ValinoreanDawn
Namarië
The empires of the future are the empires of the mind.-Ancient Terran Saying
Nausican songbirds, genetically modified avians bred for their melodious tunes and bright coloration, provided a gorgeous acapella to the blooming pinks and whites of the garden around which a woman in a stark white dress sat. A simple garb saves for the silver plating along the neck and hem. The gentle rolling of the stream wound its way across the manicured groves and lawns of the Garden. The Garden of Empress Quintara, the woman's paternal great-great grandmother and one of the several Empress-Regnants in the long history of the Galactic Imperium. To call it a favored spot for the woman in white was an understatement. For her vary apartments had been set in the vast marble white walls of the neighboring palace complex that ringed the Gardens in a semi-circle. Spanning an arc of 30 kilometers from end to end. One of the smaller palaces and part of the network of vast complexes built on this world for the Imperial House. Odin. A paradise world, a natural gem fine-tuned by expert imperial planetologists. From the highly favorable weather patterns, natural lush forests, great waterways of crystal clear and blue hued water. Oceans teaming with fish and aquatic mammals. A world largely untouched for its population was solely concentrated in the service and maintenance of the Imperial residences and properties on the planet. A planet sized retreat. Odin, is where the members of the Emperor's Household would retire to get away from the Courts of Nova Terra and the layers, web upon web, intrigue and plotting. It is where this woman in white stays long weeks musing through books and manuscripts and writing her own personal treatises.
A silver stylus touched the page nestled on the small writing plinth set up before her,
What endangers Empires is the allowance of ulterior agendas to become tolerated dissidence. In the spirit of this it has come to my attention from my own trusted sources, my birds, that four legions have amassed at the Imperial staging grounds on Signus Prime. For what purpose I could not glean. My Father has kept all transmissions of this encrypted to the point were even I cannot access them. The Record Chronicles of whatever plans locked away in the Vaults of Nova Terra.
"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," came a gentle voice from behind the woman in white.
The woman turned, her statuesque beauty catching the rays of the Odin Sun, "Father." She spoke with a smile. Matched by his own. The man, The Tsaraj-Emperor of the Known Universe, moved beside his daughter. A servant in plain white coming up quickly into view to place a padded chair down. The Emperor sat gingerly. He did not look old, perhaps middle aged, a man in his 40s or early 50s. But his eyes showed many more decades in them.
"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," he peered at his daughter with a side-eye. His daughter smiled and responded knowingly, "A man of the mind is a man of foresight."
"Tertullon of Halicyon was always a favorite of yours, Valeria."
"A world known for its philosophers and mathematicians and Tertullon always insisted his works spoke of the arithmetic of the soul."
"Arithmatic of the soul. Reality down to figures."
"Is not all around us the calculations of our universe's mechanics?"
"I would prefer to enjoy the songbirds, but as a father I am always impressed by your intellectual pursuits."
Valeria kept her smile as she fiddled with her silver stylus. "Father, I--." The Emperor held up a hand to silence her. Yet his movements were gentle. "Quandary."
Valeria nodded, "Answer?" This was a game he often played with his children. Typically ending in some teachable practicum or morale lesson. "A man, born of generations of success, is reaching a point of being able to sway a disproportionate amount of influence in the Rhaumsraad via a network of fealty. While holding several directorships in the Combine and also, " the Emperor placed a small piece of silver vellum on the table before Valeria. Golden script flowing along it, "Seeking to marry into the highest of thrones. What do you do."
"Is it a given that you do not want the marriage to go through."
"Yes."
"Why?" she peeked at the words on the silvered page. Her eyes widening when she read her name.
"While I love all my children it has become clear that you are the successor. At least to a number of individuals within the Rhaumsraad. You are unwed and not betrothed and thus to gain your hand is the best chance to unseat us. How would you respond?"
"I would decline."
"And what if this individual has begun to pressure the Rhaumsraad to steer towards their own agenda and to decline would signal for more direct confrontations in such an assembly. To shift the delicate balance to our disadvantage."
"How would we know they are against us."
"Interesting legislation was put forth by Count Fulk of House Perellon that is antithetical to our own interests. I will not go into the specifics."
Valeria perked up at the mention of the Count. Fulk was one of the most powerful men in the Rhaumsraad and had grown increasingly Pro-Rhaumsraad power vs status quo in recent years. House Perellon over several generations had grown to control several highly populated worlds rich in resources and dozens of other lesser worlds. Its power only checked by the ongoing war between the Perellonese and their neighbors, Houses Oserian and Vatatzes.
"I would not risk the political fallout of a direct confrontation. Rather, I would seek to empower their opponents to drain their resources and curb their growth."
So, it is against House Perellon that my father plots against. Count Fulk, 58 Standard Years, not married but via legitimate concubinage produced two daughters. Amire and Betera. Betrothed to houses Skylitzes and Koiran. A move that would produce an alliance spanning over two hundred worlds and rulership of over one hundred and sixty billion people. Add in the network of extended alliances and this figure reaches more than tenfold.
"By the book but a reliable tactic. Save such meddling could be expected."
"Then perhaps a longer approach would have been optimal. To ensure a swift decapitation of the opponent before they were even aware of the struggle."
"Yes, that would be best now wouldn't it. My thoughts were exactly that my dear daughter."
"You already have moved against them?"
The Emperor let out a wry smile, "The lesson of this conversation is to try and predict the conversation before it happens. You give technically sound but predictable responses. But I've already moved the pieces on the board and your initiative is long gone."
Fulk had walked these very Gardens as a boy. Even been tutored by the man seated beside her in decades past. What had befallen in that time where they would be enemies? Did Fulk underestimate the capriciousness of Emperors? To have already sown the seeds of striking at a Great House with such speed would have required years if not decades of planning. Did my father plant these seeds to sprout if Fulk ever positioned himself against the Emperor? A boy at that time and my father had already schemed a plan to kill him should he grow up to be a threat.
"What will become of the Count's children?"
"You were close to them once, yes? When they stayed here in the tutelage of the Imperial Court."
"Yes, but that was long ago."
The Emperor turned to his daughter for a moment then looked away and relaxed to the tune of the birds. "They will receive what they deserve."
Perella, Homeworld and Namesake of House Perellon
Perella was a comfortable world. Civilized, wealthy, with great cities carefully planned and woven with greenery belts. Wide canals and elegant bridges for pedestrians, ground cars, and the narrow great routes of the mag-levs. Arching aqueducts brought in fresh water from the vast glaciers in the mountains that semi-surrounded the capital city of Maizere. Sprawling architecture of elegant, fluted temples and churches, spires of gems and gilded tiles, punctuated the vast religious district of the city. While residences flanking neatly spaced streets lined with evergreen trees sprawled out in neat grids across 66,000 square kilometers.
Now, the boulevards were packed by throngs of festive crowds and parading forces of the Count. For today was the eldest daughter Amire's birthday and the Count had declared it an impromptu holiday. Thus, the factories and workshops emptied. Hands and ranchers came in from the surrounding green hills and forests to the cities. It was a jubilant affair while the Lady Amire herself readied herself for the celebrations to be held at the Kazyr Palace in the Mountains to the South of the city. Their white caps giving way to golden forests of birch and fiery maple.
A dress of deep-sea blue and matching sapphire earrings surrounded by gold and a diamond necklace was what Amire had chosen for the occasion. Her blonde hair done up in flowing locks. Leaving her wardroom to the fawning smiles of many and the austere loving gaze of a man with short blonde hair and trimmed beard. Her father, Count Fulk, who took her by the hand and out the doors of the main family residence in the capital. The old castle like fortress of Castle Perella. A foreboding citadel itself containing a hundred square kilometers of space within its walls. Guards with polished cuirasses to a mirror sheen and fluted helmets with bright blue bonnets and crests stood at attention. Antiquated spears at attention before them while another guard opened the door to an awaiting aerial limousine.
"Lovelier than all the stars in the sky," said Fulk as he gave his daughter a hug at the top of the steps before resuming their walk down.
"Dad, please, are you sure you will not be coming to Kazyr?"
"Who said I'm not coming?" shot back Fulk with a concerned look.
Amire rolled her eyes, "Amire, she says you'll be busy with matters of state."
Fulk made a joking scoff, "I would never miss your birthday. Fret not, I will arrive in the evening in time for cake. Betera better be there as well." He held up a finger in mock threat. The younger daughter was very much the black sheep of the family and had stated she would be out shopping before retiring to Kazyr for the later festivities.
They stopped before the limousine and Fulk gently lowered her daughter onto the cushioned seat, "Enjoy the party my starry sky."
"Dad, stop," she said with a blushing smile. Fulk closed the door with a soft click and waved as the aerial limousine gently lifted away towards the southern mountains.
