Post by EmperorMyric on Jan 15, 2022 14:01:45 GMT
“Every empire, however, tells itself and the world that it is unlike all other empires, that its mission is not to plunder and control but to educate and liberate."
Celebrankst System: Orillian Space
“And what of our economic situation?”
“We of course cannot fully insulate from such a massive market crash. Trade is down almost 23% and we have instituted fuel storing and rationing especially given our future plans. Nightstone imports surprisingly are up however, while we initially had less from the Hochlands Orbeole trade appears to have remained steady and remained somewhat insulated”
“A very good call to accede to their request then”
“Indeed so”
“What's the effects on Istralan?”
“Reduced production quotas due to material demand, down 37% overall. This has been factored in and should not reduce long term viability of our ability to wage war”
“Excellent. What of the geopolitical situation?”
“The Union is suffering heavily from the economic fallout, as are most of the major colonial powers, along with those of the traitors who support them”
“Corona has been hit hard however”
“Yes, the sudden massive hit via AMEC is bound to cause issues. They cannot sustain themselves. I seriously doubt that Pakt nations will even consider renegotiating the set prices.”
“This will make them reckless, we must be prepared to move. No doubt they will lash out, intelligence already reports massive instability in their space. Without Ancerium they are nothing”
“What about Natar?”
“Struggling with its internal collapse, with Tetlisun so blatantly set to fall, we will be in prime position to help certain parties take power. With Natar with us we cannot possibly lose the propaganda war.”
“In addition we are prepping support for extremist elements within the High Imperium to keep them busy. Ready for when our comrades move to take back their territory”
“Something that will benefit us greatly, what is the status of Aedleshaven?”
“Word is they are about to make another official statement, the Unions ultimatum has already been somewhat rebuked. With ROMB gone Abelcain does not get his fleet and his public influence. That works for us, but it makes it harder to defend the corridor. I suggest we start rallying forces just in case he does something stupid or the Union makes a move”
“And what of the foundation?”
“To be announced shortly, we have some last minute tweaks to the formalities but everything is ready to go. The Coalition of Organised Nations of Ancerious is ready to be born”
BREAKING NEWS: CORONA CIVIL WAR?
Ark (Coronan Space)---: With AMEC shares having been declared one step away from worthless junk the Third Republic of Corona is now scrambling to do whatever it can to stop itself from collapsing. News out of the Third Republic is grim, with riots, mass unrest and military crackdowns in the streets on nearly every world. With the government now set to fall apart with no money and the nation fully locked in to its deals with the Krizpakt for hypercheap Ancerium many believe this is the start of the Republics official collapse.
Given the unrest and conflict already occurring it is safe to say that prominent warlords will soon start carving their own territories in the republics space when the time comes, and no doubt a massive civil war will occur. What this will mean for the galactic mining organisations is unclear at current but Coronas stranglehold monopoly on the market is set to fall.
Already we have reports of large Coronan military units and fleets mobilising, likely to quell their own internal strife. But we will endeavour to keep you updated.
ARK News.
Aedleshaven: Golden Expanse
The wind was howling and the grit in the air was biting as it impacted people's skin.
The ash deserts had always been unforgiving, to the first settlers who had come here to the various armies as they had sought to conquer the planet. The wind and grit could flay an unprotected person, and yet the harshness of it was a point of pride for its people. Aedleshaven had changed much since the dissipation of the endless cloud layer, and now above the crowds of tens of thousands the sky could be seen. Even the sun.
They had gathered here, in this abandoned part of the ash desert, because their leader had chosen this to be the site of his speech.
As the people huddled together with their protective gear in the biting wind and dirt a large figure, completely without the protection of armour or gear stood defiantly on the only piece that stood out in the desert. A single point of blue in an ocean of grey. The wrecked Union Seraph MBT had been destroyed in the Uprising crisis, during the Menck Rebellions. And now it serves as a symbol.
Abelcain stood atop it undaunted and unfazed by the elements as he gazed upon the thousands who stood in front of him. He had no security, each of the individuals who had come here had been vetted extensively. They were loyal to the core. The rest of the population and the galaxy would watch from the myriad of drones that hovered above them, struggling to fight the wind.
“Brothers and sisters of Aedleshaven. Of the entire galaxy. I reach out to you” Abelcain began. His powerful voice projecting to cut through the ambient noise.
“The Union gave their ultimatum. In return we offered what limited aid we could. But no more, now we take our official stance. We have been bullied by colonials long enough, this world more than ANY other!” He gestured with his hand, slamming the exposed and eroded blue metal beneath him.
“They came here three times in the past to conquer us, and we threw them back each and every time. They tried to enslave us, and we broke the shackles. Now we must do so again. We must fight for the continued existence of our people galaxy wide!” He shouted.
“Today Aedleshaven stands with the natives of this galaxy. Any may use this place as their home and we extend full help to the native peoples. But to the colonials, we spit on you! We reject your power and your oppression! No colonial mining ship will be allowed into the Aedleshaven corridor, those already within will be allowed to leave under escort, but no more!”
“We have been oppressed long enough, brothers and sisters! It is time for us to help reclaim the galaxy!” The crowd's voices were raised in agreement.
“Emancipation is the key to all things”
The last of the transmission was the people roaring in agreement and the howling of the wind.
Unexplored Deep: Golden Expanse
Another gravitational wave buffeted the craft.
“A lot of those around here aye gang. Man its getting pretty dicey”
The huge figure in the middle of the cockpit threw another handful of Abigail Hog crisps into his mouth before placing both hands back onto the control sticks. The cockpit was filthy, coated in old food wrappers, remains of food, Holodisks and more. A barrage of Holographic screens surrounded the man, showing him all sorts of data readouts on his surroundings as well as the status on his Ancnet live stream.
It had cost him a lot of relay buoys to stream out of this deep in the expanse. And it was intermittent at best, no doubt he would get cut off at some point.
Fuzzyninja1010 also known as the ‘Grizzly Bear’ was one of the Cherenkov Guild, his custom modified ex EPA Y class had been set up to accommodate his bulk and all the supplies he needed for runs. It had even more fuel tanks on this run, thanks to the nature of the galaxy. He wasn't officially working on Guild business, no official flights were taking place anymore. But he had found a private contractor on Lost Star who had eagerly approached him about a big score deal. Supposedly they had found something big in the Expanse once, but hadn't been able to get back, and they wanted Grizzly to map and mark a path to it, to try to find it again.
It was risky business, this deep in the expanse anything could happen, but it was worth the money.
“It's so bright out there if I dim this screen I'll get blinded.” he laughed at the chat. Once more reaching for another handful of crisps.
Grizzly was a brute, a particularly hairy one at that hence his name. Having discovered his love of flying when he was a wee boy after he had stolen a Capitol dropship, squeezing himself into its seat he had taken it for a joyride.
Now here he was trailblazing through the Expanse.
Another relay buoy was dropped a moment after and he eased back on the controls, the normalised stream he was following was small, only 25km across. In space terms, that was almost like threading a needle. On top of that he was operating near a cluster of black holes and these gravitational waves were knocking him off course.
“Its like fuckin driving through the Grindstone at rush hour” He grunted as he was deft with the controls, moving the corvette in small bursts. And then there was a sensor ping.
“Whats ‘at then” He muttered, zooming in with his sensors just as the stream cut out again. He rolled his eyes and looked at something big, revealed by a massive cloud of moving Ancerium. It was as big as a moon, and yet…
It looked like a weird baby.
“What the fuck…”
Suddenly he was reading multiple energy spikes right behind him.
The Grindstone: Lost Star
It started as a strange reading.
The Grindstone had always been heralded as the galaxy's stock exchange, and through it truly unfathomable amounts of data had flowed constantly updating AIs and brokers across space. It was the Grindstone that made decisions, downgraded stocks and declared large scale bankruptcies. And that had been no different when AMEC had been declared Bankrupt, their shares basically worthless. That declaration alone had been a bigger blow to the Third Republic of Corona than the entire losses of the Mirdiff Jihad ten times over.
And now they wanted revenge.
There was no fleet or grand invasion, nothing as normal or conventional as that. It all started by a mob of Coronans on Lost Star who got drunk and wanted revenge.
They came in groups, armed with a mixture of cobbled together weapons and rushed the Grindstone district. It didn't take long before they were met by the stalwart and overweight defenders of the Brute nation of Stongingham. Bags of bricks met hammers and wrenches as the two degenerate groups laid into one another, causing quite the commotion and news to rapidly spread. Soon more Coronans, enamoured by the valiant efforts of their countrymen to avenge their stock prices descended onto the streets, bolstering their numbers considerably and causing the Brutes to form lines and protect other streets.
In only two hours the Grindstone outer district became little more than a giant street brawl as waves of Coronan rioters were beaten to death by the bellowing racket of the Stongingham boys. But for every ten Coronans beaten into the curb another 50 seemed to appear, rallied by calls across the Ancnet, online games and dating scam sites they came in droves. Dragging down brutes to their deaths as they went down punching and kicking, swarmed over by degenerate retards who could barely hurt each other.
Soon the outer lines began to falter, and Coronans swarmed into the inner areas, meeting more Brute resistance and soon to be gunfire as both sides soon deployed heavier weapons among the swirling melee of clubs and baseball bats.
Bellowing cries for more help came from the Stongingham boys as they rallied their mates and families. Soon elderly brutes and female brutes lined the streets, their snarling faces eager to be promised a good old fight. And yet the waves of Coronans came on. Fires and bodies littered the streets around the Grindstone, and the fighting was slowly bogging down until a single act.
Across the Ancnet, the Coronan Third Republic gave an official response to the disorderly riot. They endorsed it. Calling upon every Coronan to do his divine duty and descend upon the Grindstone for revenge.
Almost instantly the tides of Coronans swelled to impossible numbers, leaving the Brutes as a thin line against the ocean. They fought fanatically, chanting their football songs and bellowing out their supporting teams names even as fists flew to break degenerate skulls. The lines began to break as small bands of Coronans broke through into the Grindstone, throwing molotovs into reception desk areas, expensive supercomputer rooms and the trading room itself. Brutes desperately tried to put the fires out, only succeeding in some areas while others caught those who got in and tore them apart.
Brutes continued to go down as the Coronan horde bayed for revenge. The Grindstone now partially burning in front of them galvanized them into a frenzy as new bus loads arrived on the outskirts to drop more off. For the boys of Stongingham it seemed like all was lost, boys were going down left and right to the hordes and gunfire.
“This is it boys! We go down like our ancestors! Take em all fuckin with us!”
“"Capitol Capitol wherever you may be, you eat dogs in your country, it could be worse, you could be Coronan, eating rats in your council house"
The chanting went on even as they fell, and yet when all seemed lost there was a titanic horn sound. It rolled across the Grindstone, as the Boys finally looked to the north, a brilliant flood of light came. Squinting and confused, the Coronans turned around, looking into the floodlights of the new arrivals. Filing into the streets, came the red and white shirts of Venchester, chanting their own songs as they charged.
“There's only one True Norf,
One True Norf.
It used to be shite,
But now its all right,
Walking in a Fucking Wonderland!."
The walls of the Venchester boys charged the Coronans, sending body parts flying as they disembarked from their footie buses. Stongingham and Venchester might have been sworn enemies, but nobody fought the Brute nations and won. And nobody would win against Stongingham apart from Venchester. Sandwiched between the two walls of angry brutes the Coronans panicked and were simply torn apart. Waves of bodies were sent flying as fists and clubs rose and fell and within only a few minutes, tens of thousands of Coronans were massacred.
