Rebekah Issane's Story

Rebekah Issane strutted through the front doors into Gambit's with her typical flair, the woman flaunting the looks she possessed. It was the agent as usual, cocky, a flirt, and ultimately unattainable. She was a sort of black widow, always teasing, but try to step up the game and she took it up even more.

A feeling of staticked air hung about her, and her eyes almost seemed to glow from behind their glasses. Rebekah sauntered over to the bar, her hips swaying seductively along the way. Leaning against the counter, she beckoned with one finger for the barkeep. "Hey, can you get a girl some rum?"

The image of perfection was then complete, her sultry, almost smoky voice completing the feminine masterpiece that was Rebekah. Too bad she hadn't a care for a man in the world.

As the grasslands rolled in the wind, a wave swept them in the passing of something that was scarcely the faintest of blurs. Seemingly almost an anomaly, an object dropped from seeming air, a small black node that struck the grasses, whirring as it settled into position and set anchors into the plain. Quarter extending a comm tower, it broadcast on the local frequencies, its simple message repeating until pinged in return. In the common language of Terra, it spoke.

"Messaging the ruling faction of Volaria, this is an emissary of the United Dark World, Agent Rebekah Issane. My vessel is due to land shortly, and my escort will be approaching via the Pahalē Outpost. Repeat, approaching via the Pahalē Outpost. You'll know us when you see us. We are here for the purpose of seeking a peaceful audience to the Matriarch."

Within a few minutes of the comm node drop, the blur began to sharpen, active camouflage units disabling to reveal the sleek, almost bladelike sight of the Wraith-class frigate, the Purgatory. Hued black in the manner that seemed to darken the air around it, it was nearly 300m from bow to stern, the bow glacial plate smoothly closing to seal the bore of its primary Abyss shut. The side mounted turrets of its secondary weapons rotated and locked into position with scarce a whisper, and for the size of its bulk, it moved with an eerie silence on its grav-drive engines. Settling down to a vacant meadow of rolling grasses, of all things, landing gear slid smoothly into position, the frigate finally setting down.

Waving at a panel, manipulating the holographic controls that Dark Rain's technology primarily used, Agent Rebekah Issane opened one of the other vehicle hatches and powered the Harrier recon bike under her. The sleek, jagged vehicle rocketed out of the hangar with rapid acceleration, the woman deftly twisting it to cut her transit time from the few miles outside of the local settlement down. She swept over the plains, the grav-bike sliding along over the grasses with a whispering thrum, her light trench coat flaring behind her.

Nearly twenty minutes, the bartering of the parking of her bike, and a short hike later, and she had reached the outpost, drawing out her identification and taking care to make her approach peaceful, hands in plain sight. Fine features gave way to raven black hair that swept in sharp locks, swaying gently in the breeze. Glasses rested on her face, the occasional light that played on the lenses demonstrating that they were a tool, not a correction of physical infirmity. Her attire was simple, the lighter variant of the Dark Rain Agency coat, plain dark trousers and tunic, and sensible combat boots. Approaching the guards, she queried.

"Hello. My name is Agent Rebekah Issane. How does one go about gaining passage to Volary, if I might ask?" Accompanying her words were the presentation of her identification and the display of her other hands palm, face up.

The guard posted at the out building to monitor traffic coming in glanced over the ID briefly.

"Just identification, and your reason for entering Volary," the guard replied as he returned the ID through the window to her. "Weapons aren't permitted in the city," he added as he took note of her government agent status. She didn't appear armed, but one could never tell for sure, and though there was an exception in the law for government officials and military personnel on official business, Agent Rebekah's unexpected and largely unscheduled mode of arrival was treated largely as any other tourist or day visitor.

While she spoke with the guard other people were making their way in and out of the city via the lifts stationed along the cliff face, and it seemed a regular enough occurrence for travelers to come and go, avorian and human alike.

"Of course. My reason is for seeking an audience with the Matriarch. My government sent me. As for weapons, I am carrying none to conform to expectations, but I am obligated to inform you that I am a trained psionic. As such, I came another diplomat who remained on the ship, in the event that such circumstances is considered a weapon that cannot be disarmed, I was refused entry, and can send a proxy in my place. Will this be an issue?"

