Aschen Second Fleet of Homogenous Clarity's Story

AHSC Battlestar 'Columbia'
Commander Tychus Octavio
Task Force 'Chimera'

As the Rabbit shot into orbit, leaving the moon far behind, something else would grace the ship as it left.

Less than five hundred meters in front of them, space itself bent and warped, before there was a blinding flicker of light which bathed the cockpit of the oncoming starship in a brilliant flash of light. What came next would be all 1,200 meters of heavy Aschen metal, as the Battlestar winked into existence right before their very eyes.

"Sir! DRADIS Contact! Zero One Zero Carom Nine Seven Zero! CBDR!" A Lieutenant shouted and the Commander turned.

"Take evasive action! All hands brace for impact!" He called out, and the massive Aschen Battlestar banked as hard as it's large frame could take to try and avoid the incoming ship.

Three more Aschen Battlestars flickered into existence, heading straight for orbit towards the lone moon.

A moment passed and a Reverence I flickered into existence, gunning towards the moon.

But the immediate concern was the Mercury Class Battlestar that was directly in front of them, the collision so narrow that one could make out every detail of the ship. The Battlestar would be too large to get out of the way by itself, but the presence of an Aschen Task Force would foreshadow even darker plans.

The decayed, decrepid piece of prototype Aschen technology lay buried underneath a snowdrift, with a large section of it's black hull sticking out from the white snowscape.

A Pair of Apollos spotted the outcropping, and what looked like a small camp of settles around it.

Banking a wide arc around the lone ship, the Pilots got on their radios. "We've located the Blackbird, she looks a little worse for wear but we've found her. We're returning to base." The Pilots radioed, and the pair of fighters banked around one last time, and then darted into the distance.

"What the fuck is going on?"

The door to the hangar opened to admit a red-haired girl who couldn't have been out of her teens, looking more than slightly dishevelled with mussed and grimy hair and a face slick with sweat and grease from mechanical components. Willow looked from Vanora to the wolven, then back to Vanora. "That take-off could quite easily have- no, by all rights should have killed us. And it's set back my work on the engine by at least three days. Longer if we don't set down again soon."

The quite clearly disgruntled teenager glowered in the direction of the cockpit. "I'm getting an idea of why this ship is in the state it's in. I swear to god if he tries to take us FTL, I'm jumping out and taking my chances with the vacuum of space."

Aereth sat on a large mound of snow. He stared up and watched the thick blanket of gray clouds pass overhead. Long ago he learned how to enjoy rare moments like this one. He laid back in the snow and continued watching the clouds. Cupping a handful of snow he plopped it in his mouth and crunched mercilessly. His eyes caught the ships flying by, scanning for whatever object their commanders had deemed important. He began to wonder if they'd spotted him yet, in all this cold his heat temperature would stick out like a sore thumb on any scanners. Whether they did or not, he showed no signs of caring. He closed his eyes and imagined the burning cold he'd felt against his flesh for the past seventeen hours was just the sun cooking him while he lay on the cool sand of a beach.

At the sudden appearance of the battlestar, Vincent let out an impressive stream of curses, flipping switches, punching buttons, and turning dials until the Rabbit leveled off. Reaching up with one hand, he slapped on the COM throughout the ship, pulling tight at the controls and sending the Rabbit into a small dive.

"Willow! I'm needing you in the engine room for a bottomside burst; vent our thrusters until we have ten percent left. New guy and Vanora, uh, hold on to something."

He flipped the COM back off, sent the Rabbit into a dive, low and starboard, counter to the battlestar's movements. The bellies of the smaller ship and the massive Battlestar nearly kissed as they grazed each other.

"Fucking lunatics," Vincent snarled as he gripped the trembling controls, "jumping around like they're playing leap frog with an FTL system. Hurr durr, I'm a fuckface, I've sacrificed my common sense for this massive ship to hide my puny erection!"

The COM flipped back on as Vincent struggled to maintain distance between him and the bigger ship, fighting to keep the two seperated. "Willow, where is my goddamn thrust!"

Commander Octavio grabbed the nearest console as the Battlestar lurched and jerked abruptly to the side in an evasive maneuver. Alarms continued to blare. After several moments, the Commander and his CIC managed to get themselves together.

"Colonel Rose, Get me a marine strike team on board a raptor in one millicenton."

The Colonel nodded promptly. "Aye, sir."

Tychus then turned to the communications officer, a young female.

"Lieutenant Mira, send hostile challenge and ID, initiate hostile boarding protocol." He ordered, and the Officer responded.


"Attention unknown vessel, this is the Battlestar Columbia. By decree of the Emperor you're being detained. If you attempt to escape you will be destroyed without hesitation. Prepare to be boarded and searched, compliance is requested."

While the message was being played, a pair of Apollo class interceptors flew up alongside the Rabbit, and the Reverence began to broadcast a Planck field which would provide a localized FTL inhibition field.

"This is Apollo Tango One Niner One Seven, follow outlined course and prepare for boarding procedures. Any deviation will not be tolerated."

The two Apollos would then transmit landing coordinates to one of the Battlestar's Landing bays, providing escort should the ship comply.

"That would be the Captain," Vanora replied by answer to Willow's demands of what was going on.

Nearby Leon was picking himself up from the floor where he had taken cover behind some crates. "Well that was bracing," he remarked before tipping his head towards Willow. "Ma'am," he greeted as he holstered his gun.

Vanora arched a brow as Vincent's voice came through the speakers in the hangar bay.

"Best grab onto something," she parroted to Leon as she braced herself.

With a shudder and a groan the hangar bay quivered and shook as the Rabbit scraped up alongside the larger Reverence, scarcely avoiding a direct on collision.

Several large crates that had still been being loaded and weren't secured yet slid across the hangar bay and slammed into a wall.

A few moments passed as Vanora waited to see if they all died in a fiery inferno before she hit the comm button again.

"Sir?" she asked. "Might I respectfully request to know what the fuck is going on out there?"

Down in the hangar bay she remained woefully unaware of the situation outside, or the orders for their ship to be boarded.

Willow groaned, muttering something under her breath about suicide and impending doom before she turned around and disappeared back in the direction of the engine room. Only a few moments later she was back on the comms system, a rattling that sounded disturbingly like a washing machine with a brick in it in the background almost drowning her voice out as she spoke. "Venting now! For the record, if we all die in a fiery explosion because of the state of this engine, I am going to kill the lot of you. Again."

There was the sound of something snapping in the background, followed by Willow loudly cursing "Motherfu-" before she cut out, breaking off from communication, presumably to go and fix whatever had gone wrong. That or get a head start to the escape pods.

The PA system crackled again as the venting gave the ship enough push against the Aschen vessel to allow more clearance. "Some cowboy and his buddies just slipped out of lightspeed right in my flight path. Attagirl, Willow, just hold it together down-"

There was a shuddering groan as the belly of the Rabbit kissed the outside of the Aschen ship, causing Vincent to be jerked backwards, severing his connection to the controls for a moment. Immediately, he fought his way back to them, hauling hard as the Rabbit shot clear. He slowed down the speed, tipped the nose, and eased into the flight path transmitted by the Aschen. "Alright, they want to come over for a bit. Vanora, we need the deck swabbed for guests; can't have them seeing a dirty floor. Willow, make sure that there isn't any spoiled food out or anything. Uh, dog guy, keep on... keeping on."

Punching the PA system off, Vincent switched to the frequency of the other ship, rubbing his temples as he spoke. "This is Captain Vincent May-Rose of the Rabbit to Columbus. We are following the outlined route, though we got a bit jostled up back there. Look forward to meeting you guys."

He followed the two Apollo class interceptors with one hand on the controls, the other pulling out his sidearm. Without taking his eyes on the screen, he popped open a hidden compartment underneath a control panel and slid the primitive pistol in behind the jumble of cables and wires, shutting it and sealing it when he was finished.

"I estimate two minutes till we're hosting guests, guys," Vincent said over the PA, a frown fixed on his face.

The pair of Apollos guided the ship to the landing bay of the Aschen Battlestar, through the maw and into the lion's den. Once the smaller Rabbit was inside one of the massive landing pods of the Battlestar, docking clamps extended to secure the ship firmly to the dock, while Aschen Marines lined up with weapons ready on each access port to the Rabbit.

The ship likely shook and listed as the docking bay pressurized, a Marine sergeant nodding. "We have atmosphere." He called out, and the pressure in their helmets and visors equalized to the pressure of the landing bay while the group checked their disruptor rifles.

Another radio message would be transmitted.

"Open all access ports to the ship, and exit one at a time, hands raised, behind your head, once you've exited the ship, you and your crew are to line up, and get on your knees. Failure to comply will be taken as an act of aggression."

With deploy-able covers prepped and readied, the men gripped their weapons, licked dry mouths, and waited for a response.

"Understood," Vanora replied over the com device.

It wasn't their first time being boarded, and it likely wouldn't be their last. Best thing now was to just comply. The crates of supplies in the hangar bay, while not strictly being transported legally, weren't of any nature to likely draw too much attention. Some food rations and medical supplies for the most part.

There wasn't time enough to clear the hangar bay, or to dump the cargo, so they would have to hope whoever had flagged them down wasn't of the mind to look too deeply into their paperwork, or were willing to look the other way on the matter in favor of more important matters.

She slipped her rifle from her shoulder and set it atop one of the crates. The rifle was legal enough by Isirian law, but it was usually best not to have guns in hand during boarding operations unless you wanted a trigger happy government official to put a few new holes in you because you moved wrong.

After pulling herself out of the pile of boxes the small collision with the Aschen vessel had tossed her into, Willow made her way back up to the hangar with her eyes set in a glare. "Damned governments," she muttered as she emerged, "Sticking their noses into other peoples' business like there's shit worth seeing. What crawled up these motherfuckers' asses and died?"

She tossed her own gun irritably onto one of the crates and joined Vanora and to wait for Vincent to lower the hatches. "This was a bad idea..." she muttered, "Should've stayed down there in the shanty town fixing crapped out cars and mechs."

Coming out of the upper level of the ship that housed the cockpit, Vincent took the stairs down to the cargo bay two at a time, leaping to the deck with a clang of boots on metal. He moved to the three assembled crewmates, pointed a finger in Willow's face, and narrowed his eyes.

"Behave," he said, sternly. "We don't want to call attention to ourselves any more than we have to. Goes for you too, furball."

He didn't wait for a response, instead pressing the opening toggle on the hatches, opening up the Rabbit to the inside of the Aschen warship. He placed both hands on the back of his head, straightened his spine, and walked down the gangplank first.

Once Vincent stepped from his ship, he would be greeted by rows of rows of Aschen soldiers with guns drawn and pointed at the group.

The Commander nodded slowly. "That's good, nice and slow." He said, his weapon drawn and readied.

Once Vincent was out, two Marines moved quickly to search him, hands patting every which way. The same with Vanora, and Willow, they would find themselves searched and lined up by the Aschen Military.

Leon however was not so lucky.

"Hey! Sergeant! We have a Xeno here!" He shouted, pointing at Leon. "Let's take him down to Command and turn him over!"

The Marine Sergeant walked up to Vincent, and swiftly moved to bring the butt of his disruptor rifle across Vincent's cheek.

"Smuggling Xenos eh!?" He barked before he shoved the barrel of the weapon against Vincent's cheek. "Give me one reason why I shouldn't kill you here and now."

Two Marines bum-rushed Leon, and moved to throw him to the floor while they raised their batons.

Leon kept his hands laced behind his head as two marines moved in to force him onto his knees. Out of the frying pan and into the fire it would seem.

"No one's smuggling anything," Leon growled.

At least nothing that Leon knew about. He had no love of the Aschen, but he knew well enough not to do anything that would provoke them into just shooting him on the spot. The Aschen weren't known for their capacity to ask questions before resorting to force.

Even in its dirtied and worn state one could almost make out the insignia of the WCPD on his sleeve.

"My identification is inside my jacket pocket," he told them. "I'm with the WCPD department on Terra, and last I knew the armistice between the Aschen and Terra still holds."

How a WCPD officer had found his way all the way to Isiria was difficult to say, but his credentials would check out.

Vanora meanwhile threw Vincent a look that said it all. She didn't need to speak for Vincent to likely catch the intent behind the look. 'You brought a police officer on board?'

Stepping out into the warship, Willow kept her arms carefully placed behind her head. Her eyes warily stared down the aschen soldiers and the guns that were levelled at them.

When Leon revealed his identity, her eyebrows shot up. A police officer? And from outside of Isiria? How the hell had he ended up on Blackrock?

At least that explained his bizarre appearance. By the sounds of it, though, he knew the Aschen - and his world had agreements with theirs. Maybe that could get them out of this in one piece. She could only hope.

Watchtower H-453
Outer Deep Space - Aschen Border Sector H-05
3,589ly from Langara


The lone Watchtower, a planetoid sized spherical construct that was capable of monitoring a huge swathe of Aschen space sat in silence, like a sentinel in the darkness. Crewed by 150,000 Souls all dedicated to the Aschen Empire monitored in silence.

Commander Pendleton watched the readouts from the CIC, a massive command an control complex in the core of the Watchtower, with simultaneous DRADIS readouts across several portions of Sector H-05.

It was then a blip rang out, and the CIC was bathed in a deep red light and klaxxoning alarms. The Commander sipped his coffee, and narrowed his eyes.

"Unidentified Contact! Sub-Sector Australis! Closing in fast into Sub-Sector Rygon!" A Deck officer called out, while the Commander stood up.

"Notify the Second Fleet of Homogenous Clarity, prepare to activate the Ion Columns!" He ordered, while a second CIC officer got on all communications, first broadcasting a bitstream signal, followed by a sequence of numbers which could be deciphered by the most primitive of civilizations.

And then a vocal hail.

"Attention Unidentified Contact. You have breached restricted space, you are ordered to identify yourself and state your intentions, or be terminated."

The Hail would repeat every seven seconds

A moment passed before the lone starship replied via the watchtower's holoterminal. The pixelated blue light materialized into the form of a rigid man clad in a decorated navy uniform. Slick raven black hair lined the sharp but handsome features of a man in his late twenties. His feet were firmly planted at shoulder width with his hands clasped behind him.

"Hail, representatives of the Aschen Empire." replied the man in Galactic Basic. "This is Commodore Malavai Quinn of the Imperial starship Fury. I speak on behalf of Darth Xalgan and the Sith Empire. We have intelligence that a fugitive of our galaxy has fled into your star systems. He is likely hiding amongst your refugees. My commander requests permission to search and apprehend our target."

There was a long pause from the Watchtower, perhaps they were being ignored, perhaps not. The Watchtower's Commander eyed the flickering holographic image. Though communication was typically done through audio and video, the Watchtowers were equipped for Holographic communication.

"Standby." The Commander said, before he cut the link.

A few moments later, he re-established the link. "Transmit data on the Fugitive for review, and we will consider your request."

Commodore Quinn's hologram looked over its shoulder as if speaking to an unseen party. He nodded silently and returned his attention to the Aschen Watchtower.

"Acknowledged. Sending dossier."

The file was largely redacted with several parts blacked out. What could be made from what was left was that Darth Xalgan, The Emperor's Wrath, had been tasked on locating a rogue Sith Lord, who was believed to be hiding amongst the refugee camps or slums on Langara or Molecay, and eliminate him. He was wanted for treason and consorting with Jedi.

There was a long pause before a response came on the comms.

"You will provide the entire dossier, or we will not be able to permit entry." The message was abruptly terminated, but unknown to the Empire's ships in Aschen Space, a massive gun was being leveled on them from a nearby Watchtower, from nearly half an AU Away.

Whisper's Gambit would seem to pay off as a single ship broke from a formation near the fringes of the star system. A Second Generation Reverence, the Harbinger of Piety would be picked up on the Transport's Scanners, with a confirmed military IFF and it's sheer size denoting it as a Reverence II.

The ship's massive engines pushed it forward as it rapidly began to close the distance. Admiral Whitcomb leaning against the console of the main AI Core as she frowned.

"Unidentified DRADIS Contact, three nine seven carom one two one." The AI Parroted and the Admiral nodded.

"Alright... what do you got." She asked as she turned to the AI Holocron.

"The unidentified ship matches profile and markings for the hostile alien faction that Admiral Nash encountered some time ago."

Whitcomb frowned.

"Very well, all hands Action stations." She ordered, before she pulled up a hologram of the immediate system.

"Forward Turbodisruptors primed and ready for engagement, bring our shields up, signal the UDW and the Aurora." Whitcomb continued before she turned to the screen, preparing to send a hail.

"Unidentified Vessel you are entering restricted airspace, turn back or you will be fired upon, this will be your first, and final warning." Nash ordered.

"If the ship maintains it's present course, terminate it."

"Acknowledged." The AI said.

Dugal attempted contact again with the distant psionic only to be ignored afterwards then gave up his attempts to establish communication.

Dugal was puzzled by this cold shoulder approach. “Well, we know someone’s out there maybe they don’t know to talk back.”

“Or maybe they were ordered not to.” Morieghan surmised.

“I hate to interrupt here folks, we got company.” The core prompted them. A holographic display blew up in front of them to indicate an Aschen warship in the area.

“They’re hailing.” The helmsman said. “Uh…sirs they want us to turn back.”

“All stop. Send a response we’re here to make amends for our last visit.” Morieghan said.

The helmsman attempted to do as ordered only to have the ship’s communications suddenly fail. “What the?” He exclaimed. Suddenly the blood curdling scream of the core filled the cabin as a dark liquid was permeating inside the core’s containment unit. The poor half-ambrite was dead.

“What in the name of Olberon is happening?!” Morieghan began to panic as the ship’s systems began to fail.

“Warning: cabin pressure dropping.” An automated voice announced.

“We’re losing the ship, warp drive is offline…inertia drive is dead…” The helmsman began to panic.

“It’s Carney! I knew it! The bastard is going to have us killed to start the damn war!” Dugal cursed. He reached for a latch and yanked it to open a compartment with vests. “Enviro-vests on! We’re abandoning ship!” Dugal shoved one of the vests into the Ambassador’s chest as they made a beeline for the yacht’s lifeboat. The helmsman, engineer and cook were the only other crew left with their vests already on. They were activated to release a dark gel which started to expand into the fabric of their apparel from the vest to form a suit made of durable material to safeguard from the hard vacuum of space then a clear membrane was morphed around their heads to form the helmet-like portion.

“Everyone suited up?” Dug inquired. The engineer stepped forward to access the lifeboat panel only to have it malfunction and blow up in her face, killing her instantly. Suddenly there was a violent explosion that shook the ship.

“Maker’s mercy…what now?!” Morieghan gasped.

Running quiet, the trio of ships patrolling turned as one, answering the Aschen's general hail. The UDW Stalker, and it's cohorts, Knife and Arrow, spread their formation, the corvettes keeping dark as the frigate powered on active scanners, searching ahead with more focused detection principles.

>Stalker to Reverence, hail received. Inbound.<

Dropping in their wake, a TD relay, flickering out of realspace to pass the call along to its sister squadrons, and ultimately the standing Carriers. Warning them of contact made, pending further engagement.

As an eruption flared on the long range scanners, synapses shot like lightning through the crew entering heuristic state, reaching a consensus. The frigate hailed the Harbinger of Piety, updating the analysis.

>Unknown Vessel, recent explosion signature doesn't match any of our ordinance. Excepting your kill, contact appears to have suffered from an internal detonation. Pending instruction.<

Among the vessels, recently powered Abysses primed, armaments entering readiness, as the relay primed for the call to "snap the trap", as the UDW dubbed the short range TD hop maneuver.

"Put me through to the Harbinger of Piety," Whisper spoke up after a moment's deliberation.

The Captain took only a moment to hail the Reverence. Once he had identified himself and his ship, the comm device was handed over to Whisper.

"This is Jacquelyn Rose, with the ASPD," Whisper transmitted. "They have psionics aboard that ship," she warned Admiral Whitcomb.

She felt something else then...

She closed her eyes and her brow furrowed. Something was going on out there. The sharp stab of fear and pain pierced her psyche, but she met it with a sense of neutrality. Emotionally she kept herself detached from what was unfolding aboard the foreign vessel, but she kept her mind's eye open.

She quieted her thoughts before she let her consciousness slip free from her body and when she re-opened her eyes, it was aboard the foreign vessel. She manifested no physical form, choosing instead to observe from a state of pure consciousness. Another psionic might sense her presence faintly, but physically she still remained aboard the transport vessel and it would take some pointed observation to take note of the diversion of energy signatures as she astral projected her consciousness across.