The two walls of boys then stood opposite one another, covered in blood and with proud football symbols waving on either side there was a tense silence. Before the two leaders came forward to square up.
“That was aight ‘lad”
“Good bash”
That was all that was said as they shook hands and both walked away. But the Grindstone was damaged, and would need countless months of intensive repair. With the galactic stock exchange now down and out, there was no way to stabilize the galactic economy easily, and no way to avoid what was coming through economics alone. Corona had struck their first blow, but it wasn't over, already more waves of Coronans were arriving, and the brutes of Stongingham and Venchester once again formed the lines.
Celebransk System: Orillian Space
Madam Yrillix was positively buzzing.
This was the moment they had been waiting for. Cameras surrounded her as various technicians ensured everything was good to go. Her desk was immaculate and her formal attire had been made painstakingly clean. It was now or never, with the sudden news of the Coronan strike on the Grindstone and the announcement by Aedleshaven to back the natives and prevent Colonial Ancerium mining they had to move now.
The countdown was moving and Yrillix had to calm her shaking in anticipation.
Finally she was on the air, a wideband galactic transmission, which was likely to be shown everywhere.
“Dear inhabitants of the galaxy. It is with great honour that I speak to you today. And for those brothers and sisters out there in the galaxy, a moment I think you have been waiting for since time immemorial.” She smiled warmly.
“The time has finally come for us to become what we were meant to be, a united front against the chaos and the cancer that is ravaging this galaxy. Our power and capabilities are undeniable if we act together, and that moment is now. I am officially announcing the creation of an organisation for native species and peoples in the galaxy, one aimed around military and economic strength. I implore any native to join this organisation, so that together we may pool our resources and defeat this darkness in the galaxy once and for all. Together there is nothing we cannot accomplish.”
“I give you the Coalition of Organised Nations of Ancerious. Or CONA for short. It will be what overcomes these dark times. And I am very excited to see what it can accomplish. United we cannot be overcome, and we can reclaim what is destined to be ours.”
“For the natives of the galaxy. The Orillian Free State Stands with you”
BREAKING NEWS: GLOBAL FRONTLINE OBSERVER TO GO OFFLINE!
IMP (Saudra) —: In a surprising announcement today given the recent happenings the organisation Global Frontline Observer is going offline. The organisation which provided up to date and constant watch on all galactic military build ups and affairs has announced that it can no longer operate given the environment of the galaxy thanks to fuel shortages and the prices of such.
The organisation, which has been long praised for its assistance in predicting attacks, military build ups and covering invasions from an unbiased perspective will not be operating from now on leaving the galaxy blind at a most crucial point.
Already its last official report on military matters indicated a massive mobilisation in the Third Republic of Corona with estimates ranging from 70,000 to 120,000 ships being mobilised for action. While the details of such mobilisation were lacking due to fuel shortages already in place the many military think tanks of the galaxy have already speculated about its purpose. Some claim it is to help stabilize republic space, while others have concluded that this massive build up is for some grand offensive on the scale unseen in galactic history.
Now without their main fuel income and set to effectively fall apart into civil war Corona may try one last ditch effort to secure the Third Republics future.
Only time will tell.
Samarth System: Sarabhai Emerald Republics Space
It started almost immediately.
Ramanunjagar had declared for CONA the moment Orillia had announced the alliance, along with thousands of other native nations. The Ancnet was practically flooded as news sites tried to keep up the developments of the ever shifting power bloc, hindered by blackouts CONA had grown to encompass the majority of the native nations of the galaxy within a few short hours.
Within the same day, emboldened by their suddenly untouchable backing the Raman fleet left anchor, conducting patrols that strayed blatantly into Sarabh held territory and buzzed their ships. They were making a statement of breaking the brokered ceasefire, and they knew with CONA on their side Sarabhai had no hope of contending.
Chandra Sehkar, President of Sarabhai decided to do something drastic. It was the only hope they had.
In the middle of the flurry of those declaring for CONA, another galactic wideband went out.
“This is President Chandra Sehkar of the Republic of Sarabhai. Many of us have suffered at the hands of Orillia and their desperate struggle to gain control of the galaxy. Many who are native, which they supposedly view as brothers and sisters. Look to La Serena, look to my own homeland and see how they treat those who do not openly support their maniacal goal. It does not matter if you are native or colonial, in this galaxy we can all become something more. And yet Orillia wishes to destabilise this telling time with supremacist rhetoric when we should be working together to destroy the Eclipse Lord and stabilise the galactic economy” He paused.
“It now surrounds itself with CONA, not an alliance, but a means to an end. Orillias end. They will use it to bully those who do not stand with them, even now my own space is being buzzed by CONA forces flaunting the established Emerald ceasefire. So much for native family ties. As such, I declare the formation of the Second Ancerious Galactic Alliance. The organisation will be for the sole purpose of countering Orillia, bringing peace to the galaxy and resolving the issues which caused this state of affairs. It will be for any who wish to join, native or colonial. And with it we will restore order and defeat the darkness that Orillia themselves have brought on all of us. I reach out to any who will be willing to join us at this current time, but especially powers of the old AGA. The Union, Nucleans, Carnaith, RANGSI. Please join us and help us end this chaos. Some of us still remember what galactic brotherhood truly means.”
“Together we will right the wrongs”
Silver Cradle: Union Space
It was total chaos.
Eiasten had been so active in the last 8 hours that he didn't even think he was sentient, just a puppet acting purely on stimulus from outside perception. More had happened in the last 8 hours than the last 8 years.
The Grindstone had been attacked and was out of action. Corona was mobilising for war. Aedleshaven had officially closed the corridor to colonial mining. Orillia had officially founded CONA and been immediately bolstered by thousands of nations, and now Sarabhai had founded SAGA in response, calling for the Union and others to join it even as anti-Orillian and Anti-Native elements joined it.
It had been a non stop blur of congress sessions, shouting matches, debates, votes and news updates. And Eiasten was exhausted.
The Progressives and the Democrats had already joined forces with many of the other parties to push forward a vote of official intervention. Members of his own party even sympathised. There was no way out now, with the corridor cut off and Orillia on the move they had to respond militarily, there was no way to avoid war now.
“Was this how Hargun felt?” Eiasten muttered to himself, the virtual voting ongoing in the congress. All the plans were in place, just, but Eiasten felt like he was drained. Like he was on the edge of a dark chasm and to take the plunge was to never come back. If he voted for this he would be the face of it, the Union's failure in this war. But if he voted against it, he risked being ousted from government or his own party, and the vote would likely win anyway regardless of his input and those of his hardliners. His hand was forced. With a sigh he flicked the vote for yes. Quickly followed by those of his hardline supporting congressmen and most of his party. Some voted against, but they were a minority.
The vote passed. The Union was going to war.
He had been given 30 minutes to prepare for an official speech, things were moving far too fast to leave it any later. His speech writers were panicking as they went over things while Eiasten sat and took a puff of his pipe. It all happened so quickly, none of it seemed real. Already orders had been given to the military to prepare for war, plans were being put into place as they spoke, plans to invade Aedleshaven and secure the corridor. The economy was already being hit hard, the guarantee of the Union taking to the fight was causing investors to flee and a whole multitude of native nations with which they were trading had cut ties after they declared for CONA. It felt like everything was tumbling down.
“Prime Minister your on in 3 minutes”
“Do I have a speech?”
“Partial sir we are-”
“I will speak without one, prep for me now” The man went to protest but quickly stopped as Eiasten slowly stood up and patted himself down. With a deep, emotional sigh he straightened himself as the holographic background came into place.
“My fellow citizens, and people of the galaxy.”
“Much has happened in the last few hours. All of which seems dark and dismal, like chaos is once more descending on the galaxy to claim us all. It is a feeling we all felt in the coming days before the second Ancerious war, and what we all felt when the Immortal Empire invaded Tenebrae. It is natural to second guess. Why are we at this point? Is what we are doing the right thing? Is conflict the answer?” Eiasten paused, the silence hanging as he tried to answer those very same questions in his mind. Finally after the media representatives were getting nervous he answered.
“In times like these, sadly the answer is yes.These choices have been made for us by nations like Orillia. Just as Inara gave us no choice but to fight for the future of the galaxy, so too does Orillia do the same. They seek to divide us with their supremacist talk, all the while letting the Eclipse Lord regain his strength and letting Aedleshaven plunge hundreds of nations into abject economic uncertainty. It is a disgusting motive, but one we have seen many times before. As we stand on the precipice of a new galactic war, quite unlike any we have had so far, we must remind ourselves that what we do, we do for those around us. We do for the betterment of our children and the galaxy. The Union and all of you in the galaxy have endured much in the last decades. And I am asking once more for you to endure a little further. Many have tried to undermine the galaxy's future for their own goals before. And each time we have defeated them.”
“This time will be no different. The Union of Worlds officially accepts the offer to join SAGA, and calls upon its allies and friends to do the same. Together we will overcome the chaos. To this end we are mobilising our strike force to retake the Aedleshaven corridor, we will open up the Ancerium line to the galaxy for everyone once more. To Orillia and CONA I say only this.”
“We are open to dialogue and negotiation, should you wish to stop at the precipice. But if you do not, we will not hesitate to use lethal force.”
Court of International Trade: Znor Third Republic of Corona
Standing tall above the ocean of garbage that surrounded it was the user terminal of the supercomputer. Somewhere far in the lineage of Globgork, wise and ancient human beings capable of tending to the quantum systems of this computerized Ozymandias once stood, but now was a different time, the time of the Corona Third Republic. A time where the best Globgork could do was to shovel out the plastic bottlezs, wrappers and Ancopops that had clogged the computer's cooling systems. Once that was done, he followed the instructions of the 250-page illustrated book that had been handed to him by his forefathers for having an unusual gift for a Coronan: not being immediately disgusted and enraged by the existence a 250-page book.
The manual, which had once been a 27-page troubleshooting guide that required more and more explanations and drawings to be appended over the centuries, proved of no help. For multiple days Globgork turned the pages, rapidly running out of instructions as the economy floundered and the bailiffs of the Supreme Court made it very clear that they were going to send him to the dildo mills (or the milldos, as they were called in Globgork's dialect) if the computer was not brought back online and connected to the Rorzha uplink. The first pages were all written in elegant cursive, with hand-drawn isometric illustrations so concise and ergonomic that Globgork had no problem understanding them and following surprisingly complicated checklists. As he turned the pages, however, the cursive gave way to printed type and three-view plans, slightly more complicated to follow. 130 pages into the document, the slow buildup of spelling errors, formatting errors, emojis and mismatched fonts had turned the manual into an incomprehensible hieroglyphic haze defaced by crude hand drawings, doodles of genitalia and cheeto dust. Even the simplest instruction was so badly explained it spanned multiple paragraphs.
Globgork had cried out to the ancient gods in anguish as he witnessed the degradation of the manual's authors. By the 200th page there had been some kind of generational conflict between the authors and multiple pages were completely scribbled over or smeared with feces. And the computer still didn't work. Resigning himself to be carried away by the bailiffs, Globgork sheltered himself from the polluted rain of Znor in a hut at the base of the supercomputer. He went back to the first pages of the manual, losing himself in the beauty of their drawings and the crystalline, almost poetic way in which instructions were written. How badly he wished to be able to append a chapter to this family heirloom that looked like that, to be immortalized with his ancestors in the troubleshooting guide and write a page that would be easy to understand. Globgork cursed himself for being too lazy to learn how to hold a pencil and for not studying this treasure of a manual until now, when the computer finally broke.
He softly caressed the pages to keep thoughts of the milldo away and then a miracle happened: a page glued to the front cover by dried gravy became unstuck. A page Globgork had never seen before, a page that did not even have any drawings because it did not need them: it was a page so simple and concise it could only have been written by divinity, and to gaze at it filled Globgork with an outburst of operatic inspiration so intense that for a moment the landfills of Znor felt like the Academy of All Souls.
"Step 1" The godly text read. "Ensure the system is connected to a current of 5.2V at 770A"
It is said by some religions that in a night, named the Night of Nights, the secret gates of heaven will open wide and all the water in the galaxy will become sweeter. Had those gates opened, Globgork would not have felt what he felt that evening when he read the epiphanous text. Jaw dropping, hands trembling, he looked up at the supercomputer's power supply unit, to which he had taped a bundle of AA batteries.
35 minutes later, the Coronan Court of International Trade was brought back online.
Court of International Trade: Znor Third Republic of Corona
As soon as word broke out that the CIT's computer had been brought back online, a flock of judges from the High Courts and their staffers flew in from all four corners of Znor. Premature celebrations erupted all over the capital of the Third Republic now that the problem had been "solved" and, like with any movement within the bureaucracy of the Third Republic, a power struggle ensued to take credit for fixing the supercomputer. Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk, having brought a larger contingent of bailiffs than his rivals due to his base's proximity, and having quickly gotten rid of the nameless IT slave who had brought the computer back online, came on top of this power struggle as the savior of the Court of International Trade. He came to have second thoughts and regret his participation in the ordeal when he was contacted by the Supreme Court of the Third Republic, telling Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk that it was now up to him to solve the actual problem at hand: AMEC's impending bankruptcy.
The days of rain had turned the once-solid Central Garbage Plain into a fetid mush into which Zhkhrzhk's vehicles sank, especially his large motorized palace. Little by little his caravan had gotten whittled down to just him, his bodyguards and an endless line of slave porters carrying bags full of documents and "research" that the Senior Judge believed would come in handy. He had no idea of how to solve the issue, and his personal AI had, through feats of pedagogic heroism that would forever remain unsung, barely manage to explain to Zhkhrzhk what the problem was in the first place. AMEC, the Third Republic's main ancerium extraction company, had three quarters of its capacity locked into long-term delivery contracts with the unaligned trading block known as the Križpakt. These contracts, which had once seemed to be one of Corona's few intelligent moves due to the ancerium crash, had become a death sentence now that ancerium extraction costs were sky-high. AMEC desperately needed to renegotiate the price with the prosperous Golden Cross republics of the Križpakt or face extinction.
Luckily, with the CIT back online, the computer was able to open up negotiations with the Trade Ministries of the Križpakt member republics to seek higher prices. As a fine piece of Coronan engineering, the computer must have surely secured above-market prices and ensured that the gravy train of the Third Republic would keep on chugging, Zhkhrzhk thought. However, any agreement that the computer came to was not legally binding until it was signed off on by a High Judge of Corona. Many had tried, Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk had succeeded in being that judge. The thought of his signature on a new trade agreement, and the near-guaranteed spot in the Supreme Court that he would get as a result, kept the bloated Coronan trudging through the garbage even as he became soaked in sweat and filth. Shouts came from his scouting party: they'd found the computer terminal. Gavel in hand, Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk rushed forwards until he stood face to face with the monolith, which now was starting to tilt as its foundation sank into the wet garbage.
"Good day Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk." An elegant yet very loud feminine voice came from the ancient piece of technology, sending waves of cheers throughout Zhkhrzhk's retinue and making the judge himself bang his gavel against a nearby car door.
"Order, order!" The Senior Judge said, righting his wet wig and dusting off his robes. "The court of Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk is now in session. Computer, you have been granted authority by me and the Supreme Court to renegotiate the AME76 trade deal with the Križpakt countries. I come here to sign off on that agreement."
"The agreement is already signed." The computer replied. "All Supreme Justices signed off on it."
A chill of hatred went down Zhkhrzhk's spine. Could it be? Could the Supreme Court have somehow beaten him to it and signed the agreement without him? This was unthinkable. He didn't steal the credit from IT just so the Supreme Court could steal it from him! What could they even want out of it? They were already Supreme Justices! And how had they arrived to the CIT and left without any of Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk's underlings noticing them and causing 'unfortunate accidents'? The Senior Judge needed to know.
"When did they sign it?!" He asked, gritting his teeth and sinking his deformed, claw-like nails into the head of his gavel in anger.
"One year forty days ago." The computer replied, thoroughly confusing the Senior Judge.
"wot"
"The trade agreement of AME76 with the Križpakt members Hrast Tvardva, Velka Ciska, Roche-Sur-Laisson, Iqzina and Aluminaria, signed by all seven members of the Corona Supereme Court one year and forty days ago is still standing." The computer replied. "No new agreement could be negotiated with them today. I apologize."
The crunch of old anime figures and Happy Meal toys under the Senior Judge's pachidermic foot could be heard over the sound of the rain as he took a step back in shock, while none dared speak lest they be either torn apart or -worse yet- be blamed by the Judge. He dropped his gavel and his eye began twitching.
"What do you mean you couldn't renegotiate the deal?!" Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk bellowed at the monolith, his face reddening and his fetal alcohol hands curling into a pair of furious, callus-covered fists. "You're the negotiation computer you fucking bitch! Negotiate! NEGOTIATE!"
"I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry. I'm useless."
"Those Križpakt bastards have been covering their entire planets in hospitals, universities and football stadiums!" Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk picked up his gavel and threw it at the CIT computer in anger. "Are you telling me they don't have the money to pay us better you dumb cunt?! You couldn't get one penny out of the richest nations in the Golden Cross?!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"All their countries are bristling with new guns and social programs, and you couldn't get us ONE CENT. THEY JUST GAVE BILLIONS TO TRIARCH AND YOU COULDN'T GET US A SINGLE MILICENT?!"
"Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk... that is the issue I'm afraid." The gentle tone which had guided the foreign trade department of Corona for centuries did not mellow the seething judge at all, and he started stomping towards the monolith. "They've already spent all the money they saved by securing their contracts. They bought weaponry, built infrastructure and are running UBI programs to fight the financial crisis. Their government budget and public debt is completely maxed out."
"TELL THEM TO TEAR DOWN THEIR FUCKING HOSPITALS, WE NEED OUR MONEY NOW! NOW! NOW!"
"I'm sorry... I tried. All I ever wanted was to serve the Third Republic and make us the way we were before, but I've failed. It's my fault."
Unable to bear the sight of its children devolving into a primal feces-throwing fury at the bad news, the CIT computer shut itself down in shame. Demanding answers and more negotiations, the mob of Coronans swarmed the monolith until, overtaken by animalistic anger, they toppled the monolith and set it on fire. The blaze was promptly spread by all the oils and chemical products that had been dumped into the garbage and mixed together by the rain, starting a raging landfill fire that consumed the angry judge and many of his retinue. Once the rain stopped, the Corona Third Republic was left only with the spreading flames, a grim symbol of its impending doom that few could bear to even look at, let alone try to control.
Unstable Lode Gomorrah: Golden Expanse
Azel was exhausted. Both physically and mentally.
The ex Capitol tank commander had been through a great deal in the past few days. They had managed to bust out Lasik, Morgan's friend turned guide who would get them through the Depths and to their destination. Turned out the man was in a lot of debt, and things had gone well initially to get him out, until they were discovered and had to run for it. Over a day of escaping on their small shuttle after refueling had left them dangerously low on fuel and supplies but eventually Glassbags impressive piloting had managed to throw off the pursuers, who upon seeing them enter the unstable Lode Gomorrah had seen them as suicidal.
Lasik had then taken over, guiding Glassbag through collapsed normalisation channels and interdiction storms. He had gone on and on about ‘the old days’ of mining, while this Lode had been prime real estate for miners. Apparently he had worked the teams down here and knew the place like the back of his hand, even knew Morgan's parents back in the day. Explains how they knew each other.
But when they started having to ration even the shit old Capitol MREs morale began to drop. Azel felt like he was questioning why he was here. Morgan began to get grumpy while Glassbag got twitchy in his eagerness to get home. His family while aboard were loud and annoyed Azel. Only Lasik seemed to be excited to escape the Depths and be on a ship.
Things of course got worse as they got deeper. The interdiction storms and dead end routes became much more frequent. And Glassbag had to do some daring piloting to escape what at first appeared to be a faint shimmer on sensors, only to turn into a time distortion which caused a nearby piece of junk to flicker out of existence.
Just when the food and water got to almost nothing however, Glassbag indicated a ship ahead. They had to hide of course in a nearby extremely dense spar of Ancerium but without a doubt the ship ahead was, at least in some distant past, derived from a Capitol design. Not one Azel had ever seen before however.
“We are close,” Glassbag said aloud. Soon they were once again moving, the sensors depicting some kind of large anomaly on sensors.
“There it is,” Lasik grinned. “I don't forget sensor readings, heightened gamma emissions, exotic particle readings and that distinctive pinky purple aura. It's here” Glassbag was forced to take them out of FTL early to try to avoid any sensors, but soon enough it came into view.
The entire area of space around them was a dull pink, swirling in and out around the central star. It itself was twisted and strange, but Azel had heard enough on the Ancnet to know it had some kind of psionic nature, he could even feel some kind of pressure on his mind. Only one planet orbited it, close in too. Its surface was dead, coated in towering spires or regions of beautiful blue Visonite crystal, surrounded by massive mining and refining areas which stripped it down to repurpose it via a large space elevator. This itself connected to an expansive orbital dockyard, which in turn seemed to have been remodelled at least twice. Debris circled some of the world, likely from some previous battles, but the circular shipyards made Azels mouth open in awe.
The Z1, renowned superweapon of the EPA fleet, hung in the center of the circular span, almost entirely disassembled as it was being cannibalized by the five dockyards around it. Four were almost complete ships, utterly unlike anything he had seen before, while the fifth seemed to only have just begun construction. Likely the vessel before it had been completed. He didn't recognise any of the designs but a close up sensor scan revealed the eye symbol emblazoned on the ships.
He felt revulsion.
“The Army of the Panopticon” Azel spat.
Glassbag however merely sat in his seat and held his family close.
“Our home… Avalon… What have they done to it”
Deep Space near AMEC Terminal GB1: Aedleshaven Corridor
The entire trip had been ruined.
Aedleshaven had announced their ban on Colonial vessels entering the corridor and now the massive hulking mass of the JCV Red Kyo merely sat in deep space far away from the cut off line doing absolutely nothing. The crew on the bridge were bored and milling at their stations, all the while Captain Mitoshi Sanada was absolutely furious.
After all sitting here was burning fuel, fuel that he quite frankly couldn't afford to pay for. If he could complete his week mining operation then he could pay it all back, but that was out of the window now that Aedleshaven had chosen a side and now that Orillia had started whatever the fuck their new alliance was called.
“Fucking natives” He grumbled.
The Red Kyo wasn't the only ship around of course, there was a line of random mining vessels and more all trailing back from the Aedleshaven border. The security forces of such were checking every vessel that tried to enter, and simply shooting those who tried to power through. Any colonial vessel was refused or fired upon if they tried to speed past the line. Meanwhile native nations were let in without incident. Red Kyo couldn't see all that though, it was so far back in the line it would take weeks to get there, but then they would be turned away anyway.
Only reason they were still here is because Mitoshi hoped by the time they got there it had been sorted out diplomatically. He was angry, and jealous of the exiting ships, their holds full of Ancerium. He had seen colonial vessels escorted out of the expanse or shot if they did not comply. More than a few firefights had been reported already.
“Hey Captain, getting some weird sensor readings over here”
“What the fuck are you on about now?” Mitoshi rolled his eyes but eventually stood up and walked over.
“It's a glitch you moron look, the sensors are old anyway there's no way 95,000 ships would just appear like that. Reboot the system”
“Yea will do”
A few minutes later after Mitoshi had sat back down there was another call out.
“Uh, they are still there. Closer this time, and I am getting confirmation pings from other ships”
“What?”
“It… It looks like a Coronan warfleet…” Mitoshi’s heart dropped.
“Get the word out. Now!”
Unknown Location: Lost Star
“Things are moving… Too quickly”
“The timetable must be moved forward at all costs”
There had not been time for a proper physical meeting, things were spiraling too far out of control now for that. They had to respond quickly, and as such the host body shivered once more as the three representative mindscapes conversed.
The Ancnet was too insecure, and at current far too unreliable. So they had chosen to meet in a more secure format, to use a mindscape set up in some random individual's head to facilitate the communication. Now a singular dock worker on Lost Star writhed as they were strapped to the chair, two shadowy and not entirely human figures watched over them as the meeting took place.
“We do not have the forces in place to effectively bring forward the timetable” one of the voices was an ever shifting distortion, like it was cycling through every individual in the galaxy. One moment it was speaking from a young boy's tone, the next speaking an alien language from a tongue that had been dead for thousands of years. This was the representative of the Rangvald Cartel, one of their mysterious inner circles.
“Then we deploy the forces immediately. No more preparation, we move now.” The second voice was utterly inhuman. It's very touch on the mindscape causing the host body to go into convulsions, this was the representative of the Tradex Ghosts, and it was as demanding as ever.
With the seeming mass build up of Corona now moving towards Aedleshaven along with the movements of both the new powerblocks of SAGA and CONA, the plan to facilitate the complete closing of the corridor was in jeopardy. Corona had moved far too early, Yog Narr was an unforeseen segment in the plan.
“We do not have the forces available to guarantee a success” the third voice added, this time a much more normal human tone “Despite our influence we cannot turn CONA to supporting Corona, their goals are mutually exclusive. We will be without our greatest assets”
“Then we support Corona. Use the grand fleets as a meatshield, deploy our forces directly to Aedleshaven as per the plan. We may not have CONA support but that is irrelevant if we have Coronan forces. Either one provides an adequate distraction. Force both CONA and SAGA to fight one another on top of this, the chaos ensures we cannot be disturbed”
The representative was right, Corona would provide the distraction.
“We will be able to support Corona with strategic elements but we will be unable to deploy our force elements so quickly”
“We will do what we can on our end to ensure that Corona gets whatever support it can by the Krizpakt nations dependant on the Third Republics Ancerium”
“Then immediately begin mobilisation. Our agents will pave the way for the world. Have your assets guide Corona, it is imperative that this succeeds at all costs. Our asset is almost secure, once it is out the corridor can collapse. Only then will you have monopoly on the market”
The Unnamed voice disappeared at last causing the host to cough and splutter. It was swiftly followed by the Cartel member until finally the woman was the only one left. She waited for a moment as the thin men holding the host came forward, each with a set of grisly tools. No doubt the host would be erased and all evidence completely destroyed. With a thought she disconnected. BEDLAM had quite the work to do in ensuring this sudden change went to plan.
Aedleshaven Corridor: Golden Expanse
The worst of the pirates had managed to be driven off, albeit with a very steep price. The Aedleshaven fleet which had started out as a hodgepodge of various different ships with totally inexperienced crews had rapidly turned into a battle hardened and well drilled force in rapid time. Constant engagement with pirates had seen them react to warfare rapidly and despite the heavy losses the worse of the predation had been beaten off.
Now the Aedleshaven fleet held the corridor while more of its elements demanded the removal of colonial mining assets, escorting them through to the border.
The Everchosen was one such ship, originally a ZYPHER destroyer; it had been taken during the massive requisitioning and forced to dock, where its crew had been deported back to ZYPHER while the vessel was recruited by Aedleshaven forces. Now it found itself in new colours and operating in the expanse as it escorted the lumbering form of a Carnaithian mining vessel out and back into normal space beyond the corridor.
Escorting the ships out was far from a glamorous task, but it was needed, and the crew of the Everchosen were firmly believers in their cause. Every colonial mining asset removed from the expanse was one less exploiting their birthright, and made room for more native assets to thrive. Most mining assets in the expanse gave up and complied with the order to be removed, having little in the way of weapons or defences the civilian crews didn't want to risk their lives over Ancerium. But some did, some told the Aedleshaven forces to fuck off, some opened fire first with what weapons they had and some had caused intentional blockages by getting their massive multi-hundred kilometer ships stuck in gravitational eddies. In each instance the fleet gave them warnings, and in those instances they were ignored or weapons fire was traded they met it with lethal force.
Civilian mining vessels were blasted apart as the ships did their work enacting Abelcains decree. And for every handful escorted out of the expanse there was one who refused to bow, soon met with the resounding weapons fire of Aedleshavens forces. It was in many ways, also a massacre. Not as sudden or titanic as Yog Narrs assault on Zarathustra, but certainly trying to compete on scale.
Constant reports came from the corridor of ships destroyed, especially colonial assets that refused to accede to the decree. But it was not purely colonial, other native assets which were pro colonial seemed to be targeted as well, already giving falseness to the order that natives would be unmolested. And anyone attempting to help the colonial assets was also removed or targetted. It helped show what it was, a native supremacist action.
But the Everchosen would never reach the corridor border.
It was rocked to one side suddenly as it was impacted by several large boarding pods, only detected at the last possible second. The crew, taken off guard, began to rally to the ships defence, only to be cut down methodically as intruders rapidly moved to take over the engineering and bridge. Soon the ship's own systems were rebelling as direct hacking began to lock the crew out of critical systems. The Everchosen was being turned against them as fierce battles erupted in the corridors.
The lightly armed Aedleshaven crew were hardened fanatics, but they were poorly equipped and no match for the heavily armed and armoured boarders that rushed forward to take chokepoints and doorways.
Soon engineering was secured, all communications with the crew there cut off entirely as the crew tried a last ditch effort to defend the bridge. The Everchosens captain, a grizzled old man who had fought during the Uprising crisis, merely stood up and cocked his pistol, aiming it at the door even as the large figures broke through the bulkhead and stormed the bridge. It was over in several seconds, he had managed to fire two shots before he realised he was lying on his back, choking on blood. Already the intruders were getting to work on consoles and plugging in equipment. One of them removed its helmet revealing a large piercing reptilian gaze
“Asset secured. The Tranatonian Empire thanks you for your hospitality” He could make out a thin smile just before the thing raised its pistol and the captain's life ended.
Aedleshaven Corridor Outskirts: Golden Expanse
It was true.
There was a gigantic Coronan fleet on its way.
Word was already flooding outwards from countless civilian ships and those military ships which were sitting back observing Aedleshaven and the evicted mining vessels. The galaxy was rapidly becoming aware of the force, and that meant only one thing. Corona was going to war, and that it intended to take the corridor by force, to secure its Ancerium monopoly with military might if it couldn't take it by economic brute force.
Already Aedleshaven was preparing its meagre fleets and defences along the border and sending calls for aid to Orillia and CONA proper. It knew that the Union and SAGA were going to come and take its Ancerium corridor, now the Coronans had made the first move to do so. And this time, the threat was truly on a scale unseen.
The Third Republic had the largest fleet in the entire galaxy single handedly and the 95,000 ship strong fleet which was on its way to Aedleshaven was only roughly half of its massive military might. No doubt they were preparing follow up waves, Corona had no chance of survival should they fail to take the corridor, and so this last ditch military attack would contain their all. Everyone's military intelligence knew that. But it didn't make the situation any easier to contain or counter.
It would take weeks for the Coronan fleet to reach the outskirts of Aedleshaven itself. Corona fleet elements were notoriously oversized and ponderous and the Coronans were making as much a political statement with their force as military. No doubt hoping that such a titanic fleet baring down upon Aedleshaven would make them surrender and merely hand over the region to Coronan occupation. Several weeks to sure up defenses, consolidate allies and prepare for war.
That alone made nations shudder.
With CONA and SAGA formed and already throwing around demands everyone guessed there would be war soon, that SAGA would inevitably move on the corridor. But there was still a chance that things could in some miracle fashion work out and back down, Orillia may have been hardline but they were not idiots, and the Union was always open to negotiation. There was always a chance no matter how small for them both to sit and talk to avoid open warfare.
Now Coronas fleet was incoming, that chance was gone. Corona would not back down, they had no reason to turn around and their only option was to steamroll the Corridors forces and secure it for themselves. Their actions guaranteed conflict, one that SAGA and CONA could not avoid and had to intervene in if they wished to survive.
The countdown to war was officially set in stone.
3 weeks.
3 weeks until the galaxy once again plunged itself into conflict.
Ancerious Galaxy: Assorted Space
Fleets mobilised.
With the timer already counting down Orillia gave the call to arms, defending Aedleshaven against Coronan and SAGA aggression and securing the corridor for natives was paramount. Massive fleet elements from Istralan alone were mobilised, rapidly linking up with other fleet groups from other nations. Each nation who contributed added up, and soon the CONA armada amounted to tens of thousands of ships. While each flew a different national symbol, all flew the banner of CONA, proudly fighting together under the pro native alliance. As it grew the support elements grew exponentially. In such a dark time the non combat baggage trains of the fleets were more important than the warships, and whole fleets of Ancerium fuel tankers, refueling vessels, supply ships and communication relay ships formed up. They would provide the fleet its integrity and fuel supply, coordinating such a mishmash of national fleets into an effective fighting force.
Even as battle elements and fleet formations were enacted more vessels joined, CONA had weeks to prepare, and they would use it to amass every single ship they could get their hands on.
SAGA was no different.
Already the Union fleets were mobilising, quickly linking up with the FRK, Carnaith and RANGSI elements. Rapidly other nation fleets began to arrive, integrating into the larger whole as they kept coming. Sarabhai sent its own forces, the Centauri, Nucleans, Jade, Esakin state, Atlantis and even the militarist elements of Capitol. It was such a mix of nations, united either by their common heritage of being colonial, or their hatred of Orillia and the control of such over the galaxy. Just like the CONA fleet, the SAGA fleet grew larger and larger, assembling its own support structure as it prepared to deploy. Plans had been drawn up already for an assault on Aedleshaven, and for many of the colonials it was almost a joke.
They had fought over Aedleshaven before, some of them like RANGSI, Carnaith, Union, Capitol and more had even fought each other over control of it. Now they were going back there, fighting together to secure the galaxy's fuel region.
For those on either side and even those who had not picked a side or refused to do so there was nothing else to do but prepare and watch, waiting with baited breath. The next few weeks would change the course of galactic history, preparations were being made, plans put in place and last minute endeavours undertaken.
The galaxy collectively held its breath even as it prepared for war.
It was one minute to midnight, and the pieces were in place.
Celebrankst System: Orillian Space
“And what of our economic situation?”
“We of course cannot fully insulate from such a massive market crash. Trade is down almost 23% and we have instituted fuel storing and rationing especially given our future plans. Nightstone imports surprisingly are up however, while we initially had less from the Hochlands Orbeole trade appears to have remained steady and remained somewhat insulated”
“A very good call to accede to their request then”
“Indeed so”
“What's the effects on Istralan?”
“Reduced production quotas due to material demand, down 37% overall. This has been factored in and should not reduce long term viability of our ability to wage war”
“Excellent. What of the geopolitical situation?”
“The Union is suffering heavily from the economic fallout, as are most of the major colonial powers, along with those of the traitors who support them”
“Corona has been hit hard however”
“Yes, the sudden massive hit via AMEC is bound to cause issues. They cannot sustain themselves. I seriously doubt that Pakt nations will even consider renegotiating the set prices.”
“This will make them reckless, we must be prepared to move. No doubt they will lash out, intelligence already reports massive instability in their space. Without Ancerium they are nothing”
“What about Natar?”
“Struggling with its internal collapse, with Tetlisun so blatantly set to fall, we will be in prime position to help certain parties take power. With Natar with us we cannot possibly lose the propaganda war.”
“In addition we are prepping support for extremist elements within the High Imperium to keep them busy. Ready for when our comrades move to take back their territory”
“Something that will benefit us greatly, what is the status of Aedleshaven?”
“Word is they are about to make another official statement, the Unions ultimatum has already been somewhat rebuked. With ROMB gone Abelcain does not get his fleet and his public influence. That works for us, but it makes it harder to defend the corridor. I suggest we start rallying forces just in case he does something stupid or the Union makes a move”
“And what of the foundation?”
“To be announced shortly, we have some last minute tweaks to the formalities but everything is ready to go. The Coalition of Organised Nations of Ancerious is ready to be born”
BREAKING NEWS: CORONA CIVIL WAR?
Ark (Coronan Space)---: With AMEC shares having been declared one step away from worthless junk the Third Republic of Corona is now scrambling to do whatever it can to stop itself from collapsing. News out of the Third Republic is grim, with riots, mass unrest and military crackdowns in the streets on nearly every world. With the government now set to fall apart with no money and the nation fully locked in to its deals with the Krizpakt for hypercheap Ancerium many believe this is the start of the Republics official collapse.
Given the unrest and conflict already occurring it is safe to say that prominent warlords will soon start carving their own territories in the republics space when the time comes, and no doubt a massive civil war will occur. What this will mean for the galactic mining organisations is unclear at current but Coronas stranglehold monopoly on the market is set to fall.
Already we have reports of large Coronan military units and fleets mobilising, likely to quell their own internal strife. But we will endeavour to keep you updated.
ARK News.
Aedleshaven: Golden Expanse
The wind was howling and the grit in the air was biting as it impacted people's skin.
The ash deserts had always been unforgiving, to the first settlers who had come here to the various armies as they had sought to conquer the planet. The wind and grit could flay an unprotected person, and yet the harshness of it was a point of pride for its people. Aedleshaven had changed much since the dissipation of the endless cloud layer, and now above the crowds of tens of thousands the sky could be seen. Even the sun.
They had gathered here, in this abandoned part of the ash desert, because their leader had chosen this to be the site of his speech.
As the people huddled together with their protective gear in the biting wind and dirt a large figure, completely without the protection of armour or gear stood defiantly on the only piece that stood out in the desert. A single point of blue in an ocean of grey. The wrecked Union Seraph MBT had been destroyed in the Uprising crisis, during the Menck Rebellions. And now it serves as a symbol.
Abelcain stood atop it undaunted and unfazed by the elements as he gazed upon the thousands who stood in front of him. He had no security, each of the individuals who had come here had been vetted extensively. They were loyal to the core. The rest of the population and the galaxy would watch from the myriad of drones that hovered above them, struggling to fight the wind.
“Brothers and sisters of Aedleshaven. Of the entire galaxy. I reach out to you” Abelcain began. His powerful voice projecting to cut through the ambient noise.
“The Union gave their ultimatum. In return we offered what limited aid we could. But no more, now we take our official stance. We have been bullied by colonials long enough, this world more than ANY other!” He gestured with his hand, slamming the exposed and eroded blue metal beneath him.
“They came here three times in the past to conquer us, and we threw them back each and every time. They tried to enslave us, and we broke the shackles. Now we must do so again. We must fight for the continued existence of our people galaxy wide!” He shouted.
“Today Aedleshaven stands with the natives of this galaxy. Any may use this place as their home and we extend full help to the native peoples. But to the colonials, we spit on you! We reject your power and your oppression! No colonial mining ship will be allowed into the Aedleshaven corridor, those already within will be allowed to leave under escort, but no more!”
“We have been oppressed long enough, brothers and sisters! It is time for us to help reclaim the galaxy!” The crowd's voices were raised in agreement.
“Emancipation is the key to all things”
The last of the transmission was the people roaring in agreement and the howling of the wind.
Unexplored Deep: Golden Expanse
Another gravitational wave buffeted the craft.
“A lot of those around here aye gang. Man its getting pretty dicey”
The huge figure in the middle of the cockpit threw another handful of Abigail Hog crisps into his mouth before placing both hands back onto the control sticks. The cockpit was filthy, coated in old food wrappers, remains of food, Holodisks and more. A barrage of Holographic screens surrounded the man, showing him all sorts of data readouts on his surroundings as well as the status on his Ancnet live stream.
It had cost him a lot of relay buoys to stream out of this deep in the expanse. And it was intermittent at best, no doubt he would get cut off at some point.
Fuzzyninja1010 also known as the ‘Grizzly Bear’ was one of the Cherenkov Guild, his custom modified ex EPA Y class had been set up to accommodate his bulk and all the supplies he needed for runs. It had even more fuel tanks on this run, thanks to the nature of the galaxy. He wasn't officially working on Guild business, no official flights were taking place anymore. But he had found a private contractor on Lost Star who had eagerly approached him about a big score deal. Supposedly they had found something big in the Expanse once, but hadn't been able to get back, and they wanted Grizzly to map and mark a path to it, to try to find it again.
It was risky business, this deep in the expanse anything could happen, but it was worth the money.
“It's so bright out there if I dim this screen I'll get blinded.” he laughed at the chat. Once more reaching for another handful of crisps.
Grizzly was a brute, a particularly hairy one at that hence his name. Having discovered his love of flying when he was a wee boy after he had stolen a Capitol dropship, squeezing himself into its seat he had taken it for a joyride.
Now here he was trailblazing through the Expanse.
Another relay buoy was dropped a moment after and he eased back on the controls, the normalised stream he was following was small, only 25km across. In space terms, that was almost like threading a needle. On top of that he was operating near a cluster of black holes and these gravitational waves were knocking him off course.
“Its like fuckin driving through the Grindstone at rush hour” He grunted as he was deft with the controls, moving the corvette in small bursts. And then there was a sensor ping.
“Whats ‘at then” He muttered, zooming in with his sensors just as the stream cut out again. He rolled his eyes and looked at something big, revealed by a massive cloud of moving Ancerium. It was as big as a moon, and yet…
It looked like a weird baby.
“What the fuck…”
Suddenly he was reading multiple energy spikes right behind him.
The Grindstone: Lost Star
It started as a strange reading.
The Grindstone had always been heralded as the galaxy's stock exchange, and through it truly unfathomable amounts of data had flowed constantly updating AIs and brokers across space. It was the Grindstone that made decisions, downgraded stocks and declared large scale bankruptcies. And that had been no different when AMEC had been declared Bankrupt, their shares basically worthless. That declaration alone had been a bigger blow to the Third Republic of Corona than the entire losses of the Mirdiff Jihad ten times over.
And now they wanted revenge.
There was no fleet or grand invasion, nothing as normal or conventional as that. It all started by a mob of Coronans on Lost Star who got drunk and wanted revenge.
They came in groups, armed with a mixture of cobbled together weapons and rushed the Grindstone district. It didn't take long before they were met by the stalwart and overweight defenders of the Brute nation of Stongingham. Bags of bricks met hammers and wrenches as the two degenerate groups laid into one another, causing quite the commotion and news to rapidly spread. Soon more Coronans, enamoured by the valiant efforts of their countrymen to avenge their stock prices descended onto the streets, bolstering their numbers considerably and causing the Brutes to form lines and protect other streets.
In only two hours the Grindstone outer district became little more than a giant street brawl as waves of Coronan rioters were beaten to death by the bellowing racket of the Stongingham boys. But for every ten Coronans beaten into the curb another 50 seemed to appear, rallied by calls across the Ancnet, online games and dating scam sites they came in droves. Dragging down brutes to their deaths as they went down punching and kicking, swarmed over by degenerate retards who could barely hurt each other.
Soon the outer lines began to falter, and Coronans swarmed into the inner areas, meeting more Brute resistance and soon to be gunfire as both sides soon deployed heavier weapons among the swirling melee of clubs and baseball bats.
Bellowing cries for more help came from the Stongingham boys as they rallied their mates and families. Soon elderly brutes and female brutes lined the streets, their snarling faces eager to be promised a good old fight. And yet the waves of Coronans came on. Fires and bodies littered the streets around the Grindstone, and the fighting was slowly bogging down until a single act.
Across the Ancnet, the Coronan Third Republic gave an official response to the disorderly riot. They endorsed it. Calling upon every Coronan to do his divine duty and descend upon the Grindstone for revenge.
Almost instantly the tides of Coronans swelled to impossible numbers, leaving the Brutes as a thin line against the ocean. They fought fanatically, chanting their football songs and bellowing out their supporting teams names even as fists flew to break degenerate skulls. The lines began to break as small bands of Coronans broke through into the Grindstone, throwing molotovs into reception desk areas, expensive supercomputer rooms and the trading room itself. Brutes desperately tried to put the fires out, only succeeding in some areas while others caught those who got in and tore them apart.
Brutes continued to go down as the Coronan horde bayed for revenge. The Grindstone now partially burning in front of them galvanized them into a frenzy as new bus loads arrived on the outskirts to drop more off. For the boys of Stongingham it seemed like all was lost, boys were going down left and right to the hordes and gunfire.
“This is it boys! We go down like our ancestors! Take em all fuckin with us!”
“"Capitol Capitol wherever you may be, you eat dogs in your country, it could be worse, you could be Coronan, eating rats in your council house"
The chanting went on even as they fell, and yet when all seemed lost there was a titanic horn sound. It rolled across the Grindstone, as the Boys finally looked to the north, a brilliant flood of light came. Squinting and confused, the Coronans turned around, looking into the floodlights of the new arrivals. Filing into the streets, came the red and white shirts of Venchester, chanting their own songs as they charged.
“There's only one True Norf,
One True Norf.
It used to be shite,
But now its all right,
Walking in a Fucking Wonderland!."
The walls of the Venchester boys charged the Coronans, sending body parts flying as they disembarked from their footie buses. Stongingham and Venchester might have been sworn enemies, but nobody fought the Brute nations and won. And nobody would win against Stongingham apart from Venchester. Sandwiched between the two walls of angry brutes the Coronans panicked and were simply torn apart. Waves of bodies were sent flying as fists and clubs rose and fell and within only a few minutes, tens of thousands of Coronans were massacred.
The two walls of boys then stood opposite one another, covered in blood and with proud football symbols waving on either side there was a tense silence. Before the two leaders came forward to square up.
“That was aight ‘lad”
“Good bash”
That was all that was said as they shook hands and both walked away. But the Grindstone was damaged, and would need countless months of intensive repair. With the galactic stock exchange now down and out, there was no way to stabilize the galactic economy easily, and no way to avoid what was coming through economics alone. Corona had struck their first blow, but it wasn't over, already more waves of Coronans were arriving, and the brutes of Stongingham and Venchester once again formed the lines.
Celebransk System: Orillian Space
Madam Yrillix was positively buzzing.
This was the moment they had been waiting for. Cameras surrounded her as various technicians ensured everything was good to go. Her desk was immaculate and her formal attire had been made painstakingly clean. It was now or never, with the sudden news of the Coronan strike on the Grindstone and the announcement by Aedleshaven to back the natives and prevent Colonial Ancerium mining they had to move now.
The countdown was moving and Yrillix had to calm her shaking in anticipation.
Finally she was on the air, a wideband galactic transmission, which was likely to be shown everywhere.
“Dear inhabitants of the galaxy. It is with great honour that I speak to you today. And for those brothers and sisters out there in the galaxy, a moment I think you have been waiting for since time immemorial.” She smiled warmly.
“The time has finally come for us to become what we were meant to be, a united front against the chaos and the cancer that is ravaging this galaxy. Our power and capabilities are undeniable if we act together, and that moment is now. I am officially announcing the creation of an organisation for native species and peoples in the galaxy, one aimed around military and economic strength. I implore any native to join this organisation, so that together we may pool our resources and defeat this darkness in the galaxy once and for all. Together there is nothing we cannot accomplish.”
“I give you the Coalition of Organised Nations of Ancerious. Or CONA for short. It will be what overcomes these dark times. And I am very excited to see what it can accomplish. United we cannot be overcome, and we can reclaim what is destined to be ours.”
“For the natives of the galaxy. The Orillian Free State Stands with you”
BREAKING NEWS: GLOBAL FRONTLINE OBSERVER TO GO OFFLINE!
IMP (Saudra) —: In a surprising announcement today given the recent happenings the organisation Global Frontline Observer is going offline. The organisation which provided up to date and constant watch on all galactic military build ups and affairs has announced that it can no longer operate given the environment of the galaxy thanks to fuel shortages and the prices of such.
The organisation, which has been long praised for its assistance in predicting attacks, military build ups and covering invasions from an unbiased perspective will not be operating from now on leaving the galaxy blind at a most crucial point.
Already its last official report on military matters indicated a massive mobilisation in the Third Republic of Corona with estimates ranging from 70,000 to 120,000 ships being mobilised for action. While the details of such mobilisation were lacking due to fuel shortages already in place the many military think tanks of the galaxy have already speculated about its purpose. Some claim it is to help stabilize republic space, while others have concluded that this massive build up is for some grand offensive on the scale unseen in galactic history.
Now without their main fuel income and set to effectively fall apart into civil war Corona may try one last ditch effort to secure the Third Republics future.
Only time will tell.
Samarth System: Sarabhai Emerald Republics Space
It started almost immediately.
Ramanunjagar had declared for CONA the moment Orillia had announced the alliance, along with thousands of other native nations. The Ancnet was practically flooded as news sites tried to keep up the developments of the ever shifting power bloc, hindered by blackouts CONA had grown to encompass the majority of the native nations of the galaxy within a few short hours.
Within the same day, emboldened by their suddenly untouchable backing the Raman fleet left anchor, conducting patrols that strayed blatantly into Sarabh held territory and buzzed their ships. They were making a statement of breaking the brokered ceasefire, and they knew with CONA on their side Sarabhai had no hope of contending.
Chandra Sehkar, President of Sarabhai decided to do something drastic. It was the only hope they had.
In the middle of the flurry of those declaring for CONA, another galactic wideband went out.
“This is President Chandra Sehkar of the Republic of Sarabhai. Many of us have suffered at the hands of Orillia and their desperate struggle to gain control of the galaxy. Many who are native, which they supposedly view as brothers and sisters. Look to La Serena, look to my own homeland and see how they treat those who do not openly support their maniacal goal. It does not matter if you are native or colonial, in this galaxy we can all become something more. And yet Orillia wishes to destabilise this telling time with supremacist rhetoric when we should be working together to destroy the Eclipse Lord and stabilise the galactic economy” He paused.
“It now surrounds itself with CONA, not an alliance, but a means to an end. Orillias end. They will use it to bully those who do not stand with them, even now my own space is being buzzed by CONA forces flaunting the established Emerald ceasefire. So much for native family ties. As such, I declare the formation of the Second Ancerious Galactic Alliance. The organisation will be for the sole purpose of countering Orillia, bringing peace to the galaxy and resolving the issues which caused this state of affairs. It will be for any who wish to join, native or colonial. And with it we will restore order and defeat the darkness that Orillia themselves have brought on all of us. I reach out to any who will be willing to join us at this current time, but especially powers of the old AGA. The Union, Nucleans, Carnaith, RANGSI. Please join us and help us end this chaos. Some of us still remember what galactic brotherhood truly means.”
“Together we will right the wrongs”
Silver Cradle: Union Space
It was total chaos.
Eiasten had been so active in the last 8 hours that he didn't even think he was sentient, just a puppet acting purely on stimulus from outside perception. More had happened in the last 8 hours than the last 8 years.
The Grindstone had been attacked and was out of action. Corona was mobilising for war. Aedleshaven had officially closed the corridor to colonial mining. Orillia had officially founded CONA and been immediately bolstered by thousands of nations, and now Sarabhai had founded SAGA in response, calling for the Union and others to join it even as anti-Orillian and Anti-Native elements joined it.
It had been a non stop blur of congress sessions, shouting matches, debates, votes and news updates. And Eiasten was exhausted.
The Progressives and the Democrats had already joined forces with many of the other parties to push forward a vote of official intervention. Members of his own party even sympathised. There was no way out now, with the corridor cut off and Orillia on the move they had to respond militarily, there was no way to avoid war now.
“Was this how Hargun felt?” Eiasten muttered to himself, the virtual voting ongoing in the congress. All the plans were in place, just, but Eiasten felt like he was drained. Like he was on the edge of a dark chasm and to take the plunge was to never come back. If he voted for this he would be the face of it, the Union's failure in this war. But if he voted against it, he risked being ousted from government or his own party, and the vote would likely win anyway regardless of his input and those of his hardliners. His hand was forced. With a sigh he flicked the vote for yes. Quickly followed by those of his hardline supporting congressmen and most of his party. Some voted against, but they were a minority.
The vote passed. The Union was going to war.
He had been given 30 minutes to prepare for an official speech, things were moving far too fast to leave it any later. His speech writers were panicking as they went over things while Eiasten sat and took a puff of his pipe. It all happened so quickly, none of it seemed real. Already orders had been given to the military to prepare for war, plans were being put into place as they spoke, plans to invade Aedleshaven and secure the corridor. The economy was already being hit hard, the guarantee of the Union taking to the fight was causing investors to flee and a whole multitude of native nations with which they were trading had cut ties after they declared for CONA. It felt like everything was tumbling down.
“Prime Minister your on in 3 minutes”
“Do I have a speech?”
“Partial sir we are-”
“I will speak without one, prep for me now” The man went to protest but quickly stopped as Eiasten slowly stood up and patted himself down. With a deep, emotional sigh he straightened himself as the holographic background came into place.
“My fellow citizens, and people of the galaxy.”
“Much has happened in the last few hours. All of which seems dark and dismal, like chaos is once more descending on the galaxy to claim us all. It is a feeling we all felt in the coming days before the second Ancerious war, and what we all felt when the Immortal Empire invaded Tenebrae. It is natural to second guess. Why are we at this point? Is what we are doing the right thing? Is conflict the answer?” Eiasten paused, the silence hanging as he tried to answer those very same questions in his mind. Finally after the media representatives were getting nervous he answered.
“In times like these, sadly the answer is yes.These choices have been made for us by nations like Orillia. Just as Inara gave us no choice but to fight for the future of the galaxy, so too does Orillia do the same. They seek to divide us with their supremacist talk, all the while letting the Eclipse Lord regain his strength and letting Aedleshaven plunge hundreds of nations into abject economic uncertainty. It is a disgusting motive, but one we have seen many times before. As we stand on the precipice of a new galactic war, quite unlike any we have had so far, we must remind ourselves that what we do, we do for those around us. We do for the betterment of our children and the galaxy. The Union and all of you in the galaxy have endured much in the last decades. And I am asking once more for you to endure a little further. Many have tried to undermine the galaxy's future for their own goals before. And each time we have defeated them.”
“This time will be no different. The Union of Worlds officially accepts the offer to join SAGA, and calls upon its allies and friends to do the same. Together we will overcome the chaos. To this end we are mobilising our strike force to retake the Aedleshaven corridor, we will open up the Ancerium line to the galaxy for everyone once more. To Orillia and CONA I say only this.”
“We are open to dialogue and negotiation, should you wish to stop at the precipice. But if you do not, we will not hesitate to use lethal force.”
Court of International Trade: Znor Third Republic of Corona
Standing tall above the ocean of garbage that surrounded it was the user terminal of the supercomputer. Somewhere far in the lineage of Globgork, wise and ancient human beings capable of tending to the quantum systems of this computerized Ozymandias once stood, but now was a different time, the time of the Corona Third Republic. A time where the best Globgork could do was to shovel out the plastic bottlezs, wrappers and Ancopops that had clogged the computer's cooling systems. Once that was done, he followed the instructions of the 250-page illustrated book that had been handed to him by his forefathers for having an unusual gift for a Coronan: not being immediately disgusted and enraged by the existence a 250-page book.
The manual, which had once been a 27-page troubleshooting guide that required more and more explanations and drawings to be appended over the centuries, proved of no help. For multiple days Globgork turned the pages, rapidly running out of instructions as the economy floundered and the bailiffs of the Supreme Court made it very clear that they were going to send him to the dildo mills (or the milldos, as they were called in Globgork's dialect) if the computer was not brought back online and connected to the Rorzha uplink. The first pages were all written in elegant cursive, with hand-drawn isometric illustrations so concise and ergonomic that Globgork had no problem understanding them and following surprisingly complicated checklists. As he turned the pages, however, the cursive gave way to printed type and three-view plans, slightly more complicated to follow. 130 pages into the document, the slow buildup of spelling errors, formatting errors, emojis and mismatched fonts had turned the manual into an incomprehensible hieroglyphic haze defaced by crude hand drawings, doodles of genitalia and cheeto dust. Even the simplest instruction was so badly explained it spanned multiple paragraphs.
Globgork had cried out to the ancient gods in anguish as he witnessed the degradation of the manual's authors. By the 200th page there had been some kind of generational conflict between the authors and multiple pages were completely scribbled over or smeared with feces. And the computer still didn't work. Resigning himself to be carried away by the bailiffs, Globgork sheltered himself from the polluted rain of Znor in a hut at the base of the supercomputer. He went back to the first pages of the manual, losing himself in the beauty of their drawings and the crystalline, almost poetic way in which instructions were written. How badly he wished to be able to append a chapter to this family heirloom that looked like that, to be immortalized with his ancestors in the troubleshooting guide and write a page that would be easy to understand. Globgork cursed himself for being too lazy to learn how to hold a pencil and for not studying this treasure of a manual until now, when the computer finally broke.
He softly caressed the pages to keep thoughts of the milldo away and then a miracle happened: a page glued to the front cover by dried gravy became unstuck. A page Globgork had never seen before, a page that did not even have any drawings because it did not need them: it was a page so simple and concise it could only have been written by divinity, and to gaze at it filled Globgork with an outburst of operatic inspiration so intense that for a moment the landfills of Znor felt like the Academy of All Souls.
"Step 1" The godly text read. "Ensure the system is connected to a current of 5.2V at 770A"
It is said by some religions that in a night, named the Night of Nights, the secret gates of heaven will open wide and all the water in the galaxy will become sweeter. Had those gates opened, Globgork would not have felt what he felt that evening when he read the epiphanous text. Jaw dropping, hands trembling, he looked up at the supercomputer's power supply unit, to which he had taped a bundle of AA batteries.
35 minutes later, the Coronan Court of International Trade was brought back online.
Court of International Trade: Znor Third Republic of Corona
As soon as word broke out that the CIT's computer had been brought back online, a flock of judges from the High Courts and their staffers flew in from all four corners of Znor. Premature celebrations erupted all over the capital of the Third Republic now that the problem had been "solved" and, like with any movement within the bureaucracy of the Third Republic, a power struggle ensued to take credit for fixing the supercomputer. Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk, having brought a larger contingent of bailiffs than his rivals due to his base's proximity, and having quickly gotten rid of the nameless IT slave who had brought the computer back online, came on top of this power struggle as the savior of the Court of International Trade. He came to have second thoughts and regret his participation in the ordeal when he was contacted by the Supreme Court of the Third Republic, telling Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk that it was now up to him to solve the actual problem at hand: AMEC's impending bankruptcy.
The days of rain had turned the once-solid Central Garbage Plain into a fetid mush into which Zhkhrzhk's vehicles sank, especially his large motorized palace. Little by little his caravan had gotten whittled down to just him, his bodyguards and an endless line of slave porters carrying bags full of documents and "research" that the Senior Judge believed would come in handy. He had no idea of how to solve the issue, and his personal AI had, through feats of pedagogic heroism that would forever remain unsung, barely manage to explain to Zhkhrzhk what the problem was in the first place. AMEC, the Third Republic's main ancerium extraction company, had three quarters of its capacity locked into long-term delivery contracts with the unaligned trading block known as the Križpakt. These contracts, which had once seemed to be one of Corona's few intelligent moves due to the ancerium crash, had become a death sentence now that ancerium extraction costs were sky-high. AMEC desperately needed to renegotiate the price with the prosperous Golden Cross republics of the Križpakt or face extinction.
Luckily, with the CIT back online, the computer was able to open up negotiations with the Trade Ministries of the Križpakt member republics to seek higher prices. As a fine piece of Coronan engineering, the computer must have surely secured above-market prices and ensured that the gravy train of the Third Republic would keep on chugging, Zhkhrzhk thought. However, any agreement that the computer came to was not legally binding until it was signed off on by a High Judge of Corona. Many had tried, Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk had succeeded in being that judge. The thought of his signature on a new trade agreement, and the near-guaranteed spot in the Supreme Court that he would get as a result, kept the bloated Coronan trudging through the garbage even as he became soaked in sweat and filth. Shouts came from his scouting party: they'd found the computer terminal. Gavel in hand, Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk rushed forwards until he stood face to face with the monolith, which now was starting to tilt as its foundation sank into the wet garbage.
"Good day Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk." An elegant yet very loud feminine voice came from the ancient piece of technology, sending waves of cheers throughout Zhkhrzhk's retinue and making the judge himself bang his gavel against a nearby car door.
"Order, order!" The Senior Judge said, righting his wet wig and dusting off his robes. "The court of Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk is now in session. Computer, you have been granted authority by me and the Supreme Court to renegotiate the AME76 trade deal with the Križpakt countries. I come here to sign off on that agreement."
"The agreement is already signed." The computer replied. "All Supreme Justices signed off on it."
A chill of hatred went down Zhkhrzhk's spine. Could it be? Could the Supreme Court have somehow beaten him to it and signed the agreement without him? This was unthinkable. He didn't steal the credit from IT just so the Supreme Court could steal it from him! What could they even want out of it? They were already Supreme Justices! And how had they arrived to the CIT and left without any of Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk's underlings noticing them and causing 'unfortunate accidents'? The Senior Judge needed to know.
"When did they sign it?!" He asked, gritting his teeth and sinking his deformed, claw-like nails into the head of his gavel in anger.
"One year forty days ago." The computer replied, thoroughly confusing the Senior Judge.
"wot"
"The trade agreement of AME76 with the Križpakt members Hrast Tvardva, Velka Ciska, Roche-Sur-Laisson, Iqzina and Aluminaria, signed by all seven members of the Corona Supereme Court one year and forty days ago is still standing." The computer replied. "No new agreement could be negotiated with them today. I apologize."
The crunch of old anime figures and Happy Meal toys under the Senior Judge's pachidermic foot could be heard over the sound of the rain as he took a step back in shock, while none dared speak lest they be either torn apart or -worse yet- be blamed by the Judge. He dropped his gavel and his eye began twitching.
"What do you mean you couldn't renegotiate the deal?!" Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk bellowed at the monolith, his face reddening and his fetal alcohol hands curling into a pair of furious, callus-covered fists. "You're the negotiation computer you fucking bitch! Negotiate! NEGOTIATE!"
"I'm sorry. I'm... so sorry. I'm useless."
"Those Križpakt bastards have been covering their entire planets in hospitals, universities and football stadiums!" Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk picked up his gavel and threw it at the CIT computer in anger. "Are you telling me they don't have the money to pay us better you dumb cunt?! You couldn't get one penny out of the richest nations in the Golden Cross?!"
"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I'm sorry."
"All their countries are bristling with new guns and social programs, and you couldn't get us ONE CENT. THEY JUST GAVE BILLIONS TO TRIARCH AND YOU COULDN'T GET US A SINGLE MILICENT?!"
"Senior Judge Zhkhrzhk... that is the issue I'm afraid." The gentle tone which had guided the foreign trade department of Corona for centuries did not mellow the seething judge at all, and he started stomping towards the monolith. "They've already spent all the money they saved by securing their contracts. They bought weaponry, built infrastructure and are running UBI programs to fight the financial crisis. Their government budget and public debt is completely maxed out."
"TELL THEM TO TEAR DOWN THEIR FUCKING HOSPITALS, WE NEED OUR MONEY NOW! NOW! NOW!"
"I'm sorry... I tried. All I ever wanted was to serve the Third Republic and make us the way we were before, but I've failed. It's my fault."
Unable to bear the sight of its children devolving into a primal feces-throwing fury at the bad news, the CIT computer shut itself down in shame. Demanding answers and more negotiations, the mob of Coronans swarmed the monolith until, overtaken by animalistic anger, they toppled the monolith and set it on fire. The blaze was promptly spread by all the oils and chemical products that had been dumped into the garbage and mixed together by the rain, starting a raging landfill fire that consumed the angry judge and many of his retinue. Once the rain stopped, the Corona Third Republic was left only with the spreading flames, a grim symbol of its impending doom that few could bear to even look at, let alone try to control.
Unstable Lode Gomorrah: Golden Expanse
Azel was exhausted. Both physically and mentally.
The ex Capitol tank commander had been through a great deal in the past few days. They had managed to bust out Lasik, Morgan's friend turned guide who would get them through the Depths and to their destination. Turned out the man was in a lot of debt, and things had gone well initially to get him out, until they were discovered and had to run for it. Over a day of escaping on their small shuttle after refueling had left them dangerously low on fuel and supplies but eventually Glassbags impressive piloting had managed to throw off the pursuers, who upon seeing them enter the unstable Lode Gomorrah had seen them as suicidal.
Lasik had then taken over, guiding Glassbag through collapsed normalisation channels and interdiction storms. He had gone on and on about ‘the old days’ of mining, while this Lode had been prime real estate for miners. Apparently he had worked the teams down here and knew the place like the back of his hand, even knew Morgan's parents back in the day. Explains how they knew each other.
But when they started having to ration even the shit old Capitol MREs morale began to drop. Azel felt like he was questioning why he was here. Morgan began to get grumpy while Glassbag got twitchy in his eagerness to get home. His family while aboard were loud and annoyed Azel. Only Lasik seemed to be excited to escape the Depths and be on a ship.
Things of course got worse as they got deeper. The interdiction storms and dead end routes became much more frequent. And Glassbag had to do some daring piloting to escape what at first appeared to be a faint shimmer on sensors, only to turn into a time distortion which caused a nearby piece of junk to flicker out of existence.
Just when the food and water got to almost nothing however, Glassbag indicated a ship ahead. They had to hide of course in a nearby extremely dense spar of Ancerium but without a doubt the ship ahead was, at least in some distant past, derived from a Capitol design. Not one Azel had ever seen before however.
“We are close,” Glassbag said aloud. Soon they were once again moving, the sensors depicting some kind of large anomaly on sensors.
“There it is,” Lasik grinned. “I don't forget sensor readings, heightened gamma emissions, exotic particle readings and that distinctive pinky purple aura. It's here” Glassbag was forced to take them out of FTL early to try to avoid any sensors, but soon enough it came into view.
The entire area of space around them was a dull pink, swirling in and out around the central star. It itself was twisted and strange, but Azel had heard enough on the Ancnet to know it had some kind of psionic nature, he could even feel some kind of pressure on his mind. Only one planet orbited it, close in too. Its surface was dead, coated in towering spires or regions of beautiful blue Visonite crystal, surrounded by massive mining and refining areas which stripped it down to repurpose it via a large space elevator. This itself connected to an expansive orbital dockyard, which in turn seemed to have been remodelled at least twice. Debris circled some of the world, likely from some previous battles, but the circular shipyards made Azels mouth open in awe.
The Z1, renowned superweapon of the EPA fleet, hung in the center of the circular span, almost entirely disassembled as it was being cannibalized by the five dockyards around it. Four were almost complete ships, utterly unlike anything he had seen before, while the fifth seemed to only have just begun construction. Likely the vessel before it had been completed. He didn't recognise any of the designs but a close up sensor scan revealed the eye symbol emblazoned on the ships.
He felt revulsion.
“The Army of the Panopticon” Azel spat.
Glassbag however merely sat in his seat and held his family close.
“Our home… Avalon… What have they done to it”
Deep Space near AMEC Terminal GB1: Aedleshaven Corridor
The entire trip had been ruined.
Aedleshaven had announced their ban on Colonial vessels entering the corridor and now the massive hulking mass of the JCV Red Kyo merely sat in deep space far away from the cut off line doing absolutely nothing. The crew on the bridge were bored and milling at their stations, all the while Captain Mitoshi Sanada was absolutely furious.
After all sitting here was burning fuel, fuel that he quite frankly couldn't afford to pay for. If he could complete his week mining operation then he could pay it all back, but that was out of the window now that Aedleshaven had chosen a side and now that Orillia had started whatever the fuck their new alliance was called.
“Fucking natives” He grumbled.
The Red Kyo wasn't the only ship around of course, there was a line of random mining vessels and more all trailing back from the Aedleshaven border. The security forces of such were checking every vessel that tried to enter, and simply shooting those who tried to power through. Any colonial vessel was refused or fired upon if they tried to speed past the line. Meanwhile native nations were let in without incident. Red Kyo couldn't see all that though, it was so far back in the line it would take weeks to get there, but then they would be turned away anyway.