Rebekah returned the ID to the inside of her jacket, clasping her hands before her. It was one of the contingencies in place, and disappointing as it would be to not experience the city for herself, it was within acceptable standards. Glancing over at the other passers-by, she noted the avorians with particular interest. The born and bred xenophobia of the early colonists that had become the Dark Rain was long dead in its descendants, replaced instead by a curiosity of unusual alien races. Ultimately, knowledge of the unknown was to be valued, and if you understood the alien...

...you knew how to deal with them appropriately, both in war and in peace.

Such were the Agent's thoughts as she waited for her answer.

"No trouble," the guard replied. "Though be advised that using psionic powers against a non consenting citizen carries the same penalty as assault."

The guard waved her on, so as to allow others access to the window.

Up ahead the lifts to the city spanned much of the cliff face, which was in itself sheer and near impenetrable from the ground. Avorian architecture had withstood the test of time, and the city of Volary stood as a pinnacle to their accomplishments.

Renovations continued to play a part in the city though, and the old lifts had been replaced with more efficient powered lifts that made the ascent much smoother - and likely less unnerving for passengers. Given the largely aerial nature of the city's primary occupants, it wasn't until recent times that the need for more efficient access to the city had become a concern, but with their venture out of isolation, it would seem that the avorians were making efforts to be accommodating to foreign visitors.

Arriving at last into the city itself, Rebekah allowed herself at least a modicum of gawking as she made for the palace. It rather was a marvel of architectural craftsmanship, and the inhabitants seemed perfectly at ease with each other. Smiling softly, her thoughts were more turned to the politics that had gotten her here. Or rather, the idea of politics. See Invictus go in. See them leave angry. Little escaped Rain's network of spies and surveillance, and that particular slip? Not anymore than the rest.

Boots rapped against the stone of what passed for roads as she walked, and despite her habits screaming at her, she kept her gait straightforward. Muttering, she quietly chewed out the prick responsible for that little issue. "Bloody damn Ryder, go and blow your arm off, then come back alive, and they put you practically on a throne. Leaving me to fill those damned empty boots you wore."

Truth be told, there was little to avoid the ascension to Councilor, since hiding that particular display of psionics was like trying the sweep a nuke blast under the rug. Still, chewing him out, if to no one but herself, did help. Sighing, she continued the trek towards the palace.

It was a day after Rebekah's initial arrival in Volaria when she was finally permitted an audience with Avantia, Matriarch of Volaria. That Rebekah had arrived as a representative of Dark Rain on seemingly official business had it seemed afforded her some courtesy in getting an audience in a relatively timely manner, as well as the courtesy of a private audience instead of the open ones that Avantia held every week.

Rebekah had been escorted inside of the Royal Palace and to the great hall where a table and food had been prepared by the locals - a traditional offering to their guest. However in an uncharacteristic show of tardiness, it would seem that the Matriarch herself was nowhere to be seen.

An attendant took a moment to reassure Rebekah that the Matriarch would be with her soon, and bid her enjoy the offered food while she awaited Avantia's arrival, but then she too was gone to leave Rebekah to the empty room. Just outside the great hall a pair of guards stood sentinel on either side of the gracefully arched doorway.

Nodding and murmuring thanks to the attendant, Rebekah stepped beside her assigned seat and drew a single hands morsel of food. Not that she wished to insult her host, but her appetite was not yet ready for a meal. Still, acceptance of the gift was measured in many forms. Hence her remaining on her feet.

Respect was measured as the acceptance of gifts. To allow the seating of royalty before all others was her offering of the respect the Matriarch required of her station, and the Agent, despite letting her ex-partner take the reins in most cases, was just as well a student of the academy's studys in political structures.

Though she did wonder, where her host might yet be.

It would be another fifteen minutes yet before Avantia made her appearance - but when she did she swept into the room with a measure of dignity and grace despite her lateness to the scheduled meeting. Accompanying her was a young avorian woman - a stand in translator while Shanthi remained missing.

Upon finding Rebekah standing patiently for her arrival Avantia smiled and gestured to the table.

"Please, sit," she told Rebekah in her native Volarian tongue as her translator repeated her words into common Terran. "I apologize for the delay. A matter arose that could not wait," she explained.

The ship that had just gone down not far from the city was as of yet still unidentified, but with Kamil en route with his men to search for information and survivors, word would no doubt reach her soon. For now all she could do was await his word, and see to whatever matter Rebekah had brought before her today.

