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Post by KennyC on Jul 18, 2014 3:47:38 GMT
Random crap of mine. Pretty sure this was meant for Cabal at some point. Made a derp with the first spot xDIll Tiding 00:01:00_WARNING_
Eerie silence pervaded around Sergeant Fehl as he stared at the constantly shifting metal floor populated with several pairs of booted feet. A countdown timer ran in the bottom right of his goggled vision, the green text easy to read in the relative dark. 00:00:45
He gazed upward and spotted his men, Squad D-12, doing whatever they did right before an op in the faint overhead lighting. Coulp was fiddling with an unoccupied strap on his vest, Vakberg was checking out his side arm one last time, Sepp was absently running his hand over a shattered pair of K9 goggles, Brak was staring into space and the others weren't far from there. 00:00:30Fehl lowered his head again and tried to ring out the last bit of tension in his body as he felt the cramped KGC-45A2E Armored Transport they were in give a sudden lurch downward, knocking him into Foylt for the umpteenth time, and increase speed. Through the small unsecured hatch to the crew compartment he heard the driver let out a string of profanities as he roughly shifted the worn machine into higher gear. They were closing in on the target. The tension was gone, but the itch was still there. But that never went away. Not here.
00:00:20 He reasoned that there was no real threat inherent in the operation they were about to do, and it should be done within a matter of minutes. A quick in-and-out with a hefty paycheck to show for a modest bit of effort. And that was what made him slightly uneasy. The fact what they were about to do was considered easy money. It wasn't the difficulty, it was...
00:00:15 But, he couldn't worry about that now. He had to get his head in the game or else an 'easy job' might be his last. The APC speed up even more, bracketing the inside of the cramped compartment with the sound of it's plasma engine cycling up into a deep, reassuring hum. No matter where it was or what its intended use was, if it was a Kazpan plasma generator, it had a very distinct humming sound that was easily recognizable by anyone who used them. It was no real wonder that all ETAC personal found the sound soothing. Perhaps the engineers had done on that purpose to get them over the fact they had been hermitically sealed in a tiny metal box only to be let out to a probable hail of enemy fire?
00:00:10_BRACE_
Sergeant Fehl jostled himself in his seat, checking to make sure the g-harness he was strapped in was tight. Finding himself unable to even get his chest to move, he relaxed into his seat, locked his head into place and braced himself.
00:00:00_IMPACT_IMMENTIENT_
Fehl felt his world up end itself as the APC drove through whatever obstacle was in its way (likely the perimeter fence), making a horrible ratchet as it broke through and violently throwing his squad around in their harnesses. The APC however continued unabated and increased its speed once again, the driver cursing loudly all the while. They were inside the target perimeter and moving toward the engagement zone. As the red 'ready' light came on and cast the inside of the APC's compartment in sharp relief, Fehl unbuckled and roughly shoved his g-harness off, his men doing the same. The general IBIN comm-channel erupted in noise as the ban on communications ceased. Scattered reports and hostile sightings filtered in to Sergeant Fehl as he rechecked the action of his ZAR-42U designated marksmen rifle. As a 'Fest' soldier, it was his job to lay down accurate rifle fire for his men and even use a ZCA-110C plasma mortar, should the opportunity arise. However, this was more of a smash and grab affair, so he had left that bit of kit behind. As it was, he was one of two 'fest' soldiers in D-12 along with one 'schütze,' one 'harnisch,' two 'stützes' and two 'pioniers.' The only thing they really lacked was a 'hund' soldier, but they were a bit of a rarity these days. For now at least…
DISEMBARK_ENGAGE_AND_SECURE_PRIMARY_TARGET
SILENCE_ANY_WITNESSES
MAY_ADVANCEMENT_CONTINUESergeant Fehl couldn’t help but release a derisive snort at the last message even as D-12 rushed out of the opened ramp out of the APC into the open night air. They spread out around the APC, night vision automatically kicking in and found themselves in an open courtyard next to the target building, an elaborately embellished mansion with large windows facing the courtyard. After checking their sectors to validate the absence of enemy contacts, D-12 swept forward toward the mansion over the meticulously cut grass. The APC’s low and guttural rumbling picked up in intensity as it kept pace with them and launched three grenades from its turret mounted ZAR-78 straight into the biggest ground window in front of them. Before they had even gotten within twenty feet of the building, the grenades went off, shattering most of the windows they were racing towards and buffeted them with debris. D-12 leapt into the mansion through the broken windows and surveyed the damage as they steadily advanced further in. Their entry point had been the parlor from what Intel they had gathered and had been suitably deserted due to the time of night, the only casualties being a lot of broken furniture and whatever the broken bottles on the bar had contained. No contacts, but scattered fire could be heard from the grounds outside and reports were coming of engagements with the estate’s security personal. Lightly armed and only possessing armored vests according to Intel (which had been right so far), they would be swiftly taken care off. Once the room was clear, Fehl ordered his men into the main hallway with Brak, their harnisch, in front to shield them with his heavier armor and YnF S-1L personal shield. D-12 hurried down the garishly decorated walkway and spread out once they entered the main entrance hall, green tabs overlain the other ETAC personal that had made it into the room as they moved to join the main push up the grand staircase. Now three squads strong with another two covering the hall, they stormed up to the second floor and split off once again into their assigned sectors on the second floor. Fehl broke his squad into its two fire teams, tasking Corporal Sepp with sweeping the guest bedrooms and library. Fehl took his half of the squad and headed directly for the master bedroom, where the primary target was most likely located. Encountering no resistance they made it to the bedroom’s door and braced themselves around the entrance. Fehl gave a single hand gesture, Brak smashing the door down with a single servo-enhanced kick and Dolf, one of their pioniers, throwing in a smoke grenade. Thick, gray smoke enveloped the interior of the bedroom and Brak rushed in only to stop and hunker down behind his shield when shots rang out and tore through the air around him. However, the fire soon stopped and Dolf sprang into action, sliding past a stock-still Brak and diving into the area where his IBIN unit calculated the shooter was. He collided with a squirming something and wasted no time in braining it with the butt of his pistol with it collapsing instantly. The rest of the fireteam moved in to find the primary target knocked out on the ground and Dolf snickering as he tied him up with zip ties. The rest of the op went smoothly as the remaining security was pacified and the primary target dragged to the nearest APC. A collective of industrialists were paying big money to see this ‘ecological champion’ dropped on their doorstep, and that was what they were gonna get… with a couple a bruises and a major headache, but he was still alive, so no harm there. Sergeant Fehl was conversing with his fellow sergeants in the main entrance hall, wrapping up the operation, when the other half of his squad showed up. With prisoners. Fehl recognized them instantly, the family of the primary target – wife, three kids and the target’s brother. Intel had said they would be out on holiday, but… Intel was never prefect. All of them were in various stages of shock and fear as they were roughly shoved onto the ground and Corporal Sepp moved to him to report. While the words and their meanings were entirely for protocol purposes and almost mechanical in nature, there was no mistaking the question he was asking: ‘what happens to them?’ Fehl dismissed Sepp with a wave of his hand and moved forward to stand in front of the prisoners. They were on the verge of hysterics and he couldn’t really blame them. How would you respond if you were awoken to gunfire only to be caught by a bunch of black and grey clad soldiers, speaking a language you didn’t understand and decked out in armor both meant to be intimidating and almost translucent? Somewhere in the cold, hard thing he called a heart, Fehl felt pity. He turned back to the remaining men in the entrance hall and returned the stares they were giving him. “Move out. I’ll be out in a bit.” They didn’t say anything as they let and moved back to their respective APCs. Fehl slowly turned back to the family still on their knees, their eyes running with tears and silently pleading for mercy. The children were especially pitiful, the eldest no older than eight and trying his best to hide the other two behind him. Fehl unclasped the strap holding his side arm in its holster and rested his hand on it, mentally preparing himself. Seeing where their captor was about to do, the brother struggled against his bonds while the pleading of the mother increased in volume. He could pick out only a few of the words. ‘No’ ‘Please’ ‘Children’ ‘Only’ In another time and another universe, Fehl would have staid his hand. Would have taken mercy and let them live. Falsified the report to protect them and felt the better for it. Five, equal distanced shots rang out. All was silent as he calmly walked back to his APC.
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Post by KennyC on Jul 19, 2014 1:16:18 GMT
Random bitz from Eclipse
Advance “Targets, three O’clock!”
