SDNW4 Story Thread 2

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

[swept-to-tightbeam, datapulse on private frequency, encryption SCEPTER ROSE, received @m3.697.12.3400]
(Signal sequence #k578D1/3311, relay:)

TO: Sigillite Decius; Domus Divina Imperialis; Imperium of Man

Your Magisterial Eminence,

Decius my old friend, I hope this message finds the Emperor and yourself in good health.

Unfortunately I must write to you on this day about a matter of some gravity. It has come to the attention of our government that in the capital city of Oblast on the Outlander world of Pritaiy*, zealot combatants associated with the Imperium of Man have committed a series of atrocities against political opponents. [REF: FILE 15A87, ATTACHED]

My government is concerned about the severe brutality and extreme violence on Pritaiy and surrounding worlds, and the further destabilization of the former Commissions these heinous acts may betoken. It is urgent that I speak with you about this matter and would consider it a personal favour if you contact me as soon as convenient to you.

Yours cordially,

Sidney Leon Hank IV
Special Emissary, United Solarian Sovereignty


* I've grabbed this name from the Outlander wiki since none was given.

To: Sidney Leon Hank IV; Special Emissary, United Solarian Sovereignty
From: Sigillite Decius; Domus Divina Imperialis; Imperium of Man

Mr Special Emissary,

Sidney Hank, my old friend, I hope all things are well with matters in the Sovereignty. I would be delighted to have a word with you on this matter. Perhaps a set date and time and place? You pick.

Yours Cordially,
Decius, the Sigillite
Advisor to the Emperor Heraclius XX.

[Shroom Man 777]

Oblast, Pritaiy



Behold, the fate of those who follow Centralism. Witness, the atrocities of those who preach the Byzantine Creed.

The followers of Dovan were nailed to these wooden crosses, and then set on fire by the Orthodox Byzantines. That was a night ago. Now, only ash remains.

The Centralites cannot even defend themselves from being burned alive, how can you expect them to protect your homes, your families, your loved ones? You will die together with the Centralites, screaming in anguish as your flesh is blackened by fire.

The Byzantines treat their fellow humans no better than they do those they mark 'xenos'. They will not bring you salvation, only damnation. They will impale you upon the symbol of their very faith, and light you up in a sacrament against all that is past and holy.

These humans have come only to bring death, upon not only each other, but also upon all of you. Your males, females and larvae will be destitute and consumed by the appetites of these fanatics and extremists. They have come only to kill and destroy!

But there is one hope. Only one power in the universe exists that challenges the Byzantine fanatics and repulses them. A power that has proven stronger than those Centralites whose blackened bones now lie beneath your feet.

That power is Byzon. That power is Bragule. Bragule has come, not to destroy, not to kill, not to butcher or crucify. Bragule has come to save all peoples!

In a galaxy gone mad, in an insane universe, only Byzon is the sanest choice!



Come all peoples of the universe, unite in Byzonism! In the name of internationalist glasnot and bragstroika.

This time, it shall be the bears who will arm your rights!

[Siege]

Co-written with Fin!

Holy Terra
Imperium of Man



Terra. Holy Terra. Throneworld of the Imperium. Beacon of high human civilization. Seat of the ecclesiarchy. Cathedra of the God-Emperor himself, and home to his greatest warriors and closest confidantes. Its continents, covered by the labyrinthine edifices of state and forever lit by undying lights. Its orbit, patrolled by a hundred ships of the Imperial Navy, their gunports ever open, their unresting auspex arrays ever scanning for the myriad enemies of the Imperium.

It was at the edge of this place where, in an unfolding of otherworldly dimensions, the Sol Invictus transitioned to realspace. The starrunner was an ancient relic of Imperial shipcrafting, its unusually smooth hull the product of a more civilized age. Designed and built well before the ravages of the Tau Crusade it lacked the armored prow and crenellations as well as the robust ruggedness of later Imperial starships, favouring instead elegant hyperspace geometries and a balletic luster wholly absent in more modern, campaign-tested designs. The nimble starrunner inspired a heartsick nostalgia as it ran the gauntlet of Imperial warships, facing an increasingly sterner series of challenges until finally coming up on the titanic planetary defense cannons of Fortress Luna. Charged with protecting Terra from invasion, these mountain-sized weapons once inflicted savage losses on the invading Tau fleets, but today they remained silent, their machine spirits satisfied by the diplomatic protocols transmitted by the Sol Invictus.

The starrunner dove into the thin atmosphere. Followed by dozens of auspex arrays, tracked by weapons of every conceivable kind and escorted by a flight of Lightning fighters from the throneworld garrison, the nimble starcraft made its way toward the Imperial Palace. The largest structure on the planet, the Imperial Palace could easily be mistaken for a mountain range. It was an endless black hive of forbidden technology and subterranean passages, the heart of the Administratum and home of the Sanctum Imperialis delving deep within the bowels of the planet. The Sol Invictus swept toward the cosmodrome at the foot of this artificial mountain. Vast steel doors rumbled open to admit the starrunner, tractor arrays snapping on to guide the ship toward its docking pier as the maw-like doors rumbled shut again.

The starrunner’s sole occupant descended the ramp. His footsteps rung hollow on the endless expanse of concrete. The silence of the hangar was oppressive. Suspended from a ceiling hidden in darkness, great banners bearing the Imperial aquila fluttered in an unfelt breeze. There was room for more than a hundred ships here, but apart from the Sol Invictus and a half dozen heavy fighters in the far distance, there were none. The only other people in the cavernous bay were two Space Marines, their combat armors adorned with the livery of the Scholae Palatinae, the feared psyker-guards of the God-Emperor. “Come with us,” ordered one of the marines. As one, the two warriors turned and marched off, leaving their quarry in a hurry to follow their ringing footsteps.

On they went, plunging into the depths of the Imperial Palace, through blast doors and columned hallways, past mosaiced galleries and shadowed vestibules that looked out over the arcane technological wonders of the great Palace. It was difficult to keep track of their meandering route through the cloisterlike avenues of the God-Emperor’s hive. Very few people passed; most that did wore the uniform of the Imperial Guard, the seal of the Administratum or, occasionally, the sigil of the Holy Inquisition. All of them regarded the visitor with thinly veiled suspicion. Obviously the God-Emperor didn’t invite many guests to his house.

At long last they came into a great mile-long anteroom. Thousands of glow-globes floated on fields of anti-gravity, casting soft illumination down on a marbled floor inlaid with golden thread. Great statues of former Emperors and the banners of thousands of the greatest and long-dead Imperial heroes lined walls buttressed by steel pilasters, each one forged from molten-down Tau warmachines. The ceiling was one vast painting, depicting the departure of the Empire from Nova Terra, and at the far end of the hall was a great alabaster gate a hundred meters high, and guarded by a pair of Warhound Titans. This was the Eternity Gate, the entryway into the Sanctum Imperialis. No enemy of the Imperium, not even in the darkest hour of the Imperium-Tau War, had ever laid eyes on this place. Overcome by a sense of subconscious awe the two warrior-guards marginally slowed their pace, allowing their charge to catch up by the time the great gate rumbled open.

The Sanctum Imperialis was a warren of winding passageways carved from the living bedrock of Holy Terra itself, and reinforced with adamantium inserts. Flickering electric light cast shifting shadows over walls adorned with paintings and tapestries, each one celebrating a victory from the Imperium’s checkered past. Every intersection was a chokepoint, and at every one of them stood more guards, bolters and plasma guns ready for battle at a moment’s notice. They were challenged again and again, until the series of pass-phrases uttered by the Palatinae guards became a mantra that Sidney knew by heart.

Finally, finally they came to one more door, and the two warriors stopped. “The Sigillite is inside this chamber,” spoke the one who had spoken before. “We will be outside.” Above all else it was a warning: transgress here and you won’t leave this place alive. Or at all, really. Sidney sighed and passed through the door, feeling the prickle of a low-power Gellar field across his skin when he crossed the threshold.

Decius’ office wasn’t an office as much as a priorate, lavishly furnished with the trappings of the Imperium’s greatest priest-administrator. The Sigillite himself was an ageing man, robed in the vestments of a simple Administratum official that belied his position as the closest confidant of the God-Emperor himself. His old face cracked a smile. “Sidney Hank, at long last. I see you wear a different face than last time we met.”

“Unfortunately so, Decius. It’s been too long. And I have to say, the hospitality of the Imperial Palace hasn’t exactly improved since my last visit. The welcome was... not very welcoming?”

“Well, Sidney, this is after all first and foremost, a fortress. It is made of the hardest and strongest materials possible, and designed to resist the strongest orbital bombardment. Pardon the lack of hospitality, not least the gloominess of the interior. It is all for the sake of security, I’m afraid. Care for a drink?”

“I’d kill for a glass of Amasec... But don’t let your guards hear that.” He accepted the drink, and was suddenly overcome by a strange sense of deja-vu, remembering an other Decius and another drink, a long time ago... It made him wonder about the true nature of the Sigillite. He’d long suspected the man was some kind of construct, kept around by the Emperors of the Komnenos line for... Yes, what for? It was a mystery that had to wait for another time. Sidney scraped his throat. “The reason for my visit is, of course, the Cleansing of Oblast. My government is concerned about the quite outrageous violence with which the fanatics go about trying to silence their opposition. And your Patriarch frankly isn’t helping.”

The Sigillite merely stirred his drink and replied, “Sidney, you of all people should know that religion is merely an extension of the foreign policy goals of the Imperium. Fanaticism, well controlled and directed, merely serves our purposes. The men in question were Centralists, and all out to destabilise a friendly government. Of course, we could have simply shot them, but the need for some theatrical flair to show the Centralists and their Dog for a government that we mean business is an unfortunate must.”

Sidney nodded. “I know why you’re using these radicals, Decius. And I suppose I can see the elegance in channelling zealotry for a useful purpose. But dear lord man, your fanatics are burning people alive. It’s vampiric!”

“But that’s the whole point. The imagery of fire reminds our enemies of their end. The screams of horror, fear and pain conjures up emotions alike in all who have watched the wretches suffer. Fear and Destruction. Yes it will push our enemies harder. But the harder they push, the more likely they will make mistakes. Or perhaps instead paralyse them with horror and fear at their own impending doom. Either way, martyrs and whatever not, the theatrics will yield to our purposes.”

The special emissary fought to keep a frown off his face. Imperials will be Imperials he thought. “Surely there has to be another way to accomplish your purposes. One preferably that doesn’t end with people put to death in surprisingly painful ways?”

“What do you suggest then? The archaic ways have always been effective. This is mild compared to some of the... more archaic practices back on Earth or Nova Terra. Besides, shooting them outright doesn’t conjure up anything except perhaps defiance. Locking them up simply conjures up hope even! Hope that they might one day escape because their supporters would free them. They would instead be a powerful focal point for our enemies.”

“Well, that begs the question... What does the Imperium intend to do in the former Commissions? Is it simply to keep the Centralites and Byzonists out or are you planning something greater?”

“Perhaps perhaps. The Bragulans might be amenable to some form of discussion. This was after all something of our mutual playground until the Centralists came barging in. We would prefer the status quo after all. I believe the Inquisition might be sounding out the Bragulans on some ideas that might prove rather interesting, maybe delicious from some point of view. As for the Outlands, really, you should know that we have been vigorous in presenting our point of view of the universe...”

Sidney looked discomforted. “Yes, well, see Decius, there are... elements within our government that are highly discomfited by the sheer brutality of what is happening in the Outlands right now. They’re convinced, and rightly so I think, that there is a high degree of unnecessity to the bloodshed. I mean I get it, you’re worried about the rise of Centralist sympathizers. I’m not a fan of Centralism myself, but it should be possible to deter them and the Byzonists alike through means that aren’t murder. Killing people isn’t the only way to convince them you’re the right choice. I get that it’s your favourite way... But surely it’s possible to, er, assure these people of the God-Emperor’s worthiness than putting every nonbeliever to the sword? Like, missionary work or something?”

“Well, I might point out, that I recall that even in the Sovereignty, subversion and treason all get pretty heavy sentences. Death even in some cases. How is this much more different? After all, heresy is just one of many.. many charges. These Centralists aren’t against the use of bloodshed to further their own cause after all? When these felons were arrested, there were bombs, plans and all. They aren’t exactly what one would term as peace lovers. Why does your government get so hung up on the execution method and ignore the important facts?”

“The Sovereignty stopped putting people to death some time ago,” at least officially he mentally added, recalling his last death-by-assassination. “Nowadays we resocialize them. A mild neural scrubbing works wonders to turn psychos into well-behaved citizens.” He sighed. “And we’re not ignoring the facts either. Like I said, not a big fan of Centralism. But these people aren’t subjects of the God-Emperor, so how can they be heretics? And if they’re guilty of some crime, why aren’t they sentenced by a court of law instead of fanatical priests? Because that would make all the difference to us. If they’re guilty then by all means putt hem against the wall or something, but at least have them stand a proper trial?”

“The government of Oblast preferred to keep things quiet and fast with less issues with possible protests and all. We don’t quite control the Oblastian government, I would point out. The Inquisition was merely there to ensure the continued stability of the Oblastian government. I suppose one of the zealous Inquisitors made up the execution method and suggested it to the Oblastian Intelligence agents. The method is brutal yes, I admit. But this is a brutal galaxy, and if the Centralists want to play with fire, they must be reminded of the consequences. As for the idea of mind wiping, as much as it reduces the bloodshed, it is too bloodless to send any message. Perhaps we could have one of these damn drones go out and denounce Centralism, but once the method of mind wiping is known, it further neutralises the message. Now, I suppose the Inquisition could have tempered the response of the Oblastian government, but I can’t deny that a burning and a cross does wonders.”

“Yes, it’s a time-honored way of inducing fear,” Sidney sighed. Then, louder: “Am I to understand that to the Imperium, the Centralists are the main issue in the Outlands? So, if they were to go cease being a force of note, the need for burning and crucifying would go away too?”

“Yes of course. Then the rest of the humans could go back to killing Bragulan pets, and vice versa.”

“I see,” murmured Sidney. “Do you think it’s possible to convince the government of Pritaiy to cut back on the brutality for a bit, if we facilitate a decrease in Centralist activity?”

“Perhaps. We would then simply pillory the treacherous scum. Or maybe have them shot and their heads on a pike or something that reminds the people of what happens when you commit treason.”

Sidney winced. “Yes, I suppose that would be progress, wouldn’t it? But if you can get the Inquisition to call off its attack dogs, I think I might be of some help here. Who knows, pikes and scaffolds may not even be necessary.”

“Maybe. After we feed them to something,” Decius chuckled.

The special emissary let out a short bark of laughter. “You can do with the Bragulans as you like, Decius. I have no love for them, I lost two bodies to the bastards in the last war and they nearly got me for real too. If you want to harvest them for pelts or something, be my guest.”

“They have their usefulness at times, despite their boneheaded stupidity. And I hear there’s a few ‘shows’ coming on. Do be sure to watch them,” Decius chuckled a bit more.

An iniquitous grin. “I heard a thing or two about that. The ‘mysterious enemy from the anti-spinward’, yes? We’ll be sure to catch that one, should be quite a show indeed.”

“Oh indeed. See, the Apexai you buggers are hiding fore reasons quite not so beyond me are the apple in their eye and these bears don’t like to be reminded of a past insult. But push the right levers, they can be useful. And yes, that ‘mysterious enemy’, hmm hmm... indeed.” There was mild twinkle in his eyes, as Decius grinned.

“Hmm. I have to say, you have a lot of people mildly worried with your diplomatic advances toward the Brags,” Sidney rubbed his chin. “I mean, unlike some people I personally don’t really see a next war in the near future, but still. On the other hand...” He grinned and sipped his Amasec. “You’re still the Imperium, yes? I’m sure the Brags won’t get off your to-purge list anytime soon.”

“One xeno at a time. We haven’t quite forgotten that the Bragulans came to the Karlacks’ rescue in the Imperium-Karlack war, and we have been trying to pry the Bragulans off the Karlacks for centuries. While they remain allies, there is no bloody way we can possibly crush these damn many times cursed reptiles, or insects or whatever one wants to classify them. We can muster the whole Imperium, but in the end, it’d be a stalemate, considering how fast the Karlacks can multiply and rejuvenate.”

“They’re prickly buggers to be sure,” Sidney nodded. “And while we’re on the subject- what do you make of the increase in Swarm activity over the last year? It was only insignificant bug-hunts for a century and now... Janus, Nova Genoa, two worlds in ten months? Something has to be going on there.”

“Frankly, from time to time, the bugs like to test our defences. Admittedly, the Imperium’s navy is a shadow of its height. We could go build more ships, but it’d tax our economy, and quite frankly, I think some in the Administratum would be reluctant of going back to a war economy like we did during Imperium-Tau war. Much as we all would like to go back to squashing bugs, there are many many issues plaguing the galaxy, not least insufferable xenos of all varieties emerging from other dimensions, which you of all people should know that it can only mean bad things.”

“That is a matter of ongoing concern, to the Sovereignty and myself both,” Sidney replied and his tone was studiedly neutral. Then he grinned. “At least none of them have had the misfortune of showing up in our immediate vicinity, hey?”