And so she seated herself in one of the low-backed chairs, which were seemingly designed to cater to the winged nature of the avorian people.

Ignoring the message flashing in her glasses, the Agent bowed slightly and sat after the Matriarch. Folding her hands lightly on the table, she smiled. "Thank you for meeting with me, Matriarch Avantia. Though you may know, I am Rebekah Issane, an Agent of the United Dark Worlds. I do apologize for the suddenness of my visit, but well..."

"I won't lie. One of our ships happened to be passing overhead a while ago, and it noted activity that perked our interests. We noticed you received an emissary of the Invictus, and when they left, they didn't look precisely pleased. As the Invictus are one of the groups on Terra we routinely keep tabs on, you could understand our concern."

Waving a hand lightly, she sighed, then continued. "I know it seems a bit much, but only recently has my superiors began to take a closer notice of the political situations in this region of space. Currently, other emissaries are en route or engaged in talks of this nature or another. Which brings me to the primary question I was sent for."

"Is there anything we can help you with, Matriarch?"

Rebekah leaned back slightly, folding her hands before her once more.

Happened to be passing by... in secure airspace with no reports of their presence having reached Avantia. She couldn't help but raise a brow to Rebekah's somewhat open admission of having been spying on her as the young woman at her side translated Rebekah's words into the Volarian tongue. If there was anger within the Matriarch though, it was not apparent for the moment.

"It is not often that foreigners come to Volaria from so far to offer their assistance freely," Avantia replied finally. "I'm sure you must understand the necessity for a certain level of wariness at such a gesture," she continued. "I intend no insult with these words, but we know little of you or your people after all, or why you have chosen now to approach us."

A wry smile touched Rebekah's face, as the translator's words echoed in her ears. "We're very good at what we do, Matriarch, and the bulk of that is information brokering. Out of all the nations we've seen so far, none come close to matching our technologies, and our stealth is par to none. As for why we approach literally out of the dark..."

She shifted her hands to either side and shrugged. Honestly, the sudden shift of policy could only come from one person, and the Agent knew damn well where he was right now. She didn't envy him.

"As I stated before, policies have apparently changed. Talks are being initiated in other locations on Terra, with the leaders of select foreign nations, and of course, with me, here. In my honest opinion, High Command is smelling a possible war if certain steps aren't taken. As for never seeing us, well, your sensor people are probably baffled at how we got a frigate in this close without detection. Wariness I can understand, but the question still stands. The offer is open, and the aid is free."

"Allies are hard to come by, these days, and I'm well aware you know that. And usually they come with strings, but this offer is yours to judge, take, or leave. All we ask is if you'll take our calling card, so to speak."

Another smile, and the woman turned an actual paper card from an inner pocket, setting it on the table. The business card was simple, the sigil of Dark Rain and a comm channel code. This was then followed by a converted credit chip in a case.

"The latter is payment only if you allow it, but we dropped a comm node on the plains on our way in."

Avantia folded her hands over her lap as she continued to give Rebekah a curious look.

"I should perhaps explain that in these parts it is typically deemed impolite to make assumptions into other peoples land, and regarding the placement of such things," she finally replied.

There was perhaps the faintest crease of lines at the corner of her pressed lips.

Her experience with foreigners had been less than ideal as of late, and these ones had openly admitted to spying on her, and now it would seem were taking liberties with her land without consulting her. It would be much the same as building a barn on someone elses land, and then paying the land-owner for his land that he hadn't sold. It simply wasn't how things were done around here.

She made no move to take the offered payment.

"As it is clear that there is much we do not know of each other, I think that it would be unwise to forge ahead blindly," she continued. "But if your motives are indeed pure, then time will tell."

An inward twinge as the political slap was delivered, and Rebekah allowed the reprimand to show on her face. The Agent now knew that she was dealing with a formidable politician, and worse, the realization that unlike so many times before, the reputation of Rain did not precede them. As another message appeared in her glasses, she almost failed to catch the swear that wanted out.

"A moment please." Scanning the contents, her eyes widened at the confirmation, and the subsequent update. She closed it, nodding once. "Apologizes for that, Matriarch Avantia, but it is an update on our nations current alliances and affiliations within this galactic cluster."