Swiveling right, Corporal Wilhelm Asgar heeded the call and opened fire on the distant group of men that had emerged from the ruined store front. Wet, red explosions erupted from the figures even as they fell back, leaving four of their number dead in the street. Scattered weapons fire answered back, but it was confused and unfocused; their surprise leaving them unable to pinpoint Wilhelm’s position. It final petered out seconds later, the enemy seemingly realizing they were doing nothing but wasting ammo. Seeing no further movement, Wilhelm moved his eye back from his gun’s sights and checked the opaque clip, checking to see how many rounds were left in his weapon. Finding that the rounds ended at the notch representing five left, he grunted in annoyance and rose slightly from his prone position. He ejected the nearly spent clip from his ZAR-42 and slammed another home, cycling the bolt to place the first round in the chamber with a metallic click-clang. He placed the now dislodged clip last in the line he had arranged to his immediate right, his annoyance only heightened when he noticed he had only two full clips left in addition to the nearly spent one. Settling back down into prone, Wilhelm placed his left eye back into his 42’s scope and scanned the store front for further signs of the enemy. His trigger finger tense, he bore into the shadows of the building, trying to see the slightest flash of grey cloth signifying an enemy. Seeing none, he did a slow and through sweep of the other buildings that lined the street around it. All was quiet save for the sound of distant warfare, the whoosh of missiles and cracks of rifles blending into the background. “Jäger 2, contacts?” He radioed to his companion two floors above him in the same bombed out hotel. “No contacts Jäger 1. Zahn smells them clear enough though. Plan? ” Jäger 2, otherwise known as Private Gar Stepichov, laced a faintly amused tone into his voice. It was clear he wasn't taking the situation seriously, as he always did. “Take your 48, fire four smoke grenades in front of the store front and then send in Zahn.” “Warning; high risk factor for Zahn.” His amusement evaporated at the notion of sending Zahn into a potential kill zone. “Reasonable risk; they won’t see him coming. Do it.”Soon enough a barrage of smoke grenades were lobbed into the air and landed directly in front of the building the enemy retreated into, expelling large clouds of gray smoke. “Releasing Zahn.” The sound of frantic, scampering footsteps briefly sounded from the stairwell behind Wilhelm before dying out as soon as it appeared. Wilhelm peered downward in time to see Zahn, one of the infamous KGC-K9s, racing from below and towards the cloud and the storefront beyond. The sight of Zahn was always an impressive example of the relatively extreme lengths the Kazpan Ground Concepts went to produce war dogs worthy of Kazpan. Zahn had been the runt of the litter when he had been assigned to Wilhelm and Gar as their K9, but he would go on to prove that he was a cut above the regular Kazpan Volpine. Now four years old, Zahn was just over two hundred pounds and measured 3.6 feet at his shoulders. His body was an intertwined collection of muscle with the traditional grey skin of his breed pulled taunt of his frame, though heavily scarred from his days in training and the natural competition among the dogs while in the kennels. Along with his bulk, the fact he had no lips with which to obscure his teeth and his smoldering blue eyes was enough to get the point across that Zahn was literally built for war. Covering Zahn’s body was the Mark.VIIK in ‘full plate.’ An armored dome was situated over his massive head, a plated vest covered his upper body and the rest was covered with the same Det-Steel Kevlar that was on all Mark.VIIs. While the heft slowed Zahn down, it added to the menacing image that he had already presented to the enemy. No matter how much someone would boast of their bravery, if they didn’t feel the slightest twinge of fear upon seeing a 250 pound charging pile of muscle and metal heading right for them, blazing blue eyes alight with primal savagery– they were foolish if not mentally unhinged. Wilhelm called up the video being projected from Zahn’s google-cam on his own as the K9 leapt through the smoke. At first there was nothing but smoke, but soon enough Zahn was on the other end of the smoke screen and was racing towards the storefront entrance. From what he could gather from the shaky video, Wilhelm surmised that the door leading in was a standard metal door common on Kazpan and weighed around 150 pounds, good solid craftsmanship built to weather the worst of Kazpan’s volatile storms. Zahn’s armored shoulder met the door at full trot and the door was ripped from its hinges and fell even as Zahn ran inward unabated. The war dog did not allow the enemy time to counter attack as he swept through the building like a force of nature, teeth flashing as they ripped through armor to get at the warm flesh below. Screams projected both from the video feed and the background as Wilhelm watched Zahn proceed through the building with unparalleled speed and aggression. Blood soon obscured the cam feed and therefore Zahn’s goggles, but it mattered little, the K9 could sense his prey with his nose better than he could his eyes. Tense minutes passed for both Wilhelm and Gar as they continued to watch Zhan’s feed while also keeping an eye on their surroundings, well aware of their instructors’ warning of becoming too engrossed in their feeds to allow the enemy to surprise them in their distraction. Then, fully ten minutes after Zahn had entered the building, the war dog sent a single coded message through its primitive IBIN system to signal that the building had been cleared. Wilhelm’s comm. suddenly exploded into noise as the training simulation began to leave his vision, colors draining away and everything fading into black. <SIMULATION TERMINATED> <COMPLETE MISSION SUCCESS> <TOTAL MISSION TIME_38.4567 HOURS> <TOTAL OBJECTIVE COMPLETED_ 9.0000> <TOTAL ENEMY CAUSALITIES_143.0000> <TOTAL FRIENDLY CAUSALITIES_0.0000> <ADVANCEMENT SCORE_92.5670> <END CONNECTION>” The world suddenly returned to Wilhelm as his sim-pod opened and he stepped into an overly bright area. Disorientation naturally toke hold of Wilhelm as he fought off the fake reality of the sim-training and allowed his senses to adapt to the real world. Jumping from such a sophisticated, yet fabricated world into the open air was not exactly the easiest thing to get used to in the Kazpan military. A large hand suddenly appeared from his right and settled on his should, spinning him around to face its owner. The grinning visage of Gar entered Wilhelm’s sight just as he was about to react with force; one does not lay a hand on a Kazpan Grenadier like that unless they felt like losing a limb. Especially when said grenadier was suffering from sim-disorientation. “92.5670 Wilhelm! We’re in the top five percent of the scouts. We have advanced our abilities well.” Gar’s grin only increased as he fought to control his excitement, looking less like a 25 year old veteran of the Hokan Rebellion than a child upon receiving his first bike. “Indeed. We are following Advancement well.” Wilhelm kept his tone neutral and controlled; excitement was not the way of the grenadiers. There’s was to present a front of unrelenting will that did not get stressed, worried, anxious, foolhardy or anything else that might cloud their judgment; a calm avalanche that was precisely controlled and yet crashed upon their foes with unlimited force. However, Gar had always been a strange one and his skills as part of Wilhelm’s scout team (encompassing himself, Gar and Zahn in a team of three for special operations) allowed him a bit of leeway in that regard. “Let’s go collect Zahn before the realizes that he’s capable of smashing his way out of his sim pod.”
Training Corporal Wilhelm Asgar regarded the barren plains of the Zander Highlands while examining the map dominating the view of his IBIN-synced goggles. LPS and four overhead HSC-21 drones continuous updated his feed and keep him up to date of weather changes, the terrain, and whatever surprises that may be hiding over the horizon. Everything he could possibly need in terms of information to get close enough to the enemy to complete his objective. However, none of that was necessarily needed considering the enemy was presently only 900 meters away from his present position. It hadn't been too hard to lure them down this particular road. A little fire pit dug on the side of the road, forging the signs of his team moving further into the barren highlands on this road and the careful concealment of themselves had done everything to convince their presurers that they were hot on the trail of their prey. However, if they had been a bit more experienced, they might have noticed that the fire pit was a bit too easy to find, that the tracks were a bit too obviously left on purpose and the fact that they would follow a given path a bit suspicious. Thankfully, the recruits of Military Academy 1043 were still green in terms of ambush tactics and Wilhelm would make use of every advantage he could get. However, whatever their knowledge of traps, the forty odd soldiers-in-waiting that were making their way down the road were not to be taken lightly. They may be young and green, but the academy had done their job regardless. Their layout was supportive and yet arrayed loose enough to prevent lethal bunching. They were completely focused on their surroundings, many members of the hunter team taking the time to survey their surroundings through their goggle's various vision modes. Every single recruit may have seemed relatively aloof and unsuspecting from first glance, with their pace easy and unhurried; but Wilhelm knew they were wrung tight like a spring and would be able to effectively fight back before other people could even register the sound of a gun shot. Good solid Kazpan military training; make a soldier who is always on guard and very rarely unsettled. That was their hallmark - solid, dependable soldiers. It didn't mean shit if you had the flashiest guns if your soldiers would loss focus in an ambush and die before they could even switch off their safeties. It didn't matter if your soldiers were faster, smarter or stronger if they didn't have an unwavering attitude to weather them through thick and thin. It didn't even matter if your soldiers were more motivated if they couldn't keep their cool in battle. A Kazpan soldier was an anchor of calm nerves in the swirling chaos that was war. They may not be the best soldiers in the Eclipse system, but Wilhelm knew they would not run and they would not break or panic. It simply didn't happen. If you wanted to defeat a Kazpan force that had been ordered to stand and not surrender - be prepared to kill every single one of them for as long as one still lived, a rock of unyielding opposition still stood. However, a bomb was a bomb - and no amount of training could really change that reality. Wilhelm toggled the ignition switch and watched passively as the series of EC-2 bombs dug into the road went off along the hunter team's convoy. Thick swathes of red paint enveloped the majority of the convoy signalling their death at the bombs' detonation. The outriders of the convoy immediately split off as soon as they heard the recorded sound of a explosion, but with Wilhelm on one side of the road with a '37 and Gar on the other side with a belt-fed '49, they were quickly mow down with their frames highlighted by red paint balls. “Jäger 2, contacts?" Wilhelm silently said for the mic affixed to his throat to pick up. "No contacts Jäger 1. Hunter force completely eliminated." "Acknowledged, mission complete." Wilhelm let his stern posture relax now that the training mission was over and slowly removed himself from the camo-net he had used to conceal his position from the Hunter force. Heat vision was incredibly effective for the majority of the time, just not when your enemy has received the upgraded Mark.VII armor along with a camo-net to further cut down on their heat signature. It would serve as a lesson for the recruits, do not rely on technology so much. "Jäger 1, feasibility of reinforcing the lesson by letting the force leader fight Zahn on one on one?" Wilhelm didn't even bat an eye at his subordinate's absurd idea. It was a common occurrence for Gar, but it still slightly unnerved Wilhelm for a Kazpan soldier to hold even a hint of amusement in his voice. His trainers apparently didn't apply the whip enough while Gar was in the academy. "Negative Jäger 2, the academy frowns upon us killing recruits." Wilhelm let the statement settle through the radio before he decided to indulge Gar's playfully attitude. "Jäger 2, to relieve our weight load, expend the rest of your training ammunition in whatever way you see fit." Wilhelm's commanding tone of voice never wavered as he gave his comrade the go ahead to basically make the recruits' lives a living, red-painted hell on the way back to the academy. Gar was unusual, but it was usually best to let his strangeness slide and let him have his fun. And if that meant a couple of newbies were going to get a vital lesson in seeking cover and nursing bruises, it was all the better.
WAR The air hung thick and tense as Grand Duke Hildebert regarded his top advisers with unwavering eyes. After the loss of the Vertocons behind yet another one of the eletro-mag phenomena that plagued the Eclipse system, Hildebert had sent his bureaucracy and agents into action trying to establish just what had happened. As before, nothing was established and all they were left was conjecture. Meetings had followed with the top Kazpan scientists all the way down to naval ratings that had personally seen the gigantic storm-like occurrence overtake the whole of Vertocon space. Hildebert hadn't received anything near definite and all he was left after many hours wasted in meetings and briefings were two facts: the Vertocons had attacked the Vythines and after losing, their system had been overtaken by the impenetrable phenomena. A static-laced and grating sign escaped his mouth as his mechanical voice box tried to reproduce the sound of his frustration to his current company. He had spent twenty years of his life in the Kazpan Navy, where he had lost his throat to shrapnel from a faulty pipe that failed spectacularly on his way to the mess hall, but that had done little to prepare him for this situation. He had two choices as he saw it, each one dire if he choose wrong. The first was to do nothing in regards to his only allies being cut off (or destroyed, the whiz boys weren't sure what happens inside the 'storms') and having the potentially hostile Vythines feeling cocky after soundly defeating the powerful Vertocons. Sure the Vythines didn't appear hostile nor did they 'start' the war, but they had won several major battles in a short amount of time and then poof: the Vertocons are gone right after being defeated. Hidlebert didn't believe in coincidence, and even if he did, his bullsh*t meter was still hitting an eleven on a scale of ten. Which lead to his second option, choose to honor his moon's treaty to the 'lost' Vertocons and fight the Vythines. It would be costly for the Kazpans after reviewing everything they had on the bird-like people of Vyvilia. Their technology was powerful and quite advanced in several areas. Where Kazpans focused entirely on producing good, solid equipment in all facets of their military, the Vythines had several different weapons systems - allowing them to be flexible if a bit untested. Whatever the case, they would not go quietly and the fact they may be the possessor of whatever technology it was that allowed them to create the phenomena, that now trapped the Vertocons, was disconcerting and make waring with them disastrous. However, if they did choose to do nothing, what if the Vythines were hostile? For Kaz'Lyn's sakes! They had taken spaces zones D4, D12, and D13 right after the Vertocons had been trapped. What else could they be planning but war? You don't fight off someone's allies, watch said allies fall off the map and then snuggle right up to their border unless you had something planned. But what if they didn't? What if they were innocent and honestly wanted to be friends? Hildebert snorted, the disturbing sound issued from his artificial voice box startling his advisers, but none moved to speak or move. The Kazpans had no need for friends. The Vertocons had been useful trade partners and a potential buffer for future enemies, but they weren't friends. A Kazpan had no need for anything beyond his faith in Advancement. Advancement and cool, hard det-steel. That's all they needed in the end. However, he was digressing - he had a decision to make. If the Vythines were hostile and did have the technology to produce said phenomena, he was in a very dangerous position. The whiz boys has said if said device(s) existed it would most likely be very large, have to be close to where it intended to capture in a 'storm' and need several 'boosters' for the effect to travel over the entire area targets. If correct and the Vythines were hostile; said device(s) would be in the recently captured territories. If he attacked without warning and with overwhelming force, he could capture one of the device and that would lead him to be able to counter them in the future and even possibly freeing the Vertocons. Huge gains anyway you look at it if all went well. However, he could potentially facing war with a race that had no part in the phenomena at all; just very lucky benefactors from a freak occurrence trapping their enemies. He mulled over what he knew and weighed his options. His advisers, before he had silenced them to let him think clearly, had been split right down the middle in terms of the choice. On one side, Grand Marshall Eberhardt, Legate Klaus-12, and many of his martially inclined advisers favored war with Grand Admiral Fuchs, Marshall Fleischer and many of his civilian advisers opposing them. Deadlock with both sides having their points and counter points. He finally decided on worst case scenarios. If the Vythines were hostile, had the 'storm' technology (their ion weaponry flashed through Hildebert's mind) and the Kazpans did nothing - they would go the way of the Vertocons. If they were not hostile, didn't have the technology and they went to war - they had war. War was better than utter defeat without a shot fired. War it is. He suddenly came out of his deep thoughts and regarded his military advisers with a lazy glance, not fooling them for a moment with his 'easy' going approach to his subordinates. Others had made that mistake and tried to take advantage of it. The developers of the ZAR-107 had been overjoyed to receive live subjects to test their weapon on. "Grand Marshall Eberhardt, Grand Admiral Fuchs, Marshall Fleischer and Legate Klaus-12 - I want a list of all viable forces ready for combat at tomorrow's meeting. We have a war to plan." He said plainly. He left the statement hang in the air while everyone processed it without comment. The Grand Duke had made his decision, there was no changing it. However, Klaus-12 did ask permission to speak. Hildebert raised a single eyebrow to this, but called on him anyway. "Yes, what is is Legate?"
"Grand Duke, should we be wrong? What do we do then?" Klaus-12 asked in his low but clear voice. Hildebert was not surprised with the question. It was indeed racing in all their heads, but Klaus-12 was the only one to voice it. One tends to be a bit bolder in nature after earning twelve Black Badges. "As Advancement dictates Legate. We crush them anyway. Dismissed."
ConsolidationThe sound of crunching metal sounded throughout the conference room. The closest approximation to the sound created by Grand Duke Hildebert's metal voice box when he hummed in thought. They had been in the middle of going over the results of the successful attack on D4 and Admiral Stein's gamble on D13 when word had come of the Freyjan's declaration of war. It was not entirely unexpected, but it did little to improve the Grand Duke's mood. A through search of the D4 platform had rendered their initial fears apparently unfounded.
The forces encountered were far too low to suggest any type of aggression beyond petty piracy and raids. A search of the platform's storage found no hint of a build up needed for an invasion force and the supplies they did find were mostly centered around defensive measures and scouting. No trace had been found of any type of device that could be used to create the electro-mag storms or even the relays supposed needed for such device. Indeed, the Vythines had set the up explosive devices on the platforms. Traditional scorched kazpar (translation: scorched earth) tactics. This was not the conduct of an army planning an invasion nor one that held the technology capable of entrapping an entire race with a single flip of a switch. They had guessed wrong in the end, but Hildebert nor his advisers had been acting in the interests of their people.
Many advisers had wanted to call for peace immediately, with nothing to be gained from further fighting. However, with the Freyjan's calling for war and the Vythines now possessing an ally to help in their fight - why should their enemies stop? They held the 'moral' high ground and the numbers now. Asking for peace would seem like weakness to them now, putting blood in water for the sharks. The only recourse was settling in for war and trying to find a way to turn the tide. They had won D4 and D13 had been a mere gamble, but the tide of war would soon swing to their enemies with their numbers and advanced technology.
All these events and conclusions had led to the Grand Duke's relatively foul mood. He had lead his people into a war with nothing to show for it but a single space zone and some captured Vythine ships. Oh how he wished he was back in the navy, where the most pressing day to day concern was when to do his laundry. And where the hell was that aide with the recal? He needed some of that bitter black stuff to ease his mind.
"Recommendations?" He growled to his audience.
Grand Admiral Fuchs immediately rose to address the conference. "Grand Duke, with our current number of troops and the enemy force arrayed against us I suggest a strategy of defense for the time being. Scorched kazpar tactics, all platforms put on high alert, increasing the garrisons facing our foes. Everything we can do to shore up our defenses and get our men ready for both the Freyjans and Vythines. it will take some time for them to collect the forces needed to attack and we need to use that time wisely. Attack, right now, is out of the question. Once we get the defenses up, we can settle on what to do from there. But right now, we need every minute we can get to get our border zones fortified."
No one else spoke up after this so Hildebert considered them in agreement. Finding nothing else coming to mind, he also agreed to the plan and assigned them to the various tasks needed to be undertaken for the defenses to be built up. It was only a matter of time before they came and the Kazpans would make sure every meter of space taken would be paid in blood.
Upgrade Sargent Wilhelm Asgar ran straight at the wall that loomed before him, forty feet high and nearly as thick. Even with the latest weaponry and equipment, such a simple thing as a concrete wall was still a formidable obstacle. Activating his jump jets at the last minute, Wilhelm rocketed over the wall with a single flip and landed on the other side with a resounding thud. A small grin stretched across his face as he turned back to gaze at the wall. Before, it would have taken precious time and a substantial amount of explosives to overcome such an obstacle. However, that was before the Mark.VIII armor came into his possession. The armor was simply one of the best pieces of military equipment he had ever seen or used. It took everything that made the Mark.VII good, made those aspects even better and introduced whole new components to give the wearer a significant edge in battle. A thick trilayer armor design, improved optics, improved IBIN interface, more intuitive controls, upgraded injection system, more comfortable design, personal plasma reactor, servos to help move the additional bulk and on and on. The list of improvements almost seemed limitless. The one part of the Mark.VIII that Wilhelm truly coveted was the jump jets. Wall? No problem, jump straight over it. Sniper? No problem, jump so fast he can't get a clear shot. Tank? He liked to see a tank get a bead on him when he could leap over four story buildings in a single bound. In short, he loved them. An explosion further down the wall to the right of Wilhelm shook the ground a little, debris and dust obscuring the breach that had been made. Zahn, Team Jäger's lovable 250 pounds of killing potential, soon ran through the dust cloud and tackled the nearest training dummy, uttering breaking the wooden construct before his teeth even went to work. Funny. Wilhelm was pretty sure they had left Zahn behind a sizable steel gate when he and Gar had entered the training ground to test out their new armor. Best not to worry about the possible property damage for now. The bulky shape of a Mark.X Power Armor was the next to appear from the haze, all four of its hard points fixed with ZAR-89 missile launchers. There was only one man crazy enough in the scouts to use nothing but rocket launchers in a live fire test and he made up the the rest of Team Jäger, Corporeal Gar Stepichov. While Wilhelm was pretty sure that Gar would settle on using the Mark.VIII in actual combat for the same reasons he would, Gar couldn't help but take the Mark.X for a spin when he saw it next to the Mark.VIIIs they were being issued. And of course, when given the option to mount all types of different weapon systems on the armor's four different hard points, his blazing blue eyes had lit up with glee as he pointed to a stack of rocket launchers. A woosh sound registered in Wilhelm's ears as four different 140mm missiles raced at a concrete building, mocked up as an enemy bunker, and destroyed it in a brilliant plume of fire. Turning his eyes back to Gar, who was currently plowing through a concrete divider, Wilhelm activated his comm link and addressed his rampaging partner. "Careful with that suit Gar, last thing we need is for you to break it and have to pay for it for the rest of your life.""Yeah, sure. Got it Sargent." Gar answered back absently as he rammed into a broken down KGC-98 SSR, watching in glee as he tore through it like dry board. "You're not even listening to me are you?"
"Yeah, sure..." Gar radioed back, trailing off as he ripped a section of rebar out of a concrete slab and hurled it like a javelin at a distant training dummy. The dummy shattering as the bar tore through its midsection a few seconds later. He sounded a small laugh of victory and ran off to find more buildings to blow up, Wilhelm giving up trying to calm him down.
FindingsScience Advancement Adviser Hanz wearily rubbed his face as he sipped at his recal. It was 3 AM in the morning and the meeting with Grand Duke Hildebert was in five hours. He had yet to decide what to tell the Grand Duke. His job was to advise the Grand Duke in future research projects and outline possible operations to further along Advancement in very board terms. Up until now, he along with his predecessors had mainly told the Grand Duke which research projects would be worthwhile to invest in and which were not. That was it. Though their job description was quite ambiguous and perhaps even grand taken to the fullest, they had been largely content to settle with telling their leader whether or not head researcher 'so-and-so' and his research concerning 'blank' was full of it. Now... he faced the possibility of taking a much bigger role in Advancement. If he manned up to do it that is. Recent breakthroughs in studying Wakou shielding had been enlightening to a large degree, but the process to make them was beyond them. More often than not, all they got when they tried to get the right bend of element was an explosion. However, one singular researcher had noticed a tiny effect made from some of these explosions. It was very minor when it occurred and most others simply classified as simple radiation. After running some tests and replicating it a number of times, he called Hanz himself with his theory. Hanz had thought the old boy had lost his nut when he first heard the researcher spout his excited chatter concerning his 'discovery.' Deciding to humor the scientist, Hanz meet him in his lab and tried to look interested as he was bombarded with the researcher's rambling. His interest was fully garnered however when the researcher fully demonstrated the effects in front of him though. After having the researcher redo the experiment five times and checking himself for narcotic use, Hanz realized it must be brought before the Grand Duke. It could change the very course of Advancement. There was a problem with this of course. The Wakou wars were drawing away almost every bit of money, material and (mostly importantly) interest from the Coalition. The Grand Duke himself had cancelled a great deal of theoretical research and put it into arms research instead. He had little time for the 'what ifs' and long term developmental cycles when his domain was fighting tooth and nail with an advanced species. The chances of Hanz being able to bring up the development and get it funded were quite small. He wasn't even suppose to do it in consideration of tradition. As best, he would get the Grand Duke's attention and funding. At worst, he would be rebuked and demoted. Indeed, the discovery was very much in its infantile stages. The effect itself could be used for practical effect or even be seen with the unaided eye. It was one thing to convince a Hanz, who had worked on plasma technologies and had often worked with things he couldn't see. It was another to convince a former naval officer whose career focused around the practical (and destructive) end of science. Hanz signed and rubbed his eyes. How the hell was he going to convince his leader that this sole project would be the biggest forward step in Advancement since their first spaceship?
ObservanceAcceptable progress.
It was both a calming and infuriating thought as he continued to review the industrial apparatus of the Kazpan moon. For the time involved and the challenges of the moon; the Kazpan's development in the fields of science, industry and weapons research was commendable. But it wasn't enough. 'Acceptable' was the exact opposite word that truly described their progress. It was 'deficit' for what would be needed. They were not ready. He reclined back into his chair as he lowered the lighting even further, enshrouding him in darkness.
Various images of Kazpan factories and military complexes continued to flash before the figure, each one furthering his disappointment. He had expected much more of them. Given what they were and the surrounding opposition, he had expected a more aggressive Kazpan policy that would have long seen them as the local super power. Not an equal state that was simply the match of the others. True, they proved themselves excellent warriors with their focus on proven technology and their MARC cannons, which proved to a be an awe-inspiring weapon at long range. However, it was still not enough.
He smashed his fist down on his arm rest, the substance cracking underneath the force of the blow before liquifying and then reforming into its previous shape. Not nearly enough! He unclenched his hand and again looked back at the images that flashed before him, all of them moving faster than it would take for a regular Kazpan to even see.
There was still hope for them. A few bright spots that might vindicate them. It was a long shot, but the pieces were already in place and only time would tell if he had been right or not. What ever the case, they would be alone in this and if they wished to survive they would have none of his help. They were useless to him if they needed his help. Many had called him calloused for this, but he didn't care. The Kazpans would need to prove their worth in the end or else, what was the point of their continued existence? Nothing.
He banished the images with a wave of his hand and settled back into his chair, his blazing blue eyes shining in the darkness.
SacrificeScience Advancement Adviser Hanz watched from the windows of SDP-3 as the... remains of Task Force Zorn moved to dock. Nearly 340 million dead or missing, the almost complete and utter annihilation of the Black Legion (save for their leader and a few Black Guard, Thank Advancement), millions injured and the entire force was an utter wreck even if victorious.
While the reports have been bad, it didn't do what he was seeing justice. The entire force was a disorganized mob as many ships that still had working engines were forced to tow their crippled brethren and many were unable to steer correctly - constantly having to correct their heading as their ships were unable to keep a straight line. Any attempt to organize a proper fleet arrangement or even just a simple convoy were soon given up after the battle and the fleet simply ordered to return while keeping within line of sight of their comrades. As for the ships themselves, they ranged anywhere from moderate damage to ships that had lost entire sections of their structure and had only held together thanks to their keels. Some were even venting plasma energy straight into space as they entered his sight.
He watched a nearby Rächer Cruiser float by him, its hull ravaged by gauss rounds and scorched by plasma. It was nearly half way past him before he saw the worst of the damage: a hole nearly 40 meters wide and 300 meters from the front of the vessel, the edges of the metal blistered from plasma fire and revealing the space clear on the other side of the Rächer. 80 meters Hanz remembered. It was 80 meters from one side of a Rächer to the other on average - and whatever had hit it had gone clear through it. Such a hit should have least hit some major components and rendered her helpless. That's when Hanz got a closer look and realized what that part of the ship was used for by inspecting what was left of the cabins inside and the debris that could be identified. Crew compartment.
Hanz signed and sat down in the single chair in his small room, choosing to swivel around to get his mind off the fleet. Though that proved to be difficult considering his task here. Grenze Pause would require many things over its development, but it first needed was a battleship sized hull for which to work off of. When he had requested such a hull from the Grand Duke he had gotten this blank stare and ordered to pick one out from the returning Task Force. At first, he had been confused. Pick out a ship from a fleet returning from a victory and scrap it for the hull? Why not just nick one from the production line and convert it to his needs? Now however, it was all too clear why he had told to get one from what was left of Zorn. Many of these ships were utter wrecks and were better off scraped. It would take years for the Navy to recover from this and get its ship numbers back up to snuff. A brand new battleship hull was soon to become a very rare commodity for quite some time.
So here he was, facing a list of returning battleships and in the process of picking one out for his project. He felt disgusted by the task in front of him. It was like picking out an injured animal from the herd and then killing it after the herd had won first prize. In the end, it was for the best. They did need the hull and he was essentially gonna pick out a ship that would be heavily damaged already, but it still eat at him. How could he go up to the captain and tell him to relinquish his command because it needed to be 'recycled?' How could he look that man in the eyes and tell him that the very same ship that he and his 3,000 men had fought so hard in for so long needed to be sacrificed for a science project? How could he articulate to that man that after the immense struggle to get his men and ship home safely, he now needed to say goodbye to very craft that had been with through hell? How could one retired Navy man tell his active duty comrade that he needed to kill his home away from home?
Hanz pulled his bottle of vodka closer and poured himself a triple. By getting drunk the night before and be so hungover you don't give a damn until after you do it.
DisasterCaptain Eisenberg sipped his cup of water as he watched his deck crew continue to run diagnostic after diagnostic, running every possible test on record to make sure their systems and assigned sectors were fully operational. While this was nothing unusual for a ship leaving planet-side for its tour, the Erschüttern was currently 'drafting' in D7 - well away from Kazpan space and much further from its dockyard on Kazpar. To say they were in remote regions was an understatement; this space zone had been abandoned for over a decade after the consolidation of holdings by Kazpan forces during the Wakou War. Even back when it was held in Kazpan hands, the garrison based on the space platform in this region had been very small and the entire area was considered a back water. It was extremely low in local resources and its position made it an nonexistant transportation route. It along with other frontier space zones that had been abandoned during the war had stayed so after the war. Why keep it when all you could really say that it had a space platform? While other races were quick to regain their swathes of space after the war, Kazpar held little interest in holding any of the space zones that were not route to other races trade routes. If the other races wanted them? Fine - let them waste troops garrisoning useless space zones like they did in their own realms. It mattered little to Kazpar, but not even the most enterprising races had chose to expand within the the scope of Kazpan space. While the Kazpans were mostly seen as a relatively clam and aloof species to outsiders, they had a tendency to switch quickly from uncaring to advancing with all MARCs firing. So here the space zone had been left destitute and unused for over a decade - until now. Now, it was the perfect place for the Erschüttern, for the ship that Captain Eisenberg commanded was the product of the Grenze Pause Project. And as its name of the project suggests, this ship was built for one purpose: expanding Kazpar's borders. Not in the Eclipse system, but beyond the Eclipse system. It had taken little over a decade to do it, but Kazpan scientists and engineers had finally produced an experimental FTL drive to expand beyond the confines of the Eclipse system and dramatically increase the Advancement potential of the species as a whole. The drive itself had been the result of a fluke in a science lab while experimenting on replicating Wakou shields. A coordinated collision between all the antimatter and matter in a shield along with a quick burst of gravitons through this collision point result in a sort of opening in which all the objects within the shield are sucked in. The first few times this occurred nothing but 'air' was lost and the effect itself was not observed with any of the instruments. The only way it was found out was when a elderly scientist that had a fondness for cigars observed some of his cigar smoke suddenly vanishing from within the small shield he was working on. Soon machines that generated their own field were being sent through these openings while taking their fields with them, but would reappear instantly in seemingly random locations a few kilometers away form the testing area. It was only after they activated the effect when rolling one of the machines forward were they able to control the direction the machine would reappear. As it is, the physics and math involved in the so called Hanz Effect are entirely up in the air. Some say its another dimension with altered properties of reality, others that it is a worm hole. All that is a known is that when an object in motion enables the effect, they will appear some distance from their starting location according to their speed at the time, their mass and the direction they were going. Everything else is an unknown for nothing has been so far collected from the mysterious realm that the objects pass through due to the speeds it occur.
The first test with a kazpan on board had gone on without a hitch with the occupant unable to understand how he was in one location and then in another location in an instant. Even the instruments he was sent with were either not quick enough to notice the difference or just have a blank spot in their records at the time of transition. It has puzzled and stumped the top Kazpan scientists and while it is seemingly identical to the effect used by the Wakou to 'warp' in battle - they can't be sure. Indeed, while they know it occurs and can even utilize it now - the actual mechanics and underlying forces in play are entirely unknown and can only be the source of unending conjecture. However, the Grand Duke and Chief Adviser Hanz saw a pivotal technology to utilize for Advancement and would use it even when they didn't understand it. Captain Eisenberg himself understood little of science, but he knew one thing - having this technology would greatly improve the overall strength of the Kazpan race and might even tip the scales enough for a long term war to establish dominance in the system itself. First however, they needed to extensively test the Hanz Drive and then use it to send vessels to distance reaches of space to acquire resources and outposts out of the Eclipse system. And that's where the Erschüttern came in. It was to be the first of many such vessels sent into the void to carve a whole new empire out for Kazpar to Advance to new heights. A proof of concept if you will.
After initial testing with smaller 'ships' had been successful they had mounted a working prototype of the Hanz Drive in the purpose built Erschüttern. The ship itself had lived a previous life as the Gewehr Class Battleship Fest, but after being crippled in the battle of D70 and losing 63% of the crew - it had been fingered by Chief Adviser Hanz to be the base of the Erschüttern. Though to assume it was anything like the Fest a fallacy of epic proportions.
The Erschüttern had been built from the ground up to be a mobile base of operations for almost ten thousand Kapzans to live on and do their duty in securing future Kazpan interests beyond the Eclipse system. To this end, the ship was almost entirely self sufficient and had been designed to be able to operate without once needing help from the infrastructure of Kazpar. Workshops, factories, farms, nurseries, weapon plants, etc. The Erschüttern had it all and was essentially a mobile warrior city that could be placed anywhere the Kazpans wanted. True, it had cost a fortune to build and only future developments in driving down costs would allow the entire concept to get off the ground, but every grand Advance required a single step to start it. The Erschüttern was that step.
And now, as the deck crew began to call out their completion of their checks and the status of the ship as ready to activate its priceless Hanz Drive, Captain Eisenberg felt a chill settle into his spine. The same one he had had to get replaced after a nasty tangle with some Wakou boarders. Everything seemed too perfect. The discovery of the Hanz Effect too convenient. The further optimization and developments that had made the entire project a reality even more remote. The fact that none of the other test subjects that used Hanz Drives had ever been lost. He had read every bit of material over the matter several times and while the science behind it was illegible to him, it still disturbed him that such things had gone off without a single hitch. It didn't help that the ship itself had been renamed, an age old taboo when it came to the navy.
And yet, here he was - in charge of a ship that had been built without a single problem occurring during construction or its previous outings - and he was getting chills. But he had a job to do and, as he said a silent prayer to Kaz'Lyn, he pressed the final activation command to enable the Hanz Drive. The Erschüttern vanished from Kazpan observers' sights and instruments... never to return to the Eclipse system.
SparksThe air, even after working its way through the Mark.VIII armor filtering system, was still rancid and reeked of burning flesh to Sergeant Major Wilhelm Asgar. While he had often been thankful for the armor's ability to still retain the smells after filtering the air, this was one occasion where he wished it didn't. He absently scratched his leg as he rose from his sitting position on the sand of the Banar Pass and turned to view the men under his command 'cleaning' the battlefield, distant pyres signalling their overall progress towards him. They threw the enemy dead into piles and used the fuel they carried on their SSRs to burn the piles systematically. Orders from high command - burn all the bodies. The enemy had attacked them when his force of 100 scouts had marched through the pass at 1821 standard hours - nightfall for this region this late in the year. If they were any other foe he had faced in his career - the time, the lack of heavy equipment and the vulnerability of their position would have led him to believe they he would have lost at least one of his men. They had been halfway through the pass when they first saw the enemy emerge from the other end of the pass and his men were too tightly boxed up to get cover effectively. If it had been anyone else, a few of his men would have passed on to the Halls of Tulmar. However, all of his men were alive and accounted for - thanks to the fact his enemy had proved to be both horrifying and terribly ineffective. It was a shock to both he and his men when they had beheld the forms of Kazpan men and women making their ways toward them with an assortment of improvised weapons amongst them. They were all haggard in appearance and largely an assortment of working men and women aged from anywhere from fifteen to fifty. A quick scan of one of the ID badges revealed them to be from Raelvac, the town they had been sent in to secure in the wake of one of the unknown objects crashing nearby and the loss of contact with other nearby towns. At first, he had assumed they were simply refugees that had scrounged together whatever arms they could and had fled their town after losing contact with their neighboring towns. With that in mind, he had pushed his way to the front of his convoy and had called out to them in greeting. Absolute silence was the answer to his call. Further shouting and questions on his part had been ignored as the refugees neared to almost 500 meters, still brandishing their weapons and staring directly at he and his men. Realizing that something was wrong and the lack of anything else but weapons on the civilians nearing his convoy, he ordered the refugees to stop and put down their weapons. Silence once again was the only reply he got. At 400 meters he fired a warning shot from his ZAR-107 plasma rifle over their heads. They didn't even flinch and continued their deathly silent approach. It was around 300 meters that one of the civilians had broken ranks and had fired at him with some sort of hunting rifle. Though he had an agonizing time making sense of the situation he was in, when the bullet from the rifle collided against his shoulder and ricocheted off into the rocky wall of the pass - the meaning was unmistakable. He immediately ordered his men to open fire into the crowd. And the 'battle' was joined. The fighting had lasted for a grand total of six hours as other apparently crazed groups of armed civilians filtered into both entrances of the path to get to grips with he and his men, but in the end there was little the horde could have done. While the silent masses had been armed with everything from civilian rifles to power tools and decked out with their work clothes; he and his men were all armed with the latest in Kazpan small arms, had five KGC-45A armored transports with ZAR-50s and were all wearing the YnF Mark.VIII Double-Layer Body Weave Armor. There was no contest. Even after they had begun to run low on ammo, the drivers of the KGC-45As had simply shifted their vehicles into low gear and crushed groups of incoming hostile civilians underneath their treads. Indeed, while these same citizens had had training in the academy as any other Kazpan, they seemed sluggish and awkward in their movements - shambling figures that seemed at a loss at what they were actually doing. It had been as if he and his men had been angels of death as they used the movement capabilities of their armor to wade into the hordes as high speed and engage them with their KBC-7 'Sea Axes.' It also didn't hurt that amongst his men he had a slightly unhinged First Sergeant Gar Stepichov using a Mark.X Power Armor suit fitted with four different heavy weapons and a three hundred pound mass of metal and muscle named Zahn. Because really, what was a store clerk armed with a rake supposed to do against something like Zahn? Scratch his armored belly and hope Zahn's surgically enhanced jaws will not rip his leg off with a single twist of the canine's head? Regardless, the killing had lasted for hours and the rough total amount of dead had been several thousand civilians - butchered by his men like animals. He had called in the incident at the end of the melee and had been advised of the potential danger posed by what was now held to be an alien infection that was turning their own people against them. So here he was, his first major action since the end of the Wakou War - killing his own countrymen and shoving them into piles to be burned. While he was disgusted with the fact he was being forced to fight civilians, they were definitely not the Kazpans they had once been and needed to be killed. It was the only way and even now he was receiving several reports of entire cities going mad near the impact sights of the unknown objects. Entire cities rising up to kill anyone that was still loyal to Kazpar and scattered reports of strange creatures being sighted on the battlefield, joining the rebels from all appearances and fighting with them. It was all very confusing and horrible, but he felt only numb to it at the moment. The exertions of the 'battle' and mental turmoil of killing Kazpans had sapped him of his emotion and he occupied himself by continuing to watch as his men burned the residents of Raelvac. One by one, more pyres flared into existence from the cold, dark night - each of them representing one hundred bodies each. He started to absently count the pyres so he could give his commanders a more accurate count of the 'enemy' dead, but he stopped after twenty. Ordering Stepichov to get the convoy ready to move after the last of the pyres were lit, he turned back around and sat down. He gazed into the night, not worrying himself with the possibility of being surprised thanks to the patrols he had sent out. He was deeply bothered. Not only just because of the fact they were apparently being invaded and having to fight infected civilians, but it was like the very air was much too thick to breathe. It wasn't the smoke or the discharge of the plasma rifles that made it so - it was the subconscious knowledge that something was fundementally wrong. That what was happening now was only the tip of things to come. It had been like this for the last decade; many on Kazpar felt it in some measure. It had been subtle in the beginning, but it had built to its current omnipresence of stifling pressure as if each day was building to some great calamity. Every time he logged into IBIN or used any sort of electronic device, he swore it was like he was being watched, monitored by something that was not Kazpan in origin. For ten years this had worn away at him and the others that had noticed as well, but all he had been told was that it was a common ailment of servicemen and that everyone was still feeling the effects of despair after the massacre of D70. But it wasn't that. He knew it wasn't that. It was something else and if the tension in the air was any indication - it was going to be soon. And perhaps this time, the Kazpans would not fair so well.
Fire
The wintery night was alight with flares, plasma discharge and explosions as Sergeant Major Wilhelm Asgar took the moment to scan the sky. Though choked with the smoke coming from the ruins of Raelvac immediately behind him, he could still see the stars through the clear patches. A scene of tranquility... if not for some of those 'stars' trading pinlights of blazing color: weapons fire. The enemy had finally brought its fleet to bear and was making itself known. Something whistled from the sky and smashed itself a few meters from him, shaking him and the men next to him in the trench. A viscous fluid flew overhead and the top of the trench that was covered dissolved with a hiss. And now... they have artillery. Wonderful.
Bringing himself upright, Asgar turned his vision back to the ground and peered down the scope of his ZAR-107 Plasma Rifle. Nothing but inky blackness was visible, with the occasional plume of flame coming from the return fire of their own artillery. The 'crump' of the big guns were the only constant to his ears as he scanned his sector, trying to peer through the haze and blackness to sight the enemy he knew were out there. He tapped into his comm unit and ordered a single flare for his position from his sole mortar crew, which was dug in back into a bombed out factory behind him in Raelvac. The flare burst into life some seven hundred meters in front of him and revealed the scarred landscape before him. And, like every other time, he saw them, the Fehlers milling around until they some sightless signal was given and they would charge. It was the same every time since his men and elements of the 9th Division of the 3rd Regular Army had taken over the burnt out husk of Raelvac twelve days ago. First the Fehlers would build up a large wave of their warriors and then charge their position around Raelvac. Then when the tide broke and the Fehlers had apparently enough, they would scurry back to their positions and build up their strength again, endless reinforcements from these so called 'hives' that were even now arriving in ever more numerous numbers. At first, things had been quiet after the combined forces of the PLAGUED Cannon Towers and the Regular Army had destroyed the first hives that had landed, the infected civilians and various infantry they had being no might in the face of the mechanized forces of the Kazpans. But then in the midst of mopping up, a whole new wave had appeared with a fleet of their flyers. While the Navy and the PLAGUED Towers had done their best - they are had simply been too many, too fast. Thankfully, they ones that got through were mostly concentrated in areas near the ones that landed with the first wave, so after the army had scrambled back into defensible positions, they had been able to hold quite handily. However, while High Command got the counter attack together to destroy this new wave of invaders, the Fehlers were proving a much tougher foe now that they had air support and heavy units on the ground. Creatures that vaguely corresponded to artillery, shock troops, tank and even spies had all been sighted and were even now testing the defensive lines set up around their hives. Even now, the situation was hardly desperate. The fleet that had flown in with this wave was rather devoid of larger creatures and had only managed to tie up the Navy around the Space Defense Platforms and only by using suicide tactics that only managed sparse damage. The ground was a little bit more intense, but much the same as it was in high orbit - heavy fighting was indeed occurring, but the Fehlers did not have the punch needed to breakthrough or do any substantial damage. Sure those burrowing creatures had been a surprise, but that had been before Army units had received seismographs to seed their positions with and deployed Tosen fireteams to shadow them. The creatures would break ground and establish a limited beach head before a full fire team of Tosens would appear, blow the hell out of them and then drop enough explosives in the hole to topple a skyscraper. Asgar's position had already been hit with twenty separate attack and only the first three had claimed any amount of significant damage to his forces. After that, the new enemy units were accounted for and all over the IBIN - ready for any soldier to see and account for in their defense preparations. Much tougher than the first wave, but still manageable and containable. Having seen the first Fehlers start to make their way towards their positions for yet another night time attack, Asgar called his KGC-45s up and ordered them to make ready with their 101s. He could see them more clearly now as more and more flares exploded over the field. They were ugly, ravenous creatures that truly lived up to their name as Fehlers. While they were fearsome and intimidating to a degree due to the sheer alien appearance and their highly unorthodox weaponry, he much preferred them to the Wakou. He had seen a single Wakou warrior take on three different Black Legionnaires, who were hopped up on combat stims, in hand to hand and win. He had seen a Wakou battleship tank two separate MARC shots without its shield falling and then tear through a carrier like it was nothing but toilet paper. He had watched the replays of the Wakou leader, a gigantic flying monster, rip through entire sections of Kazpan ships like it was a game. Now however, things were a bit different. "Fire." 8 separate Inferno Rounds from his KGC-45s roared up and over him as they streaked their way towards the charging Zehlers. Brilliant plumes of plasma illuminated the night sky as they appeared in the very midst of the enemy wave, setting hundreds of them on fire and quickly melting those in the kill radius of the rounds. Even now, more Inferno Rounds were making their way towards the Fehlers as with more artillery fire from further behind the lines. They would push through all of this of course, but then they would meet the massed fire of tanks in dugouts, KGC-56B 'Kugels' with their autocannons aimed downward and the massed fire of the infantry in the trenches and the buildings in the outskirts of the city. The Fehlers would break... again. It was only a matter of time before the elements were in place to begin the counter attack and then the Kazpans would be on the offensive. After a breakthrough of the lead elements, the battle would be effectively over for the Fehlers - they simply didn't have enough to either hang on or fight effectively. However, Asgar was not so sure they had run out of surprises yet.
Inferno
The roar of the driving wind would have been deafening had his noise filters not been engaged as Sergeant Major Wilhelm Asgar struggled to get comfortable on the back of his squad's SSR. While the manual that had come with the Squad Support Robot had stipulated 'a squad of ten can ride on top without stressing the platform or leaving them unduly uncomfortable,' they probably had not meant that said squad would be able to get some quality sleep while the SSR was going 50 mph. Whatever their intentions, the flatbed on the SSR was only around 9 feet by 13 feet; so the notion of getting ten kazpans asleep in that space while they still had their Mark.VIIIs on, going fifty miles an hour down a dirt road and with their weapons right next to them was problematic. The men were all but laying on top of each other, but the strain of the past few weeks did their magic and they had all fallen asleep a few minutes after getting on top of the slightly bucking machine. Asgar had no such luck as finally gave up and hoisted himself into a sitting position by grabbing one of the handrails that lined the edges of the flatbed. Propping his ZAR-107 on the rail in front of him, he reached back and fingered the indentions in the lower back armor plate, the source of his discomfort. The last operation had only been a couple of hours ago and his squad had been advancing with the rest of the previously dug in elements of the 9th Division around the ruins Raelvac. A Fehler had surprised him while he was making his way through some sh*t-hole city named Khanz and had nearly penetrated his back plate before he had gotten his Sea-Axe into its face. He had meant to get the plate 'beat' back into shape, but they had barely gotten their sweep of Khanz done when his unit had been ordered to mount their vehicles with all possible haste and head for the Var Lowlands - around three hundred miles away. Fehler numbers had apparently exploded around their remaining 'hives' and every available unit was being called up to contain the situation before it deteriorated further. He turned his head to look to the front and engaged his infrared filter. Several more SSRs were lined up in front of the one he was riding and he knew that there were several hundred more vehicles stringed up behind them - all going as hard as they could towards their destination. A flash on the horizon grabbed his attention. Zooming in as far as his optics allowed, he saw numerous smaller explosions and small dots of light that disappeared as soon as they appeared. Weapons fire. Lots of weapons fire. He opened a map of the local area on his display and checked their location and heading. A few mental calculations later and he realized they were still 40 miles from their rallying point, but that firefight was only a few miles away. Hell, he could see buildings now on the horizon among the explosions and that meant that it fighting was in the city of... Bol'var. 37 miles behind friendly lines. A chill settled over him as his tired mind realized the implications. The perimeter had been penetrated or overrun entirely. Damn. A electronic ping alerted Asgar to a message from HQ. He opened the message with a wince as his SSR jolted over a rough patch of ground. He scanned through the terse message and picked out the key words: 'perimeter,' 'overwhelmed,' 'retreat,' 'underestimated,' 'counterattack,' 'hold the line.' Great. Urban fighting with the Fehlers with few prepared positions. It was gonna get nasty very soon. Need to get the squad up. Asgar moved to sound an alarm in his sqaud's comms when he turned to them and saw their passed out figures. He cancelled the alarm and turned back on the enlarging sight of Bol'var. Let them sleep a bit more; they won't be getting much in the days to come. ---Petrograd : Grand Duke's Meeting Hall---
Grand Duke Hildebert was reclined in his seat as he regarded his closest advisers, all seated around the hall's marble table. Silence reigned as he mulled over the information he had been given in this latest status meeting. None of it was very good in his opinion. The Fehlers', or the 'Hoar-Qin' as the other races called them, numbers were increasing almost exponentially and the options open to his forces were rapidly diminishing in numbers as a result. The 'swarm' inbound from outside the Eclipse system was finally verified to be around 290 to 310 million strong. So far the largest thing sighted was around a cruiser in size, so his Admirals had assured him of the success of the space defenses. But who said that this was the last attack? That there were no more swarms heading their way? Well, they were already preparing an end game should it be needed. Something he was sure even the dead Wakou leader would have been proud to call his own. The situation on the ground was decidedly worse. Enemy numbers were up to 400 million. The Regular Army was now outnumbered and could no longer resort to brute strength to get the job done. Even now, his military strategists along with the senior officers in the RA could only guarantee a limited campaign to knock out a few more of the enemy HQs, or 'hives' they were now being called. They didn't regard a operation to knock out all the Fehler HQs as even feasible. The men needed time to regroup after the last round of incursions into Fehler infestations and there simply wasn't enough projected time to get them all. So the only real option was to strike out and take out what hives they could and then immediately fall back into the twenty Fortified Zones that were even now being organized and constructed. After that, his forces would be forced into the defensive. Which if they remained as such and couldn't force an opening to counterstrike, the entire moon was lost. Fehler numbers would simply increase until they were all overwhelmed. While he had the utmost confidence in his commanders, he needed an 'out.' The very future of Kazpar was in the balance and he needed an insurance policy should things go horribly wrong. Coming to a decision, Grand Duke Hildebert swung his eyes to rest on Science Adviser Hanz. Hanz could only stiffen minutely in response as he looked straight back at his supreme leader, the silence laying over him in a suffocating embrace. The silence was soon broken as the Grand Duke's voice box, still a rough and shoddy piece of equipment he refused to replace, activated with a low whine. The static-laden and low 'voice' of the Grand Duke addressed him. "Science Adviser Hanz, fully activate your project and get as many workable drives produced as possible. You know what to do."
Hanz nodded and felt relief when his leader's comm unit pinged, drawing the steely Duke's attention from him. Switching his voice box to only address his comm link, the Grand Duke swiveled his seat from the table. Hanz let the private conversation the Grand Duke was having with the communication device fade from his perception as he tried to get himself together. While he respected the Grand Duke for his ability to lead the Coalition through the many crises of the past few decades, one had only be the target of his attention for a few sparse seconds why no one challenged him for the throne. It was like being examined by a soulless machine. He wasn't looking through you, or 'piercing your soul with his gaze' or other some such poetic nonsense. All you got was a blank gaze that showed utterly nothing. No hate, no sorrow, no joy or any other distinctly mortal emotion. He had always been a composed individual and possessed the ability to use the 'dead eyes,' but this was different. It was like his very soul had slowly been devoured every since the end of the Wakou War. The sound of crunching metal broke Hanz's thoughts. It had been awhile since his leader's voice box had imitated that sound. He watched as the Grand Duke closed his comm link and flashed his gaze over the entire table. He set his voice box back to 'public' and said a single sentence. "The Falnor Stone has disappeared."
Embers
He calmly walked at a leisurely pace, even as the sounds of the eternal enemy surrounded him. He had little fear of discovery, they were much more focused on the now retreating Kazpans than a singular being making his way through a ruined city. The figure lazily sweeped his sight back and forth over the devastated cityscape and couldn't help but be pleased. While many would have found the mounds of corpses, the sundered remains of buildings and the towering infernos consuming the entire city a sight of loss, he saw it as a sign of victory. Of vindication. And, of heartlessness. And that was what truly mattered.
The loss of the city had been truly heartless. The Kazpans had indeed done much to save a good portion of their civilian population, but sentimentality had long taken a back seat for practical necessity for them. Their battles with the Wakou and their earlier experiences with the... 'Fehlers' had hardened them. Made them choose what could and could not be done. Force them to see what kind of decisions would needed to be made if they were to survive. And the remains of the once great city of Wendung was the proof of what they had decided, even if unconsciously. The city had been a bastion point for the refugees for those that had fled the Cosovo Icelands and other surrounding regions; millions streaming in the hope that the Kazpan Regular Army could protect them in one of their grandest cities. They had ignored the warnings that Wendung was too far out of the Central Hub Cities to be declared a fortified city and would not be protected. It had proven to be a fatal mistake.
It had taken only a day for 'Fehler' forces to surround the city and overwhelm the outlying defenses the impromptu militia had set up. For three days they radioed and transmitted on every single method available to them for help. To send an army to get them out of the hole they dug themselves. The figure had watched them desperately try to hold back the horde at their gates with what little weapons they had as they received only silence in return for their pleas. A single reply was sent the third day over the radio before their communications were silenced remotely. The figure had found the message be immensely amusing in its brevity after he had plucked it from the air.
"Die well."
Soon after, chaos consumed the streets as the civilians panicked and turned against themselves to try and get out of the city. The defenses predictably fell into disarray and were overrun with little trouble. The slaughter had lasted for a further four days, a scene that would have done any vision of Hell justice. And not a single member of the Kazpan Coalition Armed Forces had been deployed to stop it. They didn't even send in any ships to ferry people out from the few areas were the militia had been able to set up AA defenses. The city of Wendung and every single one of it 34 million in inhabitants had been annihilated, the only true remains left by the Fehler horde to be left to the flames that were soon to overtake the city.
It was an abomination. There had been many Regular Army units in the area to break the encirclement and even more ships sitting in hangers, all of which could have been used to save some portion of the civilians trapped in the city. The figure had seen it for himself, he had gone to these places and nearby units to see if what he was experiencing was indeed the truth of the matter. And it was. The Kazpan Coalition had abandoned an entire city and left its people to rot without lifting a finger to help them. The number of causalities they would have suffered if they had acted would have been moderate, but acceptable. The leaders of the Coalition had simply decided that a city wasn't worth the cost. They had entirely detached themselves form the notion that the men and women in the city were in fact their citizens and had reduced them to numbers. What was worth more? Millions of resource-draining civilians or a couple million soldiers and their equipment?
One only needed to stroll down the streets of the Wendung to see their answer. And it was exactly the answer the figure wanted them to make. And now, there was one final test before he would be satisfied.
He extended his hand and called forth the object he wanted. It appeared just above his hand in an explosion of multi-color light. The Falnor stone. It had been a long time since he had left it in the care of the Kazpans, acting as his connection to their world while he was away, but now it would serve its final purpose. He reached up and ran his palm over its metallic surface, its appearance not having changed since he last saw it. He plunged his hand into it as the surface gave way in an act reminiscent of a liquid. A single turn of his finger activated the Falnor Stone and it began to transmit. Its senseless message would reach far and wide, but there would only be one species that would recognize the signature he had implanted in it. The eternal enemy. The Fehlers. The Hoar-Qin.
They would come as surely as a moth to the flame, plunging Kazpar into a nightmare of fire and death. And time would only tell if they would be consumed by the flame or by tempered into what he wanted.
He pulled his hand from the stone and tossed it into the ruins. It had exhausted its energy supply with the transmission, it was of no further use. The figure's blue eyes burned ever more brightly as he continued his stroll down the rubble strewn streets. He had plenty of time before the surface of Kazpar ran with blood.
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Post by KennyC on Sept 2, 2014 20:22:35 GMT
Consequences
Late 18th century he finally decided as he ran his gloved hands over the extravagant oak table's surface. Its glossy surface was nearly immaculate and reflective enough to show the reflection of his white glove slowly sliding to the edge before finally disappearing as he settled his hand back into his lap. It fit really. With the wood paneling for walls and the ceiling, hardwood floors, a rug from the orient, wooden chairs with high backs, ink wells on the desk, a small rustic fireplace to one side of the room, a landscape by Ackermann hanging above the mantle and a variety of candles all around - it really did provide him with a bit of nostalgia. Very tasteful. Very expensive. Though to be fair, he was fairly sure the owner had bought it all new originally, so not too expensive.
However, the quiet charm of the room was hardly doing his irritation good. He had flown to Paris specifically to meet the room's owner and he had been left waiting for quite some time. While time was a sort of overabundant quantity in his case, he has errands to attend to and wanted this issue solved as quickly as possible. The doors behind him opened quietly on well-oiled hinges before closing again, the owner finally deigning him audience. A tall, almost willowy old man walked past him to sit down in the chair directly behind the oak table. Leaning down and steepling his too-thin fingers, the old man gave him a smile. While he was dressed in a silky business suit, his hair white and seemingly frail; his guest knew better than to take the ancient lightly.
"Hello Hussar," the old man said with a bit of mirth in his tone.
The other man gave a small frown. "You know my name Midas, so use it."
Midas laughed dryly before reclining back into his chair and fixing his beady eyes on the other man again.
"Alright Sucher, what is it that you want? I had to hurry away from an important business meeting from this." While Sucher doubted the old miser hurried at anything he decided to get to the point.
"One of yours has gone astray. Pohlepa is her name. She was recently converted some twenty years ago in Bosnia." Sucher's face grew a bit dark as he fixed his eyes unto the old man's.
"She's been directly influencing events again, this time in Denmark mostly. She has been warned before Midas. It has to end."
Midas's smile slowly dropped down into a thin line as he listened to his guest and dropped his eyes down. His hand sipped into his coat pocket and pulled out a gold watch, his thumb rubbing the intricate surface as he mulled over Sucher's words. Sucher watched dispassionately as the watch glow faintly for a few seconds before dying back down to a dull sheen. Midas let out a sign before putting his watch back into his pocket and looked back up at him.
"You speak the truth it seems. What do you propose?"
"Let me take care of her," Sucher responded, his answer quick and crisp.
Midas rose a single white eyebrow at this.
"You? Would you not prefer one of ours to do it?"
"She's interfering with my work Midas," Sucher said darkly as he fingered the hilt of his sword."I want to break the whelp before she does more damage."
Midas grew somber at his words and gave a single nod. Sucher nodded back and made for the door, the bronze sword heavy on his side.
Only an hour after landing at the airport in Denmark and he had found her. Pohlepa was still young and seemingly unable to learn quickly. Still, it was incredibly sloppy of her. She thought herself above the rules. Above the actions of others that had been around before her family name had even been formulated. She had indeed been warned, but she had ignored the warnings. She had even looked faintly surprised when he had cornered her in that dark alley, the sun long gone and his arm quick to ram his sword right through her.
However, as she bled in the snow, using the last of her strength trying to crawl away from him, she might have regretted it. It was hard to really understand someone when all they were mostly doing was coughing up more blood to add to the crimson trail they were leaving. He walked slowly behind her, letting her feel just a few more moments of life before he caught up to her and used his foot to push her over. She tried to spit a wad of blood at him, but it failed to reach his face and dropped back down on the boot that now held her in place. She grinned nastily at him, her gold capped teeth wet with blood. It was admirable in a way. To smile death in the face took quite a lot, so he let the last thing she saw be the tip of his sword as it barreled down on her face. Once her brain dead body stopped twitching and the last of her gifted energies were dispersed, he freed his sword from her corpse and used a rag to wipe the blood off before sheathing it.
He turned back to find her satchel in the snow and walked back to retrieve it. He opened it up to verify its contents; a selection of 17th century texts on various subjects, all quite valuable. All of them stolen from the University of Copenhagen. He turned back to regard Pohlepa. He wasn't quite sure if it was arrogance or greed that had led her astray. The metals were usually very good at choosing acolytes. But...
He stopped his line of thinking, it would go no where trying to unravel the will of the metals or their masters. He walked away with the satchel in his hands, leaving the acolyte of gold to freeze in the snow. |
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Twas something. 