“If they did, they would be in for a good shock. This is easily the harshest corner of the galaxy, having seen more brutal wars over the last millennia than any other part of the galaxy. Many of these burning cinders are still simmering. We ought to however be on our guard. That matter of the missing ship still troubles us, along with the remnants of her crew, literally speaking.” Decius’ eyebrows narrowed. An unspoken word passed between the two individuals. It could well happen again.

A nod. “There have been... parties interested in reviving that research. I’ve cautioned against it, so far with success because no-one want to see their trillion-dollar project disappear into the high hyperbands, but I can’t be sure for how long. At some point somebody is going to try again.” Sidney recalled the footage of that ship and the tomb it had become: the bloody scrawls on the reactor cores, the tapes full of gibbering madness... He shivered. “No matter the consequences.”

“There are places where even a God cannot walk, and there are realms of existence which must never ever connect. The results can be... quite fatal. The God Emperor has travelled to many places with his mind, and there are places where even he is reluctant to go.”

Sidney nodded. “I can imagine. But that’s a long-term thing. For now I’m just glad we’ve at least reached an accord on more immediate matters.” He raised his glass. “To peace and prosperity in the Outlands.”

“And freedom from Bragulans and Centralists,” Decius added. The Sigillite smiled and raised his own glass.

“I’ll toast to that.”

[Force Lord]

CENINTERN Conference, Centrum
14 January 3401

A loud voice suddenly boomed in the CENINTERN echoing chamber. It came, from a man clad in the adamantine lorica segmentatum of an Elysian military general. The stern man with Etruscan features was surrounded by centurions with plumed helms. He gestured at the one called Krieger, who sat at the head of the meeting of wise-men from across the galaxy.



When Gaeius Juliaeius spoke, it was with a voice unlike those of the mortals around him.

"Hail, Lord Krieger. Hail, glourious hosts. I come from the far away worlds of Elysium, for I too wish to create a state by my hand, and forge it into a force of order that will guide the barbarians of the cosmos to the light of civilization. The reign of your empire is long, lasting so many centuries. Truly, your Centralism has had great success in your Centrality. But the fledgling efforts made throughout the Nine Vectors are in danger of being snuffed out, as the case as been in those strange and distant worlds where the northern bears* seek to trample the prophets of Dovan under their clawed hooves of steel, and where the swarthy Asiatic pygmies of the orient** lay waste to your brethren. The Constantinopo-Chrestians*** even go so far as to crucificate the followers of Dovan, as we once did to their misbegotten prophet Christus. For the followers of Dovan to succeed, they must be nurtured by the bosom of the Center, fed with the milk pouring forth from the breasts of Dovan's first born nation. If these are Dovan's inheritors, then they must be protected, as done by the mother wolf whose teats young Remus and Remulus suckled from.

"For the Centralisms to become strong, then its patron nation must likewise be strong and rigid. Yet what I have seen in my journeys has been most disturbing. Your empire has been affronted and insulted by the Sheep-squeezers****, those barbarians who would put your consulates to the flame not once, but twice. Yet at these grave attacks, your empire has done nothing. It has not answered in the true noble way of ritualistically plunging the dagger betwixt their genitals to hear their womanly bellows. No. This lack of action may be mistaken for weakness by your enemies, and I do so hope that it is merely a mistake. Your strength and rigidness may no longer be seen as such by your adversaries, who will then believe your inaction to be caused by impotency, by flaccidity. I fear then, that this may make other barbarians more willing to abuse and violate your fellow Centralite brethren throughout the cosmos, forcing their nubile forms to undergo unthinkable debaucheries, taking your inaction for the complacencies of womanhood."



[*Bragulans, **Feelipeenis, ***Byzantines, ****Shepistanis]

Result: The Elysian Centralite speaks, and wonders about how strong Centralism can be if the Centrality itself hasn't answered to two blown up embassies.

Castration!? Wait, that may not be such a bad idea after all.

"An excellent speech, Gaeius. I will take your ideas into consideration, but know this: I have my own plans for the enemies of Centralism. I am merely waiting for the right moment to strike. That moment may not be so far off."

With that finished, Kierger again motioned Picard to continue.

"Now to perhaps one of the most thorny issues: relations between CENINTERN and the Centrality. Everyone knows that CENINTERN was formed due to frustration with the Centrality's past policy of isolationism, and created constant bickering between the two since Centrum feared that it would be blamed for CENINTERN's activities. It was only from the 31st Century onward that Centrum began to view CENINTERN more favorably as the old policy of isolationism broke down. This created a new fear however: a possibility that Centrum would try to do what the old Soviet Union did to the old Comintern: turn it into a patsy. While this has not happened with CENINTERN, the fear still exists. Opinions about this?"

[Mayabird]

Birds, Bears and Bugs
by DarthShady, Shroomy, and Mayabird

The Bragulan Economic Exposition Extravaganza of Friendship (BEEEF)
Vlyadibragstok, Southeastern Severnaya Sector / just beyond Northwestern Lena Sector
Unreal Time / October-December 3400

Deep in the frozen tundra of Vlyadibragstok was, for reasons only a true Byzonist would understand, a massive minefield. Only the toughest plants and lichen survived, scraping out an existence on rocks between the mines, and most of the time, only the air moved through it. Nearly any movement from animals or mobile fungi, no matter how small, would trigger a detonation and leave nothing but a crater behind to be filled with another mine and slowly recolonized by the lichen.

Two parties met on opposite ends of the minefield. Both of them had Bragulan escorts, though one was chitinous and one was feathered. The feathered ones were both fluffed up to try to stay a little warmer.

Fulcrum and Dash were accompanied by a representative from the People's Department of Limited Foreign Interaction and Human Affairs, their senior-most un-eaten Karlack Relations Expert, diplomatic liaison Gaem Boran. He was pulled from his posting in the shared Bragulan-Karlack border world Al-Kar just for this occasion, to serve as an intermediary for the birds and the bugs. Fulcrum observed him with his fierce eagle-eyes and concluded that the Bragulan was a nervous wreck, probably thanks to his posting, and was constantly swallowing Chill Pills bought from an Umerian stall. He had briefed them on the niceties of interacting with Karlacks, such as not looking into the eyes of hyperaggressive gauntlinglisks (which he claimed could squirt out acid blood), and staying upwind to avoid disseminating spores. He also warned them that Karlack Aspects tended to be extremely powerful psykers, and gave them fashionable protective headgear to wear.

“Finest anti-esper ushankas in the galaxy!” Fulcrum proclaimed with a shriek. The question of how many anti-esper ushankas actually existed in the galaxy was left unasked, though knowing the Bragulans, they could very well have billions.

The eagle thought it looked rather fetching on him; plus, it was warm.

“Da! And we have one fit for a Hero of the Bragulan Star Empire!” he said, pulling out a much larger one. He put it over Dash.

Dash is underneath it.

“Cozy,” he said.

They walked out of the Dredka overtank that served as their transport. And then it was time for the long walk (or for Dash, the long scooch as he pushed the ushanka along). Spotters ran ahead, checking for mines in the path, directing the escort along the winding way. Occasionally, there was an explosion ahead, and another spotter with the escort was sent as a replacement. Fulcrum would have preferred to fly over the whole thing, but he also wanted to keep his armed Bragulan guards around. Plus, of course, if things got untenably bad he still had the z-axis as an option. They didn’t have any floating mines about that he could see.

Eventually they reached a circular clearing, where the other team of Bragulan escorts were already at. In contrast to the Avians’ bodyguards, the other team was all decked out in sealed nuclear-biochemical suits, with filtered respirators and with many of them equipped with mandatory nuclear flamethrowers. The two teams signalled each other and began fanning out, taking defensive positions all around the clearing. For some reason, all their guns were pointed inside.

Before the Avians, or Gaem Boran, could ask where the Karlack delegation was, the ground suddenly exploded and in a blast of dirt and permafrost, burrowed Karlack bioforms began to emerge and crawl into the clearing. The Bragulan diplomatic liaison flinched and quivered in fear. He ate one last Chill Pill before covering his head in a sealed helmet.

The nearest Karlack bioform looked at Fulcrum and hissed in recognition. But a human-looking hand restrained it. Fulcrum recognized her immediately, from the Bragulan briefing files. Infested Alyxia.

For a brief second, he saw her true form. Infested to the core, with slithering tentacles and razor-sharped claws, warped into something that could be barely described as human. Then he blinked, and the infestations were suddenly gone, and Alyxia Komnenos looked completely human. She regarded the giant eagle wearing a hat, and the talking hat beside it, which was actually another bird wearing a very oversized hat.

“I hope you did not take undue offense to my interruption of your underlings’ feasting after the Gorilloid Incident,” Fulcrum said, not sounding apologetic at all.

“Howdoyoudo,” said Dash.

And then to break the ice on the permafrost, saving everyone else from the awkwardness of introductions, Gaem Boran started making a speech. Fulcrum tuned it out to study Alyxia, as once you’d heard about a dozen Bragulan speeches you basically knew them all. He had been trained in reading human body language, but how much of that would actually work with this Karlack-ed former human? You’d think she was just some young woman taking her pets out for a walk by the way she was standing. In the background, Gaem Boran droned on about K-Zone this, human oppression that, something something proletariat something something boot on face forever talk talk true swarming menace this and chitinous masses of humanity that and blah blah Inhumanist League... what was that last bit?

“Da!” Gaem Boran was starting to feel better. The Chill Pills were having an effect now, and combined with the ecstatic high all Byzonists get when Byzonizing, all his nervousness had been purged just like the kuulaaks. As an expert in Bragulan speechifying, he instantly knew when he had gotten the attention of someone previously not listening to Byzonist statements. “The Inhumanist League! It is Bragulan plan to unify all the inhuman nations of the galaxy, to better stand against the myriad encroachments of the vile human huns! It is not merely a military pact, but is an organization to foster better understanding between the inhuman peoples of the galaxy, to promote peace, trade, better cultural misunderstandings, and such.

“It is grave misfortune that our fellow inhumans are scattered across the nine vectors. But it is great fortune that Bragule is blessed, by the will of Byzon, to be neighbors with two fellow inhuman comrade-nations! The bountiful monstrosities of the Karlack Swarm, and the feathery friends in the Refuge!” Gaem Boran said some more. “Thus it is imperative that Bragule’s comrade-nations are at peace with one another, for K-Zone harmony and inhuman solidarity.”

“‘Peace with one another,’” Fulcrum repeated, sounding like a question and yet not. “Yes, a League would be difficult to maintain if any members were to attack any others. We of the Refuge can of course uphold our end, as we do not wage offensive war.” He cocked his head at Alyxia.

“Oh?” she asked, with a coy smirk. “It wasn’t very long ago at all that your Refuge annexed three whole sectors of space.”

Right, right, keep me on the defensive, Fulcrum thought. “That was not warfare,” he responded, darkly. Dash hopped in agreement. “It was necessary for establishing a defensive perimeter and consolidating our position. We are not even conquering anyone already there, as they are allowed to emigrate freely; we even assist those who would like to leave but lack the means to do so, providing free transport to the location of their choosing. No one is forced to join or serve us without their consent.”

If he chose his words to try to get a rise out of Alyxia, he showed no sign. His single ferocious expression gave away nothing, and behind the ushanka he was unreadable. Faint, muffled sounds came from under the large hat, like something small was very twitchy, but beyond that was only speculation as to why. Alyxia also showed no sign of hearing the obvious connotations of his statement. Gaem Boran did, though, despite his Byzonist and Chill Pill haze, and he did not like the direction that the conversation was going. “Please, comrades, divisions between us will only strengthen the humans!”

“Exactly,” said Fulcrum, “which is why I must make sure the Karlacks can be trusted.”

“Da! Da! They can be trusted!” Gaem Boran said too quickly and a bit shrilly too, as his fear of getting eaten - or worse, consumed - was overriding both his Chill and his doublethink.

“But I must be able to convince my superiors of that. Tell me,” and Fulcrum cocked his head again, “they say you are an ‘Aspect.’ What does this mean? Do you merely speak for the Swarm, or do you have authority within it?”

“Yes, I am an Aspect. ” Alyxia said and grinned, which made her look rather predatory. She looked directly into Fulcrum’s eagle-eyes, matching his ferocious expression with one of her own. “For the purposes of this meeting, you may consider me to be the voice and the will of The Karlack Swarm. I have the authority to make any deal... we deem acceptable to us.”

She paused for a second and glanced at the large hat that appeared to be twitching. Her expression did not give away much, only a small hint of amusement.

“The differences between our two species may be great, but you can rest assured that everything we agree on here today, will be honored and obeyed by every single Karlack bio-form. The Bragulans can vouch for that. We have honored our agreement with them for a very long time.” She said and smiled. “You on the other hand are newcomers to this universe and to our little corner of it. How do I know we can trust you?”

“You do not,” said Fulcrum, “as we have not had time to establish evidenced trust yet. You may just have to trust in our need to have someone who will trust us, as this is no place to be friendless, or least without allies. Or perhaps we could start with a joint gesture, say, by withdrawing any scouts we both may possibly have spying on each other?” he concluded, in a manner that suggested that it was absolutely true and they both knew it, but for reasons of officiality he couldn’t directly say it so he was going to play the dumb word games that diplomats must play. “We would be found to be poor meals, at any rate, as we do not planoform worlds and our biomass is kept safe in shells of metal.

“Ah, but where are my manners? Another sign of trust would be our continued dialogue! This...” He held out a wing to encompass the minefield on the vast frozen wastes. “...this is not the most congenial environment. We must establish a channel and location for both our futures.”

“The Bragulan-Karlack border world of Al-Kar can be used as the meeting ground for Refuge-Karlack intercourses, temporarily at least until you establish your own rendezvous,” Gaem offered, inadvertently disclosing the nature of Al-Kar due to being under the influence of the Chill Pills. “But in the meantime, the meeting at the Inhumanist League will be taking place in quite a cozy dacha located in an underground bunker. Much more comfy than here, in frostbitten postnuclear ice tundra.”

“That sounds lovely,” said Fulcrum. His fluffed feathers gave him some protection, but his bare and metal-lined claws were stinging from the cold. Alyxia only appeared to be wearing a black jumpsuit but did not look uncomfortable at all, and the bioforms did not look bothered at all. “Both Al-Kar and this cozy dacha.

“But there is one question before I can proceed,” Fulcrum said. “You may know that the Refuge has been engaged in joint operations with the Clans of Hiigara in the former Outlands, as well as starting trade with a number of majority-human nations. I cannot imagine that any of them would be pleased to know that we had joined such an organization, and the same reaction would go for any other members of this league. How would we avoid conflict? I don’t believe we, that being all of us who are not human, have the numbers or logistics to survive an all-out us vs. them war.”

Gaem Boran beamed. “That is the beauty of it! The Inhumanist League is a secret pact!”

“Then this sounds very promising indeed. Aside from the three of us, who else would be joining?”

“Many others! In fact, the first meeting has already commenced! We can join the others at any time!

“Now would be a good time, we wouldn’t want to keep the others waiting.”

“Indeed, I think we are finished for the moment, and ‘now’ would be a wonderful time for us to present ourselves in unity. Why, this could be the start a beautiful friendship!”

[Akhlut]

Co-written with Shroom

Luz
High Orbit

The Nkwey, a Sasidwi class ship, powered toward planet Luz. Kuna sat upon the bridge, looking upon the Feelipeeno's planet. She was a diplomat and was expected to wrest Shroomarcos firmly into the NenAltKik's sphere of influence. They were becoming too close to Shepistan and that was unacceptable. The NenAltKik had just been wracked by a coup attempt and could not accept nearby planets coming under the influence of potential enemies. While Shepistan was not a problem now, who knows what insanity could overcome them? They nuked geese, what's to stop them from trying to kill the NenAltKik for utilizing psykers or for being insufficiently kind to PUPPERs? Plus, if the Commies or Centralists ousted Shroomarcos, who knows what they would do? It was better by far to get Shroomarcos to understand what was in his best interest.

Thus, a kipakt was being sent; humans always had a visceral reaction to a 1 ton predator who could kill in a single bite.

The Nkwey pulled into orbit around Luz and sent all the relevant docking codes, as well as confirming its status as a diplomatic vessel. The Feelipeenos were rather wary of the ship, though, bristling as it was with powerful guns and missiles. Yet, it was certainly a NenAltKik vessel, and they were not renowned for surprise attacks on small nations, at least on their own.

Kuna sent a message to the Feelipeeno diplomatic corps.

"I wish to directly speak with President Shroomarcos at the soonest opportunity. We have important matters to discuss about a possible alliance and economic cooperation. This is very necessary, please alert him as soon as possible."

She chirped in contentment after killing the signal.

This should hopefully be fun.



Maynilad



"I will not stand for this naked attempt at gunboat diplomacy!" Shroomarcos spat. "Those overgrown lizards think they can come here and get their way with us? First the communistas and the centralismos, and now these fat crocodiles! Ahhh!"

"So, what do we do, sir?" asked one of his goons.

"Send our new warships to escort the lizard ship to dock in Maynilad Bay," Shroomarcos decided. "And someone get me General Sheppard on the line. Tell him these reptiles are trying to do something funny."