"So, I must inform you that we are allied with the Aschen on an official level, though, I will add that while the Aschen may have their machinations, we have our own agendas. And I will name it that, agendas. Clearance has been granted, however, for me to more fully explain myself and the standpoint of our government's designs."

"We have been active in these regions for more time than most know of, though mainly, it has been watching. We have now witnessed more wars than we have cared to, and many of them seemed centered around this world. As such, we seek to enter a form of alliance with all nations of Terra, in the form of materials, be it weapons, medical supplies, or other, equally vital needs. And, should the need arise, in the form of direct support in the form of troops and mechanized ordinance.

"Furthermore, alliances with nations outside of Terran independence are to be entered with the goal of diverting hostile intentions from a world that both as its own internal problems aplenty and has suffered far too long at the hands of these other nations. The direct interventions of Mememto Mori against one of these nations were only redirected on behalf of our new Councilman, Dylan Ryder."

The woman sighed, shaking her head softly. "You were right to reprimand our actions in simply assuming that which was once commonplace for us. For that I extend my personal apologies, considering it was my decision."

Inside the watch-tower men and women were scrambling to respond to the situation.

"Sir, they're preparing to fire," Asha called out.

"Get our shields up," an officer hollered.

A dome over the top of the tower slid partially open to a slit that reveal the volarian crystal encased within it. A beam of light emitted from its top as it reacted and a moment later there was a flare of light as a pale dome encased the tower and the surrounding area. The dome flared and grew red with each strike of plasma against it, but the shield seemed to be holding up well enough.

"Concentrate fire on the cliffs!"

The retaliation from the watchtower came in the form of solarcannons that tore through the ranks gathering at the cliffs, and those trying to scale it. Rock was turned molten beneath the heat, and quickly hardened over as the cold water of the sea washed in to cool it once more.

Visibility became all but impossible for the naked eye from the thick plumes of steam that rose up from the evaporating water, but the turrets were unrelenting. With the solarcannons sheering the cliffs and turning the rock molten, even targets with shields capable of withstanding the temperatures of the focused solar beams would quickly become victim of the laws of gravity dragging them loose as rock - solid and molten alike - cascaded downwards to smash them against the rocky shores below.

"Sir, we're picking up a Taiyou signal from nearby - a battleship it looks like," Asha called out.

"Put me through to them," the officer said.

'We're under heavy fire, I repeat we're under heavy fire. Requesting immediate reinforcements.'

"We have a response from the Losenyu," Asha spoke up. "They're sending reinforcements with the Taiyou fleet moored in Losenji. They'll be here in about ten minutes."

"Time to dig in then," the officer growled. "Do we have enough power?"

Asha checked some readings. "Worse case scenario, at this rate we have enough reserve power to keep the crystal running for two and half, maybe three days under heavy fire. Weeks if we don't need to switch to the reserves, fewer if we need to increase the power," she answered before pausing. "Uh... Sir?"

"What is it?"

"We're receiving word from the capital that a Dark Rain vessel is arriving with the Avorians," she explained. "We're being requested to not fire upon it."

"Who the hell are the Dark Rain?" the officer asked. "Ah fuck it. If it can shoot, we can use it. Pass that information through to the Taiyou and the Losenyu."

The nearby fishing village wasn't as fortunate as the watch-tower, and the repetitive striking of the gong ceased as the civilians were fired upon. Like ants they scattered with cries and shouts as they began to evacuate the town to head further inland away from the battle.

A plasma blast took out one of the pillars on the gong and sent the altar falling from the cliff face to the rocky waters below, but the last strike of the gong seemed to be holding a reverberating tone as it sank beneath the water. As the gong vanished from view the sound turned to a deep keening wail... or was that coming from somewhere deeper?

The sound might have been mistaken for the low groaning song of a whale, if not for the vibrations it carried with it through the water that left the vessels within the ocean vibrating.

Deep within the ocean depths a single draconic eye opened as Haigara was roused from his slumber. Having slept for the better part of a century tucked away in the seemingly endless chasms of the ocean depths, the aptly named 'sea-god' had gone unnoticed by the Cybran's that had moved into his waters - and they had gone equally as unnoticed by him. It wasn't until the gong was struck that the weight of his deep hibernation was beginning to lift.

There was no light where he dwelt, and no life save for his own, but over the years his resting place had grown eroded and buried beneath rock.

