LibriumArcana.Games

Tomari Empire - Core
Tomari Home Sector
Tomari Prime
Throne Room – Palace of the Emperor

Emperor Feistus Hallen Macren III sat on his throne, eyeing the slave before him. This was not new. One of his favorite sayings, rumored to have originated in the land of origin, involved him laughing at the thought of slitting this slave’s throat with a word. Thought of all the wonderful blood that had been spilled here excited him ever so slightly. He could feel the slave’s worry leaking out of his mind. This one had not been trained well, not like his favorites, but this one could learn, if he lived that long.

Idly, he let the thoughts and memories he had silently removed from the slave’s mind slip around his mind. They included the latest reports from the rim of the empire. Reports were coming back of several new interstellar nations, and the developments of those not yet annexed. It was always such a hassle, but it was his burden to bear, he supposed. Those fools in the senate would be crushed under the responsibility of the Royal Family, and even the lesser members would be in a stressful situation, save a few.

The few were always a worry. One, he knew, was more capable a mind, capable enough to remain loyal, capable enough to hide any transgressions well enough to avoid Macren’s secret police. The others, powerful, but untrained. There was, of course, Ezhuriel, but he was mad, obsessed with the pleasures of the flesh and the torments of the mind. How many slaves had entered his palace, never to be seen again? Far more than died in many other of the family’s palaces.

“You do well to bring me this information, slave. It shall serve the Tomari well,â€Â

Hiigara - Homeworld of the Kushan
Kam'bal Provice - City of Un'jahn

The holy man's house was simple and small, he had a few hundred patrons which would come regularly to home over the course of a month, and twice that number in those who only appeared during the high holy days.

That evening he was working in his office, in the days of the Tomari holy men spent much of their time reporting on their parishoners. There was a knock from the edge of the office, the holy man looked up to see a portly Kushan standing in the doorway.

"Alim, might I have a word with you?" the Holy man nodded
"How can I help?" a buzzer would normally signal him when someone approaches his office.
"Holy Alim, each year for the Eid ul-Adha you give out candles, yes?" the holy man nodded. The portly Kushan approached.
"I would like to donate candles to your parish, I understand the difficulities you face keeping your mosque open."
"That would be most kind." the holy man replied, a little stunned.
"Praise be, trouble yourself no more. For I shall make all the arrangements with the carrier and your former dealer."
"You are most generous sir, but please, what is your name?" the holy man stood up and smiled.
"Please, Alim, I am just a man who would like to give something back." he looked towards the papers on his desk, and said in a low voice. "None saw my entry, or my exit." he placed a holy book the desk.
The holy man looked down, at the book for a few moments before he understood.
"I..." the man who had been here was gone.
The holy man sat down at his desk and picked up the book, he had heard a whisper. He paged through the book, it was indeed ancient, but kept in prestine condition. As he looked through a single line caught his attention, he had never seen it before...
"All which was shall be again. Heralds of the End Time shall arrive, for a day will come when the Exiles return again, to Free their Brothers and Sisters. Praise the Homeworld." he hastily turned to the cover, on it in small print was the year of the book's print, it read "6523, After Exile".

Hastily the holy man took the book and placed it in his safe. He understood the stranger, the Herald.

United Protectorates
Oklahoma Froniter Sector
Tulsa System
UPVN BattleCrusier Face of Justice

The Face of Justice had been playing bad guy for the rest of squadron beyond the Oort Cloud of the closiest system when the alarms hit. A pair of frigates escorting a passenger liner had broadcasted an Omega Signal, a dying scream that signaled for all other Void Navy units to come in strength. The squadron was gathered and streamed in to the point of broadcast, it was a strong formation for the Frontier Fleet, a pair of Light Cruisers with 4 Destoryers, led by the Battlecrusier.

"Captain Grant, we are at the reported coordinates," The Helm Officer declared.

Captain Grant leaned back in his chair his left hand rubbing his beard.
"Very well Commander Kaplin, Com, alert the squardon for combat drop into real space." The bridge crew moved like a well oiled machine filling out his orders and in movments the squadron dropped into real space from the realm of hyper.

The shattered hulks of ships were still burning. The destoryers swung out to hunt for escape pods, even with the odds so low, the UPVN would look if humanly possible. Meanwhile the Face of Justice fired off a number of recon drones hunting for the scent of the pirates.