Kazyr itself was perched on a high hill surrounded by birch and maple woodlands. Gentle trails spread through the woods and largely kept open to the public at Fulk's order. Now, its perimeter was closed for the private festivities of the elder daughter of the Count's eighteenth birthday. Kazyr itself was a structure of red brick and white stone constructed in the fashion of the ancient castles of mythological Jermania. One of the legendary and probably fictional nations of Lost Terra. The architects combing through scraps of details to construct a structure that was fanciful in its use of elevated levels and buttresses. Allowing it to rise high from the hill but take up less square meters of space. A spacious courtyard of elegant mosaics and hydroponically kept palm trees decorated the grounds.
Amire could hardly contain herself when the aerial limousine touched down and the door opened by a suited footman. Hollars and yells from hundreds of guests in elegant outfits raised glasses to her arrival. A day of celebration and memories she could only dream of about to unfold as a band began to strum their instruments off to the side.
House Perella Orbital Control Station
Muffled footsteps sounded as a man in the blue and white uniform of the House Perellon Naval Service strode into the large circular command and control room of the station. Wide windows, not real windows of course, but with photo realistic depictions captured by video feeds allowed a complete degree of viewing for the surrounding orbital space over the planet of Perella. The man yawned and stretched his neck as he went to look out some of the windows. Steam rising from a cup in his hand. The smell of the fresh brewed cafe gave an enticing and pleasurable scent as the steam wafted up to his nostrils.
"Commodore, all quiet out there. Not even guild ships for the last six hours."
The Commodore turned and glanced at a 3-dimensional holographic map of the Perellan star system. Its main sequence yellow star in the center along with the other six planets, three of which were gas giants, in their various orbits. The asteroid belt that separated the gas giants from the inner three worlds forming a wide ring of its own. Dozens of icons showed the inter-system traffic. Freighters coming and going to stations and mining colonies. Passenger liners coming from the inhabited agricultural world of Pyxis which was slightly closer to the system's star yet still close enough to Perella to give spectacular planetary rises a few times a year. Then there was the industrial world of Perella Minor, a barren but resource rich world further out yet still within the habitable zone of the system. All in all, 12 billion people lived within the star system. Nine of whom lived on Perella itself.
"What's this?" said the Commodore as he indicated an icon denoting a squadron of Perellonese warships heading to the last gas giant in the system.
One of the Control station staff, an ensign, turned, "Admiral Horan dispatched Vice-Admiral Pelletz' command to investigate why a trio of Guildships had entered and left the system two weeks back. The Commodore took a sip of his cafe and looked out another window. The Naval Service had gathered the majority of the House Fleet for the celebrations on the planet below and for various maintenance schemes. The Count was wishing to expand the fleet by adding twenty more hulls. Already the fleet over matched their principal opponents in Houses Oserian and Vatatzes combined. But the fortunes of the House had grown and grown and thus with each Count the power of the House's military ballooned. As such the large commercial orbital docks around the world were joined by the vast anchorage of the House's Navy. Capable of servicing over one hundred vessels at a time.
The Commodore took a second sip and spoke again, more to himself than anyone in the room, "Quiet, good, thats what I like to see."
Moving over to the outer system scanning team he looked over a brunette human woman's head, a man with graying hair bearing the insignia of a lieutenant was typing furiously on a computer console, as he brought up data pertaining to a commercial bulk trawler named the Spring's Coming.
The Commodore moved over to the man, “Ice trawler? Anything I should know about?”
“Not sure, Sir. The Spring's Coming has been out in the outer belt collecting ice for the water market on the desert planet of Sahar-El. But there was a very brief, only a couple seconds, radio burst from the ship before it went dark for twenty minutes.”
“Ship is fine now though, right?” said the Commodore as he ran a hand through his black hair. His olive skin not helping to hide the bags under his eyes.
“Well, we think so but there is something about the transmission...” The woman adjacent began dialing in some knobs while the lieutenant to her left added, “The ship gave standard reporting and operating procedure kickbacks exactly twenty minutes and six seconds after going dark. Report log listed a communication glitch and possible computation error in its navigational system. It will be checking in at Commercial Dockyard 7 to have it looked at.”
“Alright, good, send that report up to NAVCOM for their analysts to take a look at it. What about the transmission?” The Commodore leaned down as the brunette-haired ensign pressed play. A crackle over her console's audio speakers for then a blurb of something. Something definitely audible.
“Play that back?”
The ensign played it back and there it was again, a blurb of something popping. At least it sounded like popping to the ears of all three present. “Okay, send that up to NAVCOM too. Keep a scope on it just in case.”
“Aye, Commodore,” The sensor reading of the ice trawler drawing ever closer.
Nodding the Commander rolled his neck in a nice relaxing stretch as he maneuvered in a large circle about the bridge. Checking in at various posts before he wound up looking out the wide view ports down at the planet below. The surface under him gradually going from light to dark as the hours past below on that rotating orb. Before him the vast array of the House Naval Yards. The Kala'den Commercial Shipyards and Wharves. The System Communication Array and NAVCOM Headquarters. All arrayed in a vast network of metal girders, Geo-synchronous structures, or cresting the massive, towering spires of the planets eight space elevators.
Night settling over the Western Hemisphere of Perella. Its five oceans and six continents sandwiched between two pleasant stark white polar ice caps. The Commodore took another sip.
“Spring's Coming you are clear for approach vector in system. Hold onto charted course line 47-3-B. You will be given a signal for final approach on my mark.”
Checking his wristwatch the Commodore enjoyed the sight below him before closing his eyes for a moment to relax. The space before him alight with thousands of craft and ships. Mostly civilian. But hundreds of warships of the Navy were mustered or in dockyard berths arrayed neatly like a massive three-dimensional fabric lattice.
“Spring's Coming adjust course. Spring's Coming you are moving off course. Spring's Coming do you read?”
The Commodore nearly choked on his next sip as he heard these words from the brunette ensign's mouth. Growing sterner by the syllable. Turning around swiftly the Commodore rushed over. “What is it Naveen?”
“Spring's Coming just ignored our hails. They're off course, and every second a data spike is being sent out somewhere near the outer gas giant.” The Commodore looked at the sensor readings. The Spring's Coming was not going to hit them but was now moving well off course. “Try to raise them again. Notify NAVCOM and Admiral Horan that we have a possible problem.”
“Spring's Coming just went full thrust!” spat the lieutenant seated off to the right. Collision alarms and warning klaxons blared as the Spring's Coming main plasma drives ignited. Cycling rapidly up to full power as the two-kilometer-long bulk hauler began to accelerate exponentially.
“Signal w-!”
“SHIP LAUNCHING CRAFT!” came a frantic scream of a shout from behind him. From the tactical team behind him. The Commodore turned to watch the central viewing screens to see four smaller pod like craft with claws shoot out of the side of the Spring's Coming towards the Command & Control station. Within seconds the craft ignited their fusion cutters. Blasting and slicing into the station as its clawlike mandibles anchored the pod like bodies of the craft. It was all happening in a matter of seconds.
The Spring's Coming went beyond normal safety parameters for acceleration. Red lining its core as the ship rapidly approached an appreciable fraction of light speed. The ice hauler rocketed past the Command & Control Station to collide first with the Kala'den Commercial Shipyards. Smashing through steel girders. Four civilian ships and two bulk freighters were annihilated by the impact while a spherical construction platform bearing three hulls under construction was annihilated a second later. The Spring's Coming continued on as debris rained out in all directions. The deaths of twenty thousand dock workers behind it.
Crashing into Battleship Row, grazing the carrier Ralliere, and ripping the fore-third of the cruiser Demtre away in a shower of alloy and steel. The ice hauler continued on its orbital rampage unabated. Its momentum seeming unassailable as it impacted the NAVCOM headquarters station in a thunderous detonation. Thirty-six thousand navy personnel died as the structure went critical. The ice hauler, now a massive slag heap of red-hot metal, erupted from the back of the station and careered on its orbital death arc to crash into the System Communications Array. The debris and devastation of its path an expanding cloud of orbital debris. Sixty-seven other ships were destroyed by the expanding debris outright as several damaged ships died at their berths as munitions or reactor cores went critical. The Battleship, three and a half kilometers long, Lacreion, smashed from its girders now listed freely. Its drives off and half of its crew having died from the exceedingly violent impact. Drifted like a bird struck midflight toward the planet below. A plume of smoke and debris following it as the mighty warship began its death dive. Aft first.
Forty-three other ships were heavily damaged. Twelve others listed from damage to cause further havoc.
The Commodore dropped his half drank cup of cafe onto the floor as he could only watch the horror unfold before him in a matter of seconds. milliseconds of damage translating into cascading waterfalls of subsequent terror as the debris of the ice trawlers suicidal charge expanded at a fraction of light speed. Shredding lightly armored craft in a hailstorm of razor metal. Habitation units vented. Industrial complexes suffered hull integrity failure. The Spring's Coming ripped out the other side of the System Communication Array, enough of its punch robbed to come out like a shotgun blast of several fiery pieces, cascading to strike the the habitation orbital rings around the nearest space elevator. Over a hundred thousand homes had their interiors, within the span of seconds, given over to the cold embrace of hard vacuum.
