Imperium Galactica - Book One


Prologue
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Near Salvarosov IV, Kefalonian Borderlands
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Salvarosov IV, the fourth planet of the system, was a blue-orange gas giant ringed by a plethora of moons that sparkled in the eyes of the cadets as the Kefalonian freighter Tarkiv plowed through the void towards the remote mining outpost of Tharvalos, one of the nearby moons. 


Captain Amlysia, a severe-faced middle aged Kefalonian, had her hands crossed behind her back as she stared at Tharvalos approaching on her display. 


"Helmsman, what is our approach vector?" 


"32-44, Captain." The helmsman replied, looking up from his display. 


"Give us quarter thrust and ease us into dock." 


The Tarkiv slowed and attached docking tethers to the orbital station above Tharvalos. It carried a load of iron ore six hundred thousand tons more than she weighed empty, to be unloaded into Tharvalos's massive ore refineries to be turned into the adamant steel needed to sustain the Kefalonian Navy. 


"Docking maneuvers executed. Docking tethers secured. Pressure equalization in cargo chambers at 80%." 


"Still no communications from Tharvalos Station. Odd." 


"Its redeye shift, perhaps." 


"Pressure equalised. Unloading process underway." 


The Captain nodded. There was silence until a thudding noise began. Suddenly, an explosion rocked the vessel. The Captain worked to steady herself on her feet. 


"Helmsman?" 


The young man turned to her. "We've completely lost cabin pressure in the cargo hold. We're venting atmosphere from levels 8 through 4!" He said, trying not to sound hysterical. 


"Evacuate and seal the effected quarters!" The Captain roared. "Detach tethers and get us the blazes out of here!" 


There was a flurry of activity as the helmsman and other bridge crew began the process of unlocking the ship. The vessel rocked and the sounds of screeching metal were deafening.


"We've lost the cargo hold bulkheads!" The helmsman exclaimed. 


"How?" 


"I dont know. But I'm getting reports from the crew of intruders on deck!" 


The Captain shot him a confused look, to which he merely shrugged in terrified confusion. On the viewer in front of them, the Captain turned to see small, silvery beings swarming on the hull of Tharvalos Station, with sparks flying from plasma cutters as they tore into the hull. 


The last thing that the Tarkiv bridge crew managed was to put out a distress signal indicating hostile activity. The signal traveled throughout space, reaching as far as the Galactic Centre before being drowned out in a cacophony of background radiation and tachyon chatter. 
 
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Lord-Admiral Illin Marteus 


The world was supposedly called Sanctuary by the native species. Its rising spire of glass had pierced the clouds above it, with massive sprawling cities spread out beneath them. Large oceans and forests had dotted the landscape, and Illin considered it might have been called a beautiful world once. It had been home to numerous species of aliens, each of which had lived in harmony, striving to build a better world together in a galaxy that was opposed to such a thing.


All of this passed through the Lord-Admirals mind as he watched the world burn. He was aboard his flagship, the Indominace, a massive dreadnought class vessel built for him by his homeworld upon his ascension to the rank of Lord-Admiral, the first human in the Empires history to do so. A great honor, and one he hoped to live up to. This crusade action would be his first, and would mark the start of his tally of victories.


Spread out around his flagship, the massive fleet of vessels within his crusade fleet spread out, flying through the space hulks that had once been the worlds pitiful defense fleet. The once blue and green sphere hanging in space was now nearly burned black, with numerous explosions erupting across its surface as the second wave of dropships were sent down. All reports coming from the surface spoke of little resistance from the local population. Most were in fact trying to surrender. It made Illin sick to his stomach to hear it. These cowards did not deserve to exist in the universe, if they were not willing to fight for the right to live in it. Every citizen who surrendered was executed as per his orders. There would be no survivors of the world Sanctuary.


Turning his head, he watched as an approaching Tellian ascended the dais, quickly bowing his head in respect to the Lord-Admiral before speaking in his heavily accented common. "Lord-Admiral, we are receiving a distress signal." Illin frowned at the news. "Is it coming from the world? Perhaps there are more colonies like this that need to be dealt with." Shaking his head, the Tellian, who stood just over two feet taller than Illin's own six feet, shook his bald head. "No Lord-Admiral, it is coming from a distant source."


Waving his hand, Illin turned his attention back to the feeds streaming into the bridge. "Then it is of no concern of ours. Ignore it. Contact the Second and Ninth frigate squadrons, order them to advance and begin firing on the southern continent. Those forests could be hiding survivors from the initial assault." The orders were carried out without question, for every member of every crew across the fleet knew what they were doing was right. The Empire would destroy all things in its path to conquest, and those who were to weak to fight back did not deserve to survive to see the glories of the future.


c7e23e5a0d1f35eb5e4036e12b058460.png(Most common variant of a Dreadnought Class vessel within the Empire.)
 
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Naval Base Tunton


United Systems Territory


Tunton found itself in the absence of space, flanked left to right and top to bottom with naval vessels designated under the Galactic Navy. It acted as a major stationing point for ships that were yet to receive an objective. 


A destroyer made a slow approach to the goliath of engineering and technicality. The Captain, Commander Kix Newn, sat comfortably in the Captain's Chair placed in the bridge of the destroyer known as the GNV Zweihander. 


Marines of the 22nd 'Black Mafia' Light Infantry Division marched across the hallways of the ship. Officer Sergeant Michael McMullin made way to the Mess Hall of the ship, his platoon followed his lead. 


The platoon of men and women took up a table, nauring on the nutrient substances provided.


"Officer Sergeant, what's your opinion on the shit they dub 'food'?"


"Crap's better than what they served at the Barracks when I was your pay grade."


Chuckles sounded off after the witty comment. 


The decks jolted as if something just punched through the hull. The platoon looked across the Mess Hall. The Bulkhead to the room opened and projectiles started filling the room.
 
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Construction Matrix 93248152 Subprime
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Unknown Location, Intergalactic Space 
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M was feeling... a sense of auspice as he paced up the hall from the Locator. His time spent in the Singularity had been a literal thousand years of bliss, but now he had been selected to do the real important work, out here in the real world. 


M's translucent feet fell against the infinitely cold metal floors of the Matrix, an unimaginably large machine that was about to complete its four hundred thousand year voyage from some distant galaxy that had been stripmined to nothing eons ago, down to nebulonic gas. He was not a physical being, no need for atmospheric conditioning on board. In fact, the Matrix had no atmosphere. Its iridescent black and grey metalwork was left barren to the inky chill of space. 


Reaching the Control Room, which was more like the Control City if we were being honest, M turned to focus his optical stimulators on the sky, which could be seen plainly. The Control Room was a large, raised network of metal spires that contained all the controls for the billions of automated systems the Matrix was responsible for. The whole structure was left barren to the blackness of space, and from this supreme vantage point M could see the spiraling form of the Milky Way, twirling and tumbling through the Universe. It filled him with awe. He often wondered why his people would bother to spend time in the Singularity when the outside world was so much more...beautiful. Something about it was just infinitely more beautiful in its unordered random perfection. He almost wondered if it's destruction was worth it. But now he was beginning to sound like a Doubter. Can't have that. 


"Computer," M commanded, "status report from our scouts?" 


"They have reported engagements with the natives. Their military capabilities are particularly well-developed. One species has yet to attain Galactic dominance, so we assume war is a fairly commonplace occurance." 


M nodded. This galaxy might be a chore of a thousand years, but he would bring these pesky natives to heel. He must. The survival of everything depended on it. 
 
Mining Vessel Trinity 


Edge of Coronis space


 Dallent Kell stared at the video feed in front of him. He always found stars to be so beautiful. And if they didn't have a job to do he would've spent hours watching this systems yellow dwarf.


"Status report." His crew quietly called out from their various stations. "We will reach the Rolloso astroid belt shortly captain." Called out the helmsmen. Dallent remained silent. There was no need, his crew had made this trip many times before.  


As as one of the few ships willing to venture so far out of "civilized" space the Trinity made quite the profit. Dallent let his mind wonder to what he could trade his share for. Maybe a new upgrade of the Trinity Is in order.


The helmsman spoke up again "Aproaching first target." Dallent nodded. "Proceed as normal." The crew quietly began the procedure to latch onto the huge asteroid.


"Sir." Dallent turned to the Coronis in charge of communications. Their body looked uncomfortable. 


"We're receiving a distress signal." 


"From who." The Coronis looked from the console to Dallent. "It seems to be from Kefalonian space." The Captain hummed quietly, briefly considering the options. "Pass it along to the Council, the Collective will decide if it matters. We have business to take care of."