"Anything else?" the goon-aide asked.

"Bring that goddamn lizard ambassador into the Palace and arrange a meeting. Possibly in the garden, since she might not fit in the function rooms. And make sure there are screens around the place, so she won't see any of the goddamn poor people outside!"



Luz
High orbit



The two Blitz-class frigvettes approached the dinosaurian destroyer. The Arowana and the Bangus began transmitting to the ship, their captains instructing it to dock in Maynilad Bay in broken English. Just as they did, a small squadron of rusty hand-me-down Shepistani fighters, Mark 0 Vipers, reached orbit to join the makeshift space parade. This was the first time in years that the Feelipeeni Aerospace Patrol (FAP) had been scrambled into action, and considering that their pilots were in the habit of leaving cockpit canopies open overnight while it rained, it was a very good effort on their part.

Some of the aerospacecraft’s radios were malfunctioning, so they resorted to flashing lights in morse code as they caught up with the formation on their sputtering turboramscramfanjets.

Aboard the Nkwey

Luthuli, captain of the Nkwey, observed the antiquated fighters sent to escort her ship and felt something between pity and hilarity. And, upon hearing their use English she felt something like scorn as she let her autotranslators scramble to decipher what had been said by the captains of the Feelipeeno vessels. A thought suddenly hit her.

“Kuna, didn’t Shroomarcos purchase some frigvettes from the Centrality?”

“Possibly. I honestly forgot whether they did or not. It is irrelevant anyway, as he’s such a rat bastard that he’d gladly snivel at your feet and try to stab you once you turned around. That’s why I’m here to negotiate; humans are prey, and I’m a predator, madam. He might try to betray us, but in that little part of his brain still hopping from tree to tree, he recognizes something in me: a large predator that will happily strip the flesh off his bones. Humans, for all their technology, are still those little lemurs hopping in the forest. They huddle in fear in the trees when the sun sets, while we hunt for our dinner then. Ferdinand might beg Shepistan for help, but he’ll always have it in his head that I’ll always be stalking him in the jungles, concrete and otherwise.”

The pilot called back to Luthuli and told her that they were pulling into the bay and would be docking momentarily.

“Kuna, shouldn’t you being to ready yourself for your meeting?” Luthuli asked.

“Soon. They’re trying to muster some sort of force to try and show us that they do no fear us, so we shall show them a minor disrespect and get them a bit angry. They’ll make mistakes. Shroomarcos will do something stupid. Let me handle this, madam captain.”

Kuna chirped in pleasure while she went back to her quarters to assemble herself for a meeting.

“Don’t forget to get some body guards ready. Preferably kipaktli in full power armor.”



Maynilad



Malacañ’tang Palace was the the official residence and principal workplace of the President of the Feelipeens. The house was built in 2750 in Españard Colonial style. It has been the residence of every Feelipeeni head since Emilia Aguinalda. During the Shepistanimerican period, the Governor-Generals built an executive building, the Killayaan Hall, which was later transformed into a museum.

Though Shroomarcos lived in his very own residence, the mountaintop fortress fashioned in the image of his own face, Mount Marcos, for protocol and tradition’s sake he did many of his civic duties in Malacañ’tang. Like receiving guests. Right now, he was sitting on the veranda of the Palace’s garden, sipping on some coconut juice.

“Sir,” an aide-goon, with a Puzi subgun slung across his chest, approached him. “Do you want some more buko?”

“No! I don’t want any more fucking coconut juice!” Shroomarcos spat, literally, sending coconut juice and spittle flying at the face of his goon. He threw the coconut shell at him for good measure. “What the hell is taking those goddamn lizards so long? Are they dragging their tails? Jesus!”

“I... I don’t know,” the goon stammered.

“Of course you don’t. You’re an idiot. Fuck those scaly shits, I should have them turned into leather shoes for Imelda,” Shroomarcos got off his lawn chair and snapped his fingers. Aides and servants came over to clean up the mess he made. “They think they can come in here and scare me with their shitty ships? Huh? And now they want to play the waiting game, and make me stay out here in the fucking sun? It’s hot, don’t they know that? They probably do, and that’s why they’re doing it! So fuck them! I try to set up a meeting out here, in a nice garden, with all the birds and the bees and the trees, so those overgrown brontosauruses won’t have to bend their necks under the ceiling, so they can just stick their heads up to the tree tops and eat some grass. But no! They want to screw with me, with Ferdinand Shroomarcos. But they don’t know, they don’t know that if they screw with me, they’re screwing with the best, asshole!”

“They picked the wrong asshole to screw with,” the aide-goon nodded.

“Damn right, motherfucker!” Shroomarcos spat. Then, upon realizing that the goon just called him an asshole, he snapped his fingers. Two more goons came and dragged the first goon away. He overheard the sound of screams, and then a very loud bang, and no more screams. Shroomarcos laughed. Nobody screwed with his asshole. It read ‘exit only’. “We’re gonna move the meeting indoors. Pick the room with the lowest damn ceiling. I want those frickin’ geckos bowing their heads to pray to me, capiche?”



Finally the NenAltKik ambassador arrived. She was a huge beast, a one-ton reptilian killing machine. At first, Shroomarcos was worried, being in the same room with such a dangerous creature. But he reminded himself that he had encountered far more deadly monsters in his time, like General Sheppard, Governator Ronald von Reagan and that other asshole who hung out in that asteroid base. So he relaxed a little and took solace in the fact that the kipakt could barely fit into the room, with her head scraping under the ceiling and causing the paint to chip off, and her knees bent just so she could fit inside. He offered her a seat, but when she sat down the chair broke. He apologized for it, trying to sound as convincingly sincere as he could, and said that they had no chair that could bear her weight, so she had to sit on the floor.

“Welcome to the Feelipeens, Ambassador. Mabuhay. I hope your trip went well. Nice ship, by the way.” Shroomarcos said and gave her his warmest, fakest and most insincerest smile. Ever.

Since this was a private meeting, between him and her alone, their respective bodyguards stayed outside. Shroomarcos’ goons were quite nervous, standing around with a bunch of power armored dinosaurs, but the kipakt were also confused when a bunch of hotrod red Shepeterbilt trucks parked themselves nearby, ruining Malacañ’tang Palace’s pristine gardens by turning it into a miniature truckstop. While there was a tense face off between the mustachioed Puzi-brandishing goons, the giant dinosaurs, and machines that were more than met the eye, deep inside Malacañ’tang, an even more epic confrontation was beginning.

Kuna shifted, her claws gouging ruts into the expensive wooden floors, her tail swaying about, knocking several priceless pieces of porcelain down. Shroomarcos winced.

“President, sitting is rather uncomfortable in this position, I’d much rather stand.”

Upon standing, she lowered her neck so as not to scrape the ceiling.



The result did not look nearly enough like she was praying to him, as Shroomarcos had hoped.

Sweet Jesus Mother of God! Shroomarcos nearly crapped his pants, but his acting skills gave no hint of that fact. His prostates were swelling to the size of cats from the stress, but he controlled himself, no matter how uncomfortable he got.

“So,” he cleared his throat and leaned back on his seat, to lessen the pressure on his lymph nodes. “What brings you to my fair country?”

As he waited for a response, he fiddled with a dial on the arm of his chair. It controlled the temperature settings of his seat, cooling it and giving the effect of rubbing ice on his swollen parts.

“Mr. President, I am here because the NenAltKik is interested in a mutually beneficial relationship with the Feelipeens. For too long, the NenAltKik has not paid adequate attention to you, our neighbors. So, we wish to extend a hand in friendship and engage in more open economic relationships and possibly some military aid,” she said, extending her own giant claw in friendship, her mouth approximating a human smile; the effect was decidedly not comforting.



“Trade is good!” Shroomarcos said, a little bit too loudly. “The Feelipeens is bountiful in natural resources, and we are always looking for foreign investments. Yes.”

If that was all these overgrown leather bags came for, then good. They could sell chickens to these damn reptilians. Shroomarcos remembered how they fed chickens to the crocodiles in the zoo, so he thought the kipakt probably liked chickens too. Since she was an overgrown crocodile, maybe she wanted an overgrown chicken. Shroomarcos wondered where he could find an overgrown chicken. He knew there were Arcturan Megaturkeys. But chickens? Who knew?

But the lizards weren’t here just for the chickens, no. They brought their warship in high orbit, did some gunboat diplomacy, and now the kipakt laid it bare.

“What kind of military aid are we talking about?” Shroomarcos asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Well, we’re currently upgrading our infantry weapons; greater power, larger magazines, and all that sort of thing. So, that means we’re going to have hundreds of millions of excess weapons that do us little good. So, with a little refurbishing for a modest fee, we could give these weapons to the Feelipeeno armed forces. Now, some of these weapons are kipakt weapons, and thus are useless for humans, as you’re too weak and puny to lift a 300 kg autogun, but we can modify them for vehicle mounts. Perhaps you could send us some jeepneys so we can premount them for you? We could also send you surplus missile defense systems or the like. Of course, we would want some exclusivity, so any prior arms agreements should be terminated. As for trade, I already know several firms on Tlali that would like to expand into the Feelipeens and set up factories, ranches for brontosaurs, and perhaps even develop some ecotourism opportunities here. This, too, would require some give on your part; perhaps no tariffs on NenAltKik goods and raising tariffs on other nations goods and services, like, say, Shepistan? We can work out more details later, if this sounds agreeable to you,” Kuna said, leaning her head forward, that same smile creeping onto her face. Shroomarcos could smell that kipakt seldom brushed their teeth (though, he didn’t know that was because they regrew their teeth) and that she had very recently eaten something.

Get a breath mint, Shroomarcos said to her with his brain. He straightened and looked at the terrible lizard right in her slit-pupiled eyes. They were nowhere near as frightening as General Sheppard’s crazy-eyes.

“I am sorry, your excellency. But the Shepistanimericans have been great allies to the Feelipeens and it simply wouldn’t do for us to just leave them out in the dust like that. The Shepistan-Feelipeeni relationship is a special one, they helped us fight for our freedom against the Españards and the Japanistanis, they saved us from the Amplitur craboids. They gave us the democracy our nation so enjoys right now. We do not abandon our friends, that is not the Feelipeeni way.” Shroomarcos held his head up high and looked straight at the dinosaurian, in obvious defiance. It took a lot more than bad breath to scare a man brave enough to let a ruthless genocidal warmonger vomit all over his wife’s pretty dress.

That didn’t mean the sight of the huge allosaurian-ambassador wasn’t horrifying to Shroomarcos, because it was. So to calm himself down, he just imagined the enormous kipakt vomiting on Imelda, and visualized the flood of puke sweeping the hag and all her shoes away. Shroomarcos’ posture relaxed and he smiled visibly at the thought. “But that certainly doesn’t preclude the Feelipeens from having excellent social, economic and cultural relations with the Union State of the Four Stars. Why, despite their differences, both Shepistan and Umeria do good business here. The Umerians are building a Space Bridge, and yet it is mass drivers are powered by a Shepistani General Atomics reactor, because the Feelipeens is a land of peace, friendship and cooperation. We Feelipeenis pride ourselves for our hospitality to all visitors and guests, madam ambassador. Certainly, we can come to an agreement that will be beneficial to all. The things you proposed are wonderful, an excellent opportunity for both our nations, and Feelipeens is a fertile place to plant your foreign investments, like no other place in the galaxy. You won’t find any of those pesky environmental regulations for introduced species here, not like in those other nations, no siree. You can have your brontosauruses roaming all over the countryside, eating all the stray dogs and cats, and then we can chop them and serve them for food along with the dogs and cats for side dishes with some balut for dessert too, and no one would bat an eyelid... or a nictatating membrane.”



Shroomarcos leaned back on his seat. The cold-cushion was certainly doing its job on his lymph nodes. He could feel the coldness constricting the blood vessels in his scrotum, causing the swelling to go down. Ah yeah, that’s the stuff.

“Ah, it is good that we can come closer to an agreement. We can work out the particulars shortly, while I get in touch with the government about specifics that should be worked out. In the meantime, while the transmission goes out and we await a response, might we have something to eat? I am absolutely starving and would really like to get my jaws into something.”

Before Shroomarcos could even respond, she idly cocked her head in thought and voiced her thoughts. “Perhaps a carabao calf or two. Live, of course. Maybe a side dish of a few geese. Just too many decisions to make when trying foreign cuisine.”

Shroomarcos merely nodded at this and clapped his hands. After a minute, one of the side-doors opened and in came a live carabao adorned with herbs and spices.


Child not included.

“I’m sorry, we have a shortage of geese at the moment,” Shroomarcos apologized. “Apparently due to the Tianguonese chicken flu, all our local chickens were exterminated. So the local cockfighters had to use geese for the next game.”

“That is not a problem,” Kuna replied as she suddenly bent down and sank her fangs into the stricken carabao. Right there in front of him, Shroomarcos watched the water buffalo howl in pain and flail desperately as the NenAltKik ambassador devoured it. She jerked her head, dismembering the carabao’s head, which flew into the air and landed right beside Shroomarcos’ chair. With the buffalo very dead, it became very quiet, save for the sound of the ambassador’s mastications as she chewed on a hind leg and crushed its bones with her fangs. “The seasoning is quite exquisite, Mr. President. Care to try some?”

“No, thank you. I just had breakfast.” And I think I’m gonna to puke it out. Shroomarcos smiled nervously. He sank in his seat, relaxing as his lymph nodes finally deflated. “Bon appetit.”

[PeZook]

Deep inside Collector space

Code: Select all

Changes in subject genetic structure evident. Reduced metabollic rates. Increased body fat percentage 182% compared to baseline. Evidence of long-term genetic drift compared to baseline.

Matter contains indicators ABG-1, ABG-2 and ABG-6 of extrauniversal origin, ref. Silverback files.

In the dark, the heart, pounding. The blood throbbing in the ears. What was that sensation? His feet...moving. One after another. Thumping on the ground.

"No...please...please, make it stop! It hurts! It hurts so much!

Code: Select all

Lowered cardiovascular efficiency environmental, not genetic.

Vastly increased risk of cardiovascular disease. Vastly increased risk of diabetes. Subjects unsuitable for behavioral experiments without high-technology inputs.

Masses of machines crawling all over their skin. Needles painfully inserted into their bodies. Tubes, tubes connected to other machines. Pumping noises in the dark.

Code: Select all

Severely atrophied muscles require technological aids for movement. Determination: subjects unfit for survival without constant automated care.

Attempt to remedy situation with batch 64 in progress

The pain, lasting forever through the night. Flashes of past lives as muscles hurt, hurt with unimaginable pain.

He wakes up. What sort of time has passed in this fevered dream? What sort of terrible things were done to him and his crew?

The being, formerly known as captain MacCrea, rises from his bed. The room is small and empty, all-white, impeccably hygenic, and smells of nothing. He stands up, noticing the odd feeling...as if he became so fragile, so delicate that any movement threatens to break bones.

He stands.

The former MEH captain looks down, at his legs. He stands!

His head feels tiny and light. His body starved and collapsed. He takes a step, an unsure move long forgotten. He notices a small bathroom and goes in there, pinprincs of the unknown sensation of cold all over his skin.

He stands in front of a mirror.

And screams.



"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

The emanciated, horrible figure, rid of the healthy round lines of an adult male in his prime stares from the mirror with its skinny skull. There's barely any fat on this horrible, horrible visage, the skin stretched tightly over bone. Grotesque proportions of the chest, so revolting, so...alien.

"What did you do to me? What did you do to my crew?! Monsters! Beasts! What measure of pain will satisfy you?! Curse be upon you, curse forever!"

He understands now. That would be their fate. Starved and abused, to wither away in prison.

Captain MacCrea collapses and weeps for what he has become.

Code: Select all

Experiment failure. Reduction of body mass to average human standards caused deep psychological trauma in 99% of subjects from batch 64.

Recommend meta-comparison of other study results.

Results transferred to behavioral study division.

[Force Lord]

Luz, Mayniland, Feelipeens
Unreal Time/Early 3401

The individual looked Feelipeeni. He even acted like a Feelipeeni. Entering his room, the "Feelipeeni" began to rummage his closet.

Five minutes later, at the window, the "Feelipeeni" was aiming his sniper rifle.

He had learned that an important politico was scheduled to make a rally in support of Shroomarcos, the same politico who arranged for the deaths of many followers of Islam.

The "Feelipeeni" was actually a Moro. And he muttered, "Allah Akbar"

[Shroom Man 777]

Tidustown, Jenova
(Sector Y-22)



The sleepy little village of Tidustown was situated between the foots of two mountains, which formed what was known as the Vivi Valley. The valley, in turn, was in the middle of the inhabitable meridian of Jenova, between the infernal hemisphere perpetually exposed to the sun, and the frostbitten hemisphere covered in unending darkness. In this perfectly balanced climate zone, Tidustown was blessed with the most pleasant of weathers, neither too hot nor too cold, allowing lush green vegetations and frolicking animal life to bloom in its surroundings. The pleasant people of Tidustown, the albinic Jenovans, had once live in perfect harmony with nature, living their lives calmly in their little oasis. But that tranquility was shattered by the coming of the Bragulans and the Byzantines, who fortified the inhospitable hemispheres of Jenova in the ensuing war. Thus then, the Tidustownsfolk timidly tried to survive quietly, under the shadow of the warring empires, careful not to attract their attention. Life went on, and unlike their unluckier kin elsewhere, Tidustown had a measure of protection as it was concealed in the Vivi Valley.