A heavy hand gripped his shoulder, he turned, it was the lieutenant. “Commodore!”
It was then that he registered the other alarms. SECURITY BREACH, DECKS 27, 42, 51, AND 103. SECURITY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED. ALERT. SECURITY BREACH.
The message repeated and in the distance else where in the station he could hear the thuds of weapons fire. “Close off the bridge! Secure the area. Alert all commands! We're under attack!”
The deep space observation officer, another lieutenant, whipped his head around, “Incoming contacts from the outer gas giant. Two hundred plus vessels of various chassis inbound.”
The Commodore looked above, “Mother of Mercy.” The enemy fleet, no doubt fed data last minute from the Spring's Coming had made a calculated acceleration from the other side of the gias giant and now was being picked up by the House Pelleron sensor network.
"Raise Vice-Admiral Pelletz immediately!"
The icon of Vice-Admiral Pelletz squadron winked out of existence at the map table. No doubt caught by surprise and annihilated in a first strike.
His subordinates dashed over to the security panel as the lights in the bridge twinkled for a moment. A boom below them sounded. People were screaming blood curdling wails in the hallway. A hand smacked the emergency release protocols. Right as a pair of Navy personnel came sprinting frantically around the corner of the hallway. “Stop!”
The emergency blast doors shut on them. Their fists banging as the man and woman that rounded the corner screamed for them to open the doors. Their cries soon matched by rapidly approaching foot falls. Heavy foot falls. Their screams rose to ear splitting, hair raising, shrill wails before blood gurgling groans as silhouetted figures with drawn blades and boarding axes came into view.
“Draw your side arms.” said the Commodore. Behind him the blast shutters lowered to shield their view ports. Everyone, the Commodore included, drew their pistols or short swords and pointed them at the blast doors. The sound of something on the other side made the Commodore cautiously step back. Then it clicked in his head. “Get do-!”
Slagged metal shot inwards as plasma charges detonated. Three of the bridge crew were blown back bodily. Naveen was killed by shrapnel to the throat, skull, and chest. The deep space observation officer was thrown bodily back to have what amounted for his spine snap back across his console in a sickening manner. The lieutenant took a dart to the throat and collapsed in a heap. Then another bridge crew member, then another. The Commodore opened fire. Beams of energy rapidly cycling into the vapors of the Plasma discharge. The thrum of shields absorbing the laser beams of his pistol presaged the rushing attackers as they stormed into the room. The Commodore's last sight being the downward arc of a boarding combat axe.
Kayzr Palace
The first fireworks for her birthday streaked into the sky as the Sun finally dipped below the horizon. Allowing the afterglow of twilight to diminish enough for the festivities to transition to the elaborately planned firework display. The party goers looked up at the sky in awe as greens, blues, and purples blossomed into a variety of shapes and bursts. Some classic starburst pattern, others in animal shapes, others in multi-stage almost life like pictograms. The glow of a firework lingered behind the display. The glow? Then another, and another, then dozens if not hundreds of orange-red glows punctuated the atmosphere. Falling through the atmosphere in flames at terminal velocity was hundreds of objects wrought by the destruction of Spring's Coming's kamikaze strike. The crowd of the world's elite stood silently until the first impacts. In the distance and then nearer as hundreds of objects ranging from small car few meters across to the size of ground cars or even houses smashed into the ground. Casting fire and throwing up dust with their impacts.
That was when the screaming started as people rushed to the doors, to inside, to anywhere. Amire could only look around in terror until a pair of guards grabbed her and ushered her to a staircase leading to into a sub-level. An emergency bunker. Several guests made to follow but the guards drew their blades and shouted them to get back as they closed the doors behind them. Amire's last sight of the sky being the clouds parted by the bulk of the battleship Lacreion as it sank from the heavens to impact a hundred and fifty miles North. Vaporizing the towns in the area as its massive fusion-fission reactor detonated with all the force of a small sun.
The thermal wave catching forests fifty miles across the impact zone alight instantly. While the blast wave rushed and shattered millions of windows as it traveled through villages and into the capital city itself. Plumes of brown dust clouds spreading out to block the sky as ash and soot filled the air.
Maizere Western Shopping District
Betera coughed dust and grit as she turned over and crawled to prop herself up by a building. Glass shards and debris covered the ground as a shockwave swept through the streets. Unknowingly for her due to the death of Lacreion. She glanced around as the world around her was filled by the aftershock. The silence given over to screams and moans. Shouts and cries. Looking to her left she saw her aide sprawled, dead, on the curb. She shakingly got her feet and began to trudge absent mindedly out to the corner of the street in front of what was a clothing store. The deep bur of air raid sirens throughout the city coming to life as the shimmer of the city's shield came to life. While in security outposts throughout the city the lights of spotters illuminated the night sky.
Catching the silhouettes of various conical objects coming down by gravity assisted retrojets. Touching the shield and arresting their fall until they could slowly pass through the shield. That was when the city's AA defenses opened up with streams of laser and tracer fire. Blossoms of aerial detonations as conical objects, bombs, were intercepted by ground-based batteries. But beyond them is what caused Betera to pause. The night sky was punctuated by various silhouetted objects. Ships and attack craft descending from orbit. She began to run East towards theCastle districtt with sudden purpose.
Castle Perella
"What the blazes is going on," shouted Fulk as he arrived in the sub-level located ten meters below the ground, underneath the Castle, that served as the emergency strategy bunker. The other men in the room were his Generals and Advisors that had been at the Castle when the attack had occurred.
"We lost contact with NAVCOM immediately. Presumably the Admiralty is gone and Pelletz' squadron was annihilated in a first strike," said a man in the tan uniform of the House Army. General Thedien Mede, Imperial Savant, and longtime servant of House Perellon.
"Naval assets in orbit?"
"It's chaotic up there. The enemy moved rapidly and has taken orbital superiority."
"How did they get passed our system defenses?"
"No one is sure beyond the kamikaze strike."
"Ground based defenses. We can repel the enemy from Perellon."
"Yes, my lord."
"The enemy?" This time it was a question of clarification.
"House Oserian and Vatatzes ships have been identified by ground-based observers landing around the capital. A number of our ground side bases got destroyed in orbital strikes before they could raise shields. But now we're scrambling all we have."
"Secure orbital elevators and logistic lines. Get my daughters down here. Where is Amire and Betera?"
"Amire is transiting through the emergency tunnels from Kayzr to here. I have soldiers looking for Betera now."
The Count moved to the large holographic display of the world and the various military icons it displayed. The Perellon sensor network was highly compromised now but still there was a wealth of information on display. The Count spoke again, "Two hundred ships plus change, that is most of their fleets. Troop counts?"
"What intelligence we can gather is at least one hundred and twenty divisions."
The Count blinked, that was practically the entire army of both those houses. Over two million men apiece. But he had more even battered and bruised. "Mobilize to defend the cities and key assets."
"Sir, the enemy is mainly landing around the capital. General Vedding is mobilizing for the defense of the capital area."
The count looked at the data on display. The military forces in the city, the city garrison of one hundred thousand men and nearby bases that fell under the city-wide shield had escaped the initial assault unscathed. Additionally, there was surviving bases in the mountains that were beginning to mobilize towards the capital via underground mag-lev lines. This would triple the defenders. One might think he was still horribly outnumbered but that negated the bigger picture. The enemy was landing in various other points on Perellon to secure the world. This would spread them out enough were he could repel them in detail.
Two Hours Later
Amire practically flung herself into her father's arms when she arrived in the bunker. "Father!"
"Yes, yes I know."
"What of Betera, is she--," Amire was about to burst into tears when Fulk pulled her close again, "She's strong like you. She's on her way to us now." General Thedian kept silent at this lie. Truth be told they had not yet found Betera and now there was fighting all along the perimeter of the city between Oserian and Vatatzes troops and the Pelleronese. Fulk pulled away as a situation report began, Amire stood behind her father with an aide to serve her, as another officer in the stripes of a Colonel indicated various places on the holographic maps of the planet and the city itself.
"The enemy has surrounded the city and cut the surface mag-lev lines. Fighting continues in the outskirts." Elsewhere on the planet things were shifting as local commanders fought their own battles. Coordination difficult with the deteriorated communications and sensor network of House Pelleron. Not to mention orbital based jamming. But the numbers were on their side.
The lights inside the bunker flickered for a moment and a military aide came up with a new report, handing it to the Colonel, "Marzan district has fallen. Colonel Shradden's troops have fallen back to the outer U-Mag Line northern sector. The Colonel indicated the outer most surface mag-lev ring within the city perimeter."
General Mede glowered, "Marzan, so quickly. How?"
"Unsure, the defense was shattered in an hour and communications broke down. Colonel Shradden reports 90% casualty rate among his Division."
"Ninety-percent!"
"Yes sir. Also the enemy is probing through the outer perimeter and has reached the suburbs in the East and North."
Fulk stroked his beard, "Consolidate on the outer U-Mag Line. Initiate civilian evacuations via underground lines to secure cities in the East and South."
The lights flickered again.
Western Canal District
Betera had ran and then walked once fatigue set in from the Western shopping district to the Western Canal District. Placing her hands on her hips she looked North-West and saw to her horror the detonations of artillery in far-off Marzan. A whistle came over head and objects flashed by over the top of buildings. Attack craft and missiles! Plumes of fire and smoke-filled streets and leveled buildings into burnt out husks as the enemy managed to get attack craft through the shield and even artillery which could target the AA batteries one by one.
"Get out of the way lady!" came a shout and a hand grabbed Betera and pulled her to the side of a jewelry store. It was a man in the livery of the House Perellon army. It was now she realized the columns of troops rushing past and accompanying armored vehicles. "I'm Lady Betera of House Perellon, I nee-,"
The roar of engines overhead and cries of get to cover sounded. Betera was thrown to the pavement as detonations sounded around her. Then the flickering thin beams of lasfire as the soldiers around her engaged their opponent down the street. Betera crawled through a doorway and propped herseld up by a stairwell. Looking outside she could see down the street as soldiers in the livery of House Oserian engaged the Pelleron troops in a wild melee. Blades of swords, axes, daggers, and maces met flickering shields or sparked at striking armor. Bodies sprawled onto the ground as the fallen multiplied. An armored vehicle opened up with its rotary gun to lacerate the upper floors of a building across the street before the streak of a rocket struck the front of the vehicle. The armor of the vehicle saving it but kicking up smoke and dirt. The Pelleron troops seemed like they would carry the day until the ground darkened as something passed by overhead. Betera watched as slowly drifting to the ground were figures in white with red markings. Mainly wielding longswords and halberds these newcomers gave the Pelleron troops pause, even apprehension, before they were upon them. Slicing through the Pelleron troops like fire in a wheatfield.
Betera scrambled to her feet and ran out and across the street. Trying to flee literally anywhere from the death and destruction spreading around her. She didn't look back and dashed across a canal bridge as las gun fire began to rip across adjacent bridges. The fighting spreading throughout the city as more and more streets and buildings became battlegrounds. It was only then as she came over the bridge and ran down into a U-Mag Lev station did she see the dark sad looks in the civilians that had been absent above. Many had sought shelter below ground and the station was packed end to end with thousands upon thousands of people. Dirty and dusty. She looked back and heard the sounds of battle grow closer. Driving her forth she began to move through the crowd.
Castle Pellera
"This was taken by one of our last recon planes five minutes ago," said General Mede as he brought up the image of two ships hovering amid the clouds somewhere to the east of the city. Their chrome and white hulls with gilded details was telling. "Perhaps the Emperor's army is here to save us?" said Amire. Fulk drooped his head at the naivety of the outburst. The truth sunk in a moment later for Amire. "So this is how they're breaking through. Oserian and Vatatzes take the brunt of the frontal attack. The Emperor's Tsaraj'kar are the surgical scalpel."
Mede could only nod as he looked at the map. The Tsaraj'kar had appeared suddenly. At first individual Pelleron positions would simply be gone. No more contact. Then there would be frantic reports of white armored warriors descending by suspensor fields and all shielded attacking them from various directions. Followed by sudden breaches in defensive lines and positions being lost before they could be reinforced. The Tsaraj'kar's prowess was legendary but what unnerved the Count more was the methodical nature of the Imperial's approach. Like they had studied his military's capabilities for years and knew were many installations, outposts, bases, and staging areas were. Striking key areas and denuding the defenses of much of their capability. Indeed, the Emperor had apparently planned for this confrontation many years ago and had spent much time gathering all the intelligence he could.
Fulk spoke back to his daughter in a low tone, "Oserian and Vatatzes are the scapegoats the Emperor requires. Taking out our communications was paramount and why the Oserian and Vatatzes troops attacked first. The Tsaraj'kar were busy depriving us of any ability to get messages out of system. Why they did not appear until much later."
"Then what are we to do?" questioned Amire.
Fulk looked at Mede, "We'll need to get her out into an area where no one can find her."
"The Equatorial Forest."
"Agreed."
Amire glanced back and forth rapidly between the two men, "No, father I won't leave you!"
Fulk glanced back at his daughter, "I can take no chances with family. If the city is lost, you must depart to refuge. Perhaps escape off world to Koiran. They will protect you."
Both men were saving Amire from the harsh reality that they knew was coming. The Tsaraj'kar ensured there was no hope of victory in this struggle. Fulk indicated for a pair of guards and aide who ushered Amire to doors leading to a mag-lev that would take her to a station in the equatorial jungles. There she would escape into the jungles with a small entourage to a safe refuge and possibly get off world to a related House to keep her safe.
Betera
By the time she got through the station and down to the other side she exited to a boardwalk. In the distance artillery strikes were raining down across several districts and beyond the U-line. The fighting moving into the middle-districts of the city. There were no more AA guns firing now and she could see the shapes of various gunships and transports over the city. She was not sure what time it was anymore but likely past midnight as the city was wreathed in blackness. Lit only by fire and detonation of munitions.
Moving forth with a low profile Betera scrambled over to look across the River Nella which separated the eastern edge of the Canal district from the Mid-Town Commercial District. She began to dart across it and nearly reached the other side when a figure stepped out of the shadows and pointed a lasgun at her, "Halt!"
Betera held up her hands, the man came into view, his face dirty, visor cracked from battle damage, a Pelleron soldier. "Put that down you dolt, you know who that is, by all that is Holy. Thats one of the Count's daughters!"
A second soldier, an officer, came into view with a bloody saber. "Can't go East. We lost contact with the units in the Mid-Town Gardens behind us ten minutes ago. Gotta swing wide to get to Castle Pellera." The officer indicated for her to go south across the Nella Canal to the Southern Mid-town district and then back East.
"But thats..."
"Gonna take all night. We know lass. Quite frankly we're pulling out of here. Gonna try and get through to the inner defensive ring. Get down!" The officer pushed her to the side as his shield caught a dart like object. The object slowly beginning to worm its way through his shield until he swiped it away. Figures in white charged across the bridge.
"Tsaraj'kar!"
Half the Pelleron troops broke and ran. The other half and clearly the braver, stood their ground. Betera ran until something struck her in the back and she collapsed as her vision swam. Her last sight being white boots stepping beside her.
Castle Perella
"They've breached the Mid-U line and fighting is all through the middle districts. Inner defensive ring is failing in the East. An entire legion of Tsaraj'kar is pressing in from that side." A boom from above sounded and a pair of guards rushed in, "Tsaraj'kar have stormed the outer walls. They're in the courtyards." Count Fulk drew his sword as did his staff as the sound of fighting grew louder above.
Amire
Amire rode in the small mag-lev car with her entourage as they thundered down the passage. The minutes turning to hours until the car slowed on the tracks and the designated station was reached. Moving out from the car the entourage moved into the dimly lit station and eventually out into the sunlight. The entourage making for the jungles edge when everyone froze. Emerging from the tree line were white clad figures with opaque visors and red decorations on their armor. Above, coming into view, a chromed gunship hovered. The aide to the right suddenly trudged forth and displayed a series of hand signs. Imperial Battle Cant. Traitor.
The Tsaraj'kar that led the approaching platoon of warriors paused and pointed to Amire. Speaking in a harsh accent the Tsaraj'kar beckoned her to come as the gunship lowered. Its rear hatch opening. Amire shook her head and made to back away. The rest of the entourage beginning to back away as well.
"Get her, kill the rest!" shouted the Tsaraj'kar officer audibly and his warriors raised their wrists. A trio of poisoned darts killed all but the shielded guards who tried to get away, but the Tsaraj'kar were faster and with stamina wrought from the harshness of their training caught up and ruthlessly slew the guards. The aide that had betrayed House Pelleron stood nervously as the Tsaraj'kar seized Amire and stuck her with a needle. Causing her to go limp but still conscious. "The Emperor sends his regards. Lady Amire," spoke the Tsaraj'kar officer with a harsh accent. Before she was dragged onto the gunship. The aide made to follow but the officer paused and casually raised his wrist. The aide made to protest with raised hands when a single dart to the throat silenced any cry of mercy.
Imperial Palace Complexes of Odin
"You spared the daughters," said Valeria as the songbirds continued to chirp.
"I am many things Valeria but soulless is not one of them. They will be held as hostages by a trusted House but their lives will be spared."
"What happened to Count Fulk?"
At that the Emperor's gaze lowered. Telling her all she needed to know of the Count's fate.
Nausican songbirds, genetically modified avians bred for their melodious tunes and bright coloration, provided a gorgeous acapella to the blooming pinks and whites of the garden around which a woman in a stark white dress sat. A simple garb saves for the silver plating along the neck and hem. The gentle rolling of the stream wound its way across the manicured groves and lawns of the Garden. The Garden of Empress Quintara, the woman's paternal great-great grandmother and one of the several Empress-Regnants in the long history of the Galactic Imperium. To call it a favored spot for the woman in white was an understatement. For her vary apartments had been set in the vast marble white walls of the neighboring palace complex that ringed the Gardens in a semi-circle. Spanning an arc of 30 kilometers from end to end. One of the smaller palaces and part of the network of vast complexes built on this world for the Imperial House. Odin. A paradise world, a natural gem fine-tuned by expert imperial planetologists. From the highly favorable weather patterns, natural lush forests, great waterways of crystal clear and blue hued water. Oceans teaming with fish and aquatic mammals. A world largely untouched for its population was solely concentrated in the service and maintenance of the Imperial residences and properties on the planet. A planet sized retreat. Odin, is where the members of the Emperor's Household would retire to get away from the Courts of Nova Terra and the layers, web upon web, intrigue and plotting. It is where this woman in white stays long weeks musing through books and manuscripts and writing her own personal treatises.
A silver stylus touched the page nestled on the small writing plinth set up before her,
What endangers Empires is the allowance of ulterior agendas to become tolerated dissidence. In the spirit of this it has come to my attention from my own trusted sources, my birds, that four legions have amassed at the Imperial staging grounds on Signus Prime. For what purpose I could not glean. My Father has kept all transmissions of this encrypted to the point were even I cannot access them. The Record Chronicles of whatever plans locked away in the Vaults of Nova Terra.
"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," came a gentle voice from behind the woman in white.
The woman turned, her statuesque beauty catching the rays of the Odin Sun, "Father." She spoke with a smile. Matched by his own. The man, The Tsaraj-Emperor of the Known Universe, moved beside his daughter. A servant in plain white coming up quickly into view to place a padded chair down. The Emperor sat gingerly. He did not look old, perhaps middle aged, a man in his 40s or early 50s. But his eyes showed many more decades in them.
"A woman of the mind is a woman of forethought," he peered at his daughter with a side-eye. His daughter smiled and responded knowingly, "A man of the mind is a man of foresight."
"Tertullon of Halicyon was always a favorite of yours, Valeria."
"A world known for its philosophers and mathematicians and Tertullon always insisted his works spoke of the arithmetic of the soul."
"Arithmatic of the soul. Reality down to figures."
"Is not all around us the calculations of our universe's mechanics?"
"I would prefer to enjoy the songbirds, but as a father I am always impressed by your intellectual pursuits."
Valeria kept her smile as she fiddled with her silver stylus. "Father, I--." The Emperor held up a hand to silence her. Yet his movements were gentle. "Quandary."
Valeria nodded, "Answer?" This was a game he often played with his children. Typically ending in some teachable practicum or morale lesson. "A man, born of generations of success, is reaching a point of being able to sway a disproportionate amount of influence in the Rhaumsraad via a network of fealty. While holding several directorships in the Combine and also, " the Emperor placed a small piece of silver vellum on the table before Valeria. Golden script flowing along it, "Seeking to marry into the highest of thrones. What do you do."
"Is it a given that you do not want the marriage to go through."
"Yes."
"Why?" she peeked at the words on the silvered page. Her eyes widening when she read her name.
"While I love all my children it has become clear that you are the successor. At least to a number of individuals within the Rhaumsraad. You are unwed and not betrothed and thus to gain your hand is the best chance to unseat us. How would you respond?"
"I would decline."
"And what if this individual has begun to pressure the Rhaumsraad to steer towards their own agenda and to decline would signal for more direct confrontations in such an assembly. To shift the delicate balance to our disadvantage."
"How would we know they are against us."
"Interesting legislation was put forth by Count Fulk of House Perellon that is antithetical to our own interests. I will not go into the specifics."
Valeria perked up at the mention of the Count. Fulk was one of the most powerful men in the Rhaumsraad and had grown increasingly Pro-Rhaumsraad power vs status quo in recent years. House Perellon over several generations had grown to control several highly populated worlds rich in resources and dozens of other lesser worlds. Its power only checked by the ongoing war between the Perellonese and their neighbors, Houses Oserian and Vatatzes.
"I would not risk the political fallout of a direct confrontation. Rather, I would seek to empower their opponents to drain their resources and curb their growth."
So, it is against House Perellon that my father plots against. Count Fulk, 58 Standard Years, not married but via legitimate concubinage produced two daughters. Amire and Betera. Betrothed to houses Skylitzes and Koiran. A move that would produce an alliance spanning over two hundred worlds and rulership of over one hundred and sixty billion people. Add in the network of extended alliances and this figure reaches more than tenfold.
"By the book but a reliable tactic. Save such meddling could be expected."
"Then perhaps a longer approach would have been optimal. To ensure a swift decapitation of the opponent before they were even aware of the struggle."
"Yes, that would be best now wouldn't it. My thoughts were exactly that my dear daughter."
"You already have moved against them?"
The Emperor let out a wry smile, "The lesson of this conversation is to try and predict the conversation before it happens. You give technically sound but predictable responses. But I've already moved the pieces on the board and your initiative is long gone."
Fulk had walked these very Gardens as a boy. Even been tutored by the man seated beside her in decades past. What had befallen in that time where they would be enemies? Did Fulk underestimate the capriciousness of Emperors? To have already sown the seeds of striking at a Great House with such speed would have required years if not decades of planning. Did my father plant these seeds to sprout if Fulk ever positioned himself against the Emperor? A boy at that time and my father had already schemed a plan to kill him should he grow up to be a threat.
"What will become of the Count's children?"
"You were close to them once, yes? When they stayed here in the tutelage of the Imperial Court."
"Yes, but that was long ago."
The Emperor turned to his daughter for a moment then looked away and relaxed to the tune of the birds. "They will receive what they deserve."
Perella, Homeworld and Namesake of House Perellon
Perella was a comfortable world. Civilized, wealthy, with great cities carefully planned and woven with greenery belts. Wide canals and elegant bridges for pedestrians, ground cars, and the narrow great routes of the mag-levs. Arching aqueducts brought in fresh water from the vast glaciers in the mountains that semi-surrounded the capital city of Maizere. Sprawling architecture of elegant, fluted temples and churches, spires of gems and gilded tiles, punctuated the vast religious district of the city. While residences flanking neatly spaced streets lined with evergreen trees sprawled out in neat grids across 66,000 square kilometers.
Now, the boulevards were packed by throngs of festive crowds and parading forces of the Count. For today was the eldest daughter Amire's birthday and the Count had declared it an impromptu holiday. Thus, the factories and workshops emptied. Hands and ranchers came in from the surrounding green hills and forests to the cities. It was a jubilant affair while the Lady Amire herself readied herself for the celebrations to be held at the Kazyr Palace in the Mountains to the South of the city. Their white caps giving way to golden forests of birch and fiery maple.
A dress of deep-sea blue and matching sapphire earrings surrounded by gold and a diamond necklace was what Amire had chosen for the occasion. Her blonde hair done up in flowing locks. Leaving her wardroom to the fawning smiles of many and the austere loving gaze of a man with short blonde hair and trimmed beard. Her father, Count Fulk, who took her by the hand and out the doors of the main family residence in the capital. The old castle like fortress of Castle Perella. A foreboding citadel itself containing a hundred square kilometers of space within its walls. Guards with polished cuirasses to a mirror sheen and fluted helmets with bright blue bonnets and crests stood at attention. Antiquated spears at attention before them while another guard opened the door to an awaiting aerial limousine.
"Lovelier than all the stars in the sky," said Fulk as he gave his daughter a hug at the top of the steps before resuming their walk down.
"Dad, please, are you sure you will not be coming to Kazyr?"
"Who said I'm not coming?" shot back Fulk with a concerned look.
Amire rolled her eyes, "Amire, she says you'll be busy with matters of state."
Fulk made a joking scoff, "I would never miss your birthday. Fret not, I will arrive in the evening in time for cake. Betera better be there as well." He held up a finger in mock threat. The younger daughter was very much the black sheep of the family and had stated she would be out shopping before retiring to Kazyr for the later festivities.
They stopped before the limousine and Fulk gently lowered her daughter onto the cushioned seat, "Enjoy the party my starry sky."
"Dad, stop," she said with a blushing smile. Fulk closed the door with a soft click and waved as the aerial limousine gently lifted away towards the southern mountains.
Kazyr itself was perched on a high hill surrounded by birch and maple woodlands. Gentle trails spread through the woods and largely kept open to the public at Fulk's order. Now, its perimeter was closed for the private festivities of the elder daughter of the Count's eighteenth birthday. Kazyr itself was a structure of red brick and white stone constructed in the fashion of the ancient castles of mythological Jermania. One of the legendary and probably fictional nations of Lost Terra. The architects combing through scraps of details to construct a structure that was fanciful in its use of elevated levels and buttresses. Allowing it to rise high from the hill but take up less square meters of space. A spacious courtyard of elegant mosaics and hydroponically kept palm trees decorated the grounds.
Amire could hardly contain herself when the aerial limousine touched down and the door opened by a suited footman. Hollars and yells from hundreds of guests in elegant outfits raised glasses to her arrival. A day of celebration and memories she could only dream of about to unfold as a band began to strum their instruments off to the side.
House Perella Orbital Control Station
Muffled footsteps sounded as a man in the blue and white uniform of the House Perellon Naval Service strode into the large circular command and control room of the station. Wide windows, not real windows of course, but with photo realistic depictions captured by video feeds allowed a complete degree of viewing for the surrounding orbital space over the planet of Perella. The man yawned and stretched his neck as he went to look out some of the windows. Steam rising from a cup in his hand. The smell of the fresh brewed cafe gave an enticing and pleasurable scent as the steam wafted up to his nostrils.
"Commodore, all quiet out there. Not even guild ships for the last six hours."
The Commodore turned and glanced at a 3-dimensional holographic map of the Perellan star system. Its main sequence yellow star in the center along with the other six planets, three of which were gas giants, in their various orbits. The asteroid belt that separated the gas giants from the inner three worlds forming a wide ring of its own. Dozens of icons showed the inter-system traffic. Freighters coming and going to stations and mining colonies. Passenger liners coming from the inhabited agricultural world of Pyxis which was slightly closer to the system's star yet still close enough to Perella to give spectacular planetary rises a few times a year. Then there was the industrial world of Perella Minor, a barren but resource rich world further out yet still within the habitable zone of the system. All in all, 12 billion people lived within the star system. Nine of whom lived on Perella itself.
"What's this?" said the Commodore as he indicated an icon denoting a squadron of Perellonese warships heading to the last gas giant in the system.
One of the Control station staff, an ensign, turned, "Admiral Horan dispatched Vice-Admiral Pelletz' command to investigate why a trio of Guildships had entered and left the system two weeks back. The Commodore took a sip of his cafe and looked out another window. The Naval Service had gathered the majority of the House Fleet for the celebrations on the planet below and for various maintenance schemes. The Count was wishing to expand the fleet by adding twenty more hulls. Already the fleet over matched their principal opponents in Houses Oserian and Vatatzes combined. But the fortunes of the House had grown and grown and thus with each Count the power of the House's military ballooned. As such the large commercial orbital docks around the world were joined by the vast anchorage of the House's Navy. Capable of servicing over one hundred vessels at a time.
The Commodore took a second sip and spoke again, more to himself than anyone in the room, "Quiet, good, thats what I like to see."
Moving over to the outer system scanning team he looked over a brunette human woman's head, a man with graying hair bearing the insignia of a lieutenant was typing furiously on a computer console, as he brought up data pertaining to a commercial bulk trawler named the Spring's Coming.
The Commodore moved over to the man, “Ice trawler? Anything I should know about?”
“Not sure, Sir. The Spring's Coming has been out in the outer belt collecting ice for the water market on the desert planet of Sahar-El. But there was a very brief, only a couple seconds, radio burst from the ship before it went dark for twenty minutes.”
“Ship is fine now though, right?” said the Commodore as he ran a hand through his black hair. His olive skin not helping to hide the bags under his eyes.
“Well, we think so but there is something about the transmission...” The woman adjacent began dialing in some knobs while the lieutenant to her left added, “The ship gave standard reporting and operating procedure kickbacks exactly twenty minutes and six seconds after going dark. Report log listed a communication glitch and possible computation error in its navigational system. It will be checking in at Commercial Dockyard 7 to have it looked at.”
“Alright, good, send that report up to NAVCOM for their analysts to take a look at it. What about the transmission?” The Commodore leaned down as the brunette-haired ensign pressed play. A crackle over her console's audio speakers for then a blurb of something. Something definitely audible.
“Play that back?”
The ensign played it back and there it was again, a blurb of something popping. At least it sounded like popping to the ears of all three present. “Okay, send that up to NAVCOM too. Keep a scope on it just in case.”
“Aye, Commodore,” The sensor reading of the ice trawler drawing ever closer.
Nodding the Commander rolled his neck in a nice relaxing stretch as he maneuvered in a large circle about the bridge. Checking in at various posts before he wound up looking out the wide view ports down at the planet below. The surface under him gradually going from light to dark as the hours past below on that rotating orb. Before him the vast array of the House Naval Yards. The Kala'den Commercial Shipyards and Wharves. The System Communication Array and NAVCOM Headquarters. All arrayed in a vast network of metal girders, Geo-synchronous structures, or cresting the massive, towering spires of the planets eight space elevators.
Night settling over the Western Hemisphere of Perella. Its five oceans and six continents sandwiched between two pleasant stark white polar ice caps. The Commodore took another sip.
“Spring's Coming you are clear for approach vector in system. Hold onto charted course line 47-3-B. You will be given a signal for final approach on my mark.”
Checking his wristwatch the Commodore enjoyed the sight below him before closing his eyes for a moment to relax. The space before him alight with thousands of craft and ships. Mostly civilian. But hundreds of warships of the Navy were mustered or in dockyard berths arrayed neatly like a massive three-dimensional fabric lattice.
“Spring's Coming adjust course. Spring's Coming you are moving off course. Spring's Coming do you read?”
The Commodore nearly choked on his next sip as he heard these words from the brunette ensign's mouth. Growing sterner by the syllable. Turning around swiftly the Commodore rushed over. “What is it Naveen?”
“Spring's Coming just ignored our hails. They're off course, and every second a data spike is being sent out somewhere near the outer gas giant.” The Commodore looked at the sensor readings. The Spring's Coming was not going to hit them but was now moving well off course. “Try to raise them again. Notify NAVCOM and Admiral Horan that we have a possible problem.”
“Spring's Coming just went full thrust!” spat the lieutenant seated off to the right. Collision alarms and warning klaxons blared as the Spring's Coming main plasma drives ignited. Cycling rapidly up to full power as the two-kilometer-long bulk hauler began to accelerate exponentially.
“Signal w-!”
“SHIP LAUNCHING CRAFT!” came a frantic scream of a shout from behind him. From the tactical team behind him. The Commodore turned to watch the central viewing screens to see four smaller pod like craft with claws shoot out of the side of the Spring's Coming towards the Command & Control station. Within seconds the craft ignited their fusion cutters. Blasting and slicing into the station as its clawlike mandibles anchored the pod like bodies of the craft. It was all happening in a matter of seconds.
The Spring's Coming went beyond normal safety parameters for acceleration. Red lining its core as the ship rapidly approached an appreciable fraction of light speed. The ice hauler rocketed past the Command & Control Station to collide first with the Kala'den Commercial Shipyards. Smashing through steel girders. Four civilian ships and two bulk freighters were annihilated by the impact while a spherical construction platform bearing three hulls under construction was annihilated a second later. The Spring's Coming continued on as debris rained out in all directions. The deaths of twenty thousand dock workers behind it.
Crashing into Battleship Row, grazing the carrier Ralliere, and ripping the fore-third of the cruiser Demtre away in a shower of alloy and steel. The ice hauler continued on its orbital rampage unabated. Its momentum seeming unassailable as it impacted the NAVCOM headquarters station in a thunderous detonation. Thirty-six thousand navy personnel died as the structure went critical. The ice hauler, now a massive slag heap of red-hot metal, erupted from the back of the station and careered on its orbital death arc to crash into the System Communications Array. The debris and devastation of its path an expanding cloud of orbital debris. Sixty-seven other ships were destroyed by the expanding debris outright as several damaged ships died at their berths as munitions or reactor cores went critical. The Battleship, three and a half kilometers long, Lacreion, smashed from its girders now listed freely. Its drives off and half of its crew having died from the exceedingly violent impact. Drifted like a bird struck midflight toward the planet below. A plume of smoke and debris following it as the mighty warship began its death dive. Aft first.
Forty-three other ships were heavily damaged. Twelve others listed from damage to cause further havoc.
The Commodore dropped his half drank cup of cafe onto the floor as he could only watch the horror unfold before him in a matter of seconds. milliseconds of damage translating into cascading waterfalls of subsequent terror as the debris of the ice trawlers suicidal charge expanded at a fraction of light speed. Shredding lightly armored craft in a hailstorm of razor metal. Habitation units vented. Industrial complexes suffered hull integrity failure. The Spring's Coming ripped out the other side of the System Communication Array, enough of its punch robbed to come out like a shotgun blast of several fiery pieces, cascading to strike the the habitation orbital rings around the nearest space elevator. Over a hundred thousand homes had their interiors, within the span of seconds, given over to the cold embrace of hard vacuum.
A heavy hand gripped his shoulder, he turned, it was the lieutenant. “Commodore!”
It was then that he registered the other alarms. SECURITY BREACH, DECKS 27, 42, 51, AND 103. SECURITY PROTOCOLS ENGAGED. ALERT. SECURITY BREACH.
The message repeated and in the distance else where in the station he could hear the thuds of weapons fire. “Close off the bridge! Secure the area. Alert all commands! We're under attack!”
The deep space observation officer, another lieutenant, whipped his head around, “Incoming contacts from the outer gas giant. Two hundred plus vessels of various chassis inbound.”
The Commodore looked above, “Mother of Mercy.” The enemy fleet, no doubt fed data last minute from the Spring's Coming had made a calculated acceleration from the other side of the gias giant and now was being picked up by the House Pelleron sensor network.
"Raise Vice-Admiral Pelletz immediately!"
The icon of Vice-Admiral Pelletz squadron winked out of existence at the map table. No doubt caught by surprise and annihilated in a first strike.
His subordinates dashed over to the security panel as the lights in the bridge twinkled for a moment. A boom below them sounded. People were screaming blood curdling wails in the hallway. A hand smacked the emergency release protocols. Right as a pair of Navy personnel came sprinting frantically around the corner of the hallway. “Stop!”
The emergency blast doors shut on them. Their fists banging as the man and woman that rounded the corner screamed for them to open the doors. Their cries soon matched by rapidly approaching foot falls. Heavy foot falls. Their screams rose to ear splitting, hair raising, shrill wails before blood gurgling groans as silhouetted figures with drawn blades and boarding axes came into view.
“Draw your side arms.” said the Commodore. Behind him the blast shutters lowered to shield their view ports. Everyone, the Commodore included, drew their pistols or short swords and pointed them at the blast doors. The sound of something on the other side made the Commodore cautiously step back. Then it clicked in his head. “Get do-!”
Slagged metal shot inwards as plasma charges detonated. Three of the bridge crew were blown back bodily. Naveen was killed by shrapnel to the throat, skull, and chest. The deep space observation officer was thrown bodily back to have what amounted for his spine snap back across his console in a sickening manner. The lieutenant took a dart to the throat and collapsed in a heap. Then another bridge crew member, then another. The Commodore opened fire. Beams of energy rapidly cycling into the vapors of the Plasma discharge. The thrum of shields absorbing the laser beams of his pistol presaged the rushing attackers as they stormed into the room. The Commodore's last sight being the downward arc of a boarding combat axe.
Kayzr Palace
The first fireworks for her birthday streaked into the sky as the Sun finally dipped below the horizon. Allowing the afterglow of twilight to diminish enough for the festivities to transition to the elaborately planned firework display. The party goers looked up at the sky in awe as greens, blues, and purples blossomed into a variety of shapes and bursts. Some classic starburst pattern, others in animal shapes, others in multi-stage almost life like pictograms. The glow of a firework lingered behind the display. The glow? Then another, and another, then dozens if not hundreds of orange-red glows punctuated the atmosphere. Falling through the atmosphere in flames at terminal velocity was hundreds of objects wrought by the destruction of Spring's Coming's kamikaze strike. The crowd of the world's elite stood silently until the first impacts. In the distance and then nearer as hundreds of objects ranging from small car few meters across to the size of ground cars or even houses smashed into the ground. Casting fire and throwing up dust with their impacts.
That was when the screaming started as people rushed to the doors, to inside, to anywhere. Amire could only look around in terror until a pair of guards grabbed her and ushered her to a staircase leading to into a sub-level. An emergency bunker. Several guests made to follow but the guards drew their blades and shouted them to get back as they closed the doors behind them. Amire's last sight of the sky being the clouds parted by the bulk of the battleship Lacreion as it sank from the heavens to impact a hundred and fifty miles North. Vaporizing the towns in the area as its massive fusion-fission reactor detonated with all the force of a small sun.
The thermal wave catching forests fifty miles across the impact zone alight instantly. While the blast wave rushed and shattered millions of windows as it traveled through villages and into the capital city itself. Plumes of brown dust clouds spreading out to block the sky as ash and soot filled the air.
Maizere Western Shopping District
Betera coughed dust and grit as she turned over and crawled to prop herself up by a building. Glass shards and debris covered the ground as a shockwave swept through the streets. Unknowingly for her due to the death of Lacreion. She glanced around as the world around her was filled by the aftershock. The silence given over to screams and moans. Shouts and cries. Looking to her left she saw her aide sprawled, dead, on the curb. She shakingly got her feet and began to trudge absent mindedly out to the corner of the street in front of what was a clothing store. The deep bur of air raid sirens throughout the city coming to life as the shimmer of the city's shield came to life. While in security outposts throughout the city the lights of spotters illuminated the night sky.
Catching the silhouettes of various conical objects coming down by gravity assisted retrojets. Touching the shield and arresting their fall until they could slowly pass through the shield. That was when the city's AA defenses opened up with streams of laser and tracer fire. Blossoms of aerial detonations as conical objects, bombs, were intercepted by ground-based batteries. But beyond them is what caused Betera to pause. The night sky was punctuated by various silhouetted objects. Ships and attack craft descending from orbit. She began to run East towards theCastle districtt with sudden purpose.
Castle Perella
"What the blazes is going on," shouted Fulk as he arrived in the sub-level located ten meters below the ground, underneath the Castle, that served as the emergency strategy bunker. The other men in the room were his Generals and Advisors that had been at the Castle when the attack had occurred.
"We lost contact with NAVCOM immediately. Presumably the Admiralty is gone and Pelletz' squadron was annihilated in a first strike," said a man in the tan uniform of the House Army. General Thedien Mede, Imperial Savant, and longtime servant of House Perellon.
"Naval assets in orbit?"
"It's chaotic up there. The enemy moved rapidly and has taken orbital superiority."
"How did they get passed our system defenses?"
"No one is sure beyond the kamikaze strike."
"Ground based defenses. We can repel the enemy from Perellon."
"Yes, my lord."
"The enemy?" This time it was a question of clarification.
"House Oserian and Vatatzes ships have been identified by ground-based observers landing around the capital. A number of our ground side bases got destroyed in orbital strikes before they could raise shields. But now we're scrambling all we have."
"Secure orbital elevators and logistic lines. Get my daughters down here. Where is Amire and Betera?"
"Amire is transiting through the emergency tunnels from Kayzr to here. I have soldiers looking for Betera now."
The Count moved to the large holographic display of the world and the various military icons it displayed. The Perellon sensor network was highly compromised now but still there was a wealth of information on display. The Count spoke again, "Two hundred ships plus change, that is most of their fleets. Troop counts?"
"What intelligence we can gather is at least one hundred and twenty divisions."
The Count blinked, that was practically the entire army of both those houses. Over two million men apiece. But he had more even battered and bruised. "Mobilize to defend the cities and key assets."
"Sir, the enemy is mainly landing around the capital. General Vedding is mobilizing for the defense of the capital area."
The count looked at the data on display. The military forces in the city, the city garrison of one hundred thousand men and nearby bases that fell under the city-wide shield had escaped the initial assault unscathed. Additionally, there was surviving bases in the mountains that were beginning to mobilize towards the capital via underground mag-lev lines. This would triple the defenders. One might think he was still horribly outnumbered but that negated the bigger picture. The enemy was landing in various other points on Perellon to secure the world. This would spread them out enough were he could repel them in detail.
Two Hours Later
Amire practically flung herself into her father's arms when she arrived in the bunker. "Father!"
"Yes, yes I know."
"What of Betera, is she--," Amire was about to burst into tears when Fulk pulled her close again, "She's strong like you. She's on her way to us now." General Thedian kept silent at this lie. Truth be told they had not yet found Betera and now there was fighting all along the perimeter of the city between Oserian and Vatatzes troops and the Pelleronese. Fulk pulled away as a situation report began, Amire stood behind her father with an aide to serve her, as another officer in the stripes of a Colonel indicated various places on the holographic maps of the planet and the city itself.
"The enemy has surrounded the city and cut the surface mag-lev lines. Fighting continues in the outskirts." Elsewhere on the planet things were shifting as local commanders fought their own battles. Coordination difficult with the deteriorated communications and sensor network of House Pelleron. Not to mention orbital based jamming. But the numbers were on their side.
The lights inside the bunker flickered for a moment and a military aide came up with a new report, handing it to the Colonel, "Marzan district has fallen. Colonel Shradden's troops have fallen back to the outer U-Mag Line northern sector. The Colonel indicated the outer most surface mag-lev ring within the city perimeter."
General Mede glowered, "Marzan, so quickly. How?"
"Unsure, the defense was shattered in an hour and communications broke down. Colonel Shradden reports 90% casualty rate among his Division."
"Ninety-percent!"
"Yes sir. Also the enemy is probing through the outer perimeter and has reached the suburbs in the East and North."
Fulk stroked his beard, "Consolidate on the outer U-Mag Line. Initiate civilian evacuations via underground lines to secure cities in the East and South."
The lights flickered again.
Western Canal District
Betera had ran and then walked once fatigue set in from the Western shopping district to the Western Canal District. Placing her hands on her hips she looked North-West and saw to her horror the detonations of artillery in far-off Marzan. A whistle came over head and objects flashed by over the top of buildings. Attack craft and missiles! Plumes of fire and smoke-filled streets and leveled buildings into burnt out husks as the enemy managed to get attack craft through the shield and even artillery which could target the AA batteries one by one.
"Get out of the way lady!" came a shout and a hand grabbed Betera and pulled her to the side of a jewelry store. It was a man in the livery of the House Perellon army. It was now she realized the columns of troops rushing past and accompanying armored vehicles. "I'm Lady Betera of House Perellon, I nee-,"
The roar of engines overhead and cries of get to cover sounded. Betera was thrown to the pavement as detonations sounded around her. Then the flickering thin beams of lasfire as the soldiers around her engaged their opponent down the street. Betera crawled through a doorway and propped herseld up by a stairwell. Looking outside she could see down the street as soldiers in the livery of House Oserian engaged the Pelleron troops in a wild melee. Blades of swords, axes, daggers, and maces met flickering shields or sparked at striking armor. Bodies sprawled onto the ground as the fallen multiplied. An armored vehicle opened up with its rotary gun to lacerate the upper floors of a building across the street before the streak of a rocket struck the front of the vehicle. The armor of the vehicle saving it but kicking up smoke and dirt. The Pelleron troops seemed like they would carry the day until the ground darkened as something passed by overhead. Betera watched as slowly drifting to the ground were figures in white with red markings. Mainly wielding longswords and halberds these newcomers gave the Pelleron troops pause, even apprehension, before they were upon them. Slicing through the Pelleron troops like fire in a wheatfield.
Betera scrambled to her feet and ran out and across the street. Trying to flee literally anywhere from the death and destruction spreading around her. She didn't look back and dashed across a canal bridge as las gun fire began to rip across adjacent bridges. The fighting spreading throughout the city as more and more streets and buildings became battlegrounds. It was only then as she came over the bridge and ran down into a U-Mag Lev station did she see the dark sad looks in the civilians that had been absent above. Many had sought shelter below ground and the station was packed end to end with thousands upon thousands of people. Dirty and dusty. She looked back and heard the sounds of battle grow closer. Driving her forth she began to move through the crowd.
Castle Pellera
"This was taken by one of our last recon planes five minutes ago," said General Mede as he brought up the image of two ships hovering amid the clouds somewhere to the east of the city. Their chrome and white hulls with gilded details was telling. "Perhaps the Emperor's army is here to save us?" said Amire. Fulk drooped his head at the naivety of the outburst. The truth sunk in a moment later for Amire. "So this is how they're breaking through. Oserian and Vatatzes take the brunt of the frontal attack. The Emperor's Tsaraj'kar are the surgical scalpel."
Mede could only nod as he looked at the map. The Tsaraj'kar had appeared suddenly. At first individual Pelleron positions would simply be gone. No more contact. Then there would be frantic reports of white armored warriors descending by suspensor fields and all shielded attacking them from various directions. Followed by sudden breaches in defensive lines and positions being lost before they could be reinforced. The Tsaraj'kar's prowess was legendary but what unnerved the Count more was the methodical nature of the Imperial's approach. Like they had studied his military's capabilities for years and knew were many installations, outposts, bases, and staging areas were. Striking key areas and denuding the defenses of much of their capability. Indeed, the Emperor had apparently planned for this confrontation many years ago and had spent much time gathering all the intelligence he could.
Fulk spoke back to his daughter in a low tone, "Oserian and Vatatzes are the scapegoats the Emperor requires. Taking out our communications was paramount and why the Oserian and Vatatzes troops attacked first. The Tsaraj'kar were busy depriving us of any ability to get messages out of system. Why they did not appear until much later."
"Then what are we to do?" questioned Amire.
Fulk looked at Mede, "We'll need to get her out into an area where no one can find her."
"The Equatorial Forest."
"Agreed."
Amire glanced back and forth rapidly between the two men, "No, father I won't leave you!"
Fulk glanced back at his daughter, "I can take no chances with family. If the city is lost, you must depart to refuge. Perhaps escape off world to Koiran. They will protect you."
Both men were saving Amire from the harsh reality that they knew was coming. The Tsaraj'kar ensured there was no hope of victory in this struggle. Fulk indicated for a pair of guards and aide who ushered Amire to doors leading to a mag-lev that would take her to a station in the equatorial jungles. There she would escape into the jungles with a small entourage to a safe refuge and possibly get off world to a related House to keep her safe.
Betera
By the time she got through the station and down to the other side she exited to a boardwalk. In the distance artillery strikes were raining down across several districts and beyond the U-line. The fighting moving into the middle-districts of the city. There were no more AA guns firing now and she could see the shapes of various gunships and transports over the city. She was not sure what time it was anymore but likely past midnight as the city was wreathed in blackness. Lit only by fire and detonation of munitions.
Moving forth with a low profile Betera scrambled over to look across the River Nella which separated the eastern edge of the Canal district from the Mid-Town Commercial District. She began to dart across it and nearly reached the other side when a figure stepped out of the shadows and pointed a lasgun at her, "Halt!"
Betera held up her hands, the man came into view, his face dirty, visor cracked from battle damage, a Pelleron soldier. "Put that down you dolt, you know who that is, by all that is Holy. Thats one of the Count's daughters!"
A second soldier, an officer, came into view with a bloody saber. "Can't go East. We lost contact with the units in the Mid-Town Gardens behind us ten minutes ago. Gotta swing wide to get to Castle Pellera." The officer indicated for her to go south across the Nella Canal to the Southern Mid-town district and then back East.
"But thats..."
"Gonna take all night. We know lass. Quite frankly we're pulling out of here. Gonna try and get through to the inner defensive ring. Get down!" The officer pushed her to the side as his shield caught a dart like object. The object slowly beginning to worm its way through his shield until he swiped it away. Figures in white charged across the bridge.
"Tsaraj'kar!"
Half the Pelleron troops broke and ran. The other half and clearly the braver, stood their ground. Betera ran until something struck her in the back and she collapsed as her vision swam. Her last sight being white boots stepping beside her.
Castle Perella
"They've breached the Mid-U line and fighting is all through the middle districts. Inner defensive ring is failing in the East. An entire legion of Tsaraj'kar is pressing in from that side." A boom from above sounded and a pair of guards rushed in, "Tsaraj'kar have stormed the outer walls. They're in the courtyards." Count Fulk drew his sword as did his staff as the sound of fighting grew louder above.
Amire
Amire rode in the small mag-lev car with her entourage as they thundered down the passage. The minutes turning to hours until the car slowed on the tracks and the designated station was reached. Moving out from the car the entourage moved into the dimly lit station and eventually out into the sunlight. The entourage making for the jungles edge when everyone froze. Emerging from the tree line were white clad figures with opaque visors and red decorations on their armor. Above, coming into view, a chromed gunship hovered. The aide to the right suddenly trudged forth and displayed a series of hand signs. Imperial Battle Cant. Traitor.
The Tsaraj'kar that led the approaching platoon of warriors paused and pointed to Amire. Speaking in a harsh accent the Tsaraj'kar beckoned her to come as the gunship lowered. Its rear hatch opening. Amire shook her head and made to back away. The rest of the entourage beginning to back away as well.
"Get her, kill the rest!" shouted the Tsaraj'kar officer audibly and his warriors raised their wrists. A trio of poisoned darts killed all but the shielded guards who tried to get away, but the Tsaraj'kar were faster and with stamina wrought from the harshness of their training caught up and ruthlessly slew the guards. The aide that had betrayed House Pelleron stood nervously as the Tsaraj'kar seized Amire and stuck her with a needle. Causing her to go limp but still conscious. "The Emperor sends his regards. Lady Amire," spoke the Tsaraj'kar officer with a harsh accent. Before she was dragged onto the gunship. The aide made to follow but the officer paused and casually raised his wrist. The aide made to protest with raised hands when a single dart to the throat silenced any cry of mercy.
Imperial Palace Complexes of Odin
"You spared the daughters," said Valeria as the songbirds continued to chirp.
"I am many things Valeria but soulless is not one of them. They will be held as hostages by a trusted House but their lives will be spared."
"What happened to Count Fulk?"
At that the Emperor's gaze lowered. Telling her all she needed to know of the Count's fate.