"Sir I would say that the passenger liner that was being escorted was boarded. We're looking at pirates, maybe slavers." Reported Lt. Smith to Captain Grant.

"Noted Lt." Captain Grant replied not moving a muscle. He peered down at his tactic plot waiting for the drone's report. The Light Cruisers signals burned brightly in formation around Face of Justice in the center of the plot has the destoyers moved in a orbit around them. No surviviors were found. The drone's data begin to file on screen, routed through the tactical station to the Captain's screen. A trail was found.

"Com, relay to the squadron please. Form up for immediate pursuit, we will continue to stand at general quaters. Also make a file report and sent to Fleet HQ." Captain Grant ordered.

The squadron leapt again into hyperspace, moving at best speed to catch the pirates.

The Gestalt shifted. A new cluster was about to fall. The threads, the weaves, all pointed inevitably forward. Every battle a loss, every turn a massacre.

And the Vell-Os were powerless to prevent it. Fate marched on, uncaring.

Can we not act?! yelled a tiny voice in the sea of minds.

The future cannot be denied.. We can do naught but allow it. The future destroys all who try to divert it's path...

The apathy of the Vell-Os continued, and billions more were about to suffer for it.

Kainan Empiricate
Run Nwen Cluster
Bala Medra
KIN Carrier Gal Quar

Duken Garel looked over scout reports. Nothing, of course, the border was quiet again as the Imperial Lord had decided to reinforce their recent takings. The Humans were also not moving for once. He wasn't entirely sure if that was a good or bad thing, but it did mean he didn't get an opportunity to prove the superiority of the Kainan race.

An ensign came into the room, prompting Garel to look up, his mouth forming Pendran easily. [A reason for this intrusion ensign?]

[Report from the Grand Duken sir. We're to open diplomatic relations with the United Protectorate and The Colony of Aracokra.]

Duken Garel reached back and rubbed the tip of his finger along one of his head spikes. [The humans and the birds. What use could they be? And why do I have to do this?]

The Ensign replyed quickly [You are not sir, the Grand Duken has sent a diplomat to deal with them.]

Garel snorted. [Good. When the diplomat arrives we will set off.]

The Carrier, 5 Heavy Cruisers, and 10 Point Escorts broke formation with the fleet and within the day were on their way.

Bistrei Prime
It was the Great Festival of Twilight, a cultural celebration that the Bistrei had held for countless millenia, since before recorded history. It had begun on this world, on Bistrei Prime, back before the Bistrei had stretched across the stars, when their civilization was contained entirely on this one world. Now that the Bistrei were spread across 60 different worlds in 10 different star systems, the celebration was carried out in every city in every world that the Bistrei called home. But the great center of the festivities was always in the great city of Traenia on the world where their race had begun.

Night was falling, and the festivities were just hitting full swing. Shrieking and shouting filled the streets as the torches were lit and the procession began. The great parade filled the streets, heading in all directions at once, led by no one, yet it had hardly reached a level where it would be called disorganized. Acrobats were in the van, leaping five meters in the air and landing lightly on the balls of their feet to leap again. Their cloaks swirled about them in shades of yellow and orange and green. The spectacle was lit by the last rays of the sun and the dozens of torches down below, casting strange shadows across the sky. Children rolled in the street. A party stumbled out of a local bar, singing and dancing. The group fell into the route of the parade and had soon become a part of it, their dance mixing with the dances of the other revelers, their song joining the great song that could be heard all throughout the city. It was a glorious night. All throughout Traenia, the Bistrei came together to drink, to sing, to fight, to tell tales, and to meet.

One such meeting was occuring in the basement of a local civic center. 137 Bistrei crowded the room, seated in a large ring. These were the clan leaders, the chieftans who ruled the different tribes that made up the Bistrei'i nation. The size of the territory ruled by each clan chief was different. Some rules a portion of a province, some an entire world. Their leadership was not recognized by the Empire, of course. The Empire appointed its own governors, had its own bureaucracy. But the hearts of the Bistrei lay with their own leaders, and their ultimate devotion was to this council. They held their posts in secret, for fear of the Empire's swift vengeance against any threat to their power. The council had never had the opportunity to all meet together before, but with the huge amount of traffic going in and out of Bistrei Prime for the festival, they had all been able to arrive unobserved. Nor had they ever had a reason to meet all together, not since the conquest. But they had a reason now.

Silence fell over the small assemblage as the Eldest stood up and came to the center of the ring. "My brothers," he began, "we find ourselves here tonight to discuss a great purpose. We have new information about the Imperial dogs that brings something we have not seen in millenia. It brings us opportunity." A buzz went through the crowd at this, quickly silenced by a wave of the Eldest's hand. "I yield the center to Gail'tov, he who called us together."

Gail'tov stood. He was tall for a Bistrei, nearly 5'6", with short black hair and large black eyes sunken deep into his skull. He was clad in traditional ceremonial garb, like the rest of them, wearing only breeches, vest, and short cloak. Two kin'sai daggers were tucked into his belt.

"Honorable brothers," he called out, his voice echoing in the small space. "I call you here today with great and terrible news. The Empire trembles. Soon it will fall." This pronouncement caused a great uproar as dozens of Bistrei started yelling at once to get their voice heard. The chieftans stood and made an effort to move forward, but Gail'tov did not yield the center. After a few moments, he gave a shrill cry and the rest of the chieftans backed away, still muttering.

"Indeed, the Empire will fall," boomed Gail'tov. "It is beyond any doubt. This Empire is large beyond measure, but that is their great weakness. They have grown complacent, and they have grown too large to maintain their security everywhere. They are a great tower that stands upon a broken foundation. A great wind will knock it over. We shall be free."

"How?" demanded a voice from the crowd.

"Easily," Gail'tov replied, with a wicked grin. "The Empire has run across a new threat, the United Protectorates. I am sure that many of you have heard of this." There were murmurs of assent. "What you may not know is that this threat is the biggest the Empire has seen since the Conquest."

"Is the U.P. really that big?" Came another voice.

"No," Gail'tov said, "but they are organized, as too few nations are. And they are surely large enough to cause a stir. I doubt the United Protectorates alone can fell the mighty Empire, but they are not acting alone. There is activity on the edges of Tomari space. The United Protectorates will have allies."

Gail'tov let that sink in before continuing. "And even as the Tomari race outwards to secure their borders, we shall rise from within. And we will not be the only ones. The Polisch and the Strabior will surely rise, and this conflict will be enough to shift the balance in the Andari cold war. Beset on all sides, the Empire will crumble to dust."

"Conjecture!" cried out another of the chieftans, as he surged to his feet and dashed into the center of the ring. This was Bersith, the chieftan of Traenia. "I invite you here, to my city, based on the promise of great tidings, and you insult us with speculation. A new war has broken out on the frontier, and you say that this portends the fall of the Empire? You speak of grand alliances and great uprisings, but all that we have before us is one upstart nation that will soon be crushed, as so many others have. This will come to nothing."

"Indeed, it will come to nothing," replied Gail'tov calmly. "It will come to nothing if we do nothing to help it. The Empire will not fall if we are too scared to fight it. I know that I, for one, have never been called a coward. Are you a coward, Bersith?"

"Fool," spat Bersith. "You would destroy us. A rebellion would be put down immediately."

"Which is why we will not rebel immediately," shot back Gail'tov. "The first person to stick their neck out will surely suffer. But when the time is right, we must be there, ready and willing to take back that which is rightfully ours. We must spread the word, slowly, secretly, so that when the Empire is most vulnerable, when they least expect it, we might rise up and throw them down, to make our worlds, all our worlds, truly our domain."

"This is madness. The Empire has never been defeated. It never will be defeated. This will be our death."

"If it comes to a choice between bondage and death, I choose death."

"Then you are indeed a fool, and I leave you to your death. But you shall not pull our entire people down with you. I defy you." Bersith spat on the ground in front of Gail'tov, and threw away his cloak. His fingers twitched towards his own kin'sai hanging at his hips. Gail'tov glared at Bersith, then he took his own cloak off and threw it away. A rhythmic drumming started up, as the assembled clan chieftans began to beat their fists against the floor. Gail'tov leaned forward, and spat on the floor. The challenge was met.

The moment his spittle touched the ground, the two Bistrei hurled themselves towards each other, almost faster than human sight. In a blur, the kin'sai daggers were in their hands, moving in a whirl of blue steel. There was a clash of metal, and the two combatants flew past each other. Gail'tov had a nick on his left arm, Bersith a cut on his left thigh. They circled briefly and lept at each other again. There was another harsh clash and they parted again, now with a new set of cuts. Again they attacked. Their speed defied belief. Their blows reached out, quicker than thought, only to be parried just as quickly. Riposte and counterparry. Riposte. The blades bit into flesh. The center of the ring was stained red and they parted. Hatred blazed.

One last time they came together. Bersith cut low, to open Gail'tov's belly, but the blade was met in parry quickly. Gail'tov's left flashed towards Bersith's shoulder, only to twist at the last second and cut down towards his opponent's groin. Bersith was able to barely deflect the blade, but he was too slow to catch Gail'tov's right dagger as it slid into his armpit. Gail'tov's momentum carried him past Bersith; he slowed himself and turned back toward his foe who was now slumped onto the hard-packed earth of the center of the ring, his blood pooling out beneath him. With one last desperate effort, Bersith cut at Gail'tov's legs. Gail'tov sidestepped effortlessly, kicking the dagger out of Bersith's hand. He stooped, putting a knee on Bersith's chest, and drove his second blade through Bersith's throat. Bersith spasmed as his blood fountained out over Gail'tov's hands, gurgled, and went still. The drumming stopped.

The silence was heavy as Gail'tov stood and pulled his blades from Bersith's body. He wiped them on his fallen opponent's cloak, and slid them back inside his belt, his hands red. Then he turned to face his fellow chieftans and screamed. The assembled Bistrei screamed back at him, and Gail'tov screamed again. He screamed for his victory as they screamed for what was to come. Outside, the clamour of the meeting hall was swallowed up by the music of the Festival.

The Bistrei were going to war.

Warning klaxons sounded on board a small listening post at the edge of Colonial space. Something, a very large something, had just exited hyperspace. Aracockra were awoken from their sleep, as others squawked furiously to send a warning message to the capital, and the nearby fleet, Taskforce Epsilon, on maneuvers in the area. The near intruder was actively scanned and a signal was set, tight band, to Super carrier Eagle’s Nest and her taskforce. In seconds the listening post got back a positive reply. They would be there in minutes. Another signal was encrypted and sent to the capital.

Admiral Aurora, head of Naval Intelligence leapt from his perch high up in the Governmental Pit Archology, the massive chasms in which the Aracockra built their cities, and plummeted to a lower level, he was at terminal velocity, if he opened his wings now they would snap like twigs. But he had a trick up his feathers. Tiny muscles throughout his boy contracted, pulling the feathers over his entire body to raise. Providing air resistance and slowing his descent to the point where he could partially open his wings. They caught the air, and slowed him further until they could be fully opened. Finally, his dive became more of a glide. He saw his destination, and shifted his wing surface slightly in order to reach it.

From recesses in the granite walls, several gun barrels were trained on him from anti-air/armor and anti-personnel turrets. However, the gunners recognized him and powered down their weapons

Now, he was large enough that if he landed unaided, it would be more of a crash. But as he was about to touch ground, the guards activated what amounted to a large fan. The headwind allowed him to land easily, hovering for a second, then dropping the extra foot.

He stood there for a moment, nodded to the guards and went forth. He met a door, one of the few on this planet. And swiped a card, went through a retinal scan, and punched in a 30 digit alphanumeric security code before the guard behind the door would even consider letting him in.

As it stood, he was allowed entrance into the Legislative/Executive complex.

before him was another pit archology, this one however, was not open to surface level, a holographic sky was projected on the ceiling, and flight was made easier, not by the natural updrafts in the open pits, but by a massive air circulation system. In this archology were perches. One for each legislator, and behind each perch was a hallway leading to his Office Cylinder, smaller versions of this pit where his or her staff live and work.

But it was not these office cylinders he was concerned with. He took wing again and soared up a bit higher, to another rock ledge, and repeated the same process as before. With a guard turning on a large fan to help him land. He could do it on his own, but sometimes that got painful (think about an albatross landing)

After a security screening, he finally entered the office of President StormCrow and produced from a small chest pouch, a data crystal.

The president put the data crystal into his computer an looked over the information. A carrier, five heavy cruisers and ten escort vessels. It could be anything from a raiding party to an overblown diplomatic envoy.

“make contact. But make sure is Commodore Crane is the one doing the talking. The squabs at the listening post can be a bit.. Offâ€Â

Garel smiled as his own scanners relayed that their arrival had set off a number of alarms and quick scans. These guys were pretty good he had to admit. He looked over at his diplomat, a slim female dressed in her best.

[Well, I brought you here, your turn.]

The female looked over at the Duken. [A bit brash of you Garel, not the best conditions to open talks with.]

Garel grinned. [Well, if you're any good at your job, that won't matter.]

The woman glowered at him for a few moments before the hailing signal came in. [Open a channel Duken, and keep quiet. Like you said, this is my job. And I am good at it.]

The diplomat swiftly changed languages, from Pendran to Galactic Basic. "Good afternoon Commodore. I am Diplomatic Envoy Kye Loon. I am sorry for the interruption upon your day, but I represent The Kainan Empiricate and we have an interest in openning diplomatic channels with you, especially considering the recent, threat, that borders our territories. The Tomari."

While Kye Loon was talking Garel was going over his own scanning reports. A large force was moving in to intercept. Should this dissolve victory would be possible, but unlikely. His mind went over possible strategies and tactics. With a quick head nod he sent orders to raise shields the instant scanners picked up missile launches.

"music to my ears Ms. Loon" The Commodore replied. His feathers ruffled happily. He didnt have lips to smile with so that was the next best thing.

He waved one of his talons and his carrier group's weapons were powered down within seconds, and their shields were dropped to half power.


"If possible could we meet aboard your ship? I would offer my own, but you would have to crawl through the hallways and that is not befitting someone of your importance... And I have always felt that negotiations should be done face to face"

Kye Loon glanced over at Garel who, despite his glower, nodded slowly. With a nod and a smile she responded. "Of course commodore. Our home is your home." She turned back to Garel while still listening for the reply.

[Damnit Garel, this is a golden opportunity. Stop thinking like a soldier and get this place ready to meet him.]

Garel glowered at being given orders on his ship. But the higher ups had declared this to be Kye's mission, not his. [Get the officer dinning room prepared, get the troops down to the main Hanger Bay. And prep a squadron to escort our guests.]

The word spread throughout the small force and soon the ships were moving from a defensive position to a diplomatic as troops bustled in preparation.

As the other vessel was preparing to recieve him, the Commodore was prepparing to visit. He went into his bunk and grabbed the only pieces of cloth he ever wore, a sash which held all of his medals and rank ensignia. He put it over his shoulder and across his chest. After that he pulled a crested hat similar to the ones a brittish commodore in the 19th century would wear. Then he got on the intercommand and ordered his small honor guard to meet him in the hangar bay.

He grabbed his ceremonial boarding pike on the way out. It wasnt at all useful as a weapon, but went back to the days of ocean bound navies before the widespread use of bayonets, and in this navy, its use as a ceremonial piece had stuck around for thousands of years.

he met his honor guard in the hanger bay where a shuttle craft awaited them.

They had the same sashes, with a lower rank engisnia and a few fewer medals. And instead of boarding pikes carried ceremonial sabres. They boarded the shuttle. And it was launched quickly, but with a bit of ceremony to it. As it left, a squadron of inteceptors, and two Assault Frigates flanked it in escort.

Garel was in his own chambers getting ready for the meeting. Slipping on the metallic bracers and boots that complimented his shapely spikes Garel looked himself over in the mirror. With a quick movement he dusted off his uniform and straightened it over his form. His rank insignia was pinned to his belt on the right side. To it's left were a number of medals he'd received in his duty to the Imperial Lord. Sliding on his imperial helmet Garel grinned, his thin lips spreadind to show a mouth full of white teeth. He almost looked like a warrior of the olden days. Stretching, Garel ordered the escort ships to move in and further the parade.

Two escorts and a squadron of heavy bombers shot out of formation, sending the signal that they were additonal escorts. They met the shuttly half-way and formed up around it. The escorts pulling up on the side of the shuttle. The heavy bombers setting themselves up in front of the shuttle to guide it in. Almost upon the main hanger bay the heavy bombers split off, flying off in all different directions as the escorts came to a slow halt. Within the hanger 500 troops waited at ease, their columns perfectly organized.

As the shuttle set down the troops snapped into attention and two figures could be seen waiting in the middle of the column where the shuttle had set down. Garel in his uniform, Kye Loon in a dress like cloth, Fitting around her shoulders and flowing down over small breasts and passing down to her waist where it was secured by a belt. The dress continued down, splitting at the hip so as to give her a good amount of movement. The dress ended at her mid-calf.

When the shuttle's landing bay doors opened, the with a wooshing sound, a small figure surrounded by other small figures exited.

Commodore Cane stood slightly over 1 meter tall and was covered in black feathers. His flight feathers folded up behind his arms and the back of his legs, and his long fethered tail held stiff behind him. He stood up straight, with his feahters fluffed in a modified threat display, which shows status and unofficial rank. This was instinctually hard wired into them, and all of his honor guard wore variations of this posture, each one representing their own social status to anyhone with a trained eye.

The commodore held a short spear, roughly 1.6 meters in length, with a triangular head with lugs at the base of the blade, forming a sort of pointed cross.

Oh his head there was a semicircular hat worn in such a fashion that it looked like a horizontal feather crest. WHich is what the hat is derived from. The crests males wear during their courtship dance. His sash shwed him to be highly decorated.

His guards were dressed similarly. Though their hats were facing in the other direction, and they wore naval sabres at their sides. They exited the shuttle, and approached Gerel and Loon in perfect step. When they reached them.. The honor guard went to one knee and lowered their heads, while the commodore bowed, in simultaneous respect.

"Salutations" the commodore said.

Garel expertly hid his amusement at such small creatures as he returned the bow with a salute. Kye Loon's thoughts were her own as she herself returned the bow.

"It is a pleasure to meet you face to face commodore. I trust you are in good health."

Garel turned to his troops. [Troops, dismissed.]

The soldiers turned as one, and were soon on their way out of the hanger bay.

Kye Loon meanwhile had stepped forward and smiled. "Come, we have food being prepared, while we wait for that we can sit and discuss matters of galactic importance." She tilted her head in what could be suspected as a rather cute fashion to a Kainan.

"It is a pleasure to meet you as well Kye Loon. My health is excellent" he replied before turning bacl to his honor guard, uttering a fast song in his own language. They turned and went back to their shuttle in lock step.

"Let us begin." Crane replied
"we have much to discuss"

Kye Loon led Crane through the halls of the the Carrier, mostly they avoided any real important areas of the ship. The walls were tall and stark in their metallic hue. The escorting Kainan's towered over their guests Kye Loon exchanged meaningless pleasentries with the commodore until they reached the Officer's rec room. The door openned smoothly to reveal another metallic room. Chairs and tables were set up, but it all looked very stark, almost barren.

"Here we are Commodore. The humble abode of the officers."

Garel led them inside and the door shut swiftly behind them.

"Now then, on to important matters. The Tomari are pushing forward on Kainan territory and soon yours as well. If we are to survive such a war. We will need to cooperate."

United Protectorates – Rim
Uncharted Sector
Uncharted System
Deep Space – Recon Task Force Mu

Commodore Markov smiled as the last of his special prisoners had been removed from his personal quarters. They were a strong people, to be sure, but they would be crushed before the might of the Empire, and he had gotten what information he needed. Just then, the com panel lit up, causing him to groan as he slapped the activation button. “What is it?â€Â

Charon wrote:Kye Loon led Crane through the halls of the the Carrier, mostly they avoided any real important areas of the ship. The walls were tall and stark in their metallic hue. The escorting Kainan's towered over their guests Kye Loon exchanged meaningless pleasentries with the commodore until they reached the Officer's rec room. The door openned smoothly to reveal another metallic room. Chairs and tables were set up, but it all looked very stark, almost barren.

"Here we are Commodore. The humble abode of the officers."

Garel led them inside and the door shut swiftly behind them.

"Now then, on to important matters. The Tomari are pushing forward on Kainan territory and soon yours as well. If we are to survive such a war. We will need to cooperate."

"I agree with that assessment. There is a reason we responded so quickly to your carrier group so close to our borders. The only way we can stave off their intrusions is if we work together. What did you have in mind?"

Comrade Tortoise wrote:"I agree with that assessment. There is a reason we responded so quickly to your carrier group so close to our borders. The only way we can stave off their intrusions is if we work together. What did you have in mind?"

"The Kainan Empiricate believes that if a communication system were to be set up between our territories, that would allow for us to work closer in tandem, it would also allow for quicker reactions to a threat either of us may face. As for forces, we believe the thought that without the assistance of the other we may very well fall alone and without the glory of taking our enemies with us will make certain that either side does not skimp upon forces."

"such a proposition would be acceptable to us" the commodore said

Kye Loon smiled coyly. "Well, is there anything your govenment would wish? If not I'm certain the meal will have been done by now."

Charon wrote:Kye Loon smiled coyly. "Well, is there anything your govenment would wish? If not I'm certain the meal will have been done by now."

"You will find we are easy to negotiate with.We would like to formally exchange ambassadors. And perhaps at least discuss a free trade agreement"

Kye shook her head. Her well adorned head spikes glistening briefly as the light passed over them. "An exchange would be good. But at the moment that would not be possible, as I am scheduled to meet with the United Protectorate as well." Kye then looked directly at the Commodore. "As to free trade, well, perhaps in the fullness of time. But for now I do not believe either of us would want our economies to suffer in light of the other perhaps having better goods."

Garel muttered under his breath [Yes, like anything a bird could make would be better than our goods.]

Kye looked back at Garel, laughing, but in her eyes it was rather obvious that another outburst like that would result in him being removed from the room.

"If you are going to go to the United Protectorates, I would advise you not to take a fleet. They will probably shoot first and ask questions later, considering how close they are to our mutual foe." he didnt take it personally, he really didnt. They had other things to do.

It was Garel's reaction to the free trade offer he took personally. He didnt need to understand the language to understand the meaning. His races senses were very sharp, and when one's language is a combination of squawks and whistles, one can tell a lot from tone and pitch.

He didnt appreciate it much. But didnt let it show.

"If such is your wish, It is not my place to attempt imposing" he said, curtly.

United Protectorates
Oklahoma Froniter Sector

The Face of Justice lunged through Hyperspace, following the trail of the pirates has if it was a rail nailed down in the surging energy storm of Hyper. The squadron arrayed around her.

Captain Grant was in his ready room drinking coffee. The squadron had been on the tail of the enemy for near 20 hours. Captain Grant himself had just awoken from a 10 hour sleep, an exhausted Captain was nothing but a disaster waiting to happen, so tradition dictated that they and their crews ensure they were well rested whenever possible before combat.

"Captain, we have active read on the pirates. We're reading a single Crusier with 5 escorts. We are approaching range in 43 minutes." Came the report over the intercom.

"Very well, please ring the XO and call for battle stations. I will be at the bridge in a moment." Captain Grant replied. The Captain finished his coffee and stood up heading for the bridge.

The bridge hummed with tension has the crew ran last minute checks and readied themselves and their equipment for combat. They were all in vaccum suits. Captain Grant casually walked to the command chair and took a seat moving in a relaxed manner.

"Report." Captain Grant spoke. Commander Jerison, his XO replied.

"Sir, all stations report ready, the enemy is 30 minutes from engagement." Jerison reported.

"I see. The rest of the squadron?"

"Reporting all stations ready."

"Excellent, all units full ahead. We will attempt to cripple the crusier, it is my belief that prisoners will be held there, so we will attempt to board. Major Reinfield will lead the squadron's marines in that action." Captain Grant ordered.

"Understood Sir." Commander Jerison replied.

Recon Task Force Mu

Commodore Markov sweated watching the sensor readings of the taskforce behind him get closer and closer by the minute. The fleet was just to far away to catch them in a trap, he was outnumbered, not a condaintion he had ever been in before. He hadn't slept and had a metallic taste in the back of his mouth.

"Draw the task force into defensive formation, active the interdictor as soon has they're in range."

UPVN Squadron, 18 minutes later

"We have missle target solution, 13 minutes to best time/range solution Captain. Their formation won't do much." Lt. Commander Kaplin reported from the Tactial Station.

"Good, Commander, be ready to fire on my mark." Captain Grant replied. The XO had long retired to the auxillary bridge, ready to take command if the main command deck was destoryed.

"Sir, I'm reading strange power rating from the enemy squadron, it's looks like-" Lt Hearns was cut off in mid sentence has the Empire Interdiction platforms came on line. The powerful machines reached out grabbing both the Imperial task force and the UPVN Squadron and tore them out of Hyper dropping them in point of deep space far from any claimed system. If an observer could have seen the two formations he would be been shocked at seeing several millions tons of metal seemingly appear from non-existence surrounded by dancing streams of energy, the bleed off from the dramatic shift.

The two formations of ships found themselves much closer in real space than they were in Hyper, only 50 thousand kilometers apart extreme close range for starships.

"All Ships OPEN FIRE!" Captain Grant shouted, still reeling from the sudden translation. He gave his order a good second before the Commodore gave his. The first UP volley of missles leapt out from their tubes unopposed.

The Imperial crews however were well trained professionals, counter missles and EW sprang up has if by magic, at a higher range the volley might have been reduced to ignorable damage. But the lack of range and the quality of the UP's missles worked against them. Little over half of the missles launched would find their target, hitting a breath after the Imperial ships launched their first volley. Two Imperial frigates would be shattered like eggshells under the weigh of fire of that first volley, the rest took varying levels of damage. Perhaps the worst hit however was a freak accident, a single missle that managed to evade the point defense lasers of the Imperial cruser and explode right next to it's main engine. Crippling the vessal.

However the Imperial volley itself had the same advantages that the UP missles did, it also slammed home with deadly effect, tearing one UP destoryer in half and destroying the forward 1/3 of another. Damage was suffered by all ships in the UP squadron.

The Face of Justice heaved and bucked like a storm struck ship on anicent seas. Captain Grant clung to his chair has his shock harness snapped into place.

"Damage Report!" He snapped.

"Compartment 121 is gone. We lost tubes 4 and 5. Damage Control reports that damage is containable, overall reduction in combat power stands at 7.6%. We've lost 2 destoyers, 2 enemy frigates gone, power levels on the enemy crusier dropping! I think we got their engines Sir!" Lt. Commander Kaplin cried.

"Thank you Commander Kaplin. Com orders to Squadron, ensure the destruction of the enemy frigates! We'll close and take the Crusier." Captain Grant ordered.

The Squadron shifted the Light Cruisers both choicing a single frigate with the destoyers gaining up on the remaining survivor. Meanwhile the Face of Justice slid closier to the crippled enemy cruiser guns blazing. The two ships exchanged fire with guns and missles beating at each other with the full wieght of fire available to them. Meanwhile the remaining Imperial frigates were destoryed without mercy by the UPVN ships.

Sir, the enemy crusier has cease fire." Lt. Commander Kaplin reported.

"Dispatch boarding parties." Captain Grant said. Boarding shuttles launched carring squads of marines in power armor. Boarding charges blew through the Cruisers hull allowing the Marines to swarm aboard from several entry points. The crew carried only light hand weapons and had no heavy armor. The UP Marines carried heavier weapons, armor and vibro blades. They cut through the imperials like a hot knife through butter.

Commodore Markov had locked himself in his bridge hiding away from the combat. However the hatch was not an barrier. Using their blades the Marines simplly cut through the hatch and stompped through the opening like grim, faceless, metal golems of myth.

"You are under arrest for piracy and other crimes against the citizens of the United Protectorates. Put your hands up now!" Cried the leader, guesturing with a vibro sword.

"You fool! I am Commodore Markov of the Tomari Empire! You will release me at once or suffer greviously for this insult!" The Commodore shouted back.

"I think not 'commodore,' now be silent or I will ensure your silence." The faceless armored figure replied reaching forward to grab and lift the Commodore effortlessly with a single hand.

"Major, we found survivors! They're in a bad way sir." Yelled a young voice through the doorway.

"Idiots! You think anyone cares what happens to your sheep? Release me or the Empire will crush you! You will all be enslaved and chained for daring to lay hands on me! I am the son of the-AAAGGGGHHHH!" Marvok screamed arching his back in agony has the armored figured dropped his sword and and reached out with his other hand and crushed the Commodore left arm.

"I believe I told you to be silent pirate. Whatever your nationality and rank you have committed crimes against the poeple of the United Protectorates and we do not let such things go. If you've done even half of what I think you have, you'll be lucky if they just blind and then hang you.... Marines, let gather up the survivors and get them out of here, Captain Grant is going to want to pull out the Squadron." Major Reinfield ordered over the comm net.

A thrid destoyer was crippled in the clash. Captain Grant gave orders to have it abadoned and destoryed. With the charges set and the crew lifted off to the remaining movable ships the remainder of the squadron leapt back into Hyper, moving at it's best, although reduced pace towards the Tulsa system. Ahead of them a full report containing the logs of the Battlecruiser Face of Justice and the statments of marines, sailors and the few victums able to give a statement was sent to Fleet HQ. A spark had been lit.