Yet many Jenovans were not content with the hand fate had dealt them. Thus when they heard rumblings and grumblings and bumblings in the nearby former Outlands, and learned of the Centralism that had spread throughout so many of the Outanders, they decided "what the heck, why not?" and adopted the ideology, hoping to one day rise up and cast out their foreign invaders.

Thus these Jenovan Centralites convened in the safety of Tidustown, away from the ravages of war and the wasted ruins of their once-proud cities, under the Vivi Valley that would shield them from the scrutiny of the Hunter Killer patrols and roaming Death Squads.



"If we adopt Centralism, we can unite all the Jenovans!" said the leader of Tidustown, who was very enthusiastic and confident. "Then we can all work together and beat these invaders! We can cooperate and work as a team! We can get help from the Outlanders, who are right next door. The Centrality might even give us arms!"

"The Centrality's too far away!" someone else said. "How can they help us? The Shepistanis blew up two of their embassies, but they didn't even do anything. Even if they care for us as much as they do their own people in their own embassies, our enemies can still bomb us twice and we won't get so much as a peep from them!"

"That's not true!" the mayor of Tidustown whined. "And even if it was, the Centrality's not the same as the CENINTERN, and those guys stick it up to the man! Look at what they're doing in the former Outlands!"

"What they're doing is getting crucified!" another replied. "And what the heck does "stick it up to the man" mean anyway? Who's "the man"?"

"Heraclius is the man! And we have to stick it up to him!" the mayor answered. "And Byzon too!"

"But Byzon isn't even a man! He's a fifty foot tall bear!"

"It doesn't matter! And he's probably not that big, either!" the mayor complained.

"How would you know that? Have you even seen him?" another critic questioned him. "He probably IS that big, judging by the size of the shit he gave us here. Emperor Heraclius too!"

"AW! GIVE ME A BREAK, GUYS!" Tidus whined again. "Come on! Man!"

"Okay, okay," his critics backed down. "We're sorry, man. We didn't mean to be so... y'know, and a fifty foot tall bear is pretty far-fetched, if you think about it."

"I know, right!" Tidus jumped, smiling now that someone was finally agreeing with him. "Now, how about Centralism?"

"Well, I guess it's worth a shot," his critics conceded. "It's not like we have much of a choice. Nobody else is gonna care about us, so we might as well shack up with those CENINTERN guys and try to get something done."

"Alright! Radical!" Tidus pumped his fist. "I knew you'd see it my way! This is gonna be awesome!"



Vivi Valley

As the Jenovans discussed amongst themselves down in Tidustown, something less amicable was happening on top of the mountains themselves. The ground shook, which wasn't unusual due to the seismic activity in this part of the planet, not too far from Mount Mortor. But the earthshaking footfalls were not due to any volcanoes. They were man-made. God-Emperor of Man-made.



The Warhound scout titan was much smaller than the truly enormous war machines of the Byzantine Titan Legions. It stood at only forty five feet in height, and weight at a rather light hundred-something tons. Its nimble size was what classified it as a scout titan, and it lived up to its designation as it climbed the very top of the mountain - a feat that its larger brethren were incapable of accomplishing, probably because they'd squish the mountains underfoot.

As it reached its destination, it bent down to survey all that was below it. Its sensors detected life signs and habitations in the valley, but these weren't its targets, just some insignificant insects doing whatever it was they were doing in their miserable bug's life. The Princeps commanding the titan couldn't give a damn about the albinos, and shifted the Warhound's gaze towards its true target. Much further away, so far that had the titan been at ground level, the target would have been beyond the horizon. But now that it was in an elevated position, the Warhound could see its target just fine.

Its sensorium locked on. The technopriests manning the armamentorium uttered a small prayer condemning their victims to die as agonizingly as possible. The Princeps gave the command, and the Warhound's turbo-laser destructor and plasma blastguns fired as one - sending devastating beams of blinding light towards the faraway target.

After several salvos, the Warhound ceased and made its way down the mountain, to relocate itself away from the inevitable counter-fire.



Imperial Forward Operating Base #567 (Bragulan), Paine Plains, Jenova



Trooper Last Class Bożiydarg Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi surveyed the land with his peritelescopes. The watchtowers of Bragulan IFOBs were tall and rigid erections, set up to extend the sensory peripheral vision of the bases themselves, and to give their guards the best vantage points from which to machinegun any straggling albino civilians caught wandering in the blistering deserts of Jenova's Brag-owned hemisphere. From the many gunports and portguns of the watchtowers protruded countless K-bolters, grenade launchers, rocket tubules and battle cannons. Armoring these stilt-standing fortresses were layers of Bragsteel and Bragcrete. For miles around them were minefields and entire forests of irradiated razor wire pitted with plutonium punji pit potholes. But all of these armamentations would be for naught, for Trooper Last Class Bożiydarg Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi.

As he surveyed the desolated murderscape with his Mark I eyeballs, a glinting light caught his attention. A glinting light that was growing larger with frightening speed.

"OH SHITS!" Trooper Last Class Bożiydarg Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi bellowed as he dropped his peritelescopes and cranked the emergency bear-raid sirens beside him.

The sirens only sounded for a second, because that was how long Trooper Last Class Bożiydarg Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi lived until the massive plasma bolt struck dead center on his watchtower - vaporizing the Bragsteel and Bragcrete, and leaving no trace of the trooper or the tower except for the half-molten stilt legs sticking out of the ground.

More plasma bolts and turbo-lasers came, and the other watchtowers beside Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi's ruined post were slagged, cut down from afar as though they were nothing. Which was what they were. After all the towers were decimated, the bolts and beams continued further and deeper into the IFOB - no longer striking sentry posts but now actual bunkers, command centers, barracks, supply depots and armories. Some of these structures exploded, just like the towers, but only some. As the bolts struck at the center of the base, the explosions ceased and were replaced by bright flashes of light, the telltale signs of energy weaponries glancing against ray shields.

Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi's watchtower, and other expendable structures like it, were part of an elaborate Bragskirovka. They were trivial, non-vital and easy to replace, and could be destroyed by an opportunistic attacker quickly - giving him the mistaken impression of inflicting actual noticeable damage, when he in fact had not! The watchtowers were equipped with releaded plutonium-infused diesel generators to power them, and also to create a thick layer of irradiated smog to obscure enemy sensoriums from above. Their heightened positions also obscured other lower-lying buildings from the enemy's field of vision at the ground-level. Their pathetic armamentations of mere anti-personnel and non-nuclear weaponries also meant that they barely contributed to base defense, and their losses could be easily shrugged off. All in all, that meant Trooper Last Class Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi and all his kind were merely bait to attract opportunists - who would now be destroyed in the counter-fire.

The ray shielded command center in the middle of the IFOB reported the events to the nearest Second Artillery Corps at hand, merely a few hundred kilometers away, and within seconds the Bragulans made their response.



With thermonuclear missile artillery.

The SPUDs screamed out of their cavernous silos and monstrous mobile launchers, internal atomic-combustion engines hurling them at speeds dozens of times faster than sound. Their wakes, blindingly lit by burning liquid uranium and liquid plutonium, sent radioactive fallout raining down on all the inhabited areas they overflew. As they neared their destination, they lowered their altitude and flew mere dozens of meters from the ground, reducing the fears of fallout now that anyone unlucky enough to be caught under the Spuds would be too powderized by the shockwaves to worry about the irradiation. Traveling at escape velocity, but in a horizontal trajectory, meant that it did not take long for the Spuds to reach their destination. The location where the attack on IFOB #567 was traced to.



Tidustown, Jenova



"To Centralism!" the mayor of Tidustown declared. Then, looking at all the celebrating Jenovans with him, he also added: "To albinism!"

They had a miniature parade with their enormous motorcycles, and with their ridiculously huge swords they knighted each other, all part of the festivities. They feasted on materia and clanged glasses full of lifestream.

"This is the beginning of a new age for Jenova!" the mayor said happily. "With the power of friendship, we can work together to make a better world!"

They played musics of victory.

"A free Jenova, united as one, without these Byzantines and Bragulans, that is our final fantasy!" he declared. He looked up to the clear blue sky. "Finally, our fantasy has come close to reali - HOLYCRAPWHATTHEFUCKISTHA



The Spuds blossomed into artificial suns that rained down to punish the degenerates of that village.

Trooper Last Class Bożiydarg Braglyantynopolicrzewyiskiyi's noble sacrifice was avenged.

This was the ultimate revengeance.

[Shroom Man 777]

Luz, Mayniland, Feelipeens
Unreal Time/Early 3401

The individual looked Feelipeeni. He even acted like a Feelipeeni. Entering his room, the "Feelipeeni" began to rummage his closet.

Five minutes later, at the window, the "Feelipeeni" was aiming his sniper rifle.

He had learned that an important politico was scheduled to make a rally in support of Shroomarcos, the same politico who arranged for the deaths of many followers of Islam.

The "Feelipeeni" was actually a Moro. And he muttered, "Allah Akbar"

Maynilad, Luz, the Feelipeens



Secretary of Defense Jaun Pounce Erline was with his wife attending a big fiesta. After eating lechon and downing balut in shot glasses, he went on to mingle with the crowds. Since this was a fiesta to the Salvador Niñyo, a religious occasion, many people from the Church came there to celebrate as well. There were nuns and bishops and altar boys frolicking with the priests.

"Oh, Manong Johnny!" the nun cried as she handed him a gift, something really expensive bought from the donations of church goers. "Thank you so much for helping the community! I love what you did to the communistas and those centralismos, and those Moros too. They were all sons of bitches, and I'm sure they're burning in hell right now!"

Erline laughed, and so did his wife, and the nuns, and the priests, and the altar boys.

"Indulgences!" a priest was calling out as he rang a bell in his hand. "Get some indulgences right here! Anybody want some indulgences?"

"This is a very nice gift," Mrs. Erline said gratefully.

"It will go well with your bag," the nun replied, and they began talking about their favorite brand of expensive bags and shoes.

Erline sighed. Ah, women. Quietly, he went away from the chatting ladies and went over to a padre. "So, bishop, what do you have for me?"

"Well," the bishop cleared his throat. "My padres have been hard at work. You would be surprised to know what they hear in the confession booths. All sorts of things."

"What sorts of things?" Erline asked.

"Communist sorts of things," the bishop replied. "Centralite sorts of things. They confess, time and time again, and we tell them to pray the rosario time and time again, but they just keep on sinning time and time again. If we spare the rod..."

"We spoil the milk," Erline nodded. He wasn't big on the Bible. The bishop pulled a piece of paper out of his Bible and handed it to him. "Thank you, father."

"Do me another favor," the bishop continued. "One of my padres has gone wayward, like a lost sheep. He's helping the communistas in some province full of poor people. I want you to shave that motherfucker's fur off and turn him into lamb chops. Feed him to those starving little bastards, maybe that will finally shut them up."

"My, my. Father, I like your style. If I had known, I would've actually listened to you back in Sunday school," Erline laughed.

"But you didn't. You ran away when I beat your classmate and made him kneel on salt for being late for catechism," the bishop sneered.

"Yes, I remember. I almost turned Protestante back then," Erline quipped.

"Did you, now?" the bishop asked in surprise.

"Well, actually, I didn't," Erline replied.

"Of course you didn't! Those bunch of pussies. You'd be busy peaching fish to the lepers or some other kind of bullshit if you became some kind of Protestante, singing and praising all the fucking time instead of shooting commies in the back of the skull. I say it was God's plan that you didn't follow those fucking heretics," the bishop spat as he turned red and gesticulated rudely, giving the finger to some protestants amongst the crowd. "Please, excuse me, my temper has gotten ahead of me and has ruined my mood. I think I shall take this lechon. Food always makes me feel better."

With that, the bishop took an entire lechon, placed it under his arm and went off to gorge on it by himself.

"Crazy old fart," Erline chuckled to himself. He took a shot glass of balut and raised it into the air, intending to down it.

The glass exploded into tiny shards, steamed duck fetus splattered all over Enrile's face. He looked around for a moment, confused, before seeing a circle of red grow on his shirt. The world started to spin around him, his legs became weak.

He fell.

The world went black.

[Siege]

Previously, on 'Property of an Apexai'...

Suddenly, the ruined auction room was very silent. Flames licked across the ravaged ceiling. Charred blood and guts were strewn liberally about. The smell of ozone and carbonized flesh filled the air. Survivors sobbed hysterically. From deeper inside the building came the sounds of raging fires. In the distance sirens were approaching.

Liberty crawled up from the floor. She took stock of the situation, looked around, came face to face with Hank. The tycoon looked disheveled, his suit ruined. Parts of his arm were scorched by a near-miss of a plasma round. “Well then,” she said.

“Well then,” he concurred. Sidney Hank looked at his ruined arm, then back at her. “Still think I'm behind this?”

“I rather doubt it,” she admitted.

“Then I think we have a common goal just about now, yes?”

“Find out whoever the hell these Gamma-Sigma guys are,” she nodded. “And where the hell they got a hybrid to back them up. But hold on,” she frowned. “I thought you didn't like the Directorate?”

He smiled grimly. “I don't. But I didn't begin this nation because I'd like everything it did, Miss Kincaid. The ends justify the means.”

She arched an eyebrow. “And we are the means?”

A shrug. “Right now the end is to retrieve my Rarity. I imagine you were here for reasons associated with whoever just took it. The enemy of my enemy...”

“Is my friend?” she finished.

He looked at her, smiled a little. “Is potentially my ally of convenience for a little while at least, I would say.” He stuck out a hand with his intact arm. “What do you say?”

Liberty shook it. “Let's go hunt a hybrid.”

Chapter 3

CEID substation
Shin-Hokkaido, United Solarian Sovereignty



The CEID substation was located on the outskirts of the planetary capital, a nondescript office building remarkable - to those who even bothered to notice it - only in how unremarkable it was, which was of course precisely the point. The meeting took place on the ninth floor, in a sealed room that wasn't really a room. It was a a force-construct suspended in mid-air; once the last occupant had entered the door simply disappeared as if it never had been there at all. “The room is sealed,” announced the little holographic girl projected from a hovering drone. “We can talk freely.”

“For a given value of 'freely',” Sidney remarked sarcastically. His suit was still ruined, but his arm looked fine now, repaired by whatever the hell advanced gear crawled in his bloodstream. He looked at the hologram. “Red Queen, I presume? I don't think we've had the pleasure.”

“But my reputation precedes me,” the CI concluded.

“That's one way of putting it.”

“Shall we get to the point?” Libery interrupted the two before they could get their snarking match started properly. “What do we know about Gamma-Sigma?”

The drone beeped and a series of additional holograms sprang up in mid-air, followed by an inescapable memetic message:

Warning

The following briefing is classified SECRET LAMBDA NINER ROMEO. If you do not have SECRET LAMBDA NINER ROMEO clearance, leave the auditorium now and report to a security officer for debriefing. Failing to observe this notice is an imprisonable offense.

You have sixty seconds to comply.

“I assume I've been cleared,” Sidney muttered. The CI shot him a venomous glare.

Still Holograph Sequence

A hazy aerial shot of a withered nuclear wasteland. Trees are scattered in all directions like matchsticks, pointing away from the epicenter, where an ill-defined but large area has been reduced to a glassy crater. The image moves; this is not the only caldera. Huge craters pockmark the surface of a continent. Sometimes they overlap, mostly they don't. The camera slides over blasted cities and half-vaporized oceans, over mountain ranges slagged by nuclear hellfire.

Voice-over

This is the Wild Space world of Majella. In early 3991 the Maibatsu conglomerate signed a ten-year resource exploitation lease with the planetary leadership. Subsequent heavy industrial pollution and incidents involving corporate security caused political and social unrest; following the 3994 elections the new government tried to rescind on the deal. Citing breach of contract, Maibatsu brought in the Paladin Security Group to enforce its resource claim. Ten thousand mercenaries landed on Majella the next month. A week later, the entire planet was in full insurrection against the megacorporation, and after six months of open warfare both Paladin and Maibatsu withdrew from the planet, but not before vaporizing the primary spaceport and most of the capital city with a hydrogen bomb.

Cut to:

An armada of steel daggers moving against a field of stars. Rigid, heavily armored hulls; swiveling turrets; the pulse-glow of subatomic drives. A fleet of Bragulan warships is moving toward the camera. Then, a flash: the feed is abruptly cut.

Voice-over

After that, the situation deteriorated rapidly. With the entire planetary government dead or dying from radiation burns and with entire continents suffering the after-effects of the PSG occupation,
Majella was unable to re-establish proper civilian rule. The planet descended into frenzied anarchy and a decision was made to send in the USMC to enforce order. Then the Bragulans came.

Cut to:

Still shot of a city at night, lit up by the tell-tale initiation flashes of multiple launch atomic saturation rockets.

Voice-over

Things went from bad to worse. The marines pulled out; the Bragulans ran amok. The USMC was reinforced by the flotilla of Flash Stalin, but by that time the planet was already going into nuclear winter, and a nanophage agent of undetermined origin was ravaging the Bragulans and what remained of the population alike. After a short fleet engagement the Bragulans withdrew; Stalin and the 616th initiated a saturation bombardment to stamp out the plague, then determined the planet a total-loss. But not everyone on Majella died.

Cut to:

The woman is tall and whip-thin. Strands of black hair stream down from under a dirty blue bandana, a ragged scar runs down one pale cheek. She wears rugged body-armor and large sunglasses; a subvocalizer is strapped to her throat. She is carrying a pair of Diamondback plasma pistols and is leading a firefight in what appears to be an opulent lobby of some kind. Bright flashes of laser fire can be seen in the photograph, which is clearly an excerpt from a combat video, as they streak over the woman’s head.

Voice-over

Meet Miranda Zero, former colonel of a post-collapse Majellan militia and leader of Gamma-Sigma. At first her movement was just a disparate band of Majellan survivors who rode out the bombardments in deep planetary shelters, turned towards petty acts of terrorism against Wild Space targets aligned or believed to be aligned with the Sovereignty and the Star Empire alike. This image was taken during a daring raid by the movement against an Orion Bank branch in Zubrich, the Chimera Sector. They made off with two billion in untraceable credits and left no survivors.

Cut to:

A scene of unimaginable devastation. In what appears a sizable city, several large office buildings have completely collapsed. Rescue workers are milling around, trying to dig survivors out of the wreckage. The ruined, molten wreck of a Dredka overtank can be seen half-perched on one of the demolished buildings. Surrounding structures bear warzone scars: plasma scorches, ragged valleys carved by precision laser fire, concentric holes and collapsed roofs where demolition rockets punched through walls.

Voice-over

In recent months it's become increasingly clear that various groups of Wild Space rebels, radicals, bandits other subversives have begun to integrate into a coherent movement under the charismatic leadership of Miss Zero. They have consequently stepped up the scope and ambition of their attacks – what you see is what remains of what was a CEID substation on Mejis. The Directorate managed to evacuate its personnel in time. Surrounding apartment buildings were not so lucky. Some reports indicate that Gamma-Sigma may have recruited rogue Bragulan troops. And now they have struck a heavily defended target on a Sovereignty core world. Given the explosive growth of their capabilities and escalating scope of their attacks it is clear that Gamma-Sigma has gone from a minor nuisance to a significant threat overnight.

“And that, ladies and gentlemen,” the Red Queen said, “is Gamma-Sigma.”

“Okay,” Sidney looked at the CI, then to Kincaid. “Okay, that's very interesting. But what I don't get is, why attack Sovern-Ruprecht?”

“It is a high-profile target,” Liberty suggested.

“No, that's not good enough. It doesn't make sense,” he shrugged his head. He pointed at the hologrammatic images that still floated in the room. “I mean, I get going after our banks, our embassies, our intelligence agencies... But an auction house? And did they ever leave survivors after previous attacks?”

“On occasion,” the Red Queen allowed. “But not necessarily by design. They are quite thoroughly indiscriminate about their violence.” She nodded. “I suppose I see your point.”

Liberty frowned. “They didn't kill indiscriminately today.”

“Indeed not,” said Sidney. “In fact they were very specific about their target.”

“The Rarity,” Liberty concluded. “They wanted it.”

“One is lead to wonder why,” the mogul nodded.

The Red Queen eyed him speculatively. “Which raises the question, why do you want it, Mr. Hank?”

He glanced at the hologram. “It'll look nice on the mantle of my fireplace. Besides, I could ask you the same thing. But right now there's more important things to deal with first. Like, aren't we forgetting one important fact about what just happened?”

“The hybrid,” Liberty realized and turned toward the CI. “Is there anything about their previous attacks that suggests Gamma-Sigma has a second-generation hybrid?”

“No,” the Red Queen answered immediately. “But if they count a hybrid among their number that would explain how they infiltrated a core world. It would be almost impossible to smuggle that large a force past customs without detection unless...”

“They had a powerful psion working for them,” Sidney nodded. “And one who knows the Sovereignty at that, which a second-gen would.”

“Bragulan troops, plasma guns, powered armor, a hybrid... Who are these people?” Liberty wondered out loud. “How did they get the gear for this kind of a stunt together in such a short while? And what the hell is so special about this damned jewel that they want it so badly?”

“The Rarity...” Hank murmured, then turned to Liberty with a sudden revelatory grin. “Do you recall the black crystals on the Rarity?”

“Yes...”

“They aren't just for show. They're Thinking Crystals. Apexai stuff. Psionically resonant.” He looked at the Red Queen. “I'm betting the Directorate can track that sort of thing, yeah?”

The CI frowned a little. “We may have that ability. But if it's already off-world...”

“You've locked down orbit, yes?” Liberty nodded. “Then I'm betting they're not. If I were them, I'd lay low for a day or two, then get off-world when the fuss blows over and it's easier to sneak past customs.”

Red Queen cocked her head. “Even if the Rarity is resonant, they are not idiots. They will most likely have locked it and the hybrid behind a null field of some kind, to make it impossible to detect.”

“Oh c'mon. This is no time to play coy with me,” Sidney rolled his eyes. “You're Zero. You were founded by the Apexai. I know you have gadgets to counter that kind of tech. Hell, you probably have gadgets to counter the gadgets that counter the gadgets. Don't insult my intelligence trying to deny it, I've had to compensate for your psychic tricks more than once.”

Liberty looked crosswise at the Red Queen. “Can we actually do that?”

The CI's holographic face had taken on a distinctly foul expression, which oddly gave her the impression of a kid caught with her hand in the cookie jar. “Yes,” she admitted. She jabbed a finger at Sidney. “But I'll have you know Mr. Hank-”

“Save the threats, you can kill me again later,” he interrupted her. “Just run the psionic trace, will you?”

[Force Lord]

Orbit over Aray, Arayna Territores
Sector AA-24, Former Outlander Commissions
IN GODDAMN UNREAL TIME/Early 3401

The fleet stood at readiness, just returning from it's earlier mission. A section of the fleet was already being seperated, to begin a special operation.

At the bridge of the Grinning Gilgamesh, Deacon Saito heard the orders of The Messenger.

"You will go to Oblast, rescue our brethen there, and subject the city to a terror bombardment. Do not stay too long, nor wreck the planet beyond repair. Then you will return to base to begin the next stage of my plan."

Saito grinned.



"With pleasure, sire!"

Elsewhere in the Outlands...

The fanatics were found in a run-down church and apprehended.

They were dragged to a crowd baying for blood. The fanatics' eyes were blindfolded.

Someone spoke: "These animals are guilty of breaking the Law and killing it's believers! Their punishment will be carried out...NOW!"

The blindfolds were taken out, and the last thing they saw was a knife plunging into their eyes.

The crowd roared.

It did not end there. While the doomed fanatics screamed in pain, unable to see, they were soon cut again. The ears were chopped off, then the nose, then the tounge, then the hands, and finally their feet. They were now blind, deaf, mute, and generally crippled.

They were hanged near a tree, but the rope was not at their necks but at their chest. They were kept alive, a public warning for those who dared to defy the Centralists.

Only later did they die.

Images like these were repeated in other places of the former Outlands, side by side with even worse punishments and fates. Entire towns razed, water supplies poisoned, people gassed or incinerated alive....

Madness was everywhere.

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Imperial Chronicles

"It is apparent that the Centralists are begging for a stronger response," said one Inquisitor.

"Scum as they are, encroaching on our territory. Perhaps a stronger response is required," said another.

"There are enough worlds in this region that can pool together a sizable navy. Not enough for a crusade, but enough to burn a planet to ashes," said another.

"Ah yes indeed..."

"But first, an example must be made."

"The Sigillite explicitly told us to refrain from indulging in too much blood."

"The Solarians have to told to hurry up their 'efforts', whatever they are. In the meantime, it is time to organize a more effective resistance against these fools. We will have one of these fools subjected to one of the worst possible tortures possible, and then put a world to the torch."

[Shroom Man 777]

My countrymen, as of the 21st of this month, I signed Proclamation No. 1081 placing the entire Feelipeens under Martian Law. This proclamation was to be implemented upon my clearance and clearance was granted at 9 o' clock in the evening of the 22nd, last night. I have proclaimed Martian Law in accordance with the powers vested in the President by the Constitution of the Feelipeens.

The proclamation of Martian law is not a military takeover. I, as your duly elected President of the Republic, use this power which may be implemented by the military authorities but still is a power embodied in the Constitution to protect the Republic of the Feelipeens and our democracy. A republican, democratic form of government is not a helpless government. When it is imperiled by the danger of violent overthrow, an insurrection or a rebellion, it has inherent and built-in powers provided for under the constitution. Such a danger confronts the Republic of the Feelipeens. Article 7, Section 10, Paragraph 2 of the Constitution provides and I quote: "The President shall be commander-in-chief of all the armed forces of the Feelipeens and whenever it becomes necessary, he may call out such armed forces to prevent or suppress lawless violence, invasion, insurrection or rebellion or imminent danger thereof, when public safety requires it, he may suspend the privileges of the writ of habeas corpus or place the Feelipeens or any part thereof under Martian law."

I repeat: This is not a military takeover of civilian government functions. the government of the Republic of the Feelipeens, which was established by our people in 3246, continues. The officials and employees of our national and local governments continue in office and must discharge their duties as before within the limits of the situation. This will be clarified by the subsequent orders which shall be given wide publicity.

Thus I also issued General Order No. 3 wherein I directed that in view of the proclamation of Martian law, which proclamation and other orders incidentally will be read after this broadcast by the Press Secretary, in view of such a proclamation and in order to make more effective the implementation of such a proclamation without unduly affecting the operations of the government and in order to end the present national emergency within the shortest possible time, I have ordered that all executive departments, bureaus, offices, agencies and instrumentalities of the national government, government-owned or controlled corporations, as well as all governments of all the provinces, the cities, the municipalities and barrios throughout the land shall continue t function under the present officers and employees and in accordance with existing laws until otherwise ordered by me or my duly designated representative.

I further read and I quote:

“I do hereby further order that the judiciary shall continue to function in accordance with its present organization and personnel and shall try to decide in accordance with existing laws all criminal and civil cases except the following cases:

“1. Those involving the validity, legality or constitutionality of any decree, order or act issued, promulgated or performed by me or by my duly designated representative pursuant to Proclamation No. 1081.

“2. Those involving the validity, legality or constitutionality of any decree, order or act issued, promulgated or performed by public servants pursuant to decrees, orders, rules, and regulations issued and promulgated by me or my duly designated representative pursuant to Proclamation No. 1081.

“3. Those involving crimes against national security and the law of nations.

“4. Those involving crimes against the fundamental laws of the state.

“5. Those involving crimes against public order.

“6. Those crimes involving usurpation of authority, rank, title and improper use of names, uniforms and insignias.

“7. Those involving crimes committed by public officers.”

In addition to these, I would like to announce that all schools will, in the meantime, be closed. They will be closed for one week, beginning this coming Monday. This means all schools at all levels.

I have also issued General Orders for the government in the meantime to control media and other means of dissemination of information as well as all public utilities. And I asked the international and domestic communications, corporations ad carriers to desist from transmitting any messages without the permission of my Office through the Office of the Pres Secretary.

The carrying of firearms outside residences even if such firearms are covered by licenses but without permission of the Armed Forces of the Feelipeens is punishable by death.

Curfew is established from 12 o’clock midnight to 4 o’clock in the morning.

The departure of Feelipeenos abroad is temporarily suspended. Exceptions, of course, are official missions that may be necessary. Clearances will be given by the Secretary of National Defense.

In the meantime, rallies and demonstrations are prohibited. So, too, are strikes especially in critical public utilities.

I have ordered the arrest of those directly involved in the conspiracy to overthrow our duly constituted government by violence and subversion.

It is my intention beginning tomorrow to issue all the orders which would attain reforms in our society. This would include the proclamation of land reform all over the Feelipeens, the reorganization of the government, new rules for the conduct of civil servants and those in civil service, the removal of corrupt and inefficient public officials and their replacements including those in the judiciary and the breaking up of criminal syndicates.

The persons who will be adversely affected are those who are active participants in the conspiracy and operations to overthrow the duly constituted government of the Republic of the Feelipeens by violence or by subversion.

All public officials and employees, whether of the national or local government, must now conduct themselves in the manner of a new and reformed society. We will explain the requirements and standards or details as soon as possible.

But any form of corruption, culpable negligence or arrogance will be dealt with immediately.

The armed forces are already cleaning up their own ranks. I am directing the organization of a military commission to investigate, try and punish all military offenders immediately. For more than any other man the soldier must set a standard of nobility. We must be courageous, yes, but we must be humble and above all, we must be fair. As this is true of the soldier, it must be true of the civilian public officer. Let no man who claims to be a friend, relative or ally presume to seek license because of this relationship.

If you offend the New Society, you shall be punished like the rest of the offenders.

Persons who have nothing whatsoever to do with such conspiracy and operations to overthrow the Republic of the Feelipeens by violence or subversion have nothing to fear. They can move about and perform their daily activities without any apprehension from action or counteraction by the government especially after the period of counteraction which I have directed to be taken against the conspirators.

I repeat: This government is the same government that you, the people, established in 3246 under the Constitution of the Feelipeens. There is no doubt in everybody’s mind that a state of rebellion exists in the Feelipeens. The ordinary man in the streets of our cities, the peasants, the laborers know it. Industrialists know it. So does the government functionary. They have all been affected by it.

This danger to the Republic of the Feelipeens and the existence of a rebellion has been recognized even by our Supreme Court in its decision in the case of Lansang vs. Garcia et al dated December 11, 3371.

But, since the Supreme Court promulgated this decision, the danger has become graver and rebellion has worsened and escalated. It has paralyzed functions of the national and local governments. The productive sectors of the economy have grounded to a halt. Many schools have closed down. The judiciary is unable to administer justice. Many of our businessmen, traders, industrialists, producers, manufacturers stopped their operations. In the Greater Maynilad area alone, tension and anxiety have reached the point where the citizens are compelled to stay home. Lawlessness and criminality like kidnapping, smuggling, extortion, blackmailing, armed robbery, illegal traffic in drugs, gun-running, hoarding, manipulation of prices, corruption in government, tax evasion, perpetrated by syndicated criminals have increasingly escalated beyond the capability of the local police and civilian authorities. The usually busy centers of Greater Maynilad such as cinema houses, supermarkets, restaurants, transportation terminals and even public markets are practically deserted.

Battles are going on between the elements of our government forces and the subversives in Luz, Bizmindah, and Meandanaw. In Luz, particularly in Isabello, Zombiles, Starlac, Cumarines Sur, Quizon and in Meandanaw, especially in Lamaw del Sur, Lamaw del Norte, Zambuanga del Sur and Cuntabato. If this continues even at the present rate, the economy of the country will collapse, the country will collapse in a short time. In one province alone, Isabello, which we shall adopt as an example, where the Communistas and the Fukbalahap have sought to establish a rural sanctuary, they are now in control of 33 municipalities out of 37. Other towns are infiltrated severely by these armed elements of the communists. In this province alone, the supposedly invisible government of the communist party has been organized through the Barrio Organizing Committees known as the BOC’s totaling 207 in 25 towns. In early 3391, there were only 161 BOC’s in 12 towns.

In addition to the Barrio Organizing Committees, they have also organized the Barrio Revolutionary Committees or BRC’s. And in Angadanan and Cauayan of the same province of Isabello, the Fukbalahap has established communal farms and production bases.

The Fuk has started to expand its operations to Cagayan, Nueva Viscera, and Rey Quirino as well as Mt. Provinces like Ifugu, Klinga-Apayao, Bontoc and Bangungot and even the two Ilnucos provinces of Ilnucos Norte and Ilnucos Sur and La Minion have been infiltrated.

The Armed elements of the Communist Party of the Feelipeens, Humanist faction, have increased to about 100,000 which include regulars as well as farmers in the daytime and soldiers at night. This is an increase of 100 percent in a short period of six months. These parties increased their mass base to 1,000,000 and their front organization’s operations have increased tremendously also.

The crucial point, which indicates an increase in the capability, the area of operations as well as the manpower and firepower of the Fukbalahap is the M/V Killagatan or Palanan incident in Palanan, Isabello, last July 4th and 5th of last year. This was a landing by a space-going ship of a reported 3,500 Armalyte rifles, of which only 900 were recovered by the Armed Forces of the Feelipeens. About 30 rocket launchers of the M-40 variety of which only 6 were recovered from the area. This rocket can pierce steel 18inches thick and reinforced concrete of 36 inches thickness as well as 4 rice bags put together. Also captured by our government troops in this landing were two Brownie automatic rifles which were originally looted by defector Victor Corpus from the arsenal of the Feelipeen military Academy, five grand M-1 rifles, 1 telephone switchboard, 7 telephone sets, some magazines for rifles and many revealing pictures and subversive documents.

This landing of military armaments and equipment indicated:

1. That the claim of the Fukbalahap that they are well funded and have plenty of money has basis in fact.

2. That they now have sources of funds and equipment no only from inside the Feelipeens but also outside our country.

3. That the Communist Party and the Fukbalahap are capable of landing armaments, military equipment and even personnel in the many unguarded points of the long space coast of the Feelipeens. The defense establishment have submitted that there have been attempts to infiltrate the military organizations as well as the Office of the Secretary of National Defense. There have been various attempts to sabotage not only the operations of the Armed Forces of the Feelipeens but the operations of the national government. It has been reported that the communications system of the Feelipeen Constabulary is being utilized by the subversives. The subversives have organized urban partisans in the Greater Maynilad Area and they have been and still are very active. They have succeeded in some of their objectives.

The violent disorder in Meandanaw and Sooloo has to date resulted in the killing of over 1,000 civilians and about 2,000 armed Mohammedians and Christians, not to mention the more than 500,000 of injured, displaced and homeless persons as well as the great number of casualties among our government troops.

At the same time, the economy of Meandanaw and Sooloo is almost completely paralyzed.

I assure you that I am utilizing this power for the proclamation of Martian law vested in me by the Constitution for one purpose alone, and that is, to save the Republic and reform our society. I wish to emphasize these two objectives. We will eliminate the threat of violent overthrow of our Republic, but at the same time, we must now reform the social, economic and political institutions in our country. The plans, the order for reforms and removal of the inequalities of our society, the clean up of government of its corrupt and sterile elements, the liquidation of the criminal syndicates, the systematic development of our economy, the general program for a new and better Feelipeens will be explained to you. But we must start out with the elimination of anarchy and the maintenance of peace and order.

I have had to use this constitutional power in order that we may not completely lose the civil rights and freedom which we cherish.

I assure you that this is not a precipitate decision, and that I have weighed all the factors. If there were any other solution at our disposal and within our capability, which could solve this problem, we would have utilized such a solution and I would have chosen it. But there was none. I have used the other two alternatives of, first calling out the troops to quell the rebellion and I have suspended the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus. But the rebellion has not been stopped.

I repeat, it has worsened. Thus, it was discovered that when the suspension of the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus was lifted on January, 3401, the organizations of the Centralist Party had expanded their area of operations as well as increased their membership.

So, these two remedies, calling out the troops and the suspension of the privilege of the writ of habeas corpus, are unavailing. You are all witnesses to this. You have witnessed the events of the last year. We have fallen and we are falling back on our last line of defense. You are also witnesses to the patience we have shown in the face of the provocation. In the face of abuse and license, we have used or attempted to use persuasion. Now, the limit has been reached, for we are against the wall. We must now defend the Republic of the Feelipeens with this stronger power granted by the Constitution. To those guilty of treason, insurrection, rebellion, it may pose a grave danger. But to the ordinary citizens, to almost all of you whose primary concern is merely to be left alone to pursue your lawful activities, this is the guarantee of that freedom that you seek. All I do is for the Republic and for you.

Rest assured that I will continue to do so and I have prayed to Jesukristo for guidance. Let us continue to pray to Him. I am confident that with Jesukristo’s help, we will attain our dream of a reformed society, a new and brighter world.

[Siege]

Outskirts of Oblast
Former Outlander Commissions



Oblast was on fire. So was the ensuing countryside and, in fact, many of its former inhabitants. Terror and pandemonium ruled in the streets of the capital city. The fanatical devotees of the God-Emperor stalked the streets, hunting for Centralists both real and imagined. Centralist militias retaliated in kind: desperate for a way to strike back the fascists used car bombs and even suicide squads against zealot checkpoints and the many temples of the God-Emperor. One Centralist kamikaze steered a LARC laden with a stolen fuel-air bomb into the ecclesiarchy's central veneratorium; the resulting blast leveled the building and killed at least three hundred priests and twice that many believers who had sought refuge in the temple.

Meanwhile as firefights raged openly in the streets, on the outskirts of town massed the armies of Byzonist forces. Supplied with the technology of the alien Bragulans, they made ready for a push into the city that would see the bloodshed increased sevenfold. At the very least. It was why the forces of the central government weren't doing more to reign in the madness and the carnage in the streets: they were busy moving into positions to counter the inevitable Byzonist push, using ancient Dominion vertibirds and any civilian LARC they could get their hands on to do so.

That was when fire started to rain from the sky.





"By the God-Emperor's blessed left testicle!" blasphemed Colonel Cerius of the Oblast airborne guard. Huge shockwaves were shaking his vertibird squadron like so many leafs. For a moment he thought someone had breached the skyshield and was - inconceivably - bombarding his fair city from orbit, but then he realized it was something else entirely. The objects were decelerating rapidly as they screamed down through the atmosphere, so fast his transports were shaken by the shockwave of their passing.

The objects came to a halt just meters above the waves of the Frozen Ocean, the abyssal sea on whose beaches Oblast was built. They were colossal things, composed of rigid angles that indicated they were clearly artificial. White pseudoceramic tiles plated their outsides, scorched in some places and still glowing red-hot in others. Only a single symbol was visible on their outsides, a crimson lozenge that stood out vividly on the otherwise stark white exteriors.

Then, the Colonel's earpiece began to squeal with static as a powerful radio message was pumped through the open radio bands with enough power to burn through even the heavy jamming the Byzonist forces were beaming into the atmosphere.

"We are Third Protocol," a studiedly neutral voice hummed in accentless English. "We are a humanitarian organization come here to help the beings of this world in their time of need. We have no political stake in your conflict. We are only here to help the afflicted. Please let us help you help yourself." The message abruptly cut out.

"Third Protocol? What the fuck?" one of his sergeants was peeking over his shoulder at the new arrivals. "Hey colonel, aren't they a UN organization?"

"How the fuck am I supposed to know?" Cerius barked as above the waves below him, the strange ships began to unfold. "These assholes aren't in my threat briefing, they don't look like they're about to shoot us, and we have positions to get to before those Byzonist fuckers let rip. So let's get moving dammit!"

With some difficulty the vertibird squadron reformed its formation and resumed its course whilst beneath them, the platforms began to link into huge floating refugee camps.


Fair Solaris Party headquarters
Greenwood Banks, Solaris



"Third Protocol?" Lyra Saxons's voice was filled with wonder. "How on Earth did you get them involved?"

"I still have some connections back in the Old Sphere," the special emissary sounded tired even over the hyperlink. "They owed me a few favours, so here they are."

Not for the first time the opposition leader wondered just how well-connected the emissary was exactly, or for that matter how much time he'd had to collect favours that he could convince Third Protocol to send a full Relief Squadron this far out. "This is great news... But I'm still not sure how this is going to help stop the war," she admitted.

"Just wait and see," he said. "With any luck this should work out the way I planned." He groaned and reclined his seat.

Saxon frowned a little. "Are you alright?"

"No, I'm not. I don't like visiting the Imperium. No, Decius was quite hospitable, never you worry. It's just that the place reminds me of, well, never mind. Look, I have to go deal with a few things- at Shin-Hokkaido, at home, and elsewhere. But I'll keep you appraised if anything happens?"

"I'd appreciate that. Thanks."

"Anything for a better galaxy, Lyra." He smiled. "Anything for a better galaxy."

[Shinn Langley Soryu]

Imperial Palace, Imperial Center, Hyogo
Kansai Sector, Holy Empire of Haruhi Suzumiya
Unreal Time/Sometime in Q4 3400

"You heard me, Admiral Aquino. You will send an entire battle group to the upcoming Nova Atlantean naval review, including an Endless Eight. You will give them as vaguely worded an advance notice as possible. Do you understand?"

A brief silence.

"Do you understand, Admiral Aquino?"

"...Yes, Your Highness. I'll get on it right away."

---

FROM: Fleet Admiral Josefina Aquino, Chief of Naval Operations, SOS Imperial Navy
TO: The Right Honorable Jun Smith, Prime Minister of the Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds
SUBJECT: Naval Review

Dear Prime Minister Smith,

As the Holy Empire's strategic situation has changed significantly since the last communique, the SOS Imperial Navy has seen it fit to renew its commitment to the planned international naval review to take place in 3401. The exact composition of our delegation is yet to be determined as of this communique.

It is our hope that our (renewed) presence at the naval review may mark the beginning of warmer relations between the Holy Empire and the Commonwealth.

Sincerely,

FADM J. Aquino
Chief of Naval Operations, SOS Imperial Navy

---

SOS Imperial Navy Expeditionary Fleet to Nova Atlantis

1 x Endless Eight class supercarrier

• HSS Day of Sagittarius

2 x Bouken Desho Desho class battleship

• HSS Cagayake! Girls, HSS Don't Say "Lazy"

4 x Nagaru Tanigawa class cruiser

• HSS Satsuki Igarashi, HSS Ageha Ohkawa, HSS Tsubaki Nekoi, HSS Mokona

4 x Wendee Lee class destroyer

• HSS Johnny Yong Bosch, HSS Kate Higgins, HSS Yuri Lowenthal, HSS Karen Strassman

2 x Monica Rial class light carrier

• HSS Travis Willingham, HSS Colleen Clinkenbeard

2 x Lisa Ann Beley class light assault ship

• HSS Kirby Morrow, HSS Kelly Sheridan

24 x Aya Hirano class frigate

• HSS Aya Hirano, HSS Tomokazu Sugita, HSS Minori Chihara, HSS Yuko Goto, HSS Daisuke Ono, HSS Natsuko Kuwatani, HSS Yuki Matsuoka, HSS Aki Toyosaki, HSS Yoko Hikasa, HSS Satomi Sato, HSS Minako Kotobuki, HSS Ayana Taketatsu, HSS Jun Fukuyama, HSS Yukana, HSS Takahiro Sakurai, HSS Ami Koshimizu, HSS Katsuyuki Konishi, HSS Marina Inoue, HSS Yukari Tamura, HSS Nana Mizuki, HSS Satoshi Hino, HSS Rie Kugimiya, HSS Yuichi Nakamura, HSS Megumi Nakajima

---

Endless Eight class supercarrier HSS Day of Sagittarius
Nova Australia, Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds
Unreal Time/Early 3401

Hail Atlanteans! The mighty Bragulan Space Fleet paleo-paleocruiser Yer Mom and the Byzantine cathedral-cruiser Lance of Damocles extend tidings of peace. In keeping with the policies of glasnot and bragstroika, our Quest for Peace has brought us to your fine Naval Review. It is here, on the neutral and fair ground of Nova Atlantis that Bragule and Byzantium seek to formulate an armistice in the name of that noble cause of Interstellar Peace, as proclaimed by your Gruppenfuhrer the Right Honorable Jun Smith, Prime Minister of the Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds.

It is our hope, and the hope of all beings in the galaxy, that we may finally bury the hatchet into each other - and it is our hope that, in your fairness, the Nova Atlantean Naval Review may have the honor of holding this momentous occasion for all our peoples.

The SOS Imperial Navy's timing was impeccable, as the fleet assigned to the Nova Atlantean naval review arrived directly on the heels of the Yer Mom and the Lance of Damocles, using the Yer Mom's ludicrously high ambient radiation readings to mask its own presence. Once the Yer Mom and the Lance of Damocles had passed, the Haruhiist fleet finally came into full view of the Nova Atlanteans' sensors; unlike the Byzantine and Bragulan party-crashers, who were viewed with suspicion, the SOS Imperial Navy ships were welcomed with open arms, for they actually had invitations.

The following message went out in the clear to all participants in the naval review:

Hail, honorable sailors of the Nova Atlantean Commonwealth and the other participants at this naval review. The SOS Imperial Navy supercarrier Day of Sagittarius extends its own tidings of peace and solidarity. It is in the name of peace and solidarity that we request that the Bragulan and Byzantine emissaries be treated with the exact same respect and consideration that would be accorded to us or any of the other participants at this review. We believe it would be a grave violation of the ideals of this event if they were to be turned away.

Admiral Silvia Pereira, leader of the SOS Imperial Navy delegation to the naval review, shut off the hyperwave transmitter. "Never thought I'd find myself standing up for the Brags," she said to herself. "Hell, never thought I'd see Brags and Byzantines traveling alongside each other, for that matter." She sighed as she settled back into her command chair and waited for the Nova Atlanteans to deliver a response. "In any case, this ought to be an interesting exercise."

[KlavoHunter]

The Empty Quarter
December 3400

What had merely been an above-average spaceport in the deep Shoals of the Empty Quarter had now become a beating heart of Orkish activity. When da Rokk'A Big-Dakka had been blown apart, one surviving chunk of the asteroid fortress that contained a bar and grill survived, and after locating enough fungus beer to dull the pain of the hot deep-fryer oil dumping onto him, the enterprising Orkish Bartender re-opened shop as Da Gravel Pit, banding together with Meks to offer starship repairs. With Warboss Shroombad's Deff Starr and his skwadrun in the solar system, and his boastful challenges sent out, the asteroid service stations had exploded into a franchise of many similar business operations.

They'd need that kind of capacity to service the thousand-plus warships and millions of Orks that had assembled.

Gunfire, boisterous roars, and the metal clang of choppa on choppa filled the air inside of another of the bars, as the sheer presence of Ork-kind permeated the air not just to to the sense of smell, but on a psychic level as well - there were so many of them, each being invigorated by the presence of all the others, that the primal violence at the core of the Orkish spirit was overwhelmingly aroused. With imminent WAAAGH! came fighting, naturally, and with fighting came deaths. With de tellyvishunz broken, de fightin wuz gettin' bad. But dat wuz alright - dere were still plenty more boyz where dey kame from.

It was indeed a WAAAGH! of such size and strength that Klavostani graph-analysts had feared, and the growth in the number of Orkz interested in joining it had plateaued, after several weeks. Weeks of lesser warbosses arriving with all their boyz, planning to themselves to be da big boss, but then quickly settling for Plan B being an 'ead Nob to Warboss Shroombad when they got a good look at the true form of his undeniably supreme might. Weeks of Mekz working, trading bitz, kustomizing, and kollaborating on projektz - Shroombad had grand plans for them to fulfill, and of kourse, a Mek's work was only finished when da Warboss said so.

Satisfiedly sighing and shaking loose the last droplets of the inevitable end result of drinking fungus beer, Warboss Shroombad Mad Uruk Dakka realized that the time was now. He grabbed for his extra-large new kustom kommunorkator, and took a deep breath.

"OI! YOU GITZ!" he shouted, with such authority and loudness that even the largest ongoing bar fight came to a screeching halt, expectantly looking up at the speakers blasting their master's voice. Shroombad paused, having had this great urge, and realizing it might require somewhat of a speech. Zog dat, he thought, and kept it short. "Let's get dis WAAAGH! on da road!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!" Orkz that had moments ago been moments away from putting the fatal blows into one another broke into song together!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
throo infinity!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go,
Don't know where we're goin' til we're there!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

All galaxy is shakin' in fear!
Because we da Orks!
When we marchin' no one can stop us!
Because we da Orks!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
throo infinity!

We da biggest an' da Strongest!
Because we da Orks!
Everyone knows-Green is Best!
Because we da Orks!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
throo infinity!

WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
throo infinity!

Ere we go, ere we go, ere we go
kross da Kosmos!
Ere we go, ere we go,
Don't know where we're goin' til we're there!

Making his way from his luxury bachorkler pad to da bridge as da Deff Starr roared with thousands of orky voices singing, Warboss Shroombad was greeted by Dokta Orkenhamma awaiting him on the bridge with a maniacal look in his eye, rubbing his real and mechanical sets of hands together fiendishly. "Is dis da real fing, boss? We're gonna show dem Klavos who'z got da biggest zappa of 'em all?"

"No." Shroombad could taste a shattered dream as the Mek's eyes went wide and jaw dropped at the word, and he liked that taste. It was what had brought Orkenhamma to Shroombad, a Warboss of sufficient means and ambition and Orkiness - Da Shortest WAAAGH! Ever left a lingering humiliation to the Orks, one that would only be expunged fully when Al-Vaban, the mighty fortress at the crossroads of the Malacca Strait, fell under Orkish might! And between the two of their great minds, they had a novel plan that might just be enough to overcome it... but the dream of matching beam on beam died for Orkenhamma, because da Warboss had uvver planz. It wuz how fings worked sometimes.

"No, I 'ave 'ad it up to 'ERE wif dem fatty MEH-hoomies! So we'z gonna pay 'em a visit!" Shroombad laughed. They'd ruined his tellyvishun, and den dey'd even blown up J. Jorknah Jaggason 'n his jorknalist krew! He'd had the presence of mind to tape that last bit, and watched it over and over again, until he had quite a hankering to blow up wedge-shaped starships, and since it was unheard of for Anglian Star Cruisers to enter the Empty Quarter...

"Plot a kourse past da Kore Worldz, den, on to the MEH!"

"WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!"

In the face of such an armada of Orks wanting to go fast, the hyperspace shoals of the Empty Quarter decided it was better to not trouble that much firepower by blowing out their hyperdrives to make them stick around, so long as they at least -tried- to follow the whisker-lanes as they roughly did. Several hours later, the sight of over a thousand Ork ships roaring out of the main hyperspace lane that led out of the Empty Quarter into Sector D22 caused spilt drinks aboard the nearest Klavostani Djinni stealthship, and hurriedly sent messages out, cowering invisibly away from the biggest force of Orks any of them had ever seen in their lives... But praise Allah! They were going AWAY from the Sultanate!

Swinging past the Kore Worlds for two days was plenty of time for the latecomers to the WAAAGH! to join, packing every hull and rokk full of armed boyz, and then continuing on course for the Multiuniversal Empire of Happiness. Even with the speeds of modern hyperdrives, it was a journey that would take another two days to reach MEH space... and while Klavostan was able to finally release its long-held breath over the issue of the impending WAAAGH!, the MEH had no such widespread net of all-seeing stealthships in their systems that had made the jump to this universe, nor, with their new turtle mentality of warp gate travel only between their four isolated star systems, were they running any patrols outside those systems. They simply never saw it coming.


Such a huge Rokk with so many boyz aboard it did not lack for bars, and the hospitality of da biggest one aboard da Deff Starr was now being appropriated, as the only airtight compartment big enough with enough of a reliable constant supply of alcohol to hold a proper Kouncil of WAAAGH!, of all da biggest 'n most important Nobz, 'n doze wif perty-nant inforkmayshun.

Staring up at all the bigga staring Orkish faces, da Kaptain didn't FEEL like da biggest Ork in da galaxy, da way a terrified freighter captain had blubbered to 'im wunce.

"WELL?" Warboss Shroombad asked, "WOT'S IT LOOK LOIK?"

Recovering relatively quickly, da Kaptain had to think fast... he looked down, and remembered, and held up his big green fist, splaying his fingers out, including a metal middle finger dat held a small Rokkit for last-ditch dakka. "FOIVE!" da Kaptain yelled, "Dere wuz foive good greeny worlds in de fatty systumz! I nevver seen annyfing loik it before!"

"Foive, ey?" da Warboss pondered out loud, lowering da 'ooge mechanized jaw of his oober-armor to rub 'is chin, and then take a big drink of fungus beer, casually letting out a supremely odious belch in loudness and stench. Where other, saner commanders might see a grand defensive concentration... "Dat makes a bigga, betta target!" The bar erupted in cheering, bellows of agreement, and gunfire.

"STUFF IT!" he roared to quiet them, and then whistled. "OI! MIGWAZZA! MORKAMPHELL! ORKIMOTO! 'N DA REST UV YOO ACE GITZ! FRONT N CENTUH!" Shroombad watched as da biggest 'n fastest of da Kultz of Speed showed demselves, dem rare Orkz who kould make an Orky small-craft be truly, truly dangerous - dere were LOTZ of wannabes who'd probably just be dead meat against top-rate fightaz. Deez boyz, though...

Licking his lips, finding a bit of squig-sauce he'd missed, Shroombad then grinned toothily at his aces. "I wuz lookin' fer a few good boyz ter' go in foiyst..."

[Force Lord]

This is just before my fleet decided to begin its performance.

---

Hail Atlanteans! The mighty Bragulan Space Fleet paleo-paleocruiser Yer Mom and the Byzantine cathedral-cruiser Lance of Damocles extend tidings of peace. In keeping with the policies of glasnot and bragstroika, our Quest for Peace has brought us to your fine Naval Review. It is here, on the neutral and fair ground of Nova Atlantis that Bragule and Byzantium seek to formulate an armistice in the name of that noble cause of Interstellar Peace, as proclaimed by your Gruppenfuhrer the Right Honorable Jun Smith, Prime Minister of the Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds.

It is our hope, and the hope of all beings in the galaxy, that we may finally bury the hatchet into each other - and it is our hope that, in your fairness, the Nova Atlantean Naval Review may have the honor of holding this momentous occasion for all our peoples.

Command Bridge, Nova-class Dreadnought Steel Fist, Centrality 1st Fleet
Nova Australia High Orbit, Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds
Unreal Time/Early 3401

"Byzantines and Bragulans asking for the same thing at the same time? Now that is new", said the communications officer.

"They do know how to make an entrance. With obsolete ships, no less!", said Captain Drudd Wimmek.

"And it seems the SOS has something to say!", stated the communications officer. "Look!"

Hail, honorable sailors of the Nova Atlantean Commonwealth and the other participants at this naval review. The SOS Imperial Navy supercarrier Day of Sagittarius extends its own tidings of peace and solidarity. It is in the name of peace and solidarity that we request that the Bragulan and Byzantine emissaries be treated with the exact same respect and consideration that would be accorded to us or any of the other participants at this review. We believe it would be a grave violation of the ideals of this event if they were to be turned away.

"As annoying as Byzantium and Bragule are being lately, if Nova Atlantis shoos them away they'll have a PR disaster on their hands. Let's say what we think of this," said the Fleet Admiral.

"Right sir."

Greetings, gallant sailors of the Galaxy! While it was impolite of Byzantium and Bragule to send an old ship each to an event that they were not invited, we believe that it would not do good for the purposes of this Naval Review to exclude them from observing. They pose no real menace and they have not come for conflict. Therefore, it is our opinion that the event must go on, and do the things a Navy does best.

"Now that we said our feelings, let's blast some targets!"

1st Fleet readied itself for blasting the target asteroids....

[Fingolfin_Noldor]

Written with Shroom!

Greetings, gallant sailors of the Galaxy! While it was impolite of Byzantium and Bragule to send an old ship each to an event that they were not invited, we believe that it would not do good for the purposes of this Naval Review to exclude them from observing. They pose no real menace and they have not come for conflict. Therefore, it is our opinion that the event must go on, and do the things a Navy does best.

Paleo-paleocruiser Yer Mom
Nova Australia High Orbit, Nova Atlantean Commonwealth of Worlds
Unreal Time/Early 3401

The Bragulan response was thus:

Fools! There is no impoliteness in the noble venerability of the paleo-paleocruisers of Bragule, nor the obsolete decrepitude of the Byzantine cathedral ships. The only rudeness is in the impudence of measly curs who have not yet faced the glouries of true intergalactic warfare. For, if this is a true naval review, then it is of utmost import to study the greatest naval exploits in galactic history - to examine the most magnificent feats of our past that shame such pitiful displays of feeble asteroid-squishing child’s play as seen elsewhere. The fossil ships of Bragule have taken part in many of these great space odysseys. Behold, the namesake of Yer Mom, the fifteenth-bannered hero of the Byzonist revolution, as he slays the beargeoise by defenestrating their space station into the bowels of the gas giant Golgotha...



[Video shows close-up of Bragulan monarchists and nobility screaming as the Yer Mom rams their space station into a gas giant.]

...witness the Running of the Apexai! When the Yer Mom was dispatched to purge the nursery world of Axoa’tkili, filled with defenseless Apexai younglings! Afterwards, it was sent to aid its comrade-warships in the Battle of Bolshaya Chernovyi! There the galaxy saw the greatest space battles of all ages, as the very cosmos themselves were scorched by the greyoids’ zorch beams. Whole worlds were put to flame by Byzon’s will, his boot stamping down to shatter the Apexai’s crystal citadels. Yet, no fate was worse than that suffered by their home planet...

[Video shows the Yer Mom joining the countless attack ships, setting fire to the shoulder of Orion. The last Apexai warsaucers are overwhelmed by hundreds of Bragships, which take horrific casualties but gradually the defenders are destroyed. The remaining Bragulan battleships shackle a moon and hurl it to the Apexai homeworld.]



Even then! After heroically killing countless billions of unarmed, grovelling greyoids who had surrendered themselves, the proud warships of Bragule continued their noble servitude, committing further untold acts of nobility unseen by the likes of the impudent whelp-warships here...

Byzantine Vigilant-class cruiser Lance of Damocles

The Captain of the Lance of Damocles giggled with glee at the transmissions. The Centralite whinnings and then the subsequent Bragulan rebuke. He did as he was ordered; he gave no reply to the heathens. Instead, he simply decided to transmit the usual ‘Welcome to the Museum’ introductory video - diverting significant quantities of the warship’s reactor output to the transmitters, to overwhelm the tedious Bragulan broadcasts of their genocides. One could not allow the filthy bears to steal the show with the recollections of their atrocities. Byzantium’s proud history must be regaled to all!

Thus, amidst the video was actually a recording of the Exterminatus of T’au, which was kept for posterity for future generations, and a constant reminder of the need for eternal vigilance against the Xeno. The event itself had attained some degree of legend, but it forever remained an integral part of Byzantine history, psyche, and a source of strength; for it signified that no matter how great the challenge, Byzantium would forever prevail against any threats. It had prevailed against the Turks in 1453, the Japanistanis of 2029, and it prevailed the sands of time. Amongst all the human empires, it alone had the longevity that had exceeded all of them. Here among the stars, Byzantium took on a new and old character; an amalgamation of the old and new. Byzantium preserved the hidden inner strength of the old Eastern Roman Empire, and at the same time, Byzantium continued to adapt and face new challenges to the Empire.

Challenges such as the Tau, whose fate would now be recounted for all to see and hear.




Actual footage taken when the Lance of Damocles was part of the Exterminatus fleet that bombarded T'au

Knowing full well this was Zorian space, the land of the infidels who had decided to collude with the wretched Tau, the captain felt suitably smug and filled with glee, knowing the gnashing of teeth that would surely follow. He knew the Zorians might make hostile moves, but it mattered not.

It mattered not at all.

[Karmic Knight]

MEHtto Stomp Part 1, “OF COURSE!”

Board Room, IMPACT! Arms and Ammunition Offices, AJ Styles, Deep Space

D. Dragon looked out from the meeting room, into the offices below, the offices of the MEHTTO, the Multiversal Empire of Happiness Targeted Terrorist Organization. D. Dragon wore his finest fashions, his head was adorned with a hat fit for the ruling autocrat he was destined to be, his plans were very simple, he would take advantage of the idiocy of the ruling class of the MEH to secure him his right, a planet of his own, he would RULE THE WORLD.

He turned to the assemble dignitaries of the various grieving parties of the MEH or just fans of realpolitik. He turned and smiled a carnivorous smile.


In the case that the name was too subtle.

“Gentlemen and Ladies of the MEHTTO, we are in the MEHTTO to initiate the STOMP protocol, I’m sure you all know what STOMP means, so I am going to glaze over the acronyms for the moment. As you all very well know, MEHTTO’s STOMP shall work to terrorize and demoralize the MEH through terrorist actions within the MEH space. We will also work to secure a planet that we can operate from, a base of operations with a production capacity from which our organization can expand.

“Now that I have reestablished the goals our organization, you may all leave,” D. Dragon sat down with the end of his speech, ignoring the rest of the MEHTTO ruling council.

As the various members of MEHTTO left the room, D. Dragon’s eye patched advisor, and personal sales agent, Viktor Sagan approached his hat-wearing boss.

“Sir, I must ask, how are we going to finance this campaign against the MEH?”

“Simple, Mr. Sagan, we shall be using the official currency of our organization, and soon, our nation. The Dragon Guilder!”

D. Dragon holds up a pile of Dragon Guilders, passing them to Sagan, who looks incredulous.

“This money isn’t worth the paper it printed on!”

“On the contrary,” D. Dragon said, “Every Dragon Guilder shall be worth Five New Anglian pounds, for that will be the price the Bank of New Anglia sets once I kidnap their King.”

Sagan stared blankly at D. Dragon.

“MHWAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHHAHAHA,” D. Dragon nudges Sagan, who joins him, “MWHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHHAHAH.

“Now Mr. Sagan, get your ass to work before I rip it off and replace it with cybernetics.”

Results: D. Dragon and the MEHTTO plan to MEHTTO Stomp the MEH.

[Zor]

An announcement from Prime Minister Smith

"To the Captain of the Paleocruiser Yer Mom, While their has been a regretable oversight we shall allow your craft to remain here for the proceedings.


To the Lance of Damocles, your appearance here, while displaying a lack of tact, I shall see this as what your Bragulan counterpart on face value. As you know the standing policy to the Commonwealth by the Byzantine Empire is that of rejection over an act of mercy which in the end did nothing to interfere with its actions of...neutralization...towards the Tau Empire. Indeed, what was born out of this ultimately minor action on our behalf was a political grudge on part of the Byzantines that has lasted for nearly half a millennium, an act of unprecedented note. After all, the powers of Earth's Europe which in the 20th century fought tooth and nail on old earth in two total wars never the less after a few decades moved on, letting bygones be bygones and letting the old hatreds wither and die. The Imperium refuses to acknowledge the existence of our state, a citizen of the Commonwealth can not so much as enter Byzantine Space without fear of death. Not even an entirely unaugmented human diplomatic mission. However, I shall take the presence of this ship here as nothing less that a truly deep if ultimately meaningless and complete counterproductive hatred can die, even in a heart which refuses to do so. That the boarders of Byzantium are no longer a completely closed gate to our peace loving people. If a Byzantine Ship can enter Commonwealth Space without hostile intent, preform no hostile action and then when its buisiness is done leave it intact with her occupants unmolested, surely the same principle MUST apply in vice versa. If this is the case and will remain as such, i see no problem with your beneign presence at this occasion. The meanings of these proceedings is peace, but of course peace means more than a simple absence of fighting. I await your responce eagerly."

[Shroom Man 777]

FROM: M. Jacques Dupont, Deputy Minister for Foreign Affairs
TO: The Bragulan Star Empire, the Centrality, the Locrian Collective

To whom it may concern,

On behalf of the Ascendant people, I thank you for your kind words and offers of aid in this dark time. We would very much appreciate the expertise of the Bragulan people in dealing with radiation-related illnesses, and appreciate the Centrality's offer, but hope to have finished immediate treatment and repair work by the time Centralist personnel could arrive. Again, thank you for the concern your nations have shown.

Sincerely,
J Dupont, Deputy Minister for Foreign Affairs

FIRMAMENT FIRST AID ASSAULT

Firmament, Firmament Sector
Ascendance Fédérée



The Grizzly Gugafez gunboat missileers touched down at the center of the blasted crater that marked ground zero. Wailing turbofans picked up irradiated dust and sent them scattering into the air. Many of the emergency rescuers in the area shied away from this most severely hit area, the point of initiation of the sudden nuclear attack on the Lady Ascendant. It was here where the most severe rad-zones were, and here was the no man's land where all in the vicinity were reduced to ash and atoms, where there were absolutely no survivors.

The sheer devastation of this zone and its utter lifelessness made it the perfect landing zone for the Bragulan ships. The gunboats had been stripped of all but their defensive armamentations, for they were not going to war. Instead, their bomb bays and missile pods were filled with inhumanitarian aid supplies as well as Bragulan radiological emergency personnel. The Bragulan Embassy in the Federated Ascendancy, like all of Bragule's diplomatic missions, was self-sufficient and thus the staff were well equipped and trained to handle nuclear emergencies should their embassy's reactors ever melt down. The embassies would never call on the aid of their hosts, who were invariably filthy foreigners at best and puny humans at worse, and self-sufficiency was a requisite in case of complete isolation from Bragule, as had happened to the mission at Pritor Prime in the Outlands.



From the Gugafez gunboats' bomb bays emerged troops of bears. Many of them were merely cublings from the Byzon's Youth or the Pioneer Cub Scouts who had interacted with Ascendant youths during the diplomatic Friendly Interactions with Neighbors and Extraterrestrials effort by the Ascendancy's government. The cubs had made friends with many of the human children and the Franco-Formic larvae, having enjoyed watching CJ Motonow's Star Wars triologies together, and playing Bragball amongst other tings. When they had heard of the disaster that struck Firmament, they immediately volunteered to go and help their friends from the comrade-nation.

They were organized into teams by their scoutmasters, and then boarded Chornyb Urban Pacifiers and releaded plutonium-diesel fueled buggies. The armored vehicles rolled out into the ruins.



Stalag gunships encircled the skies of the post-atomic wasteland. To those who saw the news holos from the Koprulu Zone and Wild Space, their sight was uncomfortably reminiscent of scenes from the Bragulan invasions of Majella and other worlds. The Stalags' passive-aggressive sensors scoured the shattered cityscapes for life signs, the intrinsic link between the passive sensors and the aggressive weapons systems making it so that whenever life signs were detected, the gunships' K-bolts swung in that direction too, in preparation to snuff those very same signs out.

K-bolters fired, sending emerald green bolts towards their targets. The acid bullets found struck their mark, which began to boil and melt away. But this time, there would be no bloodshed. There has been too much violence. Too much pain, in Firmament. More than three hundred thousand lives lost. That was more than enough for this world.

Chornyb Urban Pacifiers arrived at the scene and they began dousing the acidic K-residue in liquid-ablative Bragcrete foams, retarding the molecular digestion. The K-bolts had burned deep holes through the rock and rubble prior to being doused, excavating the megatons of collapsed buildings and superstructure. The Cub Scouts and Byzon Youth radiological rescue rangers then went about doing their inhumanitarian duties, removing the Bragcrete foams with shovels. Then they auscultated the wreckages with their electrostethoscopes, and heard the sounds of living beings buried alive under the remaining rubble. The K-bolts had done their job in removing the bulk of the debris, but they still had work to do.

The Cub Scouts pulled out seismic sticks, modified vibrational weapons, and then they began to beat the ground with stick. The rocky face of the planet Firmament, and the fractured visages of its broken cities, could not hope to withstand the repeated stompings of mighty Bragule's boots incarnate and gradually they caved in to the stickbeatings - revealing the hapless survivors trapped underneath.

The Bragulans reported successful rescues of humans and inhumans trapped in the metroid stations and monorailgun tunnels, which were some of the more robust infrastructures on Firmament. They had chosen to liberate these areas precisely because they knew of the inherently hardened stuctures, and the likelihood of survivors inside them, due to the IBGV's detailed files on Firmament used for the planning of invasion and nuclear bombardment hypothetical scenarios and simulations.

The survivors were given immediate Bragulan radiological treatments, to ensure that they would continue to survive. They were stripped of their garments, the clothes literally ripped off their bodies by the bears. Then they were doused in brakta tanks, filled with an amniotic fluid obtained from the ovipositors of certain Karlack strains and further refined for its anti-radioactive properties. These fluids were forced into all their orifices, to neutralize any contaminants. These naked, soaked and rehydrated survivors were then airlifted to the Ascendant aid stations, air-dropped into heaps of living humans. It was rough treatment, but the Brags were working under the clock and were here to save lives!

There were flash fires, perhaps due to the lingering radiation storms or from sparking electrical systems or combustificating fuel depots. People were being set on fire, but the Bragulans answered this by administering medical stick-beatings. Clobbering the men on fire who ran around, knocking them unconscious and likewise putting out the fuel fires on their flesh. For those who remained on fire despite being still and unmoving, the Bragulans gladly stomped the lights out - stepping on the burning people as though they were embers in the dirt.



To prevent further fire hazards, Stalag and Chornyb patrols were directed to seek out lingering radiation sources - not only from atomic materials, but also from leaking fuels and damaged electrical lines, all of which emitted some form of radiation or another - and contain them. Thermobarics were dropped on burning fuel depots, Bragulans merely adopting to the situation the countervalue strike patterns they would use in war to eliminate enemy supplies.

Inadvertent damage to the power grids were corrected by the provision of orbitally-dropped nuclear reactors and portable internal atomic combustion generators. Deficiencies in fuels were supplemented by tankers laden with releaded plutonium-infused diesel, and vespene gas.

The Bragulan radiological teams were also sent to rescue trapped peoples in the most hazardous of rad zones. Firmament had a significant nuclear infrastructure, and the multi-megaton blast had damaged quite a few civilian nuclear units that powered suburban areas and condominiums. The ground burst nature of the initiation also meant heavy particulate irradiation, and unfortunately the Firmament weather control systems had not reacted quickly enough, leading to the artificial wind currents causing fallout accumulations in certain areas.

These were trivialities to the Bragulan teams, though. In case of war, standard operating procedure for embassy staff was to hunker down in the bunkers as the Space Fleet laid waste to the planet they were on with thermonukes salted with Cobalt Thorium-G and vegemites. After the bombardment was finished, the staff would then emerge from their embassy-bunkers to join the Shock Armies in invading the irradiated wastelands. The situation on Firmament was similar to this, and highly reminiscent of the live-fire practice exercises they did together with Imperial Legion troops in unfortunate human-inhabited Wild Space worlds.

Fortunately, the Ascendants had a functioning civil defense system and many of the civilians trapped in the rad-zones knew well enough to stay under cover. Some were suffering from starvation and dehydration, so the Bragulans administered renourishment by giving them tsvagna. The ensuing blindness was blamed on the nuclear initiation flashout.

The combination of carefully applied military fire for excavationary purposes, and careless disregard for sane procedures meeting puny human safety standards, made the Bragulans brutally effective in their work. For example, a refugee camp was on the verge of a food shortage while carrion birds were feasting on a heap of dead nearby. An overpassing Stalag merely lit up its aggressive-aggressive arrays, frying the birds with potent microwaves, and whatever prayers the distraught refugees offered to their non-existent gods were answered when cooked carrion birds rained upon them like mana from heaven. The Bragulan vehicles, land and air alike, were blaring patriotic Byzonist slogans and distributing leaflets to boost morale, instructing those suffering crises to abandon their faiths and find a new god. Byzon.

Elsewhere, there was a coup when the Bragulans found two buried radiation sources.



The first one was from the ruins of the Umerian embassy. While not fortified to the extent of their Bragulan counterparts, Umerian embassies were built with very well protected panic rooms buried deep underground - a microcosm for the extensive bunkers and gaping mineshafts throughout their home nation, made during the height of Shepistani-Umerian tensions, establishing the mineshaft gap so cursed by the eggheads' neighbors. The sources were not alpha, beta or gamma radiation.



They were X-ray radiation. Buried under tons of rubble, cut off from all communications, the Umerians in the bunker turned to their SCIENCE! officer to save the day. In a feat of McGuyverism, the SCIENCE! officer reversed the polarity of the X-ray specs he invented, and began switching them on and off in an alternating fashion - attempting to use the penetrating X-ray radiation to communicate with the outside world through Morse code. Unfortunately, the building materials manufactured by Lexcomp were lined with lead and such things, severely limiting the penetrations of the X-ray specs.

All hope seemed lost to the trapped Umerians, the SCIENCE! officer had to resort to rationing his protein pills and food capsules (they had limited water, and each capsule had to be exposed to water to expand into full-sized foods) among the survivors. When they were down to the last pill, the walls suddenly melted, bubbling and frothing as though eaten by acid. But a spray of foamy concrete neutralized the acid before it could eat them all alive, and then a bunch of armored bears stormed the panic room - swinging their massive rifles around and securing the area, as if they were in some kind of warzone. Bragulans! After the fear of being murdered by inexplicable Bragulans subsided, the Umerians rejoiced for now they were finally saved - and stripped naked and subjected to a thorough liquid cleansing, but still saved.

The Brags explained that they had tracked them through the X-ray emissions, and the ladies who were so unhappy with the SCIENCE! officer for inventing the X-ray specs reversed their opinion on the scientician and his little gadget, which suddenly wasn't so little anymore. His science became very hard.

Invigorated, and to further prove the effectiveness of his invention beyond lechery, the Umerian SCIENCE! officer joined the Bragulan rescue efforts.





Next was the Shepistani embassy. It was not as bunkerized as the Umerian one, because it was constructed during the regime of Defense Secretary Robert Strange Space Satan McNamara who had cut funding for embassy fortification, judging that it wasn't cost effective, and further contributing to the already expanding mineshaft gap between Umeria and Shepistan. But despite the evil of the Strange Space Satan, the Shepistani embassy survived. Not due to its fortifications, but because of its graphs. The predecessor of famed defense contractor Bart Blade had studied the layout of Firmament extensively and with his hand-cranked computator studied how the blastwaves of a potential nuclear strike would be funneled through the landscape of the very cities that would be destroyed. Just as he would compute the optimum placement of nuclear initiations to maximize urban annihilation on thermonuclear war, he likewise decided to build the Shepistani embassy in the place where the nuclear blastwaves were least likely to flatten it utterly. Years later, on that fateful day, his graphs were proven to be correct.

The Shepistanis were extracted from their damaged embassy by a convoy of Chornybs, which had homed into their location by following the emissions of the embassy's still-functional General Atomics reactor - the second rad-source in the area. They joined the band of Bragulan rescuers and the sole Umerian SCIENCE! officer. By now, a flock of pretty lab assistants also donning X-ray specs had joined him. The Shepistanis laughed at the pencil-necked geek, however. When challenged by the incensed SCIENCE! officer, the Sheppos showed that they had not come empty handed.



For they had brought PUPPERS with them, along with the earlier genemod DOGGLES. The genetically-designed dogs leaped through burning ring-shaped obstructions as their Shepistani handlers jogged beside them. They sniffed through their NBC gas masks, which intelligently filtered the irradiated particulates but allowed scent molecules to pass through, and immediately scoured the ruins for survivors. They would mark with their leavings the spots where survivors were buried in, and excavation teams with shovels and waste bags would do the rest.



After rescuing the survivors, they were sent to the field hospital and it was here where the Bragulans handed things over to the puny humans. Sure, the Bragulans had detailed files on human anatomy, but that was only to make them more effective killers. To heal, not kill (humans), required an entirely different skill set that the bears did not possess.

It was here that another Umerian truly shined. Taking command of the field hospital, she established a triage and began her operation. She did everything she could to save the lives of those who were dying. Aside from those blasted part by the nuclear attack, or those suffering from burns or radiation exposure, there were those who were injured by debris, by falling objects, by physical trauma and other such things. In desperation, the Umerian doctor began harvesting organs and tissues from the recently deceased, stealing bits and pieces from the dead so that she could save the living.

She peeled the skin off the cooling corpses and placed them in preservatives, so that she could graft them on to the burn victims later. But, more importantly, for those who had suffered severe injuries, for them she obtained replacement organs from the freshly-skinned cadavers. She implanted them, and infused dosages of anti-rejection nanites of Commune origins. But these were not her only patients. There were those who had intact organs, but suffered major blood loss. Compatibility of blood type would be an issue for regular donations. But not for those of her patients who had received the anti-rejection nanites, who would become both universal recipients and universal donors as the nanomachines affected their tissue compatibilities. So she hooked her organ recipients to the bleeders, turning the former into blood donors and the latter into recipients themselves. Their systems would not reject the nanite-infused blood of the organ recipient blood donors, and when the anti-rejection nanites made their organ systems perfectly compatible, then so too were they linked to other patients, and to others. The makeshift ward became a spider's web of intravenous fluid lines and fluid pumps, interconnecting all the patients in the Umerian doctor's care.

But not all could be saved, and those who succumbed to their injuries ended up having their own tissues harvested - now that they too were infused with the nanites that made all their tissues universally compatible. Some would have ethical reservations, moral constraints, emotional disgust, and religious outrage at the prospects of this - at what the doctor was doing to those under her care. But she heeded none of these things in her pursuit of medicine, of medical SCIENCE!

Some would say that she was playing God. But, as her mentor the infamous Dr. Ichabod Weir once said, playing is for children.



Heedless of the scars from the broken glass blown by the blastwave, the dozens of recently-applied sutures that marred her beautiful face, she began her operation.

[Tanasinn]

FNS Tyrants Fear the Revolution
Nova Australia System

It taxed Commodore Abagail Brookes' self-restraint considerably to maintain a profesionally neutral expression at the spewings of the uninvited Bragulan and Byzantine 'guests' of the naval review. Bad enough that a whole battleship group had been detatched from Fifth Fleet for this meaningless show - she cringed inwardly at the costs of mobilizing a warfleet to essentially march in formation - worse that this show of peace was being attended by two of the most disgustingly brutal, warlike nations in the galaxy's woeful history (she wasn't too thrilled about the Centralite fascists either).

For what it was worth, her bridge crew were obviously having similar difficulties hiding their disgust at what Brookes assumed was a deliberate undermining of the spirit of this event. It was amusing, in a certain light - the Office of the Navy had selected Fifth Fleet deliberately to participate in the review; not because it was unusually prestigious or well-suited to diplomacy, but because it was well-known for the expansionistic bent of its officers, Brookes included. The admiralty and bureaucrats had apparently thought that participation in a cooperative event like this might broaden their views a bit - obviously, that wasn't going to be the case.

The Humanist Union Federal Navy's Fifth Fleet, Second Battlegroup accelerated to their position in the parade. The Navy wasn't given to displays of showy marksmanship or grand acrobatics; it was a professional tool of war, and there was no less love for pomp in the Navy than in Fifth Fleet. Still, concessions had to be made. Vice Admiral Pearson came over an open channel as the battleship group finally moved into its assigned parade route, "The Humanist Union sends tidings of peace to the peoples of the known galaxy. This fleet comes here today not to wage war but to help build a bulwark against it," Brookes smiled in spite of herself, knowing how those words must have irritated the Admiral, a man with no more tender feelings than the deckplate beneath her feet, "We remember those lives and lands lost in pointless, avaricious war and vow to stand against these follies being repeated," the Vice Admiral cut brief statement off, and the channel was filled instead with the strains of the Internationale as played by one of the Union's more talented orchestras. Fitting such upon a man-of-war, even a Revolution-class battleship, had been no mean feat. With the Internationale came a synchronized light show from the warships' running lights on the observation side; signs of peace, cooperation, and populism (the hammer-and-fist of the Union was not to be omitted); the ships' formation specifically catered to make such imagery possible.

With the final strains of the Union's anthem fading, each ship in the fleet turned its turreted guns simultaneously, firing flash shells from their mass drivers. Once, for the innocents lost in war. Twice, for the revolutionaries who laid down their lives for the future ideal. Three times, for those who stood today against the predations of tyrants and parasites. The battleship group sailed serenely on. Its display was over.

Brookes wasn't looking forward to the tedium of hobnobbing with foreign bureaucrats and soldiers.

[Agent Sorchus]

Nova Australia, Novan Naval Review


First Privateer Squadron formed up on the flanks of the three Battleship Lines. All the small former pirate ships floated past as trophies of war. Some of them were partially broken down while others sported new coats of paint around old flash wounds. Despite this they didn't look out of place next to the battleships, who were sporting quick coats of paint and old camo schemes. Only a few of the ships were sporting a proper squadron paint job, and the majority of them were destroyers with the OMINIOUS call sign, (though all types have been spotted with it, and some of the ships here looked like it had quickly been painted over).


The 6th Destroyer squadron augmented by the war cruiser Harvest of Eternity

Some of the Naval Experts (especially centralist spotting computers) noted that the battleships and other ships had temporary plates added on to conceal much of the most important equipment. It was also Interesting due to the deployment of 3 squadrons rather than the anticipated One. Third Bombardment Squadron was there as expected, with the most modern Super capital ship of the EUC navy (the Block 2 Articuno class Bombardment Vessel Tide of Eternity was spotless and picture perfect, along with most of her Squadron). However both 2nd and 3rd Battleship squadrons had taken up positions in the Line despite their less then perfect looks. All told there were 19 battleships and bombardment vessels in this Grand battle line, and more than a hundred escorts spread out through out the system (many of which were on station more to keep all the Navies in line as Liason vessels than as part of the show.)

No speech came from the ships, though a band played (warning: Metal, and not to quiet either). Soon they would continue on their way, duty never done and trials never ending.

[Agent Sorchus]

IN Space near the Escher, Sector H6 Pirate Communication Station

The Gastly class Heavy Frigates were maneuvering more now as they waited for the fighters to Launch and form up. The new fire predictor scheme that fire control had come up with in the nearly two hours after the initial strike was letting far less shots land shots land then the numbers should have allowed. It was sloppy and far from being as good as it could have been, but for the time invested in it it was paying off.

Wing Commander Etzel looked at his scopes, the rest of his actions guided by habit and Instinct. He had joined the third launch group of 5 fighters, the small primary launch bay on the assault ship being inefficient at mass launches. Each group of five had two loaded with a mix of melee and seeker missiles, two with seekers and an anti-ship plasma warhead with the last bringing dumb-fire mortars and was the primary strike craft of each group. The Escher was leading the other Assault ships in launching fighters, their fourth launch having just begun, while the slowest was only finishing loading the third for launch.

"Alpha Escher Fighter Group, our targets are along the K7 spin-ward nav-marker at -7 relative to the Horizon Remember we can only take our target if we work together. Until Beta Group launches only engage target 4."

They pushed forward, ECM from a couple of birds covering them from the combine firepower for now. Their target was one of the little sloops that had taken a good solid hit from the frigates. It was still firing and maneuvering, but it's shields were intermittent and focused against the frigates. The Assault ships were helping mauling target #2, rapid fire railgun rounds switching from solid shot to fragmentary rounds that tried to find weak points in the shields and armor. The first five fighters came into range and let loose with a light salvo of small missiles. It would do no good to overkill when there were so many targets.

Before the next group of five could find the range a pulse of greater fire blinded them. In their wake the Asteroid was shunting all of it's power into it's remaining communications and sensor systems. Several of the launching fighters had been caught in the Energy burst and were no more. Those that hadn't were either far enough away or hiding beneath the wings of their motherships as it's shields formed a solid wall of particles that were slowly eroding away.

This is bad, thought Wing Commander Etzel, we'll need the rest of the fighters to even think attacking the rest of the pirate ships. He grimaced as the sloop of war they had been targeting picked apart the missile strike. Another group of fighters flicked out a couple of missiles, breaking the point defenses concentration long enough for the first group to get in close and strafe the sloop with auto-blasters and snub nosed lightning cannons. The one remaining missile was redirected at the last second into target #2 who was trying to be a hero and save #4. Both were quickly crippled and the fighters took refuge near the burning ships, were they would be protected from long range pot shots.

His computer beeped at him, the Assault ships were splitting their fire, putting fragmentary bursts into the Asteroid's numerous antennas. The attempt was too controlled thanks to the troops on board they were trying to limit collateral damage, and there were too many antennas too kill.

It was helping bit by bit in letting the already launched but cowering fighters join Escher Alpha group. the stream of pairs and triples leapt forth only to see the trailing Solarian style ship launch combat drones in a solid mass. They couldn't land and there were no more reinforcements for now until the antennas burned.

He glance down at his warhead load as he pulled away from the dying sloops, "Flight 3 on me, set course for the station and ready all missiles for anti- radiation strikes. Fire on my mark only." He was dooming the troops aboard most likely, but the were already lost for the good of the mission.