With a shudder he rose and braced his massive bulk against his prison as he let out a loud keening wail that sent vibrations through the rock to weaken it at its faults. For now the prison held though and Haigara fell still to gather his strength once more.

Soon.

He could feel his old strength returning to him. He knew not why he had been roused, but the gong would not have been struck for idle reasons - lest the humans come to know his wrath instead of his protection.

Before Avantia got the chance to reply, one of her royal guard was sweeping into the room with an air of urgency to his steps. He bowed briefly before he spoke.

"I apologize for the interuption, Matriarch," he said in Volarian. "Cybrans have landed on our shores."

Avantia frowned as she stood. She had anticipated war would come to Volaria, and she had been spending her time in preparation. The Cybrans had threatened to return, and it would seem they had.

"Maps," she told the guard - also speaking in Volarian.

He moved forward to clear a stretch of the table where he placed a small device. Once activated it projected up a three dimensional map of Shintenchi and it's surrounding regions. He pointed to the coast in southern Volaria.

"They've landed here," he explained as he began to fill her in on what information they had begun to gather. "They came from the sea."

"Why so far south?" Avantia asked with a frown. It wasn't the most strategic location to strike at. It put the Cybran invasion forces within easy access of both the Losenyu, and the Volarians. The sheer cliffs would leave them throwing themselves against rock as well. It was all around a poor choice for an invasion from the water, and so Avantia was suspicious. There were several points along the coast which would be far more easily breached - or far more debilitating to seize than some backwater fishing village. "Let's get reinforcements sent here, here, and here," she explained as she signaled out three key locations along the coast. "I don't want to be blind-sided if this is just a distraction. And have Kamil and his men recalled to the city. Get the solarcannons up as well to prepare for any airstrikes or orbital bombardments."

She looked then to Rebekah.

"I'm afraid we will have to continue this later," she explained as the Avorian translator resumed translating the Matriarch's words once again. "It would seem that the Cybran's have amassed an invasion force at our borders."

Bowman, 8th Gun Battery, 3-Battalion

Unlike the mechanized and armored artillery atypical of the Guards, or Home Army, the marines still utilized towed artillery. These cumbersome and antique weapons may have been deemed long obsolete in modern wafare but they still served a purpose to the Apparatus custodial forces garrisoning the planet still. It was a whole battalion, well over 300 guns, that was left with the half-regiment sized force guarding the island after a previous skirmish amongst the Shintenchi militaries and an unknown aggressor.

Now these guns aimed lazily towards the coast. Barrel plugs and breech stops were torn out of the weapons like the cork of a champagne bottle. Electric drives powered up to a shrill whine that dominated the rolling plateau reaching from sparsely wooded grasslands that was the gun battery's Primary Artillery Site. These weapons were massive fixtures or warfare, locked against the ground and dug down to the middle of their tires that sprouted from the stubby, almost insect-like 'legs' that allowed the towed gun some local mobility.

They were particularly out in the middle of nowhere, partly to maintain as little an impact on the local populace but to also make a quick, total invasion of the island all but impossible without bringing serious reinforcements. This was a double-edged sword, as in their position they were only able to recieve brief, rapid coordination from command.

Artillery would most certainly be needed in the upcoming skirmish. Firstly, though, the guns had nowhere to aim in particular: secondly, none of the marine gunners knew just what exactly their target was.

This is a typical curse of the artilleryman, who often fought the battle so far removed he wouldn't have a serious idea of who, or what, he killed with his long guns.

Several meters away from the first collection of guns, the Forward Station, a control post had been dug in and fortified into the slopping landslide that would serve as the artillery battery's fire control center. Parked outside and dug into small redoubts along with it were armored personnel and weapons carriers, holding ammunition and repair equipment along with spare barrels.

A Corporal took the binoculars away from his eyes, turning away from the sliding landscape to their front leading to what was known as 'the Littoral Zone'.

"We're at about ninteen-twenty klicks out, are we ranged for fire?" The Corporal laid himself against the lip of the fighting position, a quickly raised series of trenches and gun pits in a star-formation around the artillery. Three marine artillerymen crouched in the fighting position with their equipment, handheld targeting computers and digital clipboards equipped with extensive terrain mapping of the littoral area.

"We'll probably start firing soon, sounded like we were just waiting for a Fire Mission Clear from Actual." A Private marked calmly as he scrawled over a clipboard, tracing fire paths with a stylus and working out trajectories on an app.