"Yes sir." The Coronis returned to their work, and Dallent turned to watch as the Trinity attached itself to the asteroid. He had a good feeling about this rock
 
Sebastian Cluster


Sebastian Port


Allomancian Galactic Territory


"Captain?" The head of security turned. "There's a distress call from the outskirts of Kefalonia." 


"Send a message to Aid and another to Weapons. There could be some of us, or some of them."


The operator did as he was told.


Aid


"Head Doctor! We need a general help vehicle." The doctor didn't look up. "send one."


Weapons


"Corporal Hill! Distress call forwarded by security!" 


"Send a Shark. Model Zero."


"Yes, sir."
 

Site of the Distress Beacon
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Kefalonian Borderlands
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"I'm fairly certain this debris field is new, Admiral." A radarman said with a curious look on his face as he looked from his chair on the main floor of the bridge to where the admiral was standing on the platform above and behind him. Like most areas on Kefalonian ships, there was little lighting save the orange glow of display screens conflicting with the blue glow of the distant star. 


The Admiral puffed smoke on his pipe. "This is the last place we tracked the beacon to. The Tarkiv has to be here." 


"I think this debris field is the Tarkiv, Admiral, as well as the Station." 


"Merciful Maker," The Admiral whispered under his breath. He couldn't jump to conclusions, but it seemed plausible to believe that the colony was ruthlessly attacked. 


"We have satellite imagery from the surface, sir.." 


"On screen." 


Pictures began to parade across the viewer screen: Tharvalos, a once vibrant mining colony, reduced to ruin. Frozen corpses in mangled pressure suits could be seen in the thousands lying in the nitrogen snow, all the buildings were...methodically deconstructed, as if by salvagers. Remarkably thorough salvagers." 


"Somethings off here. Pirates don't take salvage and salvagers don't pick fights this big. Something is amiss." Admiral Forozov stroked his well-groomed black beard as his blue eyes scanned over the images. Fear began to grow in the pit of his stomach. 


"Admiral," the same radarman spoke up, "I'm picking up a circuital signature." 


"One of the colony robots?" 


"Perhaps. It's floating 45 degrees by 74 degrees, but its still active. Shall we activate our gravity tethers and reel it in?" 


"Let's do that. It might be able to tell us something." 


Cargo Hold, the HMS Revenant
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"What have we got, lieutenant?" 


"Are for yourself, Admiral." The lieutenant opened the curtain that obscured the viewing glass between the room they were standing in and the quarantine area of the cargo hold. 


"What is that?" The Admiral asked, looking upon a spheroid, silver-colored object with a few vestigial mechanical limbs that seemed to extend and retract as needed. On one side of the sphere, what was obviously a plasma cutter could be seen, but it looked to be broken. Forozov had never seen such a device. It's blue optical sensors extended from a cranny on its body somewhere and looked around the room piteously before letting out a low, sad chirp. 


"From what we can tell, these things are definitely the ones that destroyed the ship, station, and colony. Only, there used to be a whole lot more. This one is apparently damaged and got left behind." 


Forozov swore. "It looks like a radical new approach to scavenging drones. Now the question is who?" 
 

GNV Zweihander
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United Systems Territory
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Those within the Mess Hall had ducked for cover. Energy-based projectiles soured above the tables, now currently being used for cover against the aggressors. A Muln managed to grab an advancing attacker before repeatedly pummelling its face until it was a mangle of what appeared to be blood and bone. 


Those who had taken up position by the bulkhead were gunned down by Marines partially clad in armour and carrying a variety of weapons. It was clear they were fresh out of the ship's Armoury. 


"How the bloody Hell did they get past the scanners?" Cried one of the Marines.


"Must've bought some tech from outside the Systems' territory to do so."


A glance out of a window, and what appeared to be a fleet of small ships, roughly the size of corvettes, taking position nearby.


A battleship had passed by - the GNV Ballistic. A couple shots were fired from its cannons, leading to the unavoidable destruction of two of the opposing ships. The remaining aggressors desperately tried to return fire with what they had, only for it to be deflected of the Ballistic's kinetic shields. 


More vessels were scrambled to deal with the minor threat. Whatever just tried to put up a fight barely made a scratch.
 
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Rolloso Asroid Belt
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Edge of Coronis Space
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Mining Vessel Trinity 
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Captains Quarters
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Dallent was panicking. He paced back and forth in his quarters, visibly jumping at the ships every creak and groan. He would rather the shooting come back. Anything was better than the silence. 


He he cast a nervous glance at his door, several new dents adorning it's surface.Slam! Dallent whipped around, leveling his pistol at the wall. "Dammit." He wished that these...pirates, scavengers, Whatever those A.I considered themselves, Would just blow the damm ship and be done with it.


Thats it. Dallent marched to the door, holding his pistol at the ready. He quickly typed in the code  and watched as the door slid open, if he was going to die he wasn't going to die sitting in his cabin waiting for it.


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Council Spire
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The Core
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Councilman Lende is generally considered to be very impatient, especially for one of his kind. This is something that his aid couldn't help but reflect on as she watched him pace.


"What is taking that vote so damm long." His voice carried with it an annoyance that usually wouldn't have been possible with the standered models. 'It's for better diplomatic relations.' He had claimed. Complete lies, he just wanted more suitable for someone of his position. 


Catrin wasn't very fond of the man in front of her. "The vote is coming from ten systems at once. Patience is a virtue Councilman."


Lende shot what was assumed to be a glare at Catrin. "I know how the system works. But it doesn't change how..." He let himself trail off. But Catrin knew what he was going to say, the contempt in his voice was enough. 


Though he did have somewhat of an excuse. The distress signal had carried more weight than it had any right to. And had opened a can of worms that the Collective had done their best to avoid. Wether to worry themselves with other species or not. So far the answer had been a resounding no.  But the signal had apparently dug out feelings of sympathy. It's a situation that Catrin couldn't decide how she  about it. 


A loud tone sounded from the nearby console. The Councilman rushed to it, his metallic feet clanking against the hardened glass floor. He quickly began to flip through the finished reports and votes. 


"Well Councilman?"He hesitated a moment. "The Collective has spoken, ready a squadron." 


The aid nodded. She would fallow the Collective's wishes. Dispite how she may feel.
 

Ferraria City, Kefalonia
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The Royal Palace
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While Admiral Forozov's strikefleet was combing through the wreckage picked clean of the Tharvalos Station, the mood in the capital city of the empire was reserved and pensive. It was snowing, something it usually did during the cold season that took up about 65% of Kefalonia's annum cycle. In a distant past, this would have made living unimaginably difficult as farmers struggled to pull enough of the hardy Kefalonian wheat out of the semi-permafrost to feed their families. In more recent times, even those who still fought the age-old fight with the ground to make sustenance spring forth lived a life of comparative leisure. 


The delicate powder had settled in small clumps on the rooftops, although the heat radiating up from the city's underground electric conduit system and commuter rail tunnels often melted it away at street level, making snow plows mostly unnecessary in most parts of the city. The Palace, like most government buildings, was built into the heart of the city and from the western balcony, King Voracius could sit in his decrepency in his wheelchair and look upon his kingdom. The pseudo-Gothic skyline of statuettes and stone facades stretched on almost to the line of the horizon before terminating into frost-covered farmland. It was a beautiful city, by Kefalonian standards, built five millenia prior, and now the vibrant center of government and commerce for a great empire. 


King Voracius was a slight man. He had once measured a full seven and a half feet, but his illness and proclivity to slouch made him seem not even seven feet tall, especially when confined to his chair. He was not ashamed, merely frustrated at the inconvenience. He was of advancing age at 270 and rapidly deterioating health, he did not expect life to give him any unearned favors. He had well exceeded the age where life gives one things, and it was beginning to take them away. 


"My lord," a female voice said, waking him from a thought-trance. He turned in his chair to see his chief advisor, Kellar Senovia, in an elegant state-dress and coat, with a stack of papers. 


"These just came in on the teletype. Karpathius's son has made a gruesome discovery at Tharvalos. We were attacked." She handed him a photocopy of Forozov's handwritten cursory report. 


TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN


The men under my command have ascertained the situation and found that not only was the Tharvalos Station and the associated colony ruthlessly attacked with brazen disregard for civilian life, but the primary goal of the attack was to steal the very metals the facility was wrought of for some nefarious purpose. 


My crew have discovered what we believe to be an autonomous scavenging drone used in the attacks. They bear no national markings and their design has no parallel in any known quadrant of the galaxy. I am not qualified to speculate on the nature of the threat, but it seems abundantly apparant to me that Kefalonia has been attacked by either a state acting in a cloak-and-dagger fashion, or an organized corporate entity. More results to follow as we finish our investigation. 


DUTIFULLY YOURS, F


Voracius turned to his advisor. "Call a press conference. The public should know what we have so far." 


With that, he put both of his gnarled hands on the wheels of the chair and wheeled himself into the next room to spruce himself up. 
 
The two ships have now got about half an hour in-rp until they get to the wreck.
 
KAmber said:
The two ships have now got about half an hour in-rp until they get to the wreck.
Click to expand...

(it isn't necessary to post such blurbs, you may skip to the appropriate time as long as you don't skip over anything inconsequential. In this RP format, everyone has a lot of leniency with time skips.) 
 

Arcadia, Hermes Corporation
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Chief Executive Officer's Quarters
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Philp Ace never particularly liked the Board. It was full of the worrying sort of dreamers that were never for anything. Y'know. The types that could only view reality for what it could be. "Sure Ace," they would go, "the tribalistic convict inhabitants of the failed resort planet Gaia did string up your former Public Relations Officer with his own entrails, but maybe rehabilitation is still possible!"


He got a real kick out of showing them the footage the company satellites picked up in real-time as one of his interplanetary cargo freighters arrived and cleaned up that little patch of wild space with extreme  prejudice. Sure, he could've brought the Arcadia in, shown those savages that they were fighting against civilization, order, and, of course, good looks before pummeling their miserable planet with strike after strike from the Scipio... But he had a moral obligation to keep property values high enough to price out the riffraff with just enough money to pretend they have class.


Anyways, the Board Meetings since then became less about business and more about betting on which genetically engineered species R&D cooked up would dominate a suitably out-of-the-way planet. Which was fine with Philp.


What wasn't fine was how the third replacement of the week didn't know how to secretary. Rubbing his eyes, the C.E.O. of the largest corporate state of the known universe let the buzzer go a few more times until he picked up the hololine. "Your Boss and the only-thing-between-you-and-the-outside-of-an-airlock speaking."


She didn't skip a beat. Probably because the head of H.R. caved in to pressure quicker than Arcadia's disputably structurally-intact family park. "The item you requested has been reverse engineered and uploaded into your 3D printer for use."


Ace couldn't cut the connection quick enough. Jumping up his luxurious couch comprised entirely of, quote, "not baby leather" unquote, he leisurely strolled to his desk and activated the printer.


He struggled to choke back tears of joy as the marvel of engineering literally assembled before his eyes. "Oh Honey, you shouldn't have."
 
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[FONT= 'Courier New']Naval Base Lunton, Command Centre[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']United Systems Territory[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']A crew of command personnel could be found seated behind desks displaying holographic imagery and statistics, sinking in the crinkled synthetic leather that had coated their chairs. They had bore witness to the small skirmish. What had been several attackers was now simply a field of debris in the cold vacuum of space. [/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']The station's Captain, Admiral Bic Candary, eyed the remains of the aggressors. He turned towards the Command Centre's Artificial Supervisor Unit.[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']"Mustang, complete a full analysis of debris, bearing 320, approx twenty five klicks away."[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']The A.S.U. program took a moment of time carrying out the instruction given by the Admiral, before finally responding with, "No organic signatures coming up. It appears what just launched this attack was completely autonomous."[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']The Admiral scratched his beard his beard, processing the thought that had just entered his mind.[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']"Master Lieutenant Vicks, establish communications with Hermes. Likely those buggars have got something to do with this."[/FONT]


[FONT= 'Courier New']The Telecommunications Officer did as commanded. The Admiral wasn't too sure on who it was, but he was determined to discover the origins of the attackers.[/FONT]


@Pat
 
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Arcadia, Hermes Corporation
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Customer Service Division, Complaints Department
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The Customer Service Division of the Hermes Corporation was a large, though understaffed and overworked location located deep within the bowels of the Arcadia. Second only to maintenance in utilitarian decor, their daily workload normally concluded with the departure of a Orbital Drop Pod to the IP address the call was traced to, the Complaints Department doubly so.


Naturally, the ringa-ling from the United Systems Admiral was a fresh change of pace, and their gratitude was reflected by the efficiency the team as a whole displayed in forwarding the message up the chain of command as soon as it was clarified that the problem wasn't the often frightening and emotionless success of the Hermes product line in dispatching foes, but rather, it's suspected participation in an attack on Naval Base Lunton and ultimate failure.


 
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Arcadia, Hermes Corporation
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Chief Executive Officer's Quarters
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Ace tore his eyes away from the magnificent sight before him to once again passive-aggressively answer his secretary's repeated interruptions. After the situation was explained to him, he took the forwarded call and answered with a casual 'yello' while pulling up his personal starmap.


@AxelWelrod
 
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Coronis Space
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Military Starbase Vinra 
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The Frigate Clash
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Captains Quarters
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Captain Dellin was having a peaceful day. Military forces are rarely called on and if so usually for scouting or brief patrols. So when the call came that they and their sister ship The Ironwall were being called on it came as a surprise. Even more-so when he read that they were being sent off to another one of the species.


He mentally sighed as he turned from his view-port, video screens made to look like windows, and marched out of his room. No sense in delaying things further, it was time to go meet the Klefonians and try and 'Present the greater galactic community with the better side of us.' 


Once at his chair on the bridge overlooking officers busily checking systems he gave the signal to the navigators to start the jump. He just hoped that the Collective didn't make a mistake. 


---------------------------------


@Shireling
 
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Above Tharvalos
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Kefalonian Borderlands
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By the time the Collective's ships arrived at Tharvalos, a week in local time had passed since the signal had first been broadcast. Because no jumpgates existed between Tharvalos and anywhere in Collective space, their flotilla was forced to slog through the hyperspatial ether for a week at least before arriving at their destination. 


When they did arrive, preliminary scans detected that they were about to exit hyperspace in the middle of a heretofore uncategorized debris field. After making necessary coarse adjustments, the flotilla emerged from the slipstream just outside the preliminary orbital of the moon, Tharvalos. 


The moon itself was an orange-ish, cloud-covered, frigid planetoid far from the distant light of the system's sun and relatively far from the jovian-sized gas giant that it orbited. Primary atmospheric readings detected a mostly toxic mix of nitrogen and methane, seismic activity was regular but relatively mild, and the northern portions of the planet were covered in an orangish iron-enriched nitrogen snow. Surface temperatures ranged from 110 to 80 below centigrade, and the wind was brutally cold. It was, by all means, a barren rock. 


But the imagery told a different story. The skeletons of metal buildings, the sheet of the walls picked clean off the frame, remained standing. Piles of petrified corpses could be seen almost buried in fresh snow, and the remnants of a once vibrant ore refining colony were plainly evident from the city-sized refining structures that had been picked down to skeletal structures of adamant beams that were rusted and bent and only have a glimpse into what the building that once stood there might have looked like. 


Mirroring this, an extensive debris field circled the planetoid but was showing signs of thinning out. It was all satellite material: scraps of metal, nuts and bolts, and corpses, articles of clothing and other assorted trapments of living things. 


The only sign of continued life emerged from behind a rather large chunk of debris that was disrupting their scanners. It was a Kefalonian strikefleet, comprised of eight hulking dreadnoughts, intimidating specimens of a domineering naval power, their heavy guns turned out to the cosmos in various directions in a sign of vigilance. But patrol was not what they were engaged in. One could see the tell-tale trail of excited particles as the ships used their gravity tethers to latch onto corpses floating in the aether and reel them in, presumably to assure a respectful disposal of the remains. 


The largest of the ships was the capital ship. In an unfamiliar language was scrawled the name of the ship. All of the vessels were beautiful works of art, crafted of iridescent metals that reflected the sunlight in queer ways trimmed with pure white decorative structures such as buttresses and spires that would befit a cathedral. So far, the ships had not made contact or seemed to have noticed the presence of the foreigners. 


@Serious Face
 

Kefalonian Borderlands
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Bridge of Frigate Clash
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Dellin looked on as images continued to pass through the view-ports of the bridge. As soon as they had entered his crew were busy scanning the system and the various debris.


"Begin compiling potential attackers. I expect a detailed report readie before we leave."


The order was sent through the coms to the scanning room. It probably wasn't needed but it should put a bit of pep into them.


He stood from his chair and griped the metal handrail. "Engines keep us here and remain watchful of the debris." He looked out at the large, strangely shaped vessels. He wondered what they thought of the Coronis ships, with their thick, box-like design. Simple and to the point. He shook his head, he needed to focus. No point in drifting off now. 


"Communications are you able to contact them." The reply came from across the room. "Attempting as we speak captain." He sighed aloud and returned to his seat, metal feet making small clanking noises against the cold metallic floor. "Affirmative. Inform me when you get something." The captain remained silent, the feeling of nervousness entering his mind. 


--------------------------------


@Shireling
 

Bridge of the Revenant
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"Sir, we're being hailed." 


Admiral Forozov, dressed in a nightrobe and carrying a small electric torch for light, stumbled into the bridge. The bridge was usually rather dim, but because it was night by the ship's own enforced timeframe, the lighting in most parts of the ship was dimmed down to ambient levels, and on the bridge only the lights of the display screens prevailed. 


Forozov, gaining his wits from a slumber he had been taking in his cabin, rubbed sleep from his eyes as he instinctively reached for an automated tea machine to get a refreshing cup of the all-too-necessary herbal concoction. He took a sip and turned off his torch, stowing it in the pocket of his blue nightgown with the naval insignia of the Sun and Starship emblazoned on the breast. 


"Who is hailing us?" 


"Their signatures are Coronis, Admiral." The bleary-eyed comms officer yawned. 


"Coronis? What are they doing here? On screen." 


"Gladly, Admiral." 


In milliseconds, a video conference had been arranged between the two vessels. The Coronis on the other end would see a humanoid creature in Forozov, human in all manner of appearance but with a definite hard and hardy build and facial structure. He held a tea cup in one hand with steam rising off of it. His black beard was immaculately groomed, his eyes as blue as Earth's skies on a clear day. 


"Greetings, I am Admiral Kasparar Forozov, commander of the Revenant." 


@Serious Face
 

Naval Base Lunton, Command Centre
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United Systems Terrirtory
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The Admiral turned his head towards the telecommunications console as soon as he could hear the distinctive - yet agitating - voice of the Chief Executive Officer of the Hermes Corporation. He made an approach towards the console and made sure he was within a range in which he could be heard by the CEO.


"This is Admiral Bic Candary, current Commanding Officer of Naval Base Lunton, location: classified." He had begun his introduction as required.


"Approximately 20 minutes ago, at 09:57 Domum Time, an unknown aggressive force launched a raid against the perimeters of Lunton. We have suspected the autonomous vessels to share origins with the Hermes production line." He had declared in his speech.


"To prove whether this is true or false, we require you to send an official to Lunton for analysis of the debris. They will be required to travel to these classified co-ordinates. Failure to comply will result with action taken by the Universal Court of Justice. How do you respond?"


@Pat
 
Lord-Admiral Illin Marteus


"You are telling me there is a space station...in the middle of no where." The man was in a small cell deep inside his flagship, kneeling on the floor of the cell was a bruised and bloodied merchant. He had been unfortunate enough to jump into the system where the crusade fleet had currently been moored undergoing minor repairs. Boarding parties secured the merchant vessel within minutes, and slaughtered all non essential personnel. The captain and first officer were taken captives, and the ships logs and data core were downloaded. Illin had begun the interrogation minutes later.


Within the cell, the Kreg soldiers standing next to the captain hauled the figure back to an upright position, before delivering another blow to his shoulder. The resounding crack of bone and the captains cry leaving no doubt that his left arm and shoulder were shattered now. "The Lord-Admiral asked you a question." The deep baritone voice of the Kreg shook the man even further, and as he cradled his limp arm, he began speaking quickly, describing the station, and the government that controlled it. Looking over to the side of the cell, the first officer of the ship hung loosely in a set of chains suspending him off the ground. Walking over to him, Illin slapped the man across the face, rousing him from his sleep. 


"Your captain has given me what I want to know. And for the plan I have in mind, I really only need one of you..." Grabbing the mans neck, Illin turned to look at the captain, whom the Kreg had similarly forced to look. Drawing his knife from his belt, Illin snapped the blade across the mans neck, and as his body spasmed, Illin walked over and cleaned the blood on the captains tattered shirt. "Thank you for your time captain. We will be sending you on your way." Nodding to the Kreg, the captain was hauled to his feet and dragged out of the room by his broken arm, his cries of pain heard down the hall until the door closed behind them. 


The captain was returned to his damaged vessel, and a return course was set towards the station he spoke of. It entered slipspace and made its way back.
 
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