Only reason they were still here is because Mitoshi hoped by the time they got there it had been sorted out diplomatically. He was angry, and jealous of the exiting ships, their holds full of Ancerium. He had seen colonial vessels escorted out of the expanse or shot if they did not comply. More than a few firefights had been reported already.
“Hey Captain, getting some weird sensor readings over here”
“What the fuck are you on about now?” Mitoshi rolled his eyes but eventually stood up and walked over.
“It's a glitch you moron look, the sensors are old anyway there's no way 95,000 ships would just appear like that. Reboot the system”
“Yea will do”
A few minutes later after Mitoshi had sat back down there was another call out.
“Uh, they are still there. Closer this time, and I am getting confirmation pings from other ships”
“What?”
“It… It looks like a Coronan warfleet…” Mitoshi’s heart dropped.
“Get the word out. Now!”
Unknown Location: Lost Star
“Things are moving… Too quickly”
“The timetable must be moved forward at all costs”
There had not been time for a proper physical meeting, things were spiraling too far out of control now for that. They had to respond quickly, and as such the host body shivered once more as the three representative mindscapes conversed.
The Ancnet was too insecure, and at current far too unreliable. So they had chosen to meet in a more secure format, to use a mindscape set up in some random individual's head to facilitate the communication. Now a singular dock worker on Lost Star writhed as they were strapped to the chair, two shadowy and not entirely human figures watched over them as the meeting took place.
“We do not have the forces in place to effectively bring forward the timetable” one of the voices was an ever shifting distortion, like it was cycling through every individual in the galaxy. One moment it was speaking from a young boy's tone, the next speaking an alien language from a tongue that had been dead for thousands of years. This was the representative of the Rangvald Cartel, one of their mysterious inner circles.
“Then we deploy the forces immediately. No more preparation, we move now.” The second voice was utterly inhuman. It's very touch on the mindscape causing the host body to go into convulsions, this was the representative of the Tradex Ghosts, and it was as demanding as ever.
With the seeming mass build up of Corona now moving towards Aedleshaven along with the movements of both the new powerblocks of SAGA and CONA, the plan to facilitate the complete closing of the corridor was in jeopardy. Corona had moved far too early, Yog Narr was an unforeseen segment in the plan.
“We do not have the forces available to guarantee a success” the third voice added, this time a much more normal human tone “Despite our influence we cannot turn CONA to supporting Corona, their goals are mutually exclusive. We will be without our greatest assets”
“Then we support Corona. Use the grand fleets as a meatshield, deploy our forces directly to Aedleshaven as per the plan. We may not have CONA support but that is irrelevant if we have Coronan forces. Either one provides an adequate distraction. Force both CONA and SAGA to fight one another on top of this, the chaos ensures we cannot be disturbed”
The representative was right, Corona would provide the distraction.
“We will be able to support Corona with strategic elements but we will be unable to deploy our force elements so quickly”
“We will do what we can on our end to ensure that Corona gets whatever support it can by the Krizpakt nations dependant on the Third Republics Ancerium”
“Then immediately begin mobilisation. Our agents will pave the way for the world. Have your assets guide Corona, it is imperative that this succeeds at all costs. Our asset is almost secure, once it is out the corridor can collapse. Only then will you have monopoly on the market”
The Unnamed voice disappeared at last causing the host to cough and splutter. It was swiftly followed by the Cartel member until finally the woman was the only one left. She waited for a moment as the thin men holding the host came forward, each with a set of grisly tools. No doubt the host would be erased and all evidence completely destroyed. With a thought she disconnected. BEDLAM had quite the work to do in ensuring this sudden change went to plan.
Aedleshaven Corridor: Golden Expanse
The worst of the pirates had managed to be driven off, albeit with a very steep price. The Aedleshaven fleet which had started out as a hodgepodge of various different ships with totally inexperienced crews had rapidly turned into a battle hardened and well drilled force in rapid time. Constant engagement with pirates had seen them react to warfare rapidly and despite the heavy losses the worse of the predation had been beaten off.
Now the Aedleshaven fleet held the corridor while more of its elements demanded the removal of colonial mining assets, escorting them through to the border.
The Everchosen was one such ship, originally a ZYPHER destroyer; it had been taken during the massive requisitioning and forced to dock, where its crew had been deported back to ZYPHER while the vessel was recruited by Aedleshaven forces. Now it found itself in new colours and operating in the expanse as it escorted the lumbering form of a Carnaithian mining vessel out and back into normal space beyond the corridor.
Escorting the ships out was far from a glamorous task, but it was needed, and the crew of the Everchosen were firmly believers in their cause. Every colonial mining asset removed from the expanse was one less exploiting their birthright, and made room for more native assets to thrive. Most mining assets in the expanse gave up and complied with the order to be removed, having little in the way of weapons or defences the civilian crews didn't want to risk their lives over Ancerium. But some did, some told the Aedleshaven forces to fuck off, some opened fire first with what weapons they had and some had caused intentional blockages by getting their massive multi-hundred kilometer ships stuck in gravitational eddies. In each instance the fleet gave them warnings, and in those instances they were ignored or weapons fire was traded they met it with lethal force.
Civilian mining vessels were blasted apart as the ships did their work enacting Abelcains decree. And for every handful escorted out of the expanse there was one who refused to bow, soon met with the resounding weapons fire of Aedleshavens forces. It was in many ways, also a massacre. Not as sudden or titanic as Yog Narrs assault on Zarathustra, but certainly trying to compete on scale.
Constant reports came from the corridor of ships destroyed, especially colonial assets that refused to accede to the decree. But it was not purely colonial, other native assets which were pro colonial seemed to be targeted as well, already giving falseness to the order that natives would be unmolested. And anyone attempting to help the colonial assets was also removed or targetted. It helped show what it was, a native supremacist action.
But the Everchosen would never reach the corridor border.
It was rocked to one side suddenly as it was impacted by several large boarding pods, only detected at the last possible second. The crew, taken off guard, began to rally to the ships defence, only to be cut down methodically as intruders rapidly moved to take over the engineering and bridge. Soon the ship's own systems were rebelling as direct hacking began to lock the crew out of critical systems. The Everchosen was being turned against them as fierce battles erupted in the corridors.
The lightly armed Aedleshaven crew were hardened fanatics, but they were poorly equipped and no match for the heavily armed and armoured boarders that rushed forward to take chokepoints and doorways.
Soon engineering was secured, all communications with the crew there cut off entirely as the crew tried a last ditch effort to defend the bridge. The Everchosens captain, a grizzled old man who had fought during the Uprising crisis, merely stood up and cocked his pistol, aiming it at the door even as the large figures broke through the bulkhead and stormed the bridge. It was over in several seconds, he had managed to fire two shots before he realised he was lying on his back, choking on blood. Already the intruders were getting to work on consoles and plugging in equipment. One of them removed its helmet revealing a large piercing reptilian gaze
“Asset secured. The Tranatonian Empire thanks you for your hospitality” He could make out a thin smile just before the thing raised its pistol and the captain's life ended.
Aedleshaven Corridor Outskirts: Golden Expanse
It was true.
There was a gigantic Coronan fleet on its way.
Word was already flooding outwards from countless civilian ships and those military ships which were sitting back observing Aedleshaven and the evicted mining vessels. The galaxy was rapidly becoming aware of the force, and that meant only one thing. Corona was going to war, and that it intended to take the corridor by force, to secure its Ancerium monopoly with military might if it couldn't take it by economic brute force.
Already Aedleshaven was preparing its meagre fleets and defences along the border and sending calls for aid to Orillia and CONA proper. It knew that the Union and SAGA were going to come and take its Ancerium corridor, now the Coronans had made the first move to do so. And this time, the threat was truly on a scale unseen.
The Third Republic had the largest fleet in the entire galaxy single handedly and the 95,000 ship strong fleet which was on its way to Aedleshaven was only roughly half of its massive military might. No doubt they were preparing follow up waves, Corona had no chance of survival should they fail to take the corridor, and so this last ditch military attack would contain their all. Everyone's military intelligence knew that. But it didn't make the situation any easier to contain or counter.
It would take weeks for the Coronan fleet to reach the outskirts of Aedleshaven itself. Corona fleet elements were notoriously oversized and ponderous and the Coronans were making as much a political statement with their force as military. No doubt hoping that such a titanic fleet baring down upon Aedleshaven would make them surrender and merely hand over the region to Coronan occupation. Several weeks to sure up defenses, consolidate allies and prepare for war.
That alone made nations shudder.
With CONA and SAGA formed and already throwing around demands everyone guessed there would be war soon, that SAGA would inevitably move on the corridor. But there was still a chance that things could in some miracle fashion work out and back down, Orillia may have been hardline but they were not idiots, and the Union was always open to negotiation. There was always a chance no matter how small for them both to sit and talk to avoid open warfare.
Now Coronas fleet was incoming, that chance was gone. Corona would not back down, they had no reason to turn around and their only option was to steamroll the Corridors forces and secure it for themselves. Their actions guaranteed conflict, one that SAGA and CONA could not avoid and had to intervene in if they wished to survive.
The countdown to war was officially set in stone.
3 weeks.
3 weeks until the galaxy once again plunged itself into conflict.
Ancerious Galaxy: Assorted Space
Fleets mobilised.
With the timer already counting down Orillia gave the call to arms, defending Aedleshaven against Coronan and SAGA aggression and securing the corridor for natives was paramount. Massive fleet elements from Istralan alone were mobilised, rapidly linking up with other fleet groups from other nations. Each nation who contributed added up, and soon the CONA armada amounted to tens of thousands of ships. While each flew a different national symbol, all flew the banner of CONA, proudly fighting together under the pro native alliance. As it grew the support elements grew exponentially. In such a dark time the non combat baggage trains of the fleets were more important than the warships, and whole fleets of Ancerium fuel tankers, refueling vessels, supply ships and communication relay ships formed up. They would provide the fleet its integrity and fuel supply, coordinating such a mishmash of national fleets into an effective fighting force.
Even as battle elements and fleet formations were enacted more vessels joined, CONA had weeks to prepare, and they would use it to amass every single ship they could get their hands on.
SAGA was no different.
Already the Union fleets were mobilising, quickly linking up with the FRK, Carnaith and RANGSI elements. Rapidly other nation fleets began to arrive, integrating into the larger whole as they kept coming. Sarabhai sent its own forces, the Centauri, Nucleans, Jade, Esakin state, Atlantis and even the militarist elements of Capitol. It was such a mix of nations, united either by their common heritage of being colonial, or their hatred of Orillia and the control of such over the galaxy. Just like the CONA fleet, the SAGA fleet grew larger and larger, assembling its own support structure as it prepared to deploy. Plans had been drawn up already for an assault on Aedleshaven, and for many of the colonials it was almost a joke.
They had fought over Aedleshaven before, some of them like RANGSI, Carnaith, Union, Capitol and more had even fought each other over control of it. Now they were going back there, fighting together to secure the galaxy's fuel region.
For those on either side and even those who had not picked a side or refused to do so there was nothing else to do but prepare and watch, waiting with baited breath. The next few weeks would change the course of galactic history, preparations were being made, plans put in place and last minute endeavours undertaken.
The galaxy collectively held its breath even as it prepared for war.
It was one minute to midnight, and the pieces were in place.