"There doesn't seem to be any inclement weather developing so we could be firing just off raw data ... who's calling the fire missions in the field?" The Corporal replied, while sliding back down into the pit and taking the AR-682 assault rifle with him from the lip of the trench.

"Natives. They'll be getting backup from an Imperial taskforce but it looks like most of the leg-work will be done by them."

"Let's hope they appreciate how to effectively utilize artillery."


Back at the Forward Station a klaxon rushed through the position and suddenly the team of four gun operators sprang into action. Bursting from the dug out position beside the parked M22HAT-M artillery tower providing a small amount of shade with a camouflaged tarp reaching out from its side.

"Readying for fire mission, sortie the first round! 155-General, go, go!" A Sergeant bounced down into the trench leading to the first gun, an M-155 Odin-II howitzer, and stomped his way through the soft mud to the breech of the weapon. Joining the three other crew members for a total gun crew of four the Sergeant took his position at the armored bulwark molded to the side of the weapon's impressive mechanism. He planted himself at the spartan metal seat, one leg pressing at the servos controlling the angle of the gun.

Just on the other side of the loading breech a Corporal pulled back a lever. Metal and machine howled as they ran together and the breech was pried open and the inner mechanism of the howitzer waited for a fresh round to enter the breech.

"Deciding for first fire mission -- elevation A-4, directionals are R-2 and L-3.2." The team worked as a coordinated, living war machine. The breech of the weapon gaped open as it waited for sustenance, and a pointed 155mm general purpose high-explosive shell was planted on the round-ram. The autoloader mechanism whirred and the shell slid into the howitzer.

"Gun loaded, Sergeant!" A Private crawled away from the weapon, taking the Sergeant's place at the gun shield.

"Sending it."

The Sergeant bellowed as he stood at the lip of the fighting hole. The four-man crew now assumed a slight distance from the weapon, as the concussive blast of the 155mm shell launching on its trajectory was capable of seriously damaging any living thing caught in the fury. The men all crouched and plugged their ears as the Sergeant lifted a hand into the air, fingers clenhed on the wireless trigger of the gun. When he dropped his hand back he activated the clapper, and dust sprang up all around them as the howitzer fired.

The next two guns in the battery then fired simeltanouesly, a thunderous storm of weaponry and machine roared across the Volarian plains: the first of a three-minute long opening bombardment from two coordinated batteries began.

"Understood. What's going on?" Rebekah flicked her eyes, sick of needing to wait for an interim translator, and triggered one of the toys in her glasses. Might as well start getting Avorian language down now, so orders might not have to be repeated twice. Her throat hummed for a moment, activating the subvocal mike implanted there. -Rebekah to Purgatory, warm up. Switch to call signs. Storm Witch over-

She rose from her seat, studying the projected maps as her glasses called up orbital scans of Terra, starting to translocate the terrain. Leaving that be, she looked pointedly at Avantia, then at the translator. Sparks crackled across her fingertips, and steel was evident in her eyes as they hardened. To sit idly while the telltale sigs of a war session started?

Hell no.

"We can assist."

The Cybrans quickly pushed away from the cliffs, started to create a beachhead like the rest of the assaults along the coastline. They quickly took the remains of the village as Godhearts Armoured Command Unit stood within the way of the some of the firepower, while overcharging his weapons to make on plasma blast to go straight through the shields as he gave the order to fire....

The forces had found a path up to the top of the cliffs to attack the solar cannons and the turrets quickly.

Then the Heavy artillery started to rain down on the forces, but that did not stop them. A number vehicles were destroyed as they continued to force inland. Vast amounts of missiles launched within a few seconds to counter the shells raining down, all designed for heavy explosive power.

Monitor Station K19,
Underwater near the coastline of Volaria.

"Sir, the new orders. We have to launch the Nuclear weapons into high orbit towards the Cybran Fleet that is hanging in orbit, awaiting to drop." Called the Senior NCOs with a shout while smaller missiles with HE warheads fired towards the Solar weapons also.

The Officer unbuttoned the top button of his shirt to produce as key, the Senior NCO doing the same. They pushed the keys into the keyholes and turned them. A second NCO quickly set the trajectories and pressed the last button. Alarms started to go off, Nuclear codes firing. Nuclear codes firing

The UDW Purgatory boiled in towