automatonist, glances toward the exit as the machine begins to slow.
There's a lot of incoming fire, the driver speaks up again, I'll let you guys off here. The docks aren't far, I'll see if I can move to a better position to support, he says.
Dalglak nods. Understood, he agrees. I've marked a pier for you, it should give cover from some of the heavier direct fire weapons.
I see it, the driver says. Good luck.
Let's get out of here, Dalglak orders, everyone out!
Six of the nine Pords in the machine exit into the murky water. They power themselves forward to where the sheer face of the docks meet the sea, then launch up onto them. The ground rattles beneath their landings as their heavy power armour crashes down upon it, joined mere moments later by the cacophonous roar of defensive fire, and then the metallic clangs! of two of Dalglak's squadmates clattering against the unforgiving surface, cut down by heavy MG fire.
Dalglak unsecures his shield and crouches behind it while scurrying to remove himself from the line of fire; his personal Array probes drift nearby, lashing out against positions, before they too find the solace of cover. Tarnat and Kanatyl lay dead some distance away. He turns to the automatonist.
We need to take out that MG nest. Cover my probe with your drones...
GrazhniJloknam Kazhel nam-Ilglat
Landfall. At last, nam-Ilglat breathes a sigh of relief. Now the Merger can be hunted down at the point of a bayonet, and they will be all the worse for it. He leans over the situational map. Four of his five divisions have beachheads marked north of a river that bisects the city, while the fifth is to their south, on a vector that will eventually allow them to link with the Gaussian forces moving up from that general direction.
Panuktaq's hologram nods. Aerial resistance appears to be melting away, he adds. Strike craft wings are reporting fewer losses with each new sortie.
Very good, nam-Ilglat replies. He recalls similar observations coming in from his subordinate aerial assets as well.
I will be adjusting our strike craft coverage in response to the Gaussian withdrawal. I'm sure you understand.
nam-Ilglat leans back, brow heavily furrowed, tasi of course I do, he says. Proceed as you see fit.
Panuktaq raises an eyebrow but says nothing of it.
I have other matters to attend to, nam-Ilglat goes on. He stands from the strategic displays, leans towards his adjutant to speak a few words, then exits the chamber.
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Post by ingen on May 17, 2021 19:18:52 GMT
CASS CITY NORTH HIGHWAY
The explosions had torn right through the vanguard elements of the attack, several units of FRK soldiers had only seconds to realise their ends before the blasts had wiped them out, showering dirt, debris and material across a wide area and completely stalling the advance. A Custodian MBT, crushed and mangled from the blast dropped out of the air and crashed into one of the APCs, the squad thankfully already having disembarked earlier, the crew however were not so lucky.
Fire immediately poured in from all around as the dust and dirt began to settle, men were screaming as heavy calibre autocannon fire set up in building blocks opened fire, tearing armoured men apart and damaging vehicles. The column was entirely halted by the blast and huge craters and now rapidly radioed back for the engineers as return fire slowly but surely got more organised. Calls for medics rang out as Custodian MBTs tried desperately to manoeuvre in the tight areas to get clean shots on the enemy positions, an ATGM knocking another out as its flash fry system had activated just a second earlier to stop an incoming projectile. The crew, or those that survived bailing out as the tank went up in flames.
“We need the engineers!” yelled sergeant Malaan as he felt the pressure wave of another explosion hit the highway from Marchander artillery now taking advantage of their predicament. Soldiers fanned off the highway and into the streets trying to get out of the killzone and secure the surrounding areas, but more ambushes awaited. Malaan felt his tank rock as the IR cam spotted enemy positioned nestled into a damaged building over a kilometer away. He didn’t even need to give the signal to fire as the Custodians main gun opened up, the projectile flying into the target to destroy the ATGM team utterly. Still the artillery was proving a problem.
”Engineers are the way hold steady” The reply came over the radio. He growled as the optics revealed incoming aircraft, the tanks LWR blaring that they were being locked with laser targetters.
“This is Sergeant Malaan we need air cover now! We are coming under enemy air assault!” The call for help was received at once as the three Marchander ground attackers came into view, flying low to avoid detection the sergeant could even see their internal bomb bays open and the projectiles ready themselves. However, before the first could fire there was an almighty tearing sound as the Cobra SPAAG in their column opened up, its twin rapid-fire railguns igniting the air as they glowed bright orange with their fire rate. The storm of shells tore the first attacker apart, causing one to veer off into an easier path to track above the buildings, rapidly getting shredded by the SPAAG as it turned to change targets. Malaan could even hear the commander laughing over the radio.
Still three missiles were launched from the last strike craft, the pilot then pulling off as to not get wiped out. The SPAAG instantly changed targets, the gun swivelling to fire not just its guns but two missiles as well, racing out to intercept the incoming weapons. Two were shot down, but the third got through, impacting, and detonating a Custodian MBT next to Malaans own tank, the shockwave causing his vehicle to briefly go up onto one track. He swore, but at least they were alive.
“Where are those fucking engineers!”
CASS CITY SOUTH HIGHWAY
Ulonto breached hard.
The flashbangs had gone off a second earlier and the Union soldier now stormed the room, immediately he took three shots to his chest, one deflected by his personal shield the other two stopped by the armour albeit making him stagger back somewhat. In reply two bursts of plasma which lit up the room lashed out, killing two enemy soldiers while the other squad members pushed into the room engaging other targets which were fighting back. By the window a recoilless rifle now sat unmanned, Ulonto punching the barrel with his power armour to cave it in rendering the gun useless.
The explosions in the south had cut the advance off and so the forces had rapidly spread out to secure the flanks while the engineers did their work, the CEVs were now getting to work, rebuilding a passable segment of the highway even while under fire.
See Ulonto and his squad now found themselves clearing out enemy teams where able. More gunfire from the building indicated his squad were completing their mission and the sound of tracks down on the street below made Ulonto at first think it was his APC moving up. Looking out of the window that the recoilless had sat in, he quickly realised it wasn’t the case. A Marchander MBT was rolling up with what appeared to be a couple squads behind it.
“Enemy armour below, bring up the MAAT and take positions” His command was easily obeyed as the tank below fired its main gun a FRK squad further down the road, the enemy squads, clearly mercenary types fanned out to cover the vehicle. Ulonto waited for the green dots on his HUD to signal his squad was in position, the third floor giving excellent visibility. Finally, they were ready and he gave the command. The MAAT rifle fired, the plasma beam slamming into the tanks top turret armour and blowing its way through, jets of superheated plasma and screams came from the inside as the hatches blew open and finally the ammo cooked off, the explosion taking the remaining windows of the street out and scything down the mercenaries who had supported the vehicle.
“Squad 89 deploy” Ulontu ordered, with one fluid motion the Unioners jumped out of the building, landing with heavy impacts onto the ground as they landed amongst the survivors, the burning tank to their left. They were surgical, shooting those who did not surrender, Ulontu putting a round in a man’s chest before an enemy charged him around a concrete pillar. With no time to fire he activated his energy blade, slicing through the man’s rifle which he had used as a club.
“Surrender!” He shouted. The man merely grinned wide eyed, Ulontu seeing something unnatural in his eyes before he stepped forward and bisected the man before he could pull a knife on his belt, the bubbling segments falling to the ground with a splat.
“Apartment 88-4B-9 secure” He radioed back, unnerved.
STEALTH TEAM, WESTERN DEBRUSK
Aided by a gentle rain that had begun to fall, the Dominion agents had made it relatively far without being detected, but then Arasi slipped and a single chunk of rock fell to crack against the cobbled pavement below. For a second it seemed like they had gotten away with it, but then there was the metallic screech of an opening hatch and a muttering voice was heard as a robed figure appeared on top of the bunker, silhouetted against the clouds. It leaned over the edge, peering down into the darkness, waving some kind of staff back and forth, seeming to slowly home in on the concealed agents.
MOUNTAIN RANGES OF DEBRUSK
Bailiwick Kuraly watched as the horde of armoured vehicles surged towards the northern flank of the incoming Dominion forces. As expected, the strange crab-like walkers reacted quickly and opened fire, precise and advanced weaponry supported by rear-echelon heavy walkers blazing to reap a terrible toll on the Marchander advance. Burning and destroyed vehicles tumbled downhill alongside their active comrades, who fired in return at their tormentors.
Kuraly had known that this attack would be costly, but he had one last card up his sleeve. Not all of his mountain guns had been destroyed; some he had ordered to play dead, 'falling silent' as though put out of action, and now they came back to life, barking their anger at close range into the Dominion columns that were now directly beneath, or even passing, their positions. At the same time, his holding centre force also surged forwards, tumbling in a haphazard mass down from the main pass and connecting valleys to rush the Dominion forces. Behind them came waves of infantry, as he had practically emptied the city to gamble everything on this one knockout blow.
SOUTH OF HALAK
The defenders had only been able to commit a thin line to protect their southern flank, since they had already positioned themselves to address the Pordish assault in the east.
What defenders there were, however, opened fire on the Dominion advance as it came into sight, picking their targets carefully and trying to eliminate high threat assets first. They fired without care for their surroundings, often using buildings as cover or even blasting through them to gain the element of surprise, dug in around streams, bridges and other key areas.
Unfortunately for the defenders, their already sparse fire was further wasted by the Dominion illusions - lacking sophisticated and co-ordinated battlefield control systems, only those lucky enough to have advanced sensor suites onboard, or to strike lucky and find a pocket of 'real' enemies who actually reacted to being hit, were able to use their guns to any real effect, whilst false advances forced unit after unit to retreat or risk being enfiladed by what they did not know were ghosts.
EASTERN HALAK, SEAPORT REGION
Ond Rejkase had been watching from the partial cover of a doorway with a mixture of dread and fascination as, like giant sea creatures, the Pordish vehicles approached, spewing fire from the surface or even the depths to hammer the line of defenders along the shore. The Marchanders returned fire with gusto, pouring weapons of varying efficacy into the sea, but suddenly Pordish infantry were springing up onto the quays, stealing a march and appearing unexpected at nearly point blank range. He watched as one squadron lost two of its members to the MG nest near him. He began to cross over to the nest, hoping to help somehow, when suddenly a beam of inky energy ripped down from the sky to delete the nest from existence in a blast of heat and rubble. As he stumbled away from the blast, he saw the glint of a drone or probe whirring away from the scene.
He found a nook in a pile of fallen brick and shoved his pistol over the lip, firing half-blind, convincing himself he was helping to pin the attackers down. Around him, more infantry flooded towards the shore, hoping to swamp and trap the attacking Pords, flailing them with automatic weapons fire and infantry anti-armour equipment as they moved their guns and armour into position in response to the Pordish beachheads.
CASS CITY NORTH HIGHWAY
Zboril grinned. The enemy in the east had received a serious bloody nose, and even at this distance he imagined he could hear their frantic radio calls as they scurried to recover from the ambush. His grin faded, however, as the Union and FRK troops responded in the efficient, no-nonsense way that only a professional military could. Gunfire, explosions and screams began to spread to either flank as assault troops advanced where the baulked armour could not, rushing forwards and bogging down his lines in brutal combat which, he suspected, they would get the better of. Some of his forces were very well equipped, but the enemy were most likely using their own crack troops for the task, and they were better organised and concentrating their attacks in a way he could not. By the time he was able to order forces to shore up weak spots, the enemy had already punched through and were attacking other positions, riddling his flanks with holes even as the main armoured columns began to rebuild the roadway, intent on punching through to the heart of the city.
CASS CITY SOUTHERN HIGHWAY
Chara was an adept of the Cult, and a powerful one. Homeless and destitute when the Masters had found him, his passion and zeal had made him into a focal figure for his little corner of New Jutland. His crabbed, hunched posture and un-trimmed claws only added to his mystique - he seemed to his followers to be a being of another age, another time.
He watched as an MBT from DynoMax Solutions was destroyed by a bright beam of plasma, the survivors falling to the argent weapons of a squad of armoured infantry that fell from the sky around them. These unbelievers lacked faith - it was no surprise that mercenaries could not stand against the invaders.
He stood, raising his hands and emitting a high, rattling shriek, a psionic shockwave radiating out from his position. It was not a strong wave, as he was largely untrained and much of his power came from his mental instability, but it was enough that his followers felt it and were shaken to a new height of frenzy.
From buildings across the area, Ulonto and his soldiers saw a rabble of civilian Marchanders clutching everything from primitive firearms and fire axes to kitchen knives and stones come pouring towards them, screaming in incoherent rage as they rushed in an attempt to savage the invaders.
CASS CITY, WESTERN FRONT
Capitan Oyotomi was the first to see it. Like a wave of darkness, the lights ahead of them were flickering out at an astonishing pace. She yelled over the comms for her unit to take cover and brace, but even as the Halycon APC's moved the wave passed over them and they dropped to the ground, the metallic clangs and scream of metal on stone echoing through the streets.
In the darkness there was immediate confusion and panic. Oyotomi bellowed to her troops, bursting through their fear and forcing them into mechanical, automatic action. They began digging for their emergency glowsticks, cracking them in a riot of neon colours and clipping them to their belts with the small karabiners attached, before exfiling into the street. It was almost pitch black, the cloud cover making the night even darker, and not one vehicle or piece of equipment seemed to be online. The strangely festival-like glow of the different glowsticks provided enough light to keep the Yokari infantry alive, but none of their weapons would activate and their comms were all down.
"Capitan, what do we do?" asked one of her sergeants, his voice level and concealing the nerves he felt, nerves that some of the rest of the company were not hiding as well.
She heard, rather than saw, the rustling motion as it developed into a chittering scream, a giant roar of noise that bowled down the street towards them. Her marines began to brace their AA-42 spears, and one of her sergeants called out the tennoheika, receiving the bellow of 'banzai' in response just as the flood of attackers crashed into them. In the darkness it was hard to see what was happening, the only clue was screams, grunts and the crash of weapons, but then a figure lunged at her, blocking out the other shadows from her sight. Her vitredur hikatana hacked it down with ease, a practiced, elegant cut, but then she staggered as she felt a weight on her back. Around her her soldiers were yelling, screaming, and the lights of their glowsticks were becoming less concentrated as the fighting clearly was devolving into a brawl.
Someone was trying to grapple her, but she shucked it off and ripped her blade back at waist height, feeling the spray of blood as her attacker screamed. Another figure suddenly flew across her line of sight, only visible as a dark shadow against the inky gloom and dancing light of the glowsticks, and she felt herself bowled over. The figure on her chest raked at her helmet with sharp claws, but she punched it in the gut and then drove her armoured left fist into its neck, grabbing and squeezing until it snapped. Struggling to throw it off, she felt more blows, more figures piling onto her as she fought to stand, and then she felt a cold heat at the back of her neck and her vision faded...
GENERAL TERUSADA'S FOB
The reports coming in from Cass City were overwhelming, not because of their content but because of their sudden dearth. Almost all of her units inside the city had suddenly dropped radio contact. The lights across much of the distant city had all gone out, although with their optical equipment they could catch glimpses between the crowded skyline of what seemed like a chaotic combat raging across much of the city.
Terusada was speechless for a few moments. The better part of 15,000 marines were inside Cass City at this point, rushing in their attempts to hit the rear of the enemy and assist the Union's push from the east. They had no confirmation from inside the affected area, but it looked like some kind of advanced EMP had been detonated, neutralising the Jade technological advantage and, more seriously, threatening to kill their infantry slowly through light deprivation.
One of her general staff was trying to get her attention. Her mind raced for a moment, but instinct and force of habit overrode the shock and she began to bark orders, marshalling reinforcements as she tried to formulate the Jade response.
233rd/234th. (DEBRUSK EASTERN MOUNTAINS)
“More contacts. They’re moving on us through the valleys.” Kauldesi reported.
Mataya’s computer informed her of an inbound shell. She fired off a trio of missiles, connecting with it just in time. Another plasma bomblet shell, though this one had been stonewalled more thoroughly by their defenses.
“God damn that was close… I thought those guns were handled.” Mataya snarled.
“They must be bringing them back onli-“
There was a loud snap and a bright flash, like the crack of a firearm and the entire cabin of the walker shook. It took Mataya a moment to process the fact that fragments of molten metal had seated themselves in her lap. She frantically brushed them away from the unarmored parts, having been spared any serious injuries, just some minor burns and cuts. Her cybernetic eardrums rebooted and she could hear the sounds of gunfire and howling wind echoing from the outside, along with a warning alarm about a cabin breach.
She turned to the side, the origin of the hit. Kauldesi’s body sat still strapped into his gyroscopic chair and suffered more severely from the hit and it took her a moment to process the mangled blood-spouting stump that was his neck no longer supported a head. His chair damaged chair rocked lazily back and fourth as the tank continued to walk on its own accord, his tactical display now a waroped tangle of semi-functional holograms and frayed sparking wires. Two gaping holes, perhaps ten centimeters in width marked the entry and exit points of the round.
But she couldn’t be distracted so easily. Her mind urged her to lament her failure to protect the commander, but the enemy still approached, and already the orders and requests from the division were piling up on her screen.
“This is Teshura Ala’di, ranking commander of the of the 234th! Kauldesi Anturan do you copy, we the need guns at these coordinates taken out, missile strikes and-”
“Kauldesi just kicked it.” Mataya growled, returning the favor to the gun that penetrated them. The enemy was advancing into the valley aggressively with little regard for their own safety; tanks positioned on either side turning the valley into a kill box. She continued to pump rounds into the enemy, one bolt of plasmafied air after another until she could say with confidence that her dangerous foe was dead, before turning her weapon onto the next.
The enemy continued to spill twoards them, a handful of rotary cannon tanks and a squad of mechs taking up synergetic positions around her tank letting out ropes of hyperaccelerated rounds. A volley of mountiantop artillery saturated the point defenses, destroying the tank next to her. Impacting the body the walker’s legs were each sent flying in a seperate direction.
“Someone made a mistake… where are all these enemies coming from?”
She glanced at a rearview feed. Flashes of heavy hardlight beamers and streaks of smoke from missiles still being scrawled into the sky at her rear. She then turned back to an ill advised infantry charge barreling twoards her position, despearately firing their weaponry at the mechs to little effect. Only their ATGMs seemed capiable of notable damage, and only two of them made it through. The rotary cannon tank buzzed, sweeping across them column and reducing them to mist in short order. They were in turn followed up by another wave of vehicles, which with a volley of fire destroyed the light tank before turning their attention to hers.
“Someone made a big goddamn mistake!” She asserted, neglecting Teshura’s series of orders as she continued to fire, letting off a punishing volley of missiles to bide her a few moments to turn her attention to the gun on the ridge.
Recognizing the severety of the situation, Teshura changed her focus.
“This is Field Marshall Teshura Ala’di to general Tagratha. Field Marshall Kauldesi is dead. We are being overrun and taking heavy loses! We need to fall back!”
“Hold your ground. Air support and reinforcements are on the way, they will be arriving any minute now to clear out the attack at your rear.” The general spoke sternly, two voices echoing in union. “Mataya. You’re ranking officer. Take command of your division!” The general snapped.
Mataya divided her attention to the tactical map, confirming the general’s claims, before turning her attention to the tactical map and racing to respond to the tangle of developing battlefronts, trying her hardest to keep a clear head… to not to be distracted by the corpse seated next to her and the death screams outside. The reinforcements moving into position, a fractalized air force. Fighters and small craft protecting gunships and strafing the flanking attack wave. Gunships protecting a sentinel class cruiser which maneuvered into position over the densest concentration of enemies and began to rake the terrain with naval mass driver fire. Then, back to the battle right in front of her, a tank straying too close. She rolled in closer, sliding the front leg sideways and flipping the vehicle, before rearing down and stomping on the thinner bottom armor, engaging her climbing spike. Soaked in the scartlet fluids of its unfortunate pilot, the metal spike withdrew from the bottom of the tank and the fighting continued.
Western Debrusk (stealth team)
Arasi clenched into full alertness, her worst fears realized as the hatch began. But panic was not befitting of an experienced ranger, she ran through her options in a moment.
Stand still? The enemy would spot her, especially if the rain began to fall in earnest. She might be invisible, but the droplets that struck her suit wouldn’t be. Duck down? He might come looking for her, if he was that astute of a sentinel to hear a rock fall from inside an armored hatch. There was only one option which seemed reasonable.
She kneeled down, powerful synthetic muscle tightened in her legs before snapping straight. She sailed upward twoards the fortress, howling wind fading in pitch and volume as gravity robbed her of momentum. The gun barrel growing closer, she only barely managed to clasp the underside of the barrel with a single setae-coated glove.
But perhaps that was preferrable, a hard impact with the barrel would have made an unmistakable sound. With that, a moment later she slowly and deliberately found five more points of purchase. Flexing her spine backwards at an angle that would make an expert yogi envious, she peered downard at the outcropping she had launched from, observing the security operative for a moment and silently mouthing a prayer to a nondescript divine that he wouldnt scrutinize the artillery piece directly above him.
Southern Halak
With the 232nd having safely made it to cover within the city, the holographic illusion was abandoned. With the pords handling the brunt of the enemy defensive force they were left with a relatively easy assault. The Cauldarion’s arc cycle wove through the city streets, Pauldran taking pot shots at foes who fired on them from windows. They passed by other forces, responding to calls where needed for support and often arriving to find that other forces had already succeeded.
They passed some marines shooting out windows of a building such that drones could swarm in and sweep the structure. They passed mechs, using the corners of buildings for cover and firing high explosive rounds on a fortified position. A light tank squatted at the base of a reinforced low-rise before lunging up and forward, sailing into the air and finding purchase squarely on the fifth-story roof. The building buckled, cracks spread through the roof and windows shattered from the force of the impact, but ultimately withstood the extra thirty tons. Establishing line-of-sight fire it began to tactfully engage enemy positions from its higher vantage point.
Arriving at the southern bank of the river, the Cauldarions were given new orders. As the tanks had made their way into the city, their ground-penetrating radar used to detect land mines had picked up on the fact that the ground beneath them was far from solid. A veritable maze of old sewer tunnels ran beneath them.
General Tagratha knew without a doubt the enemy had utilized them to their full effect. Batangok relayed the order. The battle brothers, along with several other pairings were to enter the tunnels. The two dismounted their cycle, finding an entryway along the bank of the river. After checking the area, they advanced to the iron grate. Their heavy armor saw the bars which blocked off the sewer as little more than an inconvenience. The brickwork, (this section in dire need of tuckpointing) gave way with a simple tug and the bars clattered to the ground. A squad of ESP drones swarmed in first, the leader sweeping the area with Lidar.
Pauldran and Brachor loaded their heavy fusion rifles and followed suit.
--
“We have unconfirmed reports of psionics sir, that and the Jade forces just got hit by some kind of EMP and… Well we are not really sure what’s going on” The report made Grissom frown.
“We knew the enemy could pull something strange out, but this calls for caution. Redirect air support to try and assist the Jade if able of course and tell the front forces to consolidate their positions. Don’t let them to run in to something big, if they drew the Jade in and hit them much like they did with the explosives on the highways I’m sure they have something bigger for us too” The command went out in short order as Firestorms attempted to give the Jade air support and recon assets attempted to give an update on their situation but the confusion and the sudden darkness was grim, mostly preventing any of the support or information updates from getting through. The cult seemed to be rearing its head.
----
“Psion!” One of his squad screamed. The man who he had just killed had released some sort of burst before he died and Ulonto cursed as the sudden onrush of civilians surged towards them. Most were carrying primitive weapons but even then, no soldier was fool enough to fight a crowd even with the best weapons at their disposal, just being dragged down and beaten to death was enough. But at the same time, they couldn’t just massacre civilians, it would be a disaster and against the very reason they were here for liberation.
“Fall back! Deploy flash bangs!” The Union squad which had just secured the block now withdrew, running back through the street over the rubble and bodies of the mercenaries as the angry mob followed them. Bricks and pieces of debris were hurled at them, striking their armour, and causing one of their number to stumble and fall. Flashbangs were deployed, causing some clumps of them to be staggered back in blindness and confusion but others pressed on catching the downed soldier and beating him with lead pipes and more. Ulonto could see the man struggle, blood running out of two joint fractures on his helmet from the concussions before he stopped, with conflict in his heart he raised his autorifle.
“Withdraw!” He boomed over his speakers on the armour as high as they would go. Two of his squad had also stopped and turned. The crowd ignored them, even racing towards them as they still beat the squad member who was down. He could see it in their eyes, the touch of madness.
“We retrieve Narn, now. Try to use nonlethal force but if necessary, kill them” The command was a heavy one, and Ulonto knew he could very well likely loose his entire career on that sentence. Another two flashbangs were rolled forwards causing the crowd once again at the front to stagged back as the first of the squad, a huge Jorgal, carried out the orders. Running towards the downed member the sheet bulk of the armoured reptilian now built up speed, smashing the crowd out of the way and causing injuries left and right. As he got to the downed squad member, now broken, and bleeding he punched and kicked the attackers, sending them flying into other people with crippled arms and broken ribs. Picking up the soldier a sudden burst of fire rang out as an armed crowd member tried to gun them down, only to be vapourised by shots from Ulonto and the other squad member. Moving in to help the two escape the group punched and kicked through the crowd front, Ulonto even headbutting a man to the ground.
The moment they were clear they ran, the crowd still man behind them and chasing after them. The injured squad member was badly wounded, head injuries along with multiple broken ribs and both broken legs. The locals had done a number on him like they would to them all, until at last the sound of engines heralded a Custodian as it rounded the corner. The tank fired its main gun, enough above the crowd as not to kill but the concussion knocked them to the floor. With the psion waves effects weakening many realised their sudden imminent doom and ran back.
At least for now.
----
The Union and FRK forces, now aware of psions in the enemy midst and the sudden and quite surprising situation encompassing the Jade halted their rapid advance. The units began to consolidate, ensuring the surrounding blocks, sewers and any other access ways were secure as FRK squads began to dig in and set up a frontline. Probing attacks by Mercenary forces continued to harass however, squads attempting to get ATGM shots on key vehicles from highrise blocks or snipe key individuals from streets away. More vehicles and personnel died from these as additional artillery strikes hammered positions only to be rapid counterbattery hit by the twin forces own units.
With the front now bogged down the units entering the city fanned out, attempting to reinforce the line and sure up any defenses. The watch across the plains by the sea continued and the Marine units who had fallen back to the FOB now readied themselves again, the constant flow of men and material from orbit was almost like a line of ships from space to the surface and watch from AO and AA positions kept constant vigil for enemy air attacks along with a large recon net placed around the entire area consisting of loitering drones, squads and fixed sensor emplacements.
With the Marines almost resupplied their mission now would be to find key enemy emplacements elsewhere around the city, and ensure that any counter attack on the FOB or surrounding area would be denied.
Halak, Division Chor Kanna Kazhel
nam-Ilglat's iceshelf takes shape in the distance, framing the edges of the horizon where the sun departs for the day. Up and down the front - well beyond this icy precipice - Pordish infantry and vehicles roll into position against the waiting foe. The brigade and battalion commanders, by now, are coming to terms with the vast numerical reserves the enemy enjoys; this fact weighs on them heavily as they plod forward. The Merger must come to an end, but through the cards they have played, countless undeserving will be joining them in oblivion.
Along one stretch of the line, combat engineers busy themselves with erecting anchor points for barriers. Elsewhere, infantry advance with armour and artillery watching over them closely; a floating entropic lance battery, attached to a platoon moving to secure a building not far from the docks, looms in the rubble of a destroyed crane. For a brief moment, it exposes itself to target a column of tanks trundling dockwards in counterassault, before lowering itself yet again. Black orbs float nearby as the artillerists move on to their next target after shifting their position in the debris.
Skirmishers, moving to higher vantage points, duel with their Merchander counterparts in lightning-quick firefights that conclude nearly as swiftly as they begin. Where victorious, they establish firing lanes to the high-rises deeper in the city and scan for hostile assets perched in windows, ledges, or other elevated locales; where beaten back, they yield the ground to the heavier main-line infantry moving up in their wake. Areas too hotly contested are avoided where practical, but in many regions the congested nature of the beachhead forces them to fight alongside the heavier infantry as waves of Merchanders crash into them with abandon.
Halak, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
Like the very seas they come, inexorable and numerous, burdened with solitary purpose. Dalglak, against them, crouches behind what remains of the heavy walls of some industrial-looking building - a storehouse of some sort, or maybe something else - as his squad fans out. The weight of numbers is incessant, and he and his men have been marking groups of hostiles as best they can. Some they engage with their probe assets, others drift into the sights of their autorifles, while more distant groups or vehicles are brought against the fire of the craft that brought them here to this nightmare.
A beam shakes free of the sea's grasp and connects with a probe some distance nearer the front. It arcs down along a new trajectory, redirected courtesy the purpose of the probe.
Dalglak glances towards the curb of a road that leads deeper into the city. Merchanders seem to be using it to bring in more and more men to the front. Frowning, he looks back to his squadmates.
There's at least a couple of platoons moving down this road. We need to get past them to get off this beachhead, he explains unhappily. Tanks moving in.
A few of the offending machines are identified by the sensor network and made aware to Dalglak and his men, but others are not directly picked up. Even still, the dull rumble of treads on hard surfaces mixed in with grunting engines of varying make tell of even greater hosts further inland.
Taqsok, the second in command, slips into position inside of a shellhole. How do you want to deal with them? They're closing fast.
Hold here for a moment, Dalglak replies. Got updated orders. Company is shuffling and forming a new taskgroup to move inland with. We're on anti-tank duty.
Taqsok sighs. Great, he scoffs, we can do that after we deal with these guys.
A few errant rounds land nearby; Taqsok rests his weapon on the lip of the shellhole, double-checks the ammo feed, then lets out a handful of bursts against the distant enemies.
Halak, Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
While initial reports of sea creatures holding up portions of the Aglat the Lesser's advance were cause for concern, things seem to have died down along the areas of the front where these reports came from. The most relevant reports, now, pour in from the fighting inside the city, and of these, the most pressing revelation is one that every brigade and battalion echo in unison:
ENEMY COUNTERASSAULTS; HEAVY INFANTRY AND TANK PRESENCE
Thus, the divisional commander takes stock of this evolving field-situation. While aerial assets are able to support where they can, his own missile artillery units - the first of the long-range assets deployed to the rear-echelon areas - finally begin coming online to assist. And so Aglat, now content with the progress his forces have made thus far, brings his attention to his unguarded northern flank...
nam-Ilglat Iceshelf, Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
The muffled sound of voices stir nam-Tyrazh awake.
He doesn't open his eyes.
The comforting tug of harnesses is gone, as are the vibrations of demi-ablation drives whisking him along. The realization settles in after a moment. I'm not in my scout.
He doesn't feel his legs.
Welcome back.
The voice lands as if meant for him. A white-trimmed Pord stands off to the side of his bed, watching him, as he turns towards the source of the voices. But the effort is taxing.
He opens his eyes.
Yes, Halyt nam-Tyrazh, the white-trimmed Pord goes on, then adds his rank, Yünam. He looks over some information on a console and nods slowly. You're behind the lines, brigade field hospital.
nam-Tyrazh turns back. Yes - this most certainly isn't his scout. That damn creature must've connected with a strike. I don't remember it being that close.
Maybe it was, the white-trimmed Pord, looking up from the console, says of the notion.
nam-Tyrazh hesitates for a moment. I cou- Nevermind. The ceiling is bland but catches his eye. He sighs.
The medical Pord smiles. You've been out for a while. Rest for the time being - he looks back down at the console - I'm afraid you've left your legs out there at sea.
I know, nam-Tyrazh agrees, I know. Shutting his eyes once more, his mind drifts, and soon he dreams of freshly-caught fish and salted steaks of boar.
DEBRUSK EASTERN MOUNTAINS
Bailiwick Kuraly bit his lip in frustration. His counter-attack had made initial gains, but at a hideous cost in lives and materiel, and now the Dominion had brought a space cruiser into the fray. Its vast bulk cast a long shadow over the tiny shapes of armoured vehicles down below, and streaks of fire punched down from its silhouetted form to rip the ground asunder and shatter his forces.
Even as he watched, his attack began to falter. They had made gains by following each wave with another, not giving the superior Dominion troops chance to recover and cracking apart their elaborate lines to create an insane chaos in which the sheer numbers and weight of fire gave the Marchanders the edge, but with the cruiser and its aircraft ripping his reserves apart before they could even make contact with the enemy, giving the Gaussians a chance to regroup and sweep their positions clear.
He bellowed for his guns to target the cruiser, but even as he watched a huge mountain gun begin to traverse, a strike by enemy aircraft shattered it in a cacophony of explosions. Anti-air missiles screamed overhead from the city behind them, but the enemy were too low and too close for them to prevent the tremendous damage being done to his armoured columns.
What made matters worse is that this is what he had expected to happen. He had hoped that his tactical tinkering could perhaps prevent the inevitable, and yet the evidence in front of him said quite clearly otherwise. The plains, foothills and mountain passes were littered with broken and burning vehicles. Some belonged to the invaders, but too many bore the colours of Marchander corporations. Reluctantly he gave the order for a general retreat into the city, a retreat that some of his forces had already begun. The infantry flooded back, scrambling nimbly back through the mountains, but the armour struggled to turn and bypass the tangled wreckage of their fellows...
WESTERN DEBRUSK
The faint patter of rain masked the muffled sounds Arasi was making. The figure kept his searching vigil for a minute longer, and then, muttering, crossed back to a heavy hatch and clambered back down into the roof of the lower bunker, swinging it shut with a clang behind him. In the distance, the crack and boom of the battle beyond the mountains could be heard, flashes of light illuminating the clouds of the night sky and giving the heavens an ominous, brooding appearance.
SOUTHERN HALAK
Dusk was well underway in Halak and the Gauss were flowing through the southern reaches of the city with ease. Even where Marchander units put up a stubborn resistance and proved hard to winkle out, they were simply bypassed by the superior numbers and speed of the Dominion, to be dealt with at leisure. The greatest resistance came from below ground, as the Marchanders used the sprawling tunnels beneath their city to move unseen and launch ambushes, hurling explosives and firing shots before scurrying out of sight or, if they were slow, being shredded by return fire.
As Pauldran and the others climbed down, it became apparent that they were entering much more than just a sewer. Ahead of them, a rough-hewn tunnel barely four feet in diameter led further down, light spilling out in the distance where the tunnel made more connections or opened into cellars, rooms and even full buildings underground. Behind the knights the space opened into a circular space with many more tunnels running off it, including two sewage lines.
In the distance, skittering feet sounded from deeper in the primary tunnel. There was muttered whispering, and night vision would reveal two figures peering around a bend in the distance before disappearing. Elsewhere, it seemed quiet, although biometric scanners would reveal heat and electrical signatures that indicated Marchanders hiding in some of the rooms and tunnels nearby, whether out of fear or more wicked intentions...
EASTERN CASS CITY, UNION LINES
Chara's hoots of exultation changed to screams of fury and frustration as Ulonto's squad came barrelling in to rescue their downed soldier. He pressed forwards, pushing the crowd and raging at them not to shy away from the giant reptile. He raised a wooden cudgel and rushed through the thinning crowd, but the Jorgal span, punching him full in the chest and sending the tiny ragged man flying. He felt himself tumble and then come to rest, and after a moment he managed to open his eyes, sick to his stomach, dizzy and struggling for breath. He saw his faithful fleeing, saw the hated invaders retreating with their injured comrade, and saw a tank rolling into view. It fired, the shockwave robbing him of consciousness for a split second, but miraculously it missed. It must have fired high!
He let out a satisifed chuckle, choking on his own blood as he struggled to stand upright. He never heard the falling masonry, shaken loose by the Centurion's warning shot, which crushed him.
Elsewhere, the sudden Union halt threw the defenders into confusion. Some decided to attempt counterattacks, which broke against Union positions as the Union and FRK began to entrench themselves, whilst others milled in disarray, ready to repel attacks that were no longer materialising. Behind the lines, the two battalions of Marchander artillery began to resight, preparing to bombard the new Union front even as the two armoured battalions, one on the northern end of the line and one to the south, struggled to reform from their defensive positions into attack stances.
Overhead, the Union bombers would see a harrowing sight. In the west of the city, around the GMGC headquarters, the lights were all out, but night vision revealed a seething mass. Like a scene from an oil painting of hell, tiny figures struggled amid chaos and flames, far too close for fire support. If any pilot was a scholar, they might be reminded of gruesome tales of medieval massacres...
HALAK SEAPORT
As the nam-Ilglat ice shelf drew closer, batteries on the promontories north and south of the seaport began to open fire. Unguided artillery shells and short-range surface-to-surface missiles roared to life, pouring fire at the incoming bulk of the Pordish forces. From atop the sweeping cliffs that made up the coast beyond the city, they had an excellent vantage point, even if it did mean that thousands of infantry had been held back from the main defenses to protect the isolated battalions of artillery.
South of the river, resistance to the Pords only intensified. Thousands of Marchanders flooded into the corner of the city that led to the seaport there, presenting the Pords with a veritable wall of positions and soldiers that they would have to dismantle piece by piece. North of the river, however, the enemy had more ground to defend and the Pordish heavy infantry began to make inroads, cutting off several thousand Marchanders to the north. Dalglok and his men had found the forward elements of the Marchander armoured formation in the north of the city, and several columns of armoured vehicles began making their way down the few roads large enough to accommodate them, aiming to puncture the Pordish advance and split it into several pockets using their heavy vehicles before mopping them up with infantry.
Dalglok's squad, ahead of the bulk of the Pords, was first to spot one of the columns. It was led by a towering MBT in orange and black, bigger than any Marchander had a need to drive. A logo said Hammertech Solutions on the side, but the tank clearly had not spotted them as it ground forwards. Behind it, the GMGC headquarters were visible through the evening fog, only four storeys tall and surrounded by anti-air and artillery at a bend of the river. Beyond that, further west on a low hill, another section of artillery sat silently, obviously ordered to hold their fire even though they were in a good position to rake the Pordish beachheads.
WESTERN CASS CITY
Mitsuyoshi flinched involuntarily as the chilly, humid sea air hit him. The 77th had been roused to action without much explanation, senior officers roaring for their soldiers to ready up, and it had not been until they were already descending to the surface that a battalion briefing had been held. The news had shaken him. Two entire regiments, 15,000 crack Jade Marines, were trapped in the city, cut off and effectively disabled, and early estimates suggested that they were being assaulted by thousands, perhaps even hundreds of thousands, of combatants in a brutal close-quarters brawl.
The plan was surprisingly simple. Artillery and gunships were going to make sorties to fire flare rounds and drop supplies into the city, providing high-altitude flyover support to the reinforcing regiments. His 77th was going to join with the 15th regiment, the veteran Kajiyan Tigers, to form up and advance on foot, prepared to meet any resistance with spear, sword and bow, their modern equipment ready to deploy at a moment's notice. The 31st Icebears were forming a cordon to the west and north to prevent any reinforcements arriving and to catch any surviving Marines as they withdrew from the city. The pioneers of the depleted 77th, however, were going in first. Equipped with extra flares, glowsticks, and emergency medical equipment, they were to advance as rapidly as possible, followed by fightercraft and drones. Their job was to locate pockets of survivors, reinforce them, and if possible help them to withdraw or hold position until additional help arrived.
On the back of his Shiroyama hoverbike, Mitsuyoshi was also carrying a bundle of crude firearms, mechanically operated, which command believed would function regardless of the EMP-like effect the enemy seemed to be employing. If they could get these to survivors, they might stand a better chance against the hordes facing them.
Mitsu had volunteered for the operation, unwilling to send his pioneers into such mortal danger without exposing himself too, but staring at the dark city with its tiny specks of dancing light, screams and battle cries drifting through the wind and rain like the whispering of ghosts, he felt afraid.
He glanced over at Tosho Masamune, his friend and sergeant. The bluff, heavyset man offered him a wink before tugging on the snarling mempo mask of their regiment. It resembled a tanuki, a clever animal that thrived in the night. Mitsu hoped that was an auspicious sign.
Tosho reached out to bump fists with his capitan. "So are we going or what?" he asked, the lame joke breaking the tension among the assembled bikers.
Mitsu was about to reply when his Holo beeped, the notification synced to his helmet so it went off there instead of at his wrist. He read the message, and then turned to look at the city again.
"We're going." he said, gunning his engine and accelerating into the night...
IN ORBIT AROUND MARCHAND
The besieging fleets had settled down to repair their damage and refit, waiting in support of the ground units and managing the constant flow of aerial assets and extra supplies between the fleets and the surface, but there had been little to do. There had been a momentary buzz at the news of the ambush of the two Jade regiments, but General Terusada's report had made it clear that the situation was too messy for orbital bombardment to be of any use and so they settled back down to wait for the ground-pounders to figure it out.
That was until a shrill alert blared through the Jade fleet. Admiral Prescott, taking a moment to shave and change his uniform, scrambled back to the command deck in time to find his ship already moving under him.
A mass of contacts had emerged from the shadow of one of Sarnath's gas giants, in the direction of Zdeno. Nearly five hundred capital class ships, formed up and advancing at speed against the somnolent allies.
"Sensors, what are we looking at?" asked Prescott as he slipped into his seat.
"Roughly five hundred capital class contacts sir, only four AU out and closing fast. They have just opened fire."
Prescott bit back a curse. Who the hell were they, and where had they been hiding? He had known that they had only dealt with 3,000 vessels in the Battle over Marchand and that the scouting reports had suggested the Sarnath System had nearly 4,000 warships to count on, but he had assumed that the remaining thousand had just fled, cowards and mercenaries unwilling to die a stupid death.
He had clearly been wrong. They had all been wrong. "Composition?" he asked. Another of his bridge crew answered.
"Nearly all Oblivion-class destroyers, sir."
This time he did swear. Oblivion destroyers were Merger warships, abominations around 950 metres in length and, whilst somewhat outdated, were considered a rough analogue for his Takeichi sekibune thanks to their eldritch powers. He only had forty Takeichi-class ships at his command, two hundred ships in total, and the enemy had caught them with their trousers down.
"Alert the other fleets! Bring us round, form up on Ba'Sten! Signal the Crossdock and the ground facilities!"
Even as he watched, the first long-range volley by the enemy began to arrive. Most of the shots missed altogether, whilst others were intercepted in a cascade of microparticulate screens, plasma shielding and point-defense, but some got through. The IJN Way Hey She Rises, a 700m kobaya-class vessel, began to sink by the bow as a lucky shot ripped open its NaHe reserves and began to vent argent orange-red flame into the darkness of space
Debrunsk Eastern Mountains:
As the climax of the battle slowly faded out, the enemy began their disorganized rout, chased off by strafing drones and members of the 234th who were reaching the summits of their respective mountains, Mataya was finally given permission to disengage from the front lines along with many others. Her tank was unfit for service, though not unsalvageable, with the hull module needing a major overhaul after having been penetrated clean through.
The sky was still full of conflict, shells concentrated on the advancing cruiser. Many were brought down by hardlight beamer screens of its supporting gunships; though enough made it through to discourage the ship from advancing further and eventually it made an about turn and fled the battlefront to enact repairs. Its work was done.
She stepped out the hatch, hauling the headless body of Kauldesi with her. The dead were being arrayed in a few rows of cryogenic bodybags wherein they could be picked up and shuttled back to the ship, surrounded by a handful of disabled vehicles no longer fit for service. Across the way the wounded were receiving field medical care. Even some of the so called-casualties could potentially be saved by their more advanced ship based hospitals on the carriers if the pickup was hastened enough, despite them being what most would consider quite classically dead. Kauldesi was of course, not one of them.
Slumping down against a rock, she felt mentally exausted. The breif timespan she had spent leading the division had been the most stressful of her life; knowing that so many lives had been thrust on her shoulders. For a few moments she stared blankly at a patch of mountian wildflowers swaying gently in the breeze, everything else fading out. Countless hours of meditation and mental preperation paying dividends as any normal person would have presently been in the midst of an intense mental breakdown. Just as she was beginning to finally relax a standard KR unit approached her.
“This is Galactic Marshall Calleigo Gokatoma.” The Cauldarion barked through the robot’s voicebox. The woman bolted to attention.
“You are hearby promoted to field commander 1st degree, you will be heading the 233rd from here on out. Congratulations.”
“Yes sir. Thank you sir.” She said with a bow.
“We can’t stand on Ceramony now. But much glory has been won this day, and you have my word you shall have your promotion proper.”
A skycrane was inbound, hauling a newer, larger walker. An Olympus-Type that had previously been unassigned any crew. The cables disengaged, dropping it the last few meters, as the superheavy hit the ground with a crack. The skycrane loitered. Passing over her she winced at the heat of the thrusters for a moment before a ground crew of robots led by a Mediocine barking orders in a nasaly voice went to work connecting the same riggings to her battered tank.
She looked up at the machine with a cocktail of feelings and thoughts rolling through her. Exaustion, then a salvo of genuine but cliched existential questions about the deeper meaning of life and what she was really fighting for. Was Kauldesi’s death really her fault… or just a consequence of the carnage of war. She agreed on the latter as it was the only way she’d ever be able to sleep without seeing the bloody stump of his neck every time she closed her eyes.
Then a begruding acceptance… what was she to do, say ‘no’ the Galactic Marshall of all people? She stared up at the machine for a few more moments, like an obedient trained pet waiting excitedly for a command and shifted into a satisfaction. She made her way to the telescoping ladder, a Katharian reaching it first. His leg heavily bandaged and in a supporting mechanical brace, he was a bit slow to climb the ladder but it was obvious the pain meds and healing stims he’d been administered were working wonders to restore the grizzly damage to his thigh. She followed shortly thereafter…
…
A shower of sparks traced an oval line around the reinforced door to Bailiwicks’ command room. Reports showed he’d been cut off all avenues of escape, his guards preparing for a last stand, overturning tables and chairs for a modicum of cover. The cut section broke loose and a single smoke grenade flew in through the hole. His command room flung into chaos, bullets flying left and right. Something moved through the smoke, seemingly immune to the small arms of his personal guard and command staff. A sleek humanoid figure perhaps seven feet in height wielding a sword that illuminated the smoke with a cold blue crescent. Watching as the silhouettes as the defiant members of his entourage were sliced apart by the blade as easily as warm butter. Someone was thrown across the room, landing next to him with such force he smashed the control console and cracked the concrete wall behind it.
The figure stepped from the smoke, making himself known. He wore heavy scartlet power armor, his helmet adorned in a skirt like that of a samurai. His surrender somewhat anticlimatic, as the figure recovered the steel leg of a table, casually bending it like a pretzel to restrain the enemy commander’s arms. He paused for a minute, turning away as though he was communicating to some unseen ally before turning and speaking through his external microphone in a grizzly tone of voice.
“You’re under arrest, and being taken as a prisoner of war to be delivered to the Jade Empire.”
West Debrunsk:
Arasi let out a sigh, and was able to return, for a moment, to a state of relative relaxation before carrying on with her mission. She made her way inside, slowly crawling along the barrel and carefully scoping out the interior of the defensive emplacement. She identified the ordinance stockpile, a perfect target for her explosive shrunken. She could have easily thrown it from her current posting but her foe had superior hearing. Even the slightest brush of wind or clang of the magnetic shrunken locking to a shell casing might alert them.
She took a leap from the gun to the rear of the bunker and began to make her way down the wall to the munitions cache, readying her shrunken for the sabotage.
Halak:
Above ground the tanks were making their way to the rear of the considerable battle line confronting the pordish beachead. Just because things were easy didn’t mean they were not under pressure to assist their allies. Airborne drones had built a decent map of the battle from afar, sighting artillery emplacements waiting like coiled snakes to strike the Pordish positions. Their own artillery, however had the superior range to strike at them. Priming high explosive shells, a salvo of rounds were fired at high velocity over a shallow angle to strike the positions.
The tanks, some of which had forded the river, briefly submerging themselves partially in the water before simply climbing up the opposite bank were making ground. The overlarge MBT advancing was another critical target. Around a dozen battle tanks arriving down a smaller road perpendicular to the avenue the Hammertech superheavy was traversing had made their way into position. One by one, they crabbed sideways across the avenue, each taking their turn to discharge several railgun shots and a salvo of brigandine missiles at the tank before returning to cover.
Underground, Pauldran and Brachor were forced into the unenviable position of having to crawl through a sewer tunnel barely big enough to acomodate their hulking forms. The only reason they hadn’t withdrawn from the operation completely being that their forward drones had determined no immediate ambush on the far side and that they would not be vulnerable for that time.
One by one the knights emerged into one of the more open underground sections, more amicable to their style of combat and set up a perimeter, a vaguely circular mass surrounded by hulking armored shield-bearers. Brachor raised a heavy fusion repeater, the dangling belt of miniature RPGs clinking against his armor and waived it across the concealed marchlander positions.
“Alright!” Tagrun barked, his prominent external microphone provided a booming echo in the enclosed space. “Come out with your hands up!”
Orbit:
“We see them.” Commodore Tagrun reported, manipulating his controls. The Cauldarion knew they were in no position to hold off such an immense fleet on their own. But he held high faith that their allies were more than equipped for such an engagement.
The two ships turned to face the enemy head on, then fired their reaction thrusters slowly sideslipping closer to the crossdock while anticipating and avoiding the long range fire. Tagrun bypassed the torpedoes and kinetic weaponry which the tenders had replenished before the departure of the fleet. He, like many a good commodore had done his due diligence at the various breifings prior to the attack and recalled one critical piece of information. Merger ships expressed a vulnerability to hardlight beamers and other energy weapons.
The two leading ships opened fire, their spinal beamers firing like automatic weapons; discharging brief relatively low powered scattered bolts of hardlight. At this range it was simply a token effort at suppressing fire against the swarm of destroyers, discouraging the enemy from closing into range. He also ordered the launch of his gunships and drone squadrons to abate any potentially disastrous boarding actions.
--
Explosions rattled the remaining windows that had not been blown out as the Union forces came under Marchander artillery fire. Intelligence had shown they had not expected a halt in advance given the sudden mismatch of counter attacks that even now were trying to break through the lines. Ulonto and his squad rested in the barren concrete remains of an office as the ground shook and dust was thrown up into the air, gunfire and the occasional scream of jets being constant despite the moments rest they had been ordered to take.
“You heard? They deployed some kind of night weapon against the Jade”
“Yea weird, but then we have psions against us. Perfect moment for the Gauss to try withdraw their stuff aye?”
“Why even bother coming in the first place if you leave halfway through”
The chatter of the Union and FRK men who belonged to several different squads annoyed Ulonto who struggled to get a small nap.
“By creation just rest for fuck sake” The men stopped talking for a moment before an alarm went out and someone started shouting.
“Enemy fleet presence has been sighted everyone up! We have counter attacks inbound and we need everyone ready in case we get orbitally bombarded!” Ultonto and the others rushed to their feet and grabbed their equipment.
“Fleet? I thought we won the space fight”
-------
“And how the hell did they not get picked up by our sensor systems!” Mephissa demanded over the holographics to her own crew. Bradamont merely sat watching the blips rapidly appear and speed towards them opening fire at very long range.
“They caught us with our trousers down” He mused.
“We have a massively reduced fleet with the Gauss gone and our forces are predominantly in a supporting formation in orbit, this could not be any worse” Mephissa ran a hand through her hair and anger was clear in her voice.
“I have an idea. Move the transport ships out of the main barrage, your forces cover them. I will attempt to delay them; we have the speed and capacity for early intercept” Bradamont brought up the courses on the display. Mephissa realised he was now speaking over the allied communication network.
“You can’t take them alone Captain, you don’t have the numbers or firepower”
“I am aware of that, but I can buy time for the rest of your forces to get into position” Already the FRK fleet lit their engines and turned to face the oncoming attackers, accelerating rapidly away from the planet weapon systems which had been brought down for maintenance now flooded with power once more. Missile launchers flew open to fire BPLs attempting to intercept the incoming shots or as many as possible as the Union and the transports began to move, flak shields and attack craft patrol groups being deployed to give the entire allied contingent additional support.
“I want all laser systems online, these bastards are weak to them maximum power output and burn out the emitters and lenses if you have to lets send these creatures straight to hell!” The optical scans were already showing the alien nature of the foe and Bradamont had no qualms about protecting the allied dropped forces as much as he could. This was no suicide charge, it was a joust.
Overcharged lasers streamed from vessels as missiles launched to intercept the incoming rounds, the FRK vessels jinking and dodging as they closed for intercept. More ship icons winked out as rounds smashed through his vessels, but Bradamont kept the course, they would inflict as many losses as they could on this first pass. 170 ships vs 500 and they kept going.
Taldovat type Rift Cruiser Y-66012
Flagship of Grazhnikarüchszhälnar Panuktaq, VRZ Brigade Commander
The sudden alarms can mean only one thing - a problem - and Panuktaq swiftly makes his way back to the command room to get to the bottom of whatever issue has cropped up. He slides into his command console and turns to the tactical officer; before he can speak up, however, she begins explaining the situation:
They are resuming naval operations, nam-Talyn says swiftly. She brings up the long-distance scans of the incoming fleet on the central displays and highlights the nearest wave of fire from them. More warships, closing fast.
Panuktaq curses under his breath. A number of his ships are close to the world, assisting with landing operations; they are not in position to engage in fleet battle. And judging by the animated commentary coming across allied comms, his situation is not unique. He leans back in his seat, frowning, before looking back to the onrushing hostiles. Bringing up his battalion commanders, he runs his chins.
We need to defend this stretch of space, he says, if we don't, well, nam-Ilglat's going to have a really bad time of it down there. He paints a general area of operations on the displays and the battalion commanders nod. Some of their holograms, he notes, are visibly not being projected from their command rooms.
PAI fields have been desaturated since previous engagement, nam-Talyn adds. Drone coverage is adjusting.
Panuktaq says nothing. A rift cruiser disappears on the displays even as his forces begin throwing up defensive fire and targeting the Merger warships with their own long-distance suites. Maybe, he considers privately, just maybe, nam-Ilglat was too eager to come here.
Halak, Pordish Northern Flank
Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
A frown tugs at the edges of Aglat the Lesser's jowls. Two skirmisher formations guarding his northern flank were engaged by artillery sitting atop a collection of hills overlooking the city. They were forced back almost immediately, effectively ceding a number of blocks that were so tenaciously fought for. He sends an order down the line to his independent artillery formations and the various detection and area-denial platoons -
CONSIDERABLE HOSTILE ASSETS DETECTED BEYOND CURRENT DIVISIONAL OPERATIONAL ENVELOPE
CURRENT PRIORITY MUST BE THE ELIMINATION OF ARTILLERY GATHERED NORTH OF [COORDINATES ENCLOSED]
BARRIER AND PD FORCES MUST ADJUST TO THIS BUILDUP OF ENEMY FORCE
He sighs after relaying the order. His adjutant, present holographically only, turns with a questioning tone: nam-Zhälnar?
We're probably going to need to clean them out one by one, he tells her. nam-Ilglat will not be happy about their presence, he shakes his head, first more ships appear, now this.
The adjutant nods silently as the rhythmic chorus of heavy Pordic artillery rises over the other sounds of battle.
Halak, Pordish Centre
Dalglak's Squad, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
That's one hideous machine, Taqsok says.
Dalglak, along with a few others, chuckles at the observation. It's hideous and it's here, he says, keenly aware of the seriousness of the situation. He turns his attention to one of the automatonists, the driver, who has since moved his machine from the beach up to a position closer to Dalglak. It floats in a cleared alleyway, out of the direct line of sight and fire from the general westward advance. Do you have a shot on any of those tanks?
The driver mumbles and shakes his head. It'll be some time before we're back to full Array strength, he says.
Alright, Dalglak nods. Many of the frontline assault vehicles have been using the greater share of the brigade's Array stockpiles. He doesn't fault them, but it does mean that less power is available for supporting units, such as those given to infantry squads. They'll have to rely on secondaries and their own localized power suites, which is a far more risky proposition.
Should let them pass. Take them out from behind, Taqsok suggests.
That's pro-
Without warning, the lead tank in the line comes under heavy bombardment and the column soon screeches to a halt.
There goes that idea, Dalglak says. He thinks for a minute, then addresses the driver yet again: do you have an angle on that building behind the column? Bring it down behind them.
Just barely, the driver says while adjusting for the shot. He moves the machine forward and peers just enough around the edge of his cover to give the topside entropic lance a clear shot; it rakes across a number of floors causing a cascade of structural material to rumble down and collect in a growing pile behind the Merchander machines.
Halak, Pordish Southern Flank
Division Chor Kanna Kazhel
Two rounds from batteries distant screech over the ruined streets, joined - moments later - by brilliant flashes of PD suite counter-fire. From the smoke, a Zhabahontyrnat looms, its dark form blending with the charcoal-black shades of night. It edges forward towards the sound of the guns; its myriad systems cycle through probable originators.
An explosion.
A nearby Chelnar - a platoon-level commander - watches the machine fall to a heavy shell. Why are those batteries still up?! We can't move forward until those damn things are gone! she yells. The Zhabahontyrnat shudders in protest against the flames consuming it. Then, on the heels of another strike, it clatters into a nearby building.
The Chelnar scowls. Yes, she nods, we'll look for another approach. I- her reply is interrupted by the Zhabahontyrnat. Falling debris catches on the machine, compelling it towards the unwelcoming pavement below. Chunks of wall and flooring rain down in a dusty cloud, obscuring the craft from direct view, but with its vicious impact it brews up yet again, and burns with renewed intensity; whatever soul it may have had now prisoner in its form no more, merely...
Ashes in the wind.
From the ruins of a nearby shop, dark figures prowl in the shadows. Gunfire greets them, but they shift and flow around the impacts. One charges forth across the ground with speed - gliding towards the Chelnar and the other Pords around her - and thunks down with a weighty whompf!.
They're breaching the line! the Chelnar yells as she draws her sword. Snow drips off her blade as the creature closes, its own claws and form a hideous affront to all that is, has been, and should be.
EASTERN DEBRUSK
The Marchanders were falling back in droves, the survivors flooding back into the city and disappearing into bolt-holes, tearing off their uniforms and heading home or else rallying around the defensive positions in the city proper. Far weaker than the powerful mountain lines, they waited anxiously for the coming onslaught of the Dominion forces that had already cracked their best hope at protecting the city. Other than a few ambushes by lone wolves or small units, there was no more resistance to the Dominion in the mountains and furthest suburbs of the city itself.
Further to their east, the slopes and foothills of the Debrusk Mountains were a scene from nightmare. Countless vehicles lay in ruins, burning, shattered and twisted. The filthy smoke roiling from hundreds of ruined vehicles did not quite mask the reek of burnt and broken flesh from the crew and infantry who had been caught in the brutal maelstrom. The invaders' walkers and vehicles moved across the field like carrion birds, rescuing their comrades both living and dead.
Bailiwick Kuraly did not even try to resist as he was bundled aboard a Dominion craft and lifted away from the slaughter. It was almost a welcome moment; whatever cell the Ingenious and their allies planned to throw him into, it would at least be free of the gibbering demands of the Cult. Kuraly had done his best, and tried to stop the invasion of his homeland, but now that his part in the war was over he privately hoped that the fallout saw an end to the Cult's influence over the people of Marchand.
WESTERN DEBRUSK
Arasi managed to place the explosives without issue. A rent-a-cop guard had nearly spotted her, but his corpse was stuffed between two crates. Retreating with her team, they detonated the explosives. A rippling series of thundercracks tore along the ridge of the plateau as the bunker and its ammo lit up. Amid screams and the rumble of falling masonry, Arasi and her team went un-noticed...
BELOW GROUND, HALAK
There was no response to the Knights' demands, at least not immediately. After a moment, however, there was the faint sound of metal clinking on stone, like harsh raindrops.
Multiple frag grenades, simple but effective, rolled into the open space, dropped from cracks and hurled from dark doorways. Almost immediately afterwards, there was a chittering rush as figures began to pour towards the Gaussian soldiers, claws and hand weapons reaching out hungrily for them. Most were the familiar little forms of Marchanders, but in the flickering, confusing darkness some seemed to be larger, with grotesque and impossible proportions...
HALAK CENTRE
The column of armour was stranded, trapped by the combined Gauss and Pordish attack. The huge HammerTech tank, part of a shipment to a Coronan tributary state that had been delayed due to non-payment, would never make it to the end customer now. The giant hulk was wreathed in flame, blocking most of the road ahead as the several dozen tanks trapped behind it tried to punch their way out through alleyways or by blasting down buildings, but in the confusion they were badly mauled.
A light tank, bright red and fast on sleek-looking treads, darted through the billowing flame, hosing down Dalglak and the nearby automaton with 30mm explosive rounds from its autocannon even as it sought to escape the carnage of the ambush. Elsewhere, artillery from Mount Bourque in the west finally opened up, heedless of the risk to nearby friendlies as it targeted the Gauss walkers who were picking apart the surviving Marchander armour. The booms echoed across the sky, pillars of flame and smoke roaring from the slopes of the peak to hammer the city, careless of casualties inflicted on their own people.
By now, a stream of refugees heading west and north was clearly visible to the scouts and aerial units of the allied forces, some in vehicles and others on foot, clearly unwilling to die for the cause...
HALAK, NORTHERN FLANK
The volley of counter-battery fire from the Pords was immediate and devastating. Whilst the Pords were masked by enemy units, their battlefield control measures, the uncontrolled smoke and flames, and the buildings of the city itself, their opponents were arrayed nicely on the sloping cliffs facing the city.
With their concealment abandoned in order to fire, they were sitting ducks. Effective and efficient machines crewed by good employees, they lacked the strategic and tactical wherewithal to make best use of the situation and the Pordish artillery hunted them out one by one, hammering them relentlessly. Unlike in the south, where the fresh reinforcements from all sides had turned the fighting into an incoherent crucible, the Pordish advance picked back up as the enemy artillery barrage slackened as quickly as it had begun. Freer to move and advance, the Pordish right flank began to punch deep into the city, threatening to encircle the GMGC headquarters and even threatening the artillery units on Mount Bourque in the west of the city.
Whether this fact eluded the local Bailiwick and his staff, or whether they knew but lacked the means to do anything about it, was a purely academic matter. Pordish units had completely broken free of the beachhead to the north and were now running rampant, threatening to cut off the entire city.
THE CHELNAR'S POSITION
The first beast fell to her blade, hacked apart by energies more powerful than those which had created it. Closer examination of the corpse at her feet led the Chelnar to a startling discovery. It was a Marchander, the head and face just recognizable despite the hideous distortion and corruption that had been worked upon it. The trooper had little time to reflect on the significance of the discovery, however, before more of the abominations began to emerge, rushing her unit with ever-increasing intensity..
UNION FRONT, CASS CITY
On either flank of the Union positions, the massed attacks finally unleashed. It was not immediately obvious to the Union joint command but the Marchanders had miscalculated, and had hoped to flank them entirely rather than contacting their flank units head-on, but the die was cast either way. Flooding down the narrow, twisting and sloping streets, supported by infantry who flowed through the buildings and tunnels below, two great columns hurled themselves at the Union positions.
For the first time, they too saw some of the same strange beasts that had attacked the Pords at Halak. Towering, semi-etheral figures wreathed in smoke, they darted forwards in the hopes of engaging the Union in chaotic melee, disrupting their defenses before the mundane armour and infantry caught up to fight their way through the Union flanks and encircle the hated invaders. The enemy artillery continued unabated, hammering the Union positions even as the Marchanders drew close, heedless of friendly fire as they sought to create havoc and so rob the invaders of their clearest advantage; discipline and good order.
Ulonto's squad watched as a pack of the strange dark creatures flowed down the street below them, seemingly oblivious of the troopers perched in the wreckage of the office suite above. Any smart observer would notice that the creatures seemed drawn to light such as the giant high-beams of the armoured vehicles, whilst Ulonto and his men were illuminated only by the few personal effects they were using during their downtime, relying on night-vision.
MITSUYOSHI'S UNIT, CASS CITY
Screaming through the darkness felt like a descent into Haeds. As they moved, they passed piles of corpses and burning, ruined buildings with increasing frequency. First it was mostly Marchander dead, with the occasional ruined Jade vehicle that the engineers had not yet removed, relieved of its dead during the orderly Jade advance. As they passed the ruins of the makeshift defensive line, marked by a line of buildings pulled down to make a killing zone by the Marchanders, things changed.
The streets now were choked with corpses like a carpet. Ragged Cultist, sleek mercenary and ornate Marine lay side-by-side, piled in a riot of bloodshed that defied understanding. Almost all the dead bore the brutal wounds of close combat; hacked limbs, broken heads, torn guts, their faces frozen in rictus screams. The stench was overwhelming even through their equipment, and Mitsu felt an impotent rage building up. They had been expecting to find survivors, but even the Marchanders were absent from the streets it seemed, other than the swathes of dead.
Finally they spotted light up ahead, and soon after heard yelling. Accelerating, they spotted a crowd of Marchanders surrounding a free-standing building, perhaps a post office. Mitsu barked an order and his squad opened fire, their mounted Type 30 Noroi guns hosing the crowd down, rinsing them with orange-red flame and sending them scuttling for cover.
Pulling their bikes into the forecourt of the building, they dismounted and Mitsu rushed inside, leaving his men to fend off the locals with their fully-operational AA-42s.
Inside was another tableau straight from the underworld. A single fire burned in the middle of the room, on which crackled everything flammable. Around the edges of the open space, glowsticks shone on pale, sickly faces beneath dull onibi. A mix of both regiments, many of them injured, were sheltering here. Mitsu was met by a fellow captain clutching a blood-stained AA-42.
"Captain Tamachi, 305th. Fuck am I glad to see you," the man said, his relief palpable as he slid down his mempo mask. His face was battered and bruised, his gaze a little unsettled.
"Captain Kuribayashi, 77th. They're pouring in reinforcements now. You guys got hit by a psionic EMP of some kind, so we're geared up to handle that."
He gestured as Tosho began humping bundles of scavenged blackpowder firearms into the building.
"How bad shape are you in?" asked Mitsu, almost dreading the answer.
_
"I honestly have no idea," replied Tamachi. "I have around sixty effectives and perhaps twice that wounded. Only about two dozen are from my company; the rest are whoever we were able to scoop up as we withdrew. We've lost all our armour and our electronics are all fried - we've been fighting them with blades and whatever shitty popguns we can take from these fuckers."
He trailed off, shrugging helplessly at the scene around them. "I was with three whole companies of the 305th. I don't know how many are still out there in pockets like ours..."
Mitsu nodded. "The cavalry has arrived, captain. We'll make them pay for this. We have a couple of Decanters, I suggest you use them now in case we're hit with another EMP blast."
Mitsu and Tosho made their way back outside, breathing the fresh air with relief. No more enemies seemed to threaten them just yet, the night eerily quiet desite the flames and sounds of battle further away. "Shit," sighed Tosho, "what the fuck are we even doing in this dump?"
He hefted his gunspear and fired a single round, catching a scurrying figure in an alleyway and grunting in satisfaction. "At least the little bitches are scared now some real firepower has arrived!" he said, kissing the haft of his gun and eliciting a mechanical chuckle from the others.
IN ORBIT OVER MARCHAND
The Merger warships came on apace. The front edge of their formation began to bleed as the FRK and Gauss ships, joined by frigates from the IJN, raced to stop them, backed by heavier long-range fire from the allied fleets that were scrambling to get into formation.
Prescott watched as one by one, his frigates were sunk or forced to retreat, damaged warships and escape vessels limping back to safety as the light craft fought a desperate action to slow down the hundreds of advancing destroyers.
The worst part about the assault was that the enemy seemed heedless of their losses. They ploughed forwards, some moving to close quarters with the allied frontline and attempting to board whilst others just blew straight past, ignoring the fire poured into their flanks and rears even as it tore apart some of their number in gouts of sickly-looking flame. Ships that got too close to their attackers found themselves snared by hideous tendrils, unholy abominations of black oil and smoke pouring aboard to wreak havoc across their decks.
He turned to survey his own dispositions. The bulk of his force was forming up in a serrated wedge formation, with the artillery ships just above and behind them. When the enemy closed sufficiently, he would rake them with enfilade fire before unleashing his heavy ships against their left flank, hoping to crumple the formation and corral them into a killing zone. He relayed as much to his allied commanders, trying to keep the losses they were suffering out of his mind.
Eastern Debrunsk Mountians
The walker continued to scale the mountains almost autonomously. The AI systems autonomously finding firm posting for the climbing spikes on the jagged rocky terrain. All the while Mataya was brought up to speed on the situation. The enemy had in large retreated into the city, with only the odd report of stubborn infantry encampents and ambushes being uncovered. Still the woman found it difficult to focus, difficult to reconcile everything that had just happened.
At least, from here on out, their duties would be far more manageable, or so she hoped. They would assume position along the ridge line, well above the valleys now laden with smoldering wrecks. Altitude would be their protection against a counterattack. Their duty was not to take the city, but simply to provide support from the rear.
From their vantage point, a hyperaccelerated dart could strike down from the peak of the mountain like the divine fury of an angry god, instantly dispatched to nearly anywhere in the city it was needed by the attacking forces. They could have simply flattened the city through sustained bombardment of nuclear shells, but it was their duty to purge the cultists and spare the innocents… as best they could.
West Debrunsk
The detonation of the largest guns was all the signal the dominion needed to begin their advance. Six whole divisions began to encroach on the city. Ranks upon ranks of armored walkers gliding across the pastures and farmland with little respect for the crops and animals. Herds of livestock stampeding loose from broken fences, fleeing the mechanical beasts encroaching upon the city. Adopting squat stances with their frontal legs angled forward for protection.
With the biggest guns offline, their formation was largely safe from bombardment. Nevertheless if the near-disastorous battle in the western mountains had taught them anything, it was that their enemy would no doubt be more ferocious and more well equipped than they had anticipated. Their advance was slow, methodical. Each building and potential point of ambush checked by drones before they advanced into range of whatever traps may lay in wait. They continued to push forward, anticipating heavier resistance as they approached the lower class dwellings at the base of the plateau.
They had the time and the numbers to carry out the sustained invasion and the city which was more or less surrounded at this point. Barring an escape tunnel deep beneath the surface or a rapid-evacuation spacecraft (both avenues general Tagratha had deemed unlikely; though still plausible) any forces within were cornered. Given the city’s geography, its station on the Plateau; Tagratha knew a more conventional armored force would have had a difficult time taking the city, to say the least. The Plateau lended itself well to choke points, narrow roads which could be easily fortified or if need be; destroyed.
But a cornerered rodent would always bite.
Halak Surface
Finally. The Dominion’s momentum in the assault had faltered. The first instinct of the forward armored divisions was to seek concealment and cover behind some of the better-reinforced structures in the city; only to be annihilated along with them by the enemy barrages. The division’s commander attempted to counteract this instinctive order with assurances that the enemy artillery positions would be handled shortly. As in his eyes, their fire was misdirected. His own positions provided a weapons free order, subsequent volleys of artillery shells, augmented by saturation strikes of countless thousands of brigandine missiles were hurled over the city center. Regardless the situation within the city was degrading quickly with the guns now trained partially on them, several units thrown into disarray or destroyed outright in the crescendo of pitched close range combat. A heavy tank blocked the escape of the enemy commander.
Primed to fire, it was struck by a salvo of shells moments before its shot was loosed. Instead passing harmlessly overhead, through a window and out the far side of a building, carrying on for many miles, and the fleeing tank raced past. A few more blocks and the tank came face to face with an anti air walker. The ferocious growl of the rotary railgun; trained skyward to intercept the enemy’s artillery fire and red hot from several minutes of near continuous firing. Successful at holding off the salvo of shells intended for itself and the mech squadron it was supporting, the gun snapped around. Still firing; it left thousands of perforations in the nearby buildings and street before turning to face the fleeing foe.
The omni wheels found their traction after a few moments of high pitched squeeling as the tank spun about, until its main body was facing forward. Racing past the destroyed hulks of tanks; friend and foe alike it had proved able to keep pace with the agile tank. Another shell struck a nearby building. An avalance of brick and steel barricading the avenue denying it further pursuit. Its gun fell silent but momentum was retained. Tension as the walker lowered, only to lunge above the cascade of rubble like a pouncing predator; finding the smooth and mostly open road beyond. It continued to fire.
Halak Underground.
The grenades pattered off their shields before detonating. Thickly armored; like the hull of a tank the grenades yielded little in the way of damage against the knights. But were more than serviceable as a distraction for the charging forces to close the distance. Pauldran, a shield bearer was taken to the floor as the mass of charging marchlanders hit him like a tsunami.
For a moment he struggled, his armor’s actuators and muscles struggling in tandem beneath a writhing mountain of corrupted beings. Picking at his armor with warped appendages; they struggled to find weaknesses in his armor; gaps in the plating through which they could pierce. He felt a few get through where the plates were thinnest; pinpricks.
But he was far from fearful. A flash of white interrupted the darkened merger forms and he could stand. Brachor stood above him, clutching his rocket-assisted warpick. He swung the weapon a second time like a great scythe; the blade cleaving apart their foes like butter. Two more lunged in on his flank before he withdrew his belt axe to fend them off, now wielding his warpick with a single hand. Far from ideal for blows of strength, but preferable for fending off hordes.
“For the Omniscience! And for all of our brothers which have fallen this day!” He bellowed. A symphony of yells approved his battle cry as the knights regained their formation. Medieval tactics serviced them well; each able to concentrate on the enemies in front of them and each trusting that their brother would do the same for those which would attack their flank. A few towards the center retained their firearms, Kauldesi included; and were able to surpress the enemy further.
Space
“Right!” Commodore Tagrun reported. “I’m ordering reaction burns anti-radial. We’ll take position in the center of the formation. We can melt them from the front, but if they get on our flanks we’re going to be in for a world of hurt.”
The two heavy warships continued to belt off ribbons of hardlight, punishing the forward charge relentlessly as they found closer range. Meshing into the notch of Prescott’s inverted wedge such that the firing arcs of his spinal beamers aligned neatly with the arrangement of allied ships. No longer constricted by relativity, every shot was a hit. Any of the minuscule destroyers that dared find posting at their fore were quickly dispatched. Though punishing their flanks were still vulnerable as they lacked escorts. The Galactic Admiral, in her haste to depart had stripped their fleet down to the bone
The single squadron of Sentinel cruisers wielded their own beamers. Magnitudes less powerful, but still competent to dispatch the odd vessel. One of the destroyers lunged greedily for the Makariamatra’s eastern hangar belt. Denied only in the last few kilometers by the ship’s shielding; a hex of hardlight momentarialy flashing into existence; slicing the tips of the boarding tendrils away before a cruiser could come about to finish the job. The cruiser was then itself caught by a destroyer; around 2/3 its size the combination of their velocities put the cruiser into a spin as the malignant arms clasped hold. The point defense beamers fired back defiantly, wires of hardlight seeking weakpoints in the ship.
“This is the GDAN Serindipitous Insight!” Her Katharian captian urged over the comms. “We have boarders on the main hangar deck and in engineering! Get this thing off us!”
--
“Here they come men!” One of the Union captains had called out across the line, the booming speakerphone sending his voice across the consolidated line. Buildings had been fortified, barricades erected in the streets and dug in positions erected to weather just such an occurrence that the Marchanders would counterattack in strength. The FRK soldiers seemed to be uneasy as the strange abominations rushed at them, fire was directed at each while hordes of lesser soldiers and even civilians rushed the lines. At first there was confusion as the FRK command chain held fire with the presence of civilians now rushing them, but it was quickly countermanded by the Union. The lines lit up a moment later with plasma and ballistic fire, scything down entire streets of rampant influenced individuals while vehicles exploded.
The Union was no stranger to fighting ethereal horrors or possessed civilians who had been corrupted. With sorrow in their hearts they fired again and again, every pull of the trigger reminding the men and women of the horrors their nation experienced in the Draken war. Huge creatures were focused down with heavy fire, but sections of the line fell all the same. Squads were dragged down by hordes of people and beaten to death or zeroed in by long range artillery and mortars, their lines broken and their order thrown to the wind in the swirling chaos of melee. Energy blades were activated, mono knives were drawn and phase blades brought to bare as the Unioners and FRK soldiers tried to hold the ground they defended. Still the horrors came in, tearing men apart or smashing vehicles aside as several break points were called out over the Union grid of positions where the Marchanders were overrunning them. Final protective fire missions were sent in by Farstrike batteries, intending to delay and impede their advanced as new reserve elements were set up, organised and sent into engage.
----
Ulonto watched the thing smash the side of the Custodian MBT at speed, its armour denting as the crew scambled to escape, only to be attacked by fire from several Marchander squads. The line had been hit hard and fast and now him and his squad were forced to open fire, cutting down the incoming attackers while the things attacked the vehicles with their blazing headlights.
“Keep light to a minimum!” Ulonto cried out, several FRK soldiers next to him proving their worth of marksmanship by taking down the enemy suppressing the tank crews.
“Sir what the fuck are those things!” One of them asked. Ulonto just kept firing.
“No idea, the same as always. Some monstrous creatures to help defeat us, never works though. We have killed plenty like them” An explosion hit the side of the building, the flash enough to draw one of the creatures their way. The squads fell back as it effortlessly leapt to the floor they were on, fire pouring into it as it tore one of the infantrymen apart. Ulontu jumped to one side as he heard the huge foot steps behind him, the form of heavy power armoured soldier thundered past, the huge energy blade coming up fast to cut the creature in two.
“My thanks” He called out, the squad trying to regroup and get back to firing down onto the street. The huge bulk of the blue armour turned slightly.
“Don’t mention it” Came through the speakers.
At least they had some heavy support.
----
“Damage report!”
“No.3 engine is destroyed, we have boarders on decks 5-13 and Phased arrays 9-12 are destroyed sir!” Bradamont cursed.
“Keep going! Ships which have taken too much damage break off and withdraw! The rest of you with me!” The FRK fleet had taken the brunt of the attack, ships which were now full of holes and dealing with whatever the hell these boarders were broke off to the relative safety away from the planet while the rest of the fleet, most also damaged in some capacity burned hard to turn around, still firing their lasers and other weapons as they went into the rare of this enemy. Lighting their engines, they dived forward once again albeit now broken and battered.
Deep within the depths of the ship Bradamont watched from cameras of the inhuman things attempting to kill through the ships. Bulkheads had been deployed, along with marine contingents and automated defences. Masses of tentacles, maws and claws lashed out as gunfire echoed down long corridors, truth be told the FRK had never expected boarding and right now their personnel were struggled with the attackers. Bradamont cursed the designers as they kept on fighting.
“Gunnery, help the Serendipitous now!” Bradamont responded near instantly, pointing his flagship in to try and laser the arms now grasping it.
Meson laser fire followed as Mephissa, protecting the transports with the Union contingent made a wall with which to break the assault.
“They come no further!” She cried. The veritable storm of mass driver fire pouring forth of the formation was enough to turn the space between them and the onrushing Merger into a glaring mass of explosions as plasma shots and laser fire followed up to target individual threats. Several more ships reported KIA on her HUD as they were destroyed by the return fire, black tentacles engulfing some and spilling boarders into their midst. But this time, it was not the FRK.
They were fighting the Union. And Mephissa had been there at the battle of Zaingraf.
Marines, this time in HPA and more filled corridors with designated kill zones covered by automated weapons and fire scythed down the horrors that now tried to kill those aboard. It was like a rebirth of the Shadows, the mindless creatures snatching men to their deaths at impossible hands while boarding shields were brought forth to be used in conjunction with heavy Cascade cannons and energy blades. This time the Merger faced much heavier resistance, but losses kept mounting.
“Protect the transports! We cant let our ground contingents get cut off!”
Orbit, Pordish Fleet
With blinding rapidity the Merger warships close the distance. At the edges of the fleet, a wing of scouts melts away against their onslaught, the myriad craft of the formation torn apart with ease as the heavy ships plough into close-quarters battle. The Battalion Chor Magsoq rushes in to counter the thrust; its interim commander, at the fore of the battered formation, turns his batteries against the nearest Merger craft. The telltale signatures of RPDCs fully discharging themselves ripple out across the battlespace as the rift cruiser is consumed by ghastly tendrils and her shattering entropic barriers yield against the onslaught. Before flickering into nothingness, the hologram of the interim battalion commander turns towards Panuktaq with a tired scowl. He gestures to a Pord off-screen, and then turns back to his superior to speak...
...but there is no sound.
In the corridors of one of the remaining cruisers of Magsoq's Battalion, waves of creatures pour from acrid smoke and emerald tongues of flame. They pitch into the automated defensive measures - and fall before them in clumps and heaps - yet bereft of self-preservation they come, inexorable and implacable, protected more and more each passing minute by the broken bodies of their kin that pile ever-higher in the cramped confines. Handfuls of Pords gather to contest their deep thrusts; they methodically fall back to lead the abominations into chambers of death where environmental controls afford them greater flexibility, but even here the Merger press on with heavier creatures and men with charges, leaving destroyed bulkheads in their wake and explosions that ring out worryingly closer to the centers of command and control.
Panuktaq, elsewhere, looks over the collapsing battlefield, unsure of his next command. nam-Talyn catches her superior's hesitation and speaks up -
Boarders are reported across multiple ships, we need to put some distance between ourselves and the Merger, she says, concern now sharpening her emerald gaze, we don't need to pull back very far, perhaps to these coordinates where we can join the Jade artilleryships. The FRK are moving to pincer, we can hold if we stand here, she says, pointing to her suggested field-position.
The suggestion seems sound; Panuktaq nods in response. After relaying the specific data to the other fleets, he brings up allied comms:
ADMIRAL PRESCOTT
WE ARE JOINING YOUR LINE
Halak, Pordish Northern Flank
Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
All across the line, Aglat the Lesser's forces push deeper into the city. With more and more high-rises falling under his control - or what remains of them - Merger control of levels beyond just the street seem to begin fading away as well. With the advance moving so swiftly, Aglat takes it upon himself to visit the field HQ of one of his primary brigade commanders.
This storehouse is serving me pretty well, nam-Algat. Glad you've come.
Aglat nods and returns the Pord's salute. He leans to one side as the cool air fills his nostrils. Suits you. Of all the ruins here, this. He gestures broadly as they walk inside. How are you holding up?
The brigade commander stops. A lot of refugees are fleeing at the fore of my advance. Don't want them to get caught in the crossfire but the Merger is collapsing here.
Mhmmm.
Here, have a look at these positions - he motions for Aglat to come sit at a table - we're just about in position to strike these heights.
Aglat leans over the hologram. Most of the sub-units of the brigade are displayed prominently, with known Merger positions marked as well, in far finer detail than the grander strategic-scale holograms of his own headquarters. By the gods, he squints, look at them burn.
I can move against these heights before Kalmyzhenkamtet, he assures Aglat with a dismissive wave towards their bordering division's battlespace. It'll give us command of the city.
The notion is tempting. Aglat stews on the matter. Bynach nam-Talozhyn, you've convinced me. Take the heights. We'll need air to suppress some of those batteries, you'll have that as well. He straightens his back and walks over to a nearby chair some distance from the map. Sitting, he shifts the topic: give the civilian rooms to withdraw - a block or two if need be.
And if the Merger withdraw among them?
Aglat sighs and rubs his forehead. Then they cede the field.
Tasi, nam-Talozhyn salutes. I have nothing else for you.
I'll have a look around the lines here before I head back.
Very well, I will have my chefs pre-
No, Aglat interjects, you know I hate chlaaqsit.
nam-Talozhyn grins but says nothing more as his superior stands and heads for the exit.
Halak, Pordish Centre
Dalglak's Squad, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
INCOMING!, the automatonist screeches. A spray of autocannon rounds paints a line of craters on the wall of a building nearby. Though swift on the controls, his combat AI is faster, and jerks the machine down to avoid the rushing tank. But even faster than the AI's ability to move the vehicle are the autocannon rounds that land not on the dingy walls of the neighbouring structure, but the machine they sought to strike. Two smash through the upper entropic lance nacelle, gutting the weapon, and sending showers of destroyed material into much of the forward compartment. The Chor Voznay shudders and slips below the lip of the building it was peering over before settling closer to street level.
Shit, the automatonist scowls. Lost our upper lance.
Dalglak peers towards the direction of the distant GMGC headquarters through the thunderous chorus of artillery. Laying flat to the ground to avoid the autocannon fire, he strains towards the HQ's general direction even though his direct line of sight is blocked by wreckage, ruins, and other unsightly things. We need to move then, he replies after some thought, should be able to make it past that column.
Taqsok nods. That's one way to kill tanks, he chuckles. What are you thinking?
Dalglak scratches his chin. Moving further west brings him more directly into the firing lanes of the guns of the heights in the center of the city. For now, that is out of the question. We'll need to move back a block or two, he decides. But company wants us moving closer to the HQ. More tanks there.
Better than getting chewed up here, Taqsok jests.
Halak, Pordish Southern Flank
Division Chor Kanna Kazhel
The Chelnar stands over the corpse of the felled creature as the depths of night carry on. Wind howls over the streets and tugs at her cape. Two Pords some distance from her fire at shadows moving through windows - quick bursts of fire that disappear into the darkened interiors of the structure.
They're coming, there they are! one calls. A large arm emerges from behind the ruins of a wall, ripping the Pord from his position. His gun clatters down to the ground in the struggle, his attempts to reach his sidearm seemingly met with no success.
This way, the Chelnar calls. With a signal to her squad leaders she gives a new objective. Hold, hold this area of ground.
An infantryman carrying a GAR-15 advances cautiously with another who moves with sword and shield drawn. A trio of probes float behind them as they close in on where the creature took their squadmate.
Behind that wall, shoot him! one shouts. He levels his gun and fires a burst; the impacts flash in the darkness, silhouetting the Pords against the ruins behind them. An otherworldly screech ripples out in response, then three creatures burst from behind the wall. They dash forward and make short work of the Pord nearest to them; his gun, too, clatters into the rubble not far from where the other Pord's fell.
The Chelnar motions to the beasts. Unfazed, they attack - and the Chelnar countercharges with the other sword wielding Pord, the sound of their footsteps echoing, masked only by the covering fire of their probes.
OVER DEBRUSK
The shuttle containing the Bailiwick arrived at the Jade fleet almost unnoticed. After being escorted to a brig, the Bailiwick had been left to cool his heels for nearly an hour until finally the door had slid open. Beyond stood a towering man with a flowing beard and a craggy brow, flanked by marines. Kuraly scrambled to his feet, but at only 4 feet tall he was dwarfed by the Yokari in the doorway.
"I am Colonel Sonnwende, 711th Regiment commanding. I will be brief. Allied forces are about to assault Debrusk proper. After the incident at Cass City, we are prepared to engage in area bombing if necessary. Only you can prevent this by ordering your remaining forces to stand down."
DEBRUSK
Compared to the resistance they had faced in the east, the western advance went smoothly. The few lines of defenders had fallen easily, mostly infantry forced to fall back by the overwhelming and methodical advance of the Dominion. IEDs and sniper ambushes were the best they could muster, and in nowhere near enough quantities to force the Dominion to halt their attack. The city was eerily still outside of the occasional flicker of combat, the lights illuminating empty streets as people hid in their homes from both the Merger and the invading aliens.
As they summited the plateau, passing the ruins of the artillery fort destroyed by the advance teams, they heard gunfire up ahead. Advance drones would spot Marchanders fighting one another in scattered, running battles and skirmishes throughout the city centre with one side composed entirely of differing PMC personnel whilst the other was mostly what seemed to be cult militia and a few PMC members.
An open communication came out from further in the city. "This is Bailiff Sweeney, speaking with the authority of Bailiwick Kuraly. The United Guilds of Debrusk wish to cease hostilities immediately. I repeat, we are requesting a ceasefire immediately."
SOUTHERN HALAK, GAUSS
The sudden volley of fire from Mount Bourque had bloodied the nose of the Dominion assault and thrown it into temporary chaos, but their exposed position on the hillside came at a cost. Counter-battery fire from the attackers hammered into the sides of the mountain, tumbling machine and rock downhill and onto the city below in a cataclysm of flame and dust. The city itself shook as the artillery battalions were shredded, broken by Gauss artillery fire and then finished off by Pordish air strikes.
The Gauss anti-air walker took a moment to orient itself and then fired a burst. For a moment it seemed as if they had missed, and then the escaping light tank simply evaporated in a burst of smoke and fire. Across the region, the Marchander resistance was falling apart, allowing the Gauss and Pords south of the river to link up, concentrate their forces and begin leveraging their tactical initiative against the enemy.
SOUTHERN HALAK, CHELNAR
The first beast fell to the Chelnar almost immediately, spitting itself on her blade with a crazed lunge. The other two were more circumspect, and lunged and darted at the two Pords in an attempt to seize their weapons or trip them and maul them. One managed to seize the other Pord's leg and tug at him, but he swept his blade as he fell and caught it in the neck.
Ahead of them, a Marchander in woolen robes rushed out from a side street and issued a shriek. Several more distorted forms flowed from the alley behind it, rushing towards the Chelnak, but behind her she could hear the hum and roar of friendly vehicles approaching too...
HALAK NORTH AND CENTER
Both Dalglak's squadron and and Aglat's forces felt an easing of pressure as the Marchanders ahead of them began to thin out a little. Reinforcements to the frontline seemed to be dwindling, whilst other units were collapsing back towards the GMGC headquarters in the middle of the city. The towed autocannon pinning Dalglak's team down fell silent as marksman fire from elsewhere peppered two of the crew and the others picked up their sidearms to return fire, ducking for cover behind the weapon and the rubble they were using as an emplacement.
A column of wheeled jeeps rolled across the face of Dalglak's position in haste, in battered shape and spattered with blood, some of their occupants clearly dead or injured. They did not stop to pick up their stranded colleagues at the autocannon emplacement, simply accelerating away and west to the headquarters.
HALAK UNDERGROUND
The crowd around the knights roared, shrieked and gibbered even as they were hacked apart. A growing pile of brutalised meat was building at the feet of the knights, but even as more cultists poured into the chamber to die, some of the pile began to twitch.
Shadowy forms, hard to spot in the wild and flickering light of the combat, began to creep out from the carnage. Disjointed, malformed limbs made from the ruin of normal corpses began to reach out to snatch at the knights, inhuman and powerful grips, claws and insidious tentacles made of disgusting offal began to tear at the Dominion warriors.
UNION LINES, EAST CASS CITY
The onslaught against the Union was vast and relentless, but the Union had been braced and despite the bloody cost, were able to reap a terrible toll on the attackers. The soldiers of the Union and FRK were no doubt going to suffer psychologically far worse than anything else, although too many were dragged down and killed by the swarming, gibbering hordes that masked the armour and artillery of the Guilds.
Eventually the onslaught began to wither. As the allies knocked out tank after tank, reaping a terrible toll of professional Marchander assets, the hordes began to lose their cohesion. Unsupported by heavy units, their wild charges and screaming advances were beaten back with increasing ease by the exhausted FRK-Union defenders and their reinforcements. Hours after the first Marchander counterattack began, the east of the city had fallen into relative quiet.
Ulonto's squad had weathered the assault well, and though their corner of the city was now littered with too many corpses to count and riven by gunfire and explosions, it was eerily silent. In the distance, figures occasionally darted between alleyways or through rubble, but it had been some time since any had dared to attack his position directly.
Although they had repelled the assault, the city ahead was still dark, with no lights visible through the dense fog. Although the Union knew that the Ingenious were advancing on foot from the west, the fog and wind made it impossible to detect anything going on deeper in the city, other than the occasional strange shriek or howl that spoke of eldritch beings stalking the dark nightmare ahead.
MITSU'S POSITION
The city was quiet. There was no movement to be seen, no communication from command, and other than the faint hum of a shuttlecraft that one marine had sworn they had heard in the distance, no relief seemed in sight.
Mitsu had organised the survivors and his men, and they had moved into the square, setting fire to several buildings to flood the area with light and let them regain their breath. Eventually there came a chittering noise from the north, and almost before they could ready themselves a boiling swarm of figures emerged from the mists. A circus from nightmare, deformed and salivating, the bulk of them were unholy nightmares that bore down on the Jade soldiers like a tide. Fighting from behind temporary barricades, amid the mist and smoke and heat, the marines gave their all. Spider, bat and raccoon mask all fought side-by-side, hacking, lunging and firing what little ammunition they had.
Mitsu slashed to force back a Marchander with two heads, both rotting, tumbling it back down the barricade. The marine beside him lunged his AA-42 into the belly of an almost normal-looking Marchander woman, and almost instantly an oily limb reached from the mists to grab him by the shoulder, crushing it with a hideous crack of metal and bone before drawing him back into the fog with a blood-curdling scream.
"No!" yelled Mitsu, diving into the gap and swinging his blade in an arc. It hammered through several figures at once, and to his surprise the blow did not tire him. Almost the opposite; he felt invigorated. He yelled in triumph, lashing his blade back with one hand to hack down two more enemies. A towering figure with a gaping hole lined with hands in its chest confronted him, and he yelled in defiance. From his mouth came a stream of fire, engulfing the creature which collapsed with a shriek.
-
Although Mitsu knew he should be surprised, he was not. This felt right. It felt natural. He felt power swelling within him, and raising his sword with a triumphant yell, he willed it to light. It did, flame flickering along its length. Few had noticed his feat at first, but the flame reached high into the night and his voice carried with far more force than any humanoid should be able to project.
To their shock, he seemed taller, nearly nine feet. The faint shadow of wings seemed to fall behind him as he let out an echoing laugh and sprang forwards towards the enemy, his movements wild and savage as he carved through them. The surviving marines cheered in response and followed after him.
OVER MARCHAND
The FRK and the forward elements of the allied fleets had been badly mauled, sunk or overrun by boarders, but their sacrifices had bought the others time to form up around Prescott's core. He looked on with grim satisfaction as his artillery ships fired, their vast graviton lances enfilading the advancing line and turning their already warped flesh and metal into ruin. Where his ships made weaknesses, the combined guns of the Union, Pords and Dominion hammered down with a vengeance, sinking ship after ship. The Merger attack began to disintegrate.
He turned his head to issue a command through his console, turning his eyes from the carnage displayed on the viewscreens ahead of him. Almost immediately, a fleet of shuttles and corvettes, flanked by fighters, roared from the heart of the allied formation, bearing the 711th Regiment towards the chaos ahead.
His allies had suffered and bled to protect them, so now it was his turn to repay the favour. The stag-helmed men and women of the 711th, in their white-grey and red armour, would go to their aide.
Across the allied positions, 7,500 Jade marines poured aboard stricken ships. Wielding their gunspears and swords, flickering with light and flame, they charged into the fray. Whereas their allies sensibly formed firing lanes and killzones, the Ingenious fought with a wild abandon. The Merger were their ancient and hated foe, and they planned to match savagery with savagery. Crashing into hangars and open zones, their battle cries could be heard across the ships as they crashed into their enemies, heedless of losses. Wherever they found allied crew still resisting, they formed up alongside them, their glittering blades offering protection against the disgusting appendages of the attackers, their quartz bullets shredding the enemy.
Aboard the Serendipitous, a blood-spattered Major with an injured arm approached a cluster of Dominion crewmen, trailing a band of equally battered and grim-looking marines with antlers in the place of horns on their helmets. Her mempo was retracted, showing her green-and-alabaster face which had an almost feral quality to it, as if she enjoyed this.
"Where do you need us?" she said calmly, skipping the pleasantries.
Debrunsk
The dominion advance came to an abrupt halt. The larger artillery guns, such as the one Mataya was now in charge of were given new orders. Prime thermonuclear shells; target specific coordinates within the city and await orders to fire. She wasn’t quite sure what to make of this.
General Tagratha’s twin avatar bodies became visible on the open communications line.
“Very well. My terms are unconditional. You are to stand down and allow us into the city. You and all of your accomplices will be taken prisoner and dealt with at the discretion of the Jade Empire. After your associate Pardok’s dishonorable attempt at surrender in orbit, My trust in you is very lean.” Her expressions grew serious. Despite the young, unassuming appearance and kindly voice of her twin bodies, when speaking in unison the voices echoed together in an otherworldly manner, informing a voice vastly more imposing than the sum of its parts. “Make one slip up, give me one reason to think you are trying to trick me through perfidy, and I will not hesitate to join the jade empire in bombing this miserable city off the face of the planet! Am I clear?”
Halak
“Command we’ve got a problem. A we had a runner… I think it was one of the enemy command staff. Last seen headed west on the southern avenue. Dropped smoke… engaged some kind of cloaking tech or went underground.”
“We’re sending you to new coordinates to intercept fire from the remaining artillery positions. Get in position, the air wing will handle it from here.”
A group of fighter drones broke from high speed support runs, switching from high speed flight into comparatively slow trawling hover modes and began to sweep the nearby streets with Lidar laser brooms. A thousand electronic eyes from their smaller drones joined in the hunt. If the fleeing foe stirred so much as a pebble in their haste; they would know. They couldn’t afford much else; as they had successfully met up with the pordish line.
Halak Underground
The knights continued on, fighting tirelessly. Though it was swiftly becoming clear that the enemies were not thinning with time. Simply resurrecting themselves in newer and more malicious forms which were vastly more difficult to take down. Batangok recognized this fact, hollering into his comm demands for support. He swept up one of the dropped fusion rifles and fired into the ceiling, working to open a hole through which reinforcements could enter. A section of brick, concrete and dirt collapsed, crushing one of the reformed beasts.
One of them rose from just beneath the groups feet, its long tendril like arm made up of the dismembered parts of around a dozen corpses disrupted the formation. This appendage, half humanoid arm and half clasped Brachor, overwhelming the strength of both him and his armor. The knight struggled helplessly against its might, unable to reach his weapons.
Pauldran turned in shock. He lunged at the beast, firing the engines of his warpick to pull himself higher into the air; nearly contacting the ceiling before then pulling himself back down in a heavy strike at the beasts head. Its ‘head’ was infact a bundle of heads of their from their fallen foes; like a bunch of grapes. In these desperate moments the tendrils worked tighter around him, the plates of Brachor’s armor began to crack and contude onto his body, the crushing pressure warping the internal connections of his armor.
Wrestling with his balance for a moment, he used one hand to hold the warpick; planted deeply in the bundle of screaming heads while he undid a grenade with the other. A single swift punch deposited the explosive into the open mouth of one of the heads, breaking teeth and tearing the corners of its mouth. He jumped free, and a moment later the grenade gave a mighty report. The top half of the amalgamite reduced to a splatter of burning viscera which showered the entire company. Brachor fell free of the now, severed limb. Dazed but very much alive. Pauldran had been disarmed and flung into a dark corner of the room by his stunt. Impacting the decrepit brick with enough force to collapse a small section of it.
“Thank you, broth-.“ Brachor began, returning to his feet.
Pauldran was standing up, reaching to collect his weapon as another tendril reached from the blackest of shadows, too dark even for the prying electronic eyes of their armor and snatched the Cauldarion around the neck. Though thin, the appendage held supernatural strength; dragging the warrior along with his five-ton suit of armor across the underground chamber as though he were weightless. Carrying him from shadowy catacomb to shadowy catacomb to slap him against the floor, walls and ceiling like an insect. This climaxed with him being dragged to the back of the room. There was the shriek of failing metal and a wet crack; then a loud thud as something hit the wall behind them.
Coming to rest behind them, just a meter or so from the pipe through which they had entered was unmistakably the decapitated form of Brachor. His right arm twisted at an unnatural angle; the plates of his armor cracked and warped; driven into his flesh. His torso and the armor that encompassed it mangled and twisted at odd angles and a growing pool of scartlet surrounded his corpse.
In lesser warriors, such a display may well have inspired fear. But for the knights; there was only one valid reaction to such transgressions.
“RAHBAKUN PARAKOS PAULDRAN!” Brachor bellowed, tears streaming from his eyes behind his armored helm. In defiance of the wounds he had recieved while being crushed, he charged, his cry had rallied his scattered company back to form. Spurred on by the death of their fellow warrior they charged into the shadows letting off deafening and barbaic cries. The blackness puncutated by the ivory light of their crystalized blades.
Space
The actions of the larger ships were primarily stagnant. Their role in the formation seemed to be working wonders for the group effort in dispatching the enemy force. Two of the dominion cruisers broke from the formation, surging forward into the fray. Packed to the gills with merger boarding parties their surviving command staff were left with two options… to die as cowards or as heroes. The instantaneous disintegration wrought on by an induced reactor overload deemed preferable to a slow and painful ending at the hands of the merger… doubly so if the merger were dragged down with them. A moment later a series of blinding flashes; and the ships were reduced to expanding shockwaves fo cooling gas.
Onboard the insight the Captian was more than willing to explain the situation. The boarders had entered through the starboard side; five hangars used to carry the escort gunships. All of them packed to the brim with merger. The naval officers and robotic staff were more than content to cower behind slatted armored bulkheads; like arrow loops of olde and fire away. A simple but frustrating defensive posture proven to slow, though not stop even the Merger.
However a small detachment of Cauldarions were onboard, who shared in the 711ths pleasure in primal and savage combat. Their duty was to retake the forward section of the ship. Carrying ivory greatswords of crystalized light and wearing the banners of some small and unrecognized noble house they were perfectly suited for the type of combat they were set to endure. Tight octagonal corridors; wherein no more than three or four of them could stand shoulder to shoulder. The detachment of the 711th and the knights would fight a grueling campaign to retake the front half of the ship room by room, deck by deck, hangar by hangar.
“Push forward to the bow of the ship. I’m going to transfer comms to the tactical officer who will give you the specifics. I don’t care about collateral damage to the ship, so long as you make every effort to keep our crew safe. We’ve got some pinned in the forward engineering section… Good Luck.”
Taldovat type Rift Cruiser Y-66012
Flagship of Grazhnikarüchszhälnar Panuktaq, VRZ Brigade Commander
Panuktaq glares at the tactical readouts as a number of vessels disappear from view. The Merger charge isn't an action he anticipated, and now his entire force is bleeding for it. Bringing his battalions back up to full strength will take some time. Of this, he says nothing, merely follows the path of an interdictor as it narrowly slides past an incoming salvo.
That was a good call, nam-Talyn, he says finally, his eyes now coming to rest on the position of a different interdictor. Now we can push them back and maintain control here.
nam-Talyn nods slowly. Many vessels are reporting nearing the bottom of their RPDC magazines. That rush really emptied them.
Tasi, Panuktaq chews on the notion. Hopefully no other armadas are waiting for their moment to pounce. In that moment, a familiar form fades into view; he turns to see the scowling hologram of Kazhel nam-Ilglat.
How are you holding? We are with most of the winds down here, but not all of them. Need more time to clear out a few more sectors.
We're still here, Panuktaq declares, you will have your time.
nam-Ilglat's tense scowl loosens. Good, he says. The sooner the Merger are ended, the better.
I- Panuktaq begins, but nam-Ilglat's hologram flickers into nothingness as quickly as it arrived.
Across the fleet, the Ingenious reinforcements are welcomed on the stricken ships. The fighting is desperate, but now that the Pordish formation has fallen back to a less advanced position, the boarders have little hope of seeing their own reinforcements any time soon.
An end, it seems, is almost within sight.
Halak, Pordish Northern Flank
Division Nyko Keltytnamänskaya
The grim heights of Mount Bourque burned crimson red, their defiant heartbeat - the tall batteries that sat overwatching the city - bestilled by the heavy hands of Dominion artillery and Pordish air. Yet still many Marchanders remained, abandoned by the very eagerness that brought them, yet compelled to remain nevertheless; they hid low in the remaining defensive works of their hilly citadel waiting - in hushed anticipation - for their final judgment by the many guns of nam-Talozhyn's brigade.
And they did not wait long.
Beyond the rise of the earth they started; ordered forth by nam-Talozhyn they came. Skirmishers led. Others followed. The rumble of heavy guns droned over their advance - unignorable and abundant - raining forth as ribbons of ashen gray and somber streaks of black. Smoke-filled crags of buildings-once-beautiful covered the swift strike of the infantry as supporting arms moved into position to cover them; light vehicles and mobile artillery floated from concealment to concealment to duel with their entrenched counterparts.
Some distance behind, from the cupola of a command tank within the rear staging areas, nam-Talozhyn watched them. Two Chor Voznays smoldered along the lower slopes in tribute to the start of the attack. And nam-Talozhyn saw them, too. He turned to his adjutant and excitedly shook the Pord; We'll beat Kalmyzhenkamtet there, he said, by Jlokhemit, we'll beat them there!
Halak, Pordish Centre
Dalglak's Squad, Division Chelcharovengrazhni
The GMGC headquarters are less distant, now, but in some ways seem further away than before. Since repositioning and reforming as per company's orders, Dalglak and his men have had time to think about the renewed attacks in orbit. They are not the most comforting of thoughts.
Still, the fighting on the ground is their most immediate concern. The lessening Marchander resistance is welcomed, even if in the back of their minds they know it is because they, too, are reconsolidating their lines. And so their inevitable push on the GMGC headquarters looms as they take final positions in preparation for it.
They rest in the rubble as dull columns race away from the Pordish lines. Every now and again, the drone of strike craft rises and then falls. Dalglak gazes into the sky to see them, only to catch mere glimpses as they skirt about some distance away, their own combat envelopes far more expansive than his own.
Do you think they'll hold? Taqsok asks. He leans against the remains of what once was some sort of counter; no roof hangs overhead. Flashes of orbital fire are just barely visible in the night sky.
Dalglak shrugs. It's almost time to move again, he says, shifting the subject, then shifting it back, probably. I don't know. Maybe.
Riiight, Taqsok chuckles, glad you're not up there.
Dalglak shrugs again, but fails to suppress a grin. He came very close to joining the VRZ once. Perhaps he could've been in command above, leading battalions of cruisers instead of squads of men. In another time - in another place - perhaps so. His grin fades with a shake of his head; he resecures his helmet and brings his personal barriers back online. Gather your sentries, it's time to move, he says to the automatonist.
Tasi, the automatonist replies.
Two probes from a neighbouring squad crest a pile of rubble that sprawls across the road. Behind them, the drone of a Chor Voznay. Dalglak takes notice of their approach, and watches as the automatonist's sentries return in good order. After a moment, he turns towards the GMGC headquarters. Let's go, he says.
Halak, Pordish Southern Flank
Division Chor Kanna Kazhel
Alleyway! the Chelnar's companion calls. He points to the charging Merchanders with his sword.
I can't deal with them, the Chelnar says, her attention still focused on the remaining creature before her. It strikes swiftly, but she steps backward, narrowly avoiding the blow, then follows with a thrust of her own.
Tasi, the Pord replies sloftly. He reaches for a grenade on his belt, then moves away from the Chelnar to a wall with a better view of the alley. As the abominations near the street, he arms the device, and throws it into the group before ducking back into cover...
...As the Chelnar's strike connects, and the beast against her hisses grotesquely in response. With a single deft movement, it swipes a large claw around into its Pordish assailant, sending her tumbling onto the floor, just as the grenade's detonation sends a wave of cool air over the area.
Two of the rushing creatures are killed outright. A third stumbles forward, portions of its side and back rendered unto dust or frozen solid, while a fourth and a few others push aside their dead and wounded comrades to maintain their inexorable push onward.
But with the Chelnar on the floor, her probes are given clear line-of-sight to the deformed monstrosity now moving to finish her, and they fire again as they did before, felling the foul creature with the remaining stocks of their power. They withdraw out of the line of fire as the Chelnar picks herself up, dazed, but drawn to the sounds of others moving up the road, in particular what seem to be nearing Dominion forces, as more malformed beings emerge from the shadows of the Alleyway.
--
The silence was defeaning.
Ulonto and his squad had been sitting here in silence for an hour now. The hordes had dispersed, and the strange creatures had stopped coming, even the burning wreck of a Marchander MBT down the street in front of them seemed to be silent as they waited. The past hours had been a blur of combat, men dragged to their deaths, close call in artillery strikes to try keep the foe back, ethereal creatures brought down by heavy fire as they caused carnage and of professional enemy forces trying to exploit anything they could.
Occasionally the crackle of the radios brought along updates, it was much the same across the lines. The enemy assault had halted and while there had been major breakthroughs in some sectors those had been repelled at cost. They had even heard the Ingenious were walking in to take out the enemy command post, Ulonto thought those soldiers brave enough for them all. So far, the Union commanders had not ordered a counter push or any sort of offensive action, merely to hold. Ulonto was quite happy with that assessment.
“Do you think its over?” Finally, the silence was broken by one of the FRK soldiers.
“Shut the fuck up or you will jinx it!” One of the older Unioners replied.
“Hey, leave the kid alone. It looks like it’s somewhat over for now. Don’t let your guard down though. Still some of you go get some rest however brief, ill set up a rotating posts” Ulonto sniped back to his own man, the call for rotating rest being well received by the men along the line, the tension despite the situation dissipating somewhat as they began to speak to one another.
Hopefully the orbital war was going better. The flashes occasionally from above that pierced through the blackness however did not give Ulonto much hope.
-----
The bridge looked more a scene from a wreck than a proper warship.
Bradamont stood with the 711th representative in full salute along with his bridge crew. The flagship had been boarded and then heavily damaged by Merger fire, they had thought it was over until the reinforcements from the Jade counter boarding units had arrived, working with remaining FRK armsman they had cleared their way to the bridge which had been under attack when they arrived.
“I cannot thank you enough, you have saved our lives and purged that menace from our ship. If there is anything I can personally do to repay you let me know. For now however we are abandoning ship, I will attempt to transfer command to one of the remaining vessels of the fleet”
It was true, the FRK contingent had taken heavy damage, and so had the Union fleet in the final breaking of the Merger. Many ships lay broken and battered, their crews having been liberated by the Jade forces. Thankfully survivors were high and recovery efforts for both nations would likely take a great deal of time here to collect the various debris and wrecks to try and rebuild them in the months to come if they even could.
“Captain Mephissa it appears I am still alive. I am transferring command to the Adamant Heart all remaining FRK elements will be forming back up and merge with your formation, we don’t have the strength to operate independently anymore” Bradamont made his way to the hanger, the interior of the corridors having been horribly burned out and covered with claw marks.
“By creation I am thankful you are alive. My formation has been heavily damaged as well, one of the transport vessels sustained crippling damage, we will have to tow it into any position we need it in. Form up, we can distribute remaining crewman and conduct full search and rescue for the damaged ships.” He nodded at the comment.
“Understood, lets save everyone we can”
DEBRUSK
"Yes, yes!" replied the Bailiff, his voice desperate "The Cult leadership has rejected the surrender and is attacking us! You can spot them by the wave symbol on their clothing!"
As he spoke, gunfire could be heard behind him. As the Dominion swept through the city, however, the Cult melted away before them. They were much fewer in number here; unbeknownst to the invaders, the Cult had moved many of its most zealous members to Cass City and Hornqvist in preparation for ambushes against the Ingenious and their allies. Faced with overwhelming numbers of Dominion regulars, the cultists slank back into their boltholes and homes, yielding the streets to the remaining GMGC forces who in turn threw down their weapons as the Dominion troops passed through.
Astronomical dawn was starting to rear its head - the very faintest of light, barely indistinguishable from night, by the time the Dominion had secured Debrusk and occupied the GMGC headquarters. Bailiff Sweeney proved to be an eager, if nervous, leader and his operators, who had been corralled in the headquarters, were mostly compliant. There seemed to be an air of relief among many of them, although others seemed bitter and the occasional fistfight even broke out among the prisoners. The city lay disturbingly quiet as Sweeney showed some Dominion officers around their command centre. A large map of the region was visible and he pointed to it urgently. It showed a series of icons representing a huge formation moving towards Debrusk from the east, the plains south of Hornqvist. Elsewhere another formation could be seen heading south-west towards Cass City, whilst on another display units were emerging from a forest north-west of Halak. He glanced fearfully at the officers. "Their plan was to let you land, weaken yourselves, then swamp you with a second wave.."
HALAK UNDERGROUND
The horde gradually thinned out as the enraged knights launched their bitter charge, furious to avenge the death of their brother at the hands of such a misshapen and lowly assemblage of filth. Hacked apart in the flickering shadows, driven back by a wall of metal and light, they were driven back against the walls until all that was left were twitching carcasses and the patter of feet as the survivors fled back into the depths. A giant form, resembling some kind of cephalopod, was sprawled amongst the wreckage, one malevolent white eye staring unseeing at the ceiling, a 'beak' made of smaller tentacles hanging slack where it had been cut apart.
It was clear to the warriors that although they were the match of any creature down here, the subterranean districts of this planet were far deeper than even they had planned for.
HALAK MOUNT BORQUE
Gushak was not thrilled. He had volunteered to help defend the city from invasion, had been issued a cheap boltthrower rifle and two magazines and then dispatched to guard a pile of sandbags on Mount Borque. A hundred metres to his left and a little uphill, a huge artillery piece had periodically threatened to deafen him - the militia did not merit earplugs, it seemed.
He had watched in dismay as the enemy had flooded ashore, a strange elemental tide of ice and smoke punctuated by beams of eldritch energy. Explosions had rippled through the city, gradually expanding from the seafront, and he had watched with a detached sense of horror until eventually fire had rained down on the mountain. The piece nearby had exploded, burning wreckage missing his little outpost by only a metre or so. After much consideration, he left his rifle where it lay and began climbing the slope behind him, heading west away from the battle. At the foot of the mountain enemy vehicles were already advancing, and he hurried into a jog. The world might be ending, but he wanted no part of it.
Half an hour later, on the downslope of the mountain, he turned to squint into the dawn. The sounds of battle had followed him, getting gradually closer as the Pords advanced quicker than he could flee on foot. He watched as two rocket platforms on an outcrop exploded, riven by fire from unseen attackers below, their silhouettes bursting into pieces and sending up plumes of smoke that shrouded the rising sun. He shook his head and turned away. Mount Borque was done, and so was Halak.
HALAK GMGC HEADQUARTERS
The allied forces tightened their ring around the Guild's headquarters. Bailiwick Bulger railed furiously. He was a die-hard believer in the Great Wave, and yet his soldiers and followers were melting away. All they had to do was hold the city long enough for the division hiding in the Banknorth Forest to counter-attack, swamping the enemy as they were scattered through the city, but they had failed. Mount Borque was smoking and silent now, covered by enemy forces, and the invaders swarmed around his last fortress like ants.
He rushed to a balcony which overlooked a street to the south-southeast. He could see the hated Pordish infantry advancing, and snatching his pistol he fired in their direction, even knowing the range was much too far. One round actually connected, spanging off Dalglak's armour system. As he reloaded, a few of his senior officers joined him on the balcony, taking cover where he did not.
"Sir, I think we need to consider surrender." one Bailiff suggested, the others nodding in hesitant agreement. Bulger turned wild eyes on him.
"What did you say?" he asked, his tone incredulous, a sneer forming on his lips.
"Well, it's just I...that...the losses we've suffered, let alone the civi-"
Before he could finish, Bulger turned the pistol on him and fired, the round punching through his chest and throwing him to the floor to gasp out the last few moments of his life. The others froze for a second, before the balcony erupted into activity. Some rushed for the door, two tried to tackle Bulger and disarm him, and the others fumbled for their own weapons, whether to defend the Bailiwick or put him down for good...
EASTERN CASS CITY
Abruptly, a short-range radio call came through to Ulonto's position. It seemed to be unsecured, on an open line.
"This is Colonel Andas of the Jade 15th regiment, we have secured Objective Hotel. I repeat, we have secured Objective Hotel. Enemy psionics have been disabled."
With the bulk of the professional defenders either dead at the feet of the Union positions or else pinned down guarding against a further Union advance, the 15th Regiment had only had to deal with cultists and Merger abominations as they marched into the city. Forewarned and prepared, however, their tight formations of melee weapons had held off the under-equipped and haphazard attacks of the enemy, supported by airstrikes from above psionic range which had put paid to any concentration of the hordes. In the confusion caused by the psionic EMP and the devastation inflicted on them by the Union, the regular GMGC fighters had not budged from their positions a half-kilometer west of the Union frontline. Whether they wanted to oppose any future Union advance, or simply feared being routed if they gave up what little defensive advantage they still had, was anybody's guess.
They had evidently been able to reach the local GMGC headquarters and capture it, leaving the surviving GMGC regular forces leaderless and trapped in front of the Union lines, with vengeful Jade Marines now encroaching on the city behind them.
IN SPACE
The sacrifice of the light elements of the allied fleets, in particular the FRK, had achieved its goal but at a terrible cost. The Merger warships had been caught in a crossfire as they grappled with the vanguard of the allied fleets, letting the heavy guns of the four nations rip them apart. Even as they watched, the surviving Oblivion destroyers began to peel off, retreating back into the inky blackness of space, not stopping this time as they accelerated towards the system rim, leaving behind wreckage and carnage on a grand scale.
Aboard the various ships, the remaining soldiers of the 711th began to slow down, the fighting turning into a hunt as the older soldiers among them used their familiarity with the hated enemy to advise the allied crew in scouring the last corruptions from their ships. Aboard the Serendipitous, Major Vamadra and her soldiers followed the Cauldarions, using their long AA-42 spears and smaller statures to form a tight second rank that protected the Cauldarions from darting attacks and added weight to their fire. Tired and injured, they let the fresh and powerful knights take the lead, especially as they were fighting on Dominion ground and the knights almost certainly knew the lay of the land better.
Aboard the FRK flagship, Colonel Sonnenwende returned the salute in the Imperial style, the knuckles of his fist touched to his chin as if he were pulling down his mempo mask. The large, black eyes of his stag-mask betrayed no emotion but his deep and rolling voice was full of warmth.
"The thanks are owed to you, Captain. Without the FRK's bravery, the Merger would have overwhelmed our entire position and my soldiers would have been fighting aboard Admiral Prescott's ship instead of yours. My marines will help you with SAR; all I ask is that you give them a ride to safety when evacuating any stricken ships."
ABOARD THE IJN MAKO
Prescott was in a state of semi-shock as he watched the allies begin to regroup after the Merger ships fell back. He had lost several dozen more ships sunk or disabled, along with many allied ships, to the surprise Merger attack, and the eight marine regiments they had brought for the invasion were down to less than six effective regiments already. Even though he had done well at Kfar Tzvora, the failure of that joint mission had clung to his reputation like a bad smell, fuelling the rumours that he was too old and too hidebound for the position.
He didn't believe so himself, and he was certain he had reacted well, but the truth was that whatever the reason, the Sarnath Campaign had already cost far too many Imperial lives. Nearly half of his fleet and thousands of marines were casualties now, the medbays and repair zhaos working overtime. He was barely shaken out of his reverie when one of his officers reported that a shuttle was approaching. She repeated herself.
"Sir, an omoi of the 77th is approaching. It's...flying the Imperial cypher, sir."
Prescott frowned. The only member of the Imperial family known to be in Ancerious was Mitsuyoshi, the Empress' son, but last he had heard the boy was a lieutenant in the marines and his royal privilege had been suspended for the duration of his service. He had no right to fly the cypher.
A few minutes later
Prescott had left the ship to his executive officer, Oso Seawatcher, and the expeditionary fleet to Commodore Nighthorse of the 102nd. Nighthorse, Takanawa and several other officers were in attendance either by hologram or in person, joining him in his conference room. Prescott rose as the battered and bloodied Mitsuyoshi entered, followed by an equally tired sergeant, but did not bow.
"Lieutenant, you'd better have a damn good reason for being here." he said, his temper short despite the junior officer's royal pedigree.
Mitsuyoshi snapped immediately, his brow set and his mouth working into a furious snarl of contempt.
"How dare you!" he barked in reply, surprising the older admiral. "To speak so to a Prince of the Jade Empire!"
"You're under arms, Lieutenant, you d-" began Prescott, only to be rudely interrupted again.
"Silence! I have resigned my commission in protest at the disgraceful failures of leadership here. As Crown Prince I am exercising my authority and assuming immediate command over this theater. You are excused."
There was a stunned silence. Technically he did have that legal right, assuming he had indeed resigned his commission. As a member of the royal family he did not need to serve to secure samurai status; indeed the royal family were the supreme arbiters of the caste system. Still, even his grandfather, the brusque and no-nonsense Shogun, had never exercised such unilateral authority.
"Look here, son," began Prescott, trying to regain control of the situation, but then the sergeant stepped towards him, his heavy features filled with a barely concealed desire to inflict violence. Prescott faltered and the prince continued.
"If you disagree with this decision I invite you to slit your belly immediately." said Mitsuyoshi, and for emphasis he made a gesture and Prescott found his hand moving to rest on the hilt of his ceremonial hikatana, completely involuntarily. There were murmurs through the room - in the last few years it had become clear that teachings of Jade Shinto were more than just myth, and the Crown Prince was demonstrating that the divinity of his family was real in a most tangible way.
Deflated and defeated, Prescott shook his head twice as if to clear it, and then bowed and hurried from the room.
Mitsuyoshi turned his gaze on the remaining officers in the room.
"Now. As I understand it, General Terusada, allied ground forces are spread thin across Cass City, Halak and Debrusk, over which we have effective control, but Blidh, Hornqvist and Donchree remain uninvested and significant enemy reinforcements are now advancing against our beachheads. Is this correct?"
Terusada nodded without a word.
"Indeed. And our naval assets are severely depleted, especially as the Gaussians have been forced to withdraw most of their assets due to the onset of a war with the Furrelian Union."
This time Nighthorse replied, her attention momentarily drawn from her console in sheer morbid fascination at the scene playing out. "Yes sir, that is correct."
Mitsuyoshi gave a curt nod of the head in approval.
"Then I have decided. We have lost too many lives already and the Great Marchander Guild of Commerce is refusing to accept the inevitable, despite repeated and bloody defeats. We must demonstrate to them quite clearly what will happen if they continue to resist."
He pulled up the central display using his Holo.
"We will orbitally bombard Hornqvist. We will burn it to the ground as a message that further resistance will not be tolerated. This whole cursed planet is not worth the bones of a single Jade marine, and we must impress that upon them immediately."
Another silence followed. Colonel Blunte, the commanding officer of Mitsu's former regiment, spoke up.
"Sir, I'd suggest the GRZ manufactory instead. It'd hurt their supplies and get the message across without civilian casualties."
Mitsu glowered at the man momentarily, but the habitual respect he had for his former Colonel tempered his response.
"Admirable motives, but no. We need that manufactory. Commodore, prepare the fleet."
HORNQVIST
Despite the war raging to the south and east it was a mostly normal day in Hornqvist. The streets were somewhat tense, as they had been ever since the Cult had murdered the foreigner in the harbour, and the ragged adepts of the Cult still caused normal citizens to cross the street from time to time to avoid their strange stares.
Dale Shea was out early, picking up a gift for her daughter-in-law, a nice little necklace made of pearls and shells strung on a chain artfully made to look like sea-rusted copper. Tomorrow was Jacq's first nameday since the wedding and she wanted to give the girl something nice - she knew not everyone in the family approved of the marriage but she liked the kid.
Paying, she stepped out onto the cobbled street to examine it in the morning light. As she held it up to the sky, she noticed a dot against the pale blue sky above. A cloud drifted in front of it and she shrugged. Probably a freighter out of its lane or a joyrider disregarding airspace regulations. But then a scream sounded. There was a roar and the crack of something supersonic, and suddenly a huge plume of bright orange-red light blossomed into the air several blocks over, throwing Dale to the ground along with everyone else in the street. Heat washed over them even at this distance, but before she could climb back up another boom sounded, and another. The sky turned an argent orange as the bright light stung her cathemeral eyes. The roaring sound was so intense she could barely hear the screams and yells of fear, or the warning siren blaring in the distance. The world seemed to shake and she turned to flee, instinctively running for her home, falling repeatedly as the ground shook.
Then it happened. Ahead of her, almost in slow motion, she saw a burning ball of flame the size of a house roaring down towards the street fifty metres ahead of her. She could feel the heat of its approach. She saw the impression of a glowing cage of white-hot metal around a glittering shard of ice or crystal, beautiful even as it crashed into the ground and exploded. Slivers of quartz longer than a person and droplets of metal like rain blasted outwards, and she felt one hit her body, but she barely even registered it. A roiling cloud of light, seeming almost like bright orange sea spray, came roaring towards her, and she felt its heat kiss her skin before it reached her. By the time the supercritical neon-helium fluid reached her body, she had already been boiled away to nothing but a few tumbling bones which were burned to ash in a mere second. Her necklace lasted a moment longer, the tough shells of the crustaceans resisting for a second before they too were consumed....
ABOARD THE IJN MAJO
Mitsuyoshi watched in grim satisfaction as the bombardment continued unabated, Type 85s and Flame Lances pouring Q-Cyl rounds down through the atmosphere and onto the hapless city below. The unnatural energy storm built in power as it ignited the oxygen around it, the entire city glowing the colour of tarocco so brightly it was visible from space.
He turned to Terusada. "Open a hail on all formats, planetwide. Inform them that the GMGC is to surrender immediately and its leadership are to present themselves to this ship within the hour or another city will be bombarded."
With that he turned, exhausted, to leave. He planned to go find Prescott, kick him out of his quarters and take a nap whilst Tosho made sure his orders were obeyed...
--
The situation on the ground was mostly dealt with, the overview of the entire situation displayed on the holographic table in front of her. Mephissa watched, a few of the segments flickering as the table had sustained some cracks, not even her flagship had managed to come off unscathed in the vicious close quarter fighting against the Merger and even now extensive S&R was being conducted to save as many surviving crew from escape pods and wrecked ships as possible. They had of course won, but the losses were extremely high. Mephissa was not looking forward to the likely trial at the culmination of the campaign where she would have to explain in detail why such a heavy loss was incurred for what was to be a simple peacekeeping operation.
She sighed as several holographic icons depicting air wings moved over Cass city, the airstrikes helping support both the Union, FRK and Jade elements now that they had most thankfully neutralised the enemies psionic elements. The city was far from secure of course, but it was effectively pacified in terms of the enemy being able to conduct straight up organised warfare. Already units were being cycled and new engineer teams deployed from the remaining transports but the FRK units had proved themselves. It was their first proper military operation outside of the closing days of the 2nd Ancerious war, they had done well. But they had also paid for it.
Mephissa herself was glad Bradamont was alive too, his shuttle just having confirmed to have landed aboard his new flagship, the tight formation of the twin fleets now a necessity given the losses sustained. She was just about the contact him when ping alerts were displayed on screen.
“Ma’am the Jade appear to be plotting a firing solution for orbital bombardment, several vessels are moving into position” Mephissa immediately frowned.
“Cass city is already under our occupation… there are no precision targets left?” Her question was followed by confusion by the sensor operator.
“They are not targeting Cass city… Nor are their guns set for precision strikes AI predicts the firing solutions are for Honqvist…” The bridge went quiet for a moment as the crew looked to one another and back to the Captain.
“Firing!” Someone called out, the projectiles instantly whizzing away to the planet below.
“Contact them now!” Mephissa shouted.
“First impacts! Civilian areas have been targeted!” The frantic call outs turned the bridge into a flurry of panic.
“Meson lasers engage projectiles! Curb the casualties!” Mephissas order came too late, by the time several of her own vessels had targeted the projectiles many had already impacted. Ruby red beams split the sky and space, vaporising kinetic rounds before they could kill innocent civilians. It was not enough.
The images of Hornqvist burning were already being displayed by sensor systems.
“What have they done…” Someone said aloud. Mephissa, now red with rage opened a direct channel.
“This is Captain Mephissa of the Union of Worlds, I DEMAND to know what is going on! Why was the order given to bombard civilian positions when military targets were unaffected? WHO gave the order to fire on civilians! If you attempt to fire another barrage I will be forced to cripple the weapon systems on your ships, I am not bluffing. Do not test me, now give me answers!” Her rage was palpable and the several Union escorts began to move into position of blocking a further strike, their weapons trained upon the Jades own weapon systems.
DEBRUSK
A few of the Field Marshalls in Sweeney’s command center parted, a small holoith drone being used to relay the image of the Marshall’s twin avatars, still speaking in eerie unison with a scathing vitriol.
“You were wise to surrender. And your associates would be wise to call off this second wave if you value their lives in any capacity. Unfortunately that will not be the case. I am, of course, going to have you and your associates in the city taken prisoner and turned over to Ingen. Divulge to me the precise compositions of these forces to me, anything that you know. Do that and I will put int a good word for you… I am certain I can secure you a more comfortable cell in which to spend the rest of your days rotting away.”
A handful of Mediocines were making their way about the command center, snickering as they pulled wires from the communications console and prodded them with instruments before wiring them into some of their own equipment. Lines of system code scrolled by before the system rebooted.
“This is Bailiff Sweeney. The gaussians have entered the city… but at great cost. Begin the second wave, and they will fall. Make haste, before they find my command center!”
The Officers raised their weapons, war droids advancing to restrain the enemy commander as the plasma engines of a shuttle could be heard spooling down outside.
…
Their occupation would remain for the time being as supplies were shuttled from orbit. With the battle in orbit having subsided attention could be turned to navigating the Kessler field. Many of the tanks and mechanized units were brought into defensive positions around the city’s plateau and the divisions on the mountain ranges reinforced. It was a stratagem as old as the bow and arrow; fight from the high ground and hold superior range over the enemy. To rain down fury upon them like an angry god atop his mountainous throne.
In the west, they would look to succeed where Sweeney’s forces had failed. Yet mountainous terrain was where they could preform best, and where any given enemy would be disadvantaged. They assumed covered positions on what remained of the mountaintop fortifications, laying mines and anti-tank obstacles to slow advances in the choke points amicable to tracked and wheeled vehicles. The advance from the northwest would be taken similarly. They had vastly less of an advantage to press; they could use the city’s own fortifications and the natural plateau to force their foe into choke points and bombard them from above; to much the same effect.
Air superiority would also be critical. With the static defenses secured or destroyed the enemy’s anti air capacity would be limited to what they could bring in with the attacking force. Thus squadrons of drones and ground attack aircraft were being readied aswell. Once their precise composition was known the final preparations could be made.
Halak:
The smaller merger forms were pierced through by arrows of hardlight, which narrowly missed the pords aswell. They fell, but the beast behind them stayed stalwart, like a great centipede perfectly suited to the narrow corridors of the city. It was a great Screeching in defiance and agony it turned about to face its foe, still firing. Despite the bolts of neon blue piercing clean through the beast they did little damage; only amounting to small molten holes which seemed to close not long after. There was a click, and then the roaring of a rocket engine.
The potent warhead of a missile struck the beast’s center of mass; a wave of multicolored flame shoving it into the center of the street, rising above the beast like a mushroom cloud. It shrieked again as the mech units lunged forward, in a short, coordinated and decidedly one sided duel against the monster. In the few instances it was about to gain the upper hand, about to strike one of them down, something always caught it. One of the tiny drones flashed in its myriad of eyes, stunning it and averting its strike. Systematically, they went to work dismembering it in its entirety.
The mechs were quaint in size; around four meters. Small, they could easily glide across the city’s streets on wheeled feet with the grace of a skater. The hatch opened and the chest plates shifted aside, peeling apart they revealed the top half of a Katharian pilot at the controls. Two more opened, both Farrians.
“You alright?” He asked Chelnar “Marchalnders seem to be tapping out but we’re gettin more and more reports of these motherfuckers popping up. Energy weapons seem to do them in good.”
Halak Underground:
Brachor approached the head of the beast. He wanted to withdraw his helmet, to look the creature which had taken his brother from him in the eye as he killed it, but knew better than to potentially expose himself to whatever malignant pathogens such a creature might carry. Instead he raised his warpick like a headsman’s axe and brought it down full thrust.
He took a stumbling step back, before his armored knees hit the floor, and a moment later his warpick; deactivated, did the same. Batangok didn’t need to see his face to know his grief.
“We should keep moving.” One of his lieutenants said.
“Scope that next corridor. I sense we’re a long way from done. I’ll handle this…” He returned, looking at Brachor’s kneeling form.
There was a long pause. The distant echoes of other battles elsewhere in the underground nearly silent. The patter of boots as war droids and normals swarmed in to reinforce them.
“I still can’t believe he’s gone…” Brachor mumbled.
“Half of all of us are widowed of our battle brother eventually.” Batangok began.
“I now know a pain which no weapon could inflict upon my body.” He returned grimly. “I swore I would protect him with my life… and I failed in that.”
Brachor began to quietly shed tears. With his helmet drawn; he had no means to wipe them away.
“You can carry on with the rest of us. Or I shall dismiss you and you may go back to the ship and mourn. Not a luxury afforded to every knight who loses a brother, but it looks as though this battle tilts in our favor.”
He stood, collecting his weapon. Though in good health, the weight of his grief made even standing a laborious process.
“Let’s keep moving.” He grunted quietly.
Batangok let out an approving snort, willing to support his subordinate’s decision. Momentarialy questioning if he would have had the strength to have done the same; if given the option.
Space:
The merger form was like a mantis. It shrieked violently, trying to pry open the sliding door. Around three dozen engineers cowered in the control room with little in the way of exit vectors. The wormy mediocine engineers pitifully clawing over one another for hiding spots beneath consoles and furniture. Their minuscule sidearms of the supervisor did little to deter the beast as the sliding door finally gave way. Its head was beaked, with lensed eyes like that of a plague doctor. It spent a few moments to revel, as though to gloat over its cowering prey.
A thick finger armored in off white metal tapped the creature on its shoulder twice. It turned its head, only to be met with the open hand of a knight grabbing it by the beak and forcing it into the nearest wall. The interior plate rang like a struck gong as black and khaki green marbled viscera decorated the entire room.
The Cauldarion flicked the gore off his wrist and became more relaxed, as he turned to the members of the 711th, then seemingly spoke to someone inaudible behind his helmet.
“That’s the last of them. The last of the big ones anyway… We are honored to have fought by your side.”
The knight turned maor Vamadra, picking her up into a brotherly hug with one arm and firmly patting them on the back with the other headless of their injuries or the fact that he wore strength-enhancing power armor coated in toxic gore.
“Right.” The Captian began over the intership comms as the battle alarm subsided. “We’ve got to check all the unsecured crew, sterilize the ship from stem to stern including all the parts we can’t easily reach, and enact repairs. Words cannot express my gratitude for your help, major Vamadra.”
…
“This is Commodore Tagrun to Field Marshall Tagratha Hagota… We are recieving reports that Ingen have targeted and destroyed one of the cities on Marchalnd by way of orbital bombardment. FRK forces attempted to intercept…”
“I confirm… I’m sure they had a good reason for it. Perhaps they had a good reason for it.”
As the FRK ships began to turn their guns on the Ingenious fleet, Tagrun became aware, turning his attention away from the general, apparently overhearing . “Fuck…” He mumbled. “Open secure hail to allied commanders…”
“This is Commodore Tagrun…” The Cauldarion began sternly and clearly. “I would suggest you refrain from attacking allied ships, or shooting down friendly fire. Rahbakun… war without honor… is not a foreign concept to my people. It does not seem to be a foreign concept to the Merger either. Are you forgetting their attempted perfidy when we initially engaged their forces? The Ingenious would not dare take such a drastic action without good reason… and the blood of those civilians... for better or for worse... is on their honor, not yours, nor mine.”
nam-Ilglat Iceshelf
Headquarters of GrazhniJloknam Kazhel nam-Ilglat
The flickering form of the bald commander of the Division Tanaaqennürzh towers over the holographic theatre map; his gaze loiters over markers denoting units from Aglat the Lesser's command.
Kazhel nam-Ilglat, physically present, stands opposite to him, unimpressed by his inferior's immensity. Well Ralyn it looks like nam-Aglat has beaten you to the heights, he grins.
We're mopping up the final bits of resistance. Full credit has to go to nam-Talozhyn, if I may, nam-Ilglat; the push was his idea, Aglat the Lesser chimes in.
Of course, nam-Ilglat replies. Tanaaqennürzh, slowest division in the Order. He grins foolishly at the thought until shifting his attention to the districts by the river bisecting the city. What remains of their resistance in this area?
Almost none, the commander of Chelcharovengrazhni confirms. We're pushing on their headquarters even now.
nam-Ilglat nods. Good. The last holdout. Then we'll be rid of the Merger. At least for now. Feel free to send them terms as you see fit.
Tasi, but that won't be necessary. she salutes.
Halak, Pordish Southern Flank
Division Chor Kanna Kazhel
The number of creatures rushing from the alleyway grows each passing minute. The Chelnar and the Pords of her direct locality shift their stances; outnumbered so hideously now, but no longer under direct cqc assault, they take up their firearms once again. The Chelnar, wielding a light pulse carbine, kneels behind a felled wall; her probes recharge some distance away while her companion fires into the mass.
Jlochal should be here soon, the Chelnar says.
Elsewhere, closing in on the Chelnar's position, Jlochal nears, but his squad isn't quite in range yet. For the time being, she will have to hold. One of the beasts rolls around the debris and reaches out to cleave the Chelnar in two, but her companion is swift and puts it down with three solid shots. It thunders down onto the rest of the debris; massive chasms in its torso betray where the Pord connected.
They turn back to the wall of beasts whose ranks, now, are greater than they were before. Right as the Chelnar contemplates ordering a withdrawal, a blast of hardlight screams past, followed by missiles, and then the heavy rumble of armoured infantry. In an instant, the alleyway appears wiped of Marchanders.
One of the Dominion mechs stops by the Chelnar and opens up to speak.
She nods in response as her smoky-black barriers fade away to reveal a worn face, nearly as spent as her armour appears to be. Yes, she replies, we're managing. You guys got here right in time. Don't think we could've held that last wave, she nods convincingly. My platoon is in the area, I'll see what we can muster to support you.
Taldovat type Rift Cruiser Y-66012
Flagship of Grazhnikarüchszhälnar Panuktaq, VRZ Brigade Commander
As the shambolic remnants of the Merger fleet pull out of the line of fire, the depths of the wounds they levied against Panuktaq and his force become increasingly clearer as reports pile in from his myriad subordinate units. An even larger number of ships float shattered from the fight than were lost in the first engagement: a sobering reality.
Take us closer to the planet. We'll cover the last of nam-Ilglat's work down there, Panuktaq orders. As support ships tend to less savagely mauled vessels and the last boarders are snuffed out, the signatures of a mass conflagration erupt on the planet's surface. Panuktaq looks over them briefly to verify they aren't over any Pordish forces, then - after seeing no friendlies within the area - he gets up from the command console.
If there are any major issues, I will be reviewing things with the damage control teams, he says, but before he can leave the command room, the communications officer interjects:
Captain Mephissa is coming on comms.
He glances over to the communications officer, as if that Pord in particular is the reason for Mephissa's cosmic timing. Bring her up, he says.
[...] I DEMAND to know what is going on! [...] WHO gave the order to fire on civilians! If you attempt to fire another barrage I will be forced to cripple the weapon systems on your ships [...]
Union forces are retraining on Jade ships, the sensors officer adds, they're adjusting vectors to intercede between the IJN and the planet!
The commmunications officer speaks up again: IJN forces have demanded the immediate surrender of all GMGC assets or they will begin leveling the remaining cities.
The tactical officer frowns. She looks down at her console for brief moment, reviews some data, then looks back up to Panuktaq. IJN and Union forces engaging one another only strengthen the Merger. Our position is tenuous as it is.
Another hologram materializes in the chamber: Kazhel nam-Ilglat, who glares at Panuktaq while adjusting his visual feed. In place of what would be the roof of his headquarters, nam-Ilglat shows the horizon. A dingy red aura dances just above where the sky meets the far-off land, an aura far more pronounced than that of the encroaching dawn. Did you know about this?
Panuktaq shakes his head. Just found out. They didn't give any forewarning.
nam-Ilglat rubs his forehead. There's always something, he scowls. If they were going to level everything, should've done that from the start and saved us the trouble. He looks over to the allied comms line but doesn't swap over. His brows droop down towards his nose. Where's Admiral Prescott? I thought he was on this comms line?
He... I'm not sure, Panuktaq stammers.
Fine, nam-Ilglat replies, then: Union don't seem happy about it either. What's going on up there? He switches over to the allied comms network, irritation dripping from the exhausted folds of his face, right as Commodore Tagrun begins to speak. When the Cauldarion finishes, nam-Ilglat is quick to respond: Commodore Tagrun, have you forgotten that we are here to excise a foreign blight from this system? Leaving nothing but dust defeats this purpose. And damning souls to the Corruption, divorcing them from the protection we can provide them here, only strengthens the Merger.
He scratches his chin.
But maybe you have already fallen to the Corruption. The Merger have many tools, he says, some sharp, many dull. After a pause, he shifts his focus. Admiral Prescott?
CASS CITY
As dawn slowly broke over the city it revealed a hideous scene. To the east, countless thousands of PMC operators and Cultists were strewn across a long front, broken by the guns, bombs and even bayonets of the Union and their FRK allies. They lay scattered along streets, bunched behind the wreckage of their vehicles or half-buried by the ruins of the buildings they had tried to defend. The smoke from entire armoured brigades destroyed by Union fire formed a thin pall over the New Jutland district.
In the centre of the city the streets looked like a charnel house. Brutal hand-to-hand fighting had left piles of the dead waist-high at some points, ornate G-BUS marine armour lying side-by-side with ragged militia robes, crisp operator uniforms and forms disgusting to the eye. Concentrated in such a relatively small area, the death toll seemed breathtaking to those detailed to begin the horrifying task of cleanup. A kind of terrified peace fell over the city as the Jade flag atop the former GMGC headquarters fluttered in the damp morning wind.
DEBRUSK
Sweeney stuttered in his haste to detail everything he knew about the Guild dispositions and plans, but repeatedly brought up the Cult, naming several senior officers even among the staff of the Debrusk region who he believed to be heavily involved in the Cult of Carcaros. Even as they watched, their ploy appeared to be working. At least until a bright orange glow lit the sky to the north-west and the rumbling of orbital bombardment was felt. Over the next twenty minutes, Dominion intelligence would report a gradual dissolution of the units menacing them from the west, the formations simply scattering or else turning to travel north, some heading towards Hornqvist and others looping further west or east.
HALAK
Even as the Cauldarions continued their brutal subterranean fight, discovering that the winding corridors let not only to fathomless pits and passageways beyond but also out of the city and into the mountains inland, the Pords closed in on the headquarters. Dalglak's squad was one of the first through the main gateway, which was unguarded. Moving cautiously through the luxuriously-decorated hallways, with their richly patterned carpets and fine wainscoting, they encountered little resistance. Occasionally they would stumble across a dead body, and sometimes they would find an administrative staff member or unarmed contractor hiding behind a desk. Once a woman in a Berenstain Contracts uniform, running wildly along a corridor, came face-to-face with them and raised a pistol at them automatically; she was dead before she hit the floor.
Dalglak and his soldiers reached the Bailiwick's suite and found a grim sight. The Bailiwick was surrounded by corpses, even of those who had stayed loyal to him - filled with bullet holes. He was sat at his desk quite calmly, spattered with gore, typing up some kind of communique. He glanced up as the foreigners entered.
"Ah yes. The interlopers. You've finally arrived. I suppose you will want to arrest me?" he said with seeming indifference.
ABOARD THE SERENDIPITOUS
Major Vamadra grimaced as the Cauldarion swept her into an embrace, pinching her already-injured arm, but she chuckled as he set her down. "And we you. You Cauldarions are handy with those greatswords; perhaps we'll see some of you at the Jade kendo tournaments sometime soon."
She turned to glance at her soldiers. "Our job is done here. Let's gather our fallen and get back to the fleet."
ABOARD THE IJN HOTH ROGUE
Commodore Nighthorse was not happy. Admiral Prescott had been unceremoniously replaced by the Crown Prince, of all fucking people, who had promptly ordered a saturation bombardment and then apparently gone to bed.
She had been left holding the bag with no briefing, no explanation, no updated mission objectives or parameters - nothing. This was why you didn't let brevet-capitans command entire theaters, but there was nothing she could do. The stubborn Sergeant Tosho was apparently not letting anyone wake the Crown Prince, according to Captain Seawatcher, the XO of the IJN Mako, meaning she was on her own.
She opened the comm line, trying to keep her voice level.
"Everyone just calm down! This is Commodore Nighthorse, acting command whilst...uh, the prince is...indisposed. There will be no further bombardments whilst I am in command so stop pointing guns at each other, gods above."
She paused, her sigh of frustration omitted from the transmission by the quick thinking of her ship's AI. Even as she was scrambling to find a way to diffuse the situation without accidentally committing high treason against a member of the royal family, she was rescued by a Marchander of all people.
"This is Bailiwick Sinden of Donchree district. We surrender! By the waters we surrender, don't fire! My forces are standing down!"
Nighthorse mouthed a prayer of thanks at the news, closing her eyes momentarily before activating her comms again.
"Bailiwick Sinden this is Commodore Nighthorse, received and understood. Please stand by, we will dispatch a team to your location to arrange the specifics."
Switching to allied-only comms, she took a breath before addressing them.
"Admiral Prescott is no longer in command. He has been relieved of duty by Crown Prince Mitsuyoshi, eldest son of the Jade Empress Takara, who has assumed personal command of the theater. The...His Highness has decided upon a new strategy but is currently recuperating; he was on the ground in Cass City, and so I am in command for the immediate future.
We have just received an offer of surrender from Bailiwick Sinden of Donchree. The destruction of Hornqvist was..."
She paused for a moment, trying to find the words herself. She knew she would not have given the same order, and even though she rationally tried to remind herself she had not experienced the horrors on the ground, she still felt sick to her stomach.
"...tragic," she finished lamely, "but it was necessary. Our estimates of civilian casualties at Cass City are already beyond count. The Merger corrupts the innocent and compels them to their own death, and is clearly here in greater strength than we anticipated. Fighting for every city street-by-street...we would have to kill half the living beings on the planet by the time we were done."
She leaned forwards in her chair, covering her mouth with one hand as she waited for the replies from the allied commanders. Tagrun was clearly sympathetic, but the Pords and Union seemed bewildered and outraged. She only hoped that she could smooth things over before the fiery Crown Prince returned
Halak
From here it was mostly containment, as the climax of the fighting subsided the tactical map showed enemy positions corralled as properly secured areas to be rounded up or taken prisoner; or driven from the city in their entirety. The Pords had claimed the prize however, so their work was merely to secure the city. With a majority of the anti-air defenses a cruiser began to settle over the city to preform ground penetrating scans. There was an entirely new dimension to the combat. One far more dangerous, where they would not be able to leverage the advantage of their tanks.
Tagratha brought the map up, showing an ever-growing network of tunnels being mapped by their forward drones. It was slow and bitter fighting, but not a style of warfare they were unprepared to engage in. Vanguards of war droids carrying close ranged weapons could blunder into traps and ambushes with no loss of life. ESP drones, though their remote range was greatly limited by walls of solid brick and stone could still service as a vanguard for traps or ambushes, and navigate pipes or ducts too small for larger units.
The Knights continued their charge, now weaving in and out of a larger force advancing through the network of tunnels. Arriving at a vast shaft dropping into the abyss they looked down. Brachor and Batangok exchanged glances. The drones confirmed that the fathomless abyss continued beyond, and there was only one way to know for sure what lay at the bottom.
“Is the hole above clear?” A marine asked.
“Is the hole above clear?” A marine asked.
“Affirmative.” Someone radioed in return.
One of the normals readied a fusion rifle. Firing around a dozen rounds into the vaulted ceiling which promptly detonated. Nobody flinched despite their proximity to the blast, full bricks hitting their armor and splitting open. A great slab of earth containing several partially intact levels came loose, roaring past them and plummeting into the abyss as it broke apart. Revealing sunlight shone in from above.
A few moments later a light tank crested the edge of the sinkhole. Cresting the wall and climbing down the rim of the shaft utterly undaunted by the verticality. It was followed by others, making their way down from different angles.
The Cauldarions stood reluctantly at the edge of the shaft as the tanks made their descent. Some of the normals began to leap onto the rear chassis of the tanks and ride them down. Others slowly descended on their packs.
“Any pings… whats at the bottom of this vermin’s burrow?”
Debrunsk
With the western forces having lost all morale and unit cohesion, the focus shifted to those approaching from the east. Tagratha somewhat doubted that was the entirety of their strategy; to simply attempt to rush through the western mountains in an effort to echo their own first assault. As the invaders drew closer they began to fall under range of their biggest artillery. Mataya receiving new orders, coordinates to bombard from a great distance. Their shells came in large but infrequent salvoes concentrated on the outlying elements of the enemy advance.
The remainder of her forces were busied with new orders. To sweep the city for any potential infiltrators and double check that they would not be made the fool of a stealthy infiltration. While her air wings were breifed on an attack strategy. Enemy anti air was bound to be limited by what they could transport in; their response would be even more limited if they used the mountians for cover. As the enemy drew closer they readied an areal strike wave; Their strategem being to surge out and discharge a salvo of ordinance, augmenting the ground based defenses.
Though there was a chance such an assault would never come to pass, if her exchanges with Tagrun were productive.
Space
Commodore Tagrun had disengaged from the discussion to manage other affairs. Not only had multiple ships narrowly averted destruction and needed extensive repairs and cleanings after the attempted boardings, but he had chosen to make contact with gaussian high command to provide an update on the situation. Though upon mention of the Ingenious bombardment they knew further involvement would be involved, thus upon reconnecting to the group haill; Admiral Goden shared the line with Tagrun.
“This is Admiral Goden speaking on behalf of the gaussian high command. I have a message for Prince Mitsuyoshi when he returns. We are fighting a war… one which we are losing. Remaining committed in this theatre is taking men and material away from defending our home. If you intend to simply scour this planet clean of life to rectify this infestation, politely inform General Tagratha such that she may withdraw her forces and we may conclude this theatre.”
“Additionally I would like to seek council from the others.” Tagrun began. “Large numbers of enemy forces are moving on Debrunsk, with the intention of recapturing the city. We are preparing our own bombardment; to eliminate these advancing forces. At present they are in largely unpopulated regions and collateral is estimated to be no greater than what would be exacted by their assault on the city. A handful of kinetic penetrators could do the work of an entire division, without risking the lives of our troops. Of course, if the others here would rather that tens of thousands of Tagratha’s men aimlesslely die, feel free to object.”
--
Before Mephissa could reply to Commodore Targrun the sudden voice of Captain Bradamont became apparent. It seemed the FRK leader had managed to set up on his new command ship.
“With all due respect Commodore that is woefully incorrect. We are here united in our actions to liberate a world and its people from the clutches of the Merger, our actions reflect on each other clearly and if we were intending to merely glass innocent lives off the face of the planet in order to remove the Merger threat then we have and I mean this as respectfully as possible, just thrown every single one of our dead’s heroic deeds to the winds of pointlessness. Each of us back and take part in this operation, the glassing of innocents reflects on all of us and all of our nations, if we seek to fight this foe without honour and merely kill indiscriminately then we may as well invite the Merger aboard our ships and convert to them”
The crews on the FRK and Union ships upon hearing such nodded to one another. Mephissa smiled, she couldn’t have put it any better herself. The addition of Nam-Ilglats clear misgivings made Mephissa much firmer in her beliefs, a text-based message from Bradamont also popped up next to her, he would support her stance in any way he could. She could tell the FRK captain was furious, given he had just sacrificed so much of his force to defend the allied units and liberate this world the massacring of innocents and the invalidation of that sacrifice simmered just beneath the surface.
The comment about a prince being indisposed however and that Admiral Prescott was not present either almost made Mephissa boil over herself.
“If it was necessary then we should never have landed. Call the crown prince and get him to answer to us for what he has done, I have troops down there as well and they haven’t reverted to committing atrocities. For the sake of de-escalation I will turn my escorts weapons cold but I will not move from blocking positions, just in case the decision to bombard innocents is once again made without the joint input of this joint operation” Her emphasis was clear.
“And yet we would be sparing those who we came here to liberate. You talk as if the troops we have sent down to the surface have died in vein” The message of another bombardment from Tagrun and the quip from him at Mephissa caused Bradamont to answer this time.
“Given that tens of thousands have likely aimlessly died already for a cause which we are no longer looking to fulfil would it really make much difference? Provide full readings of the area, if necessary, I can task my remaining air wings with breaking up their formation if need be”
Halak
Throughout the surface levels of the city, mop-up operations begin in earnest. The last of coordinated resistance gives way to more sporadic fighting, with zealots and other single-actors taking pot-shots and making last stands in alleyways and the depths of buildings. The stench of death rises with the morning sun, and as the first fingers of dawn creep through the city streets, the true toll of the fighting becomes disturbingly clear. Deformed creatures mixed with mercenaries lay in clumps, scattered across the remnants of once-proud buildings; details of drones move about, verifying the position of bodies for later removal as rear-echelon Pords rest in the stained snow.
And in the headquarters of the GMGC, Dalglak and his men confront Bailiwick Bulger, whose words emanate with the lifelessness of a man with nothing left.
In response, Dalglak nods slowly. Yes, he says. His barriers are mostly disabled, now, and the armour below appears visibly worn. Taqsok stands to his side while the others keep watch; the two Pords walk slowly towards Bulger's seated position. By authority of Klovnar, Reknu, and Voznayte, he says while motioning for the Bailiwick to stand from his computer.
Taldovat type Rift Cruiser Y-66012
Flagship of Grazhnikarüchszhälnar Panuktaq, VRZ Brigade Commander
nam-Ilglat's irritation-tinged confusion quickly fades to solely irritation as Commodore Nighthorse reveals the indisposition of the Ingenious commander. The rather drastic shift in leadership explains almost everything. His hologram turns to Panuktaq with the same scowl as before, shakes his head, then speaks over the comms line to the commodore:
There are fates far greater than physical death, he says. intervening on the ground, rather than reducing this world to embers, is the first step in preventing or even reversing these fates. For a brief moment, he considers addressing the Gaussians yet again, but ultimately refrains from doing so upon consideration of Tagrun's words and the notion their strike against uninhabited wilderness may generate collateral comparable to that of a campaign against a metropolis.
But we do have more pressing matters to address, he goes on from where he left off, namely; the conclusion of this campaign, which cannot be addressed without the - he hesitates for a brief moment with a non-transmitted sigh - prince.
HALAK
The slow advance of the drones and tanks revealed what the knights had suspected; there was seemingly no end to the network of tunnels and caverns. Although more concentrated beneath the city, countless twisting branches and formations both natural and unnatural led away from the inhabited areas and out into the countryside beyond, as well as deeper and deeper into the crust of Marchand.
DEBRUSK
Almost as quickly as it began, the enemy advance on Debrusk faltered. Hit by long-range artillery and cowed by the glow visible on the horizon even now, the commander in charge of the second wave ordered a general withdrawal which again turned into confusion as some units disobeyed, others fled and yet more withdrew in good order on their own initiative, leaving the main formation. It was not long before Bailiwick Zanussi began signalling his intent to surrender.
HALAK HEADQUARTERS
Bulger stood wearily, his frame barely reaching four feet. "Those heathen names have no authority here," he sneered contemptuously, staring up at the Pordish soldiers.
SPACE
Nighthorse bridled at Bradamont's words. She was no committed royalist, not even Ingenious by blood, but as a career officer she was loyal to the Jade Empire and the idea that a Crown Prince could be called to 'answer' to a middling officer from some Union vassal state was offensive to her pride. On top of that, nam-Ilglat's implication that she was unable to speak with authority in the absence of Mitsuyoshi also irked her.
"Please, let's stop being so dramatic. I am afraid the Crown Prince isn't available, and you'll have to make do with me, I am terribly sorry."
She took a breath to ensure she didn't let sarcasm enter her tone. "No, we do not intend to glass the planet. This was a strategic move to force the remnants of the GMGC to surrender and save lives, and it worked. At Donchree, Blidh, the Banknorth Forest; the GMGC are falling over themselves to capitulate now."
"In the face of the Great Marchander Guild of Commerce's refusal to acquiesce to our initial demands, the Jade Empire's objective in the Sarnath System is to establish a permanent, viable democratic government that better represents the interests of the people of Marchand and is able to protect itself from the influence of the Merger and other anti-Imperial elements," she paraphrased from the IJN mission statement.
"With the Bailiwicks who have surrendered, and their forces, we can begin building a real state authority. The GMGC has been compromised from the top down and is clearly unfit to govern, so in the short-term we're investing a Coalition Provisional Authority with executive, legislative and judicial powers. General Takenaka is talking with cooperative senior GMGC staff as we speak but we hope to hold an initial conference within the next 24 hours."
She brought up a map which she did transmit to the other commanders assembled.
"Until the CPA is established and is able to govern its own territories, the 31st Regiment will remain as an interim security force for Cass City. GMGC elements will maintain order in Blidh, Donchree and Hornqvist. If you want to withdraw, Jade regiments can provide protection for Halak and Debrusk to prevent a complete collapse of law and order."
Unannounced by her, the battered 711th regiment was already being redeployed to the ruins of Hornqvist. Although the devastation looked total from the air, the city was too large to be destroyed that rapidly, especially with the Union having intercepted some of the volley. Some districts had been left largely unscathed, whilst others had been reduced to vast fields of ash and charred stone, even the metal having been melted into nothingness...
Halak
Dalglak seemed dismissive of Bulger's response but voiced none of his concerns. I'm not here to argue cosmic truths, he told himself, especially not with the merger. He turned towards his companion and, after sharing a nod, moved to lead the Bailiwick out of the room. The sun rose higher as a shuttle touched down outside of the complex. When Dalglak and his men neared, a number of Adgu agents rushed out of the machine and took custody of the Bailiwick, and left Dalglak to his duties.
Orbit
The hologram of nam-Ilglat looks away and towards his theatre map. The Commodore is correct; their strike does appear to have worked. Some forewarning would have been nice, but alas, such luxuries aren't always possible. Very well, he says, seemingly satisfied with Nighthorse's explanation of the situation. He shifts over to Panuktaq as his scowl loosens: How are your forces?
I don't think we should remain in-system longer than we have to, Panuktaq muses. Repairs are going to take a while, not to mention rebuilding my depleted battalions.
Indeed battered, but not entirely unexpected. nam-Ilglat mulls over the notion for a moment before responding, you can send me the specifics later. Withdrawal isn't a terrible idea. I will begin setting things in motion down here to do so as well.
Panuktaq's tactical officer interjects into the conversation; agreed, she says.
Now, nam-Ilglat shifts back to allied comms, we will assist in establishing the provisional authority. I have word that Bailiwick Bulger is within our custody, if he is willing to work with us he will be useful for work in Halak. I do expect that we will not remain here long term, however.
--
The tanks reemerged from the tunnels elsewhere. They had not managed to map their deepest sections but the order to withdraw had already been given. In the hours that followed the surrender of the Marchlanders the dominion forces began to rally. Their cruisers and dropships set down near to the cities to begin the quite process of recovering their ground assets.
As they had engaged with an esoteric enemy, they were subject to the myriad of post-conflict checks. Testing and Steritlization to remove long-acting bio agents and chemical agents that may or may not have been deployed. Censuses of confirmed casualties and DNA tests to weed out merger infiltrators. Psionic screenings to weed out those who might have psionically succumb to the allure of the Merger’s dark philosophy.
Within the hours a majority of the forces deployed to Debrunsk were withdrawn onboard the Markarimatra, which would return to Assiduous to enact repairs and resupply along with a cruiser escort, though the sheer number of screenings needed meant that even after its return the ship would be quarantined for quite some time. Such an unwieldy army was no longer necessary. Further reducing the presence to three cruisers. Other forces were collected to resupply and repair onboard the cruisers until they could be redeployed if further skirmishes arise.
“This is General Tagratha” The twins began, opening comms. Preferring brevity but politeness given the circumstances with which the campaign. “Congratulations on a successful campaign. We are going to be departing, though a small portion of our force is going to continue to occupy this space until further notice. I have recieved word that a representative is coming to assist in the reestablishment of government in this system.”
With that the ships transited to subspace.
--
Mephissa did not even reply this time. The simple refusal to rouse the prince who was responsible and the handwave off of the situation made her simply have enough. The Captain ended the call, uncaring of the situation or how it had been resolved.
“They wish to set up a interim government it seems” Bradamont said aloud over his connection to her, he remained on the allied communications. Mephissa shook her head.
“What a waste. I should have refused this operation from the very start, so many dead and so many assets lost just for a repeat of the war.” Bradamont sighed.
“That may be so, I entirely disagree with the situation, but we have a job to do. Removing ourselves from this operation will mean all who died did so for nothing. While the honour of our soldiers and the dead have been smeared by this prince who believes he is above us to walk away would be a major political blunder and a blow to our men” Mephissa could at least appreciate the FRK commanders honesty.
“I have informed HICOM of the situation, the data logs were already sent. No doubt it will influence the diplomacy between our allies but that’s what happens when you act out of spite, I have no sympathy if relations waver after this. I agree however we must stay, although I can’t say I have any trust or promise in the establishment of such a government, no doubt it will go the same way as Capitol.” She paused “Have all our damaged and recoverable elements withdraw back to friendly territory, get our wounded out of here” the order was for the command staff who nodded and set about the work. Mephissa opened the joint communications again.
“The Union government will determine if this situation warrants our further involvement and input into a new provisional government. All damaged and recoverable assets in system are withdrawing and I will be staying with a small force to help recover many of our ground forces and the like. At least this is finally over” She had no happiness in her voice as she spoke.
“Recover as much of our assets as possible, full analysis just like the Shades. Any who show abnormalities isolate and put them on the transports home.”
--
In the following days, the planet saw a near-constant stream of shuttles, dropships and aircraft as the IJN ferried supplies and personnel between the fleet and the surface. The battered 77th and 711th were withdrawn, along with the few pitiful remnants of the 302nd and 642nd, two Ayuki carriers transporting the living and the dead alike under escort back to the Sanrin System whilst fresh regiments were bought in to replace them.
In Debrusk, Bailiwick Kuraly led the remaining Bailiwicks and other lesser Guild heads in a series of earnest talks with their new Jade Imperial occupiers. Since the Jade Empire was interested only in stabilising the planet and removing the Merger influence, not spreading Imperial ideals, they accepted Kuraly's proposals. Kuraly knew that the concept of a non-plutocratic government was alien to his people, and he wanted to ensure they bought in to his new government by giving them a stake in it. He had proposed a direct council democracy based on employment units, but input from the allies had reformed the proposed model, creating electoral zones based on residential districts and introducing the separation of powers. In the short term, however, the CPA had assumed direct and total control of the territory, unilaterally levying taxes, introducing welfare systems for those suffering from the war, and directing many of the manufactories of the planet to begin producing goods other than war materiel in order to assist the rebuilding effort, financed in part by loans from the Jade Empire and other sources.
The new flag of Marchand had been decided on as a tricolour, with navy blue either side of a central white bar defaced by a black anchor. The blue was to demonstrate the seas, the white the snow-capped land, and the black anchor a sign of the constancy and reliability of the government, a clear counter to the wave symbol of the Cult of Carcaros. Flags, unit patches and banners were churned out as a visible symbol of change.
Trade, the Jade Empire's primary concern, was already opening back up. There was a killing to be made by foreign freighters and merchants, with so much of the GMGC merchant navy sunk or destroyed over the course of 48 hours. Contracts for shipping and transport were many and lucrative, and although some were deterred by the presence of IJN warships, others leapt at the chance to charge thick rates for easy routes protected by Jade frigates and destroyers.
In Hornqvist, reconstruction was already beginning. Much of the city had been devastated and nearly a tenth of its population killed in a matter of moments, but there were still swathes of it relatively untouched, and the levelled landscape was the perfect ground for a sprawling new seat of government in its own dedicated buildings. When it was time for the CPA to hand over power to a true government, Kuraly hoped that it would be invested in Hornqvist.
Beyond the cities, however, unrest was already growing. Millions of Marchanders felt betrayed by the Bailiwicks, others felt fury at the callous bombing of their capitol, and yet more were fatally committed to the Cult, whose surviving leadership had a tangled web of influence throughout the continent. Even as the flag of the black anchor was raised, the white wave spread, printed, scratched and sprayed in downtown streets and rural lanes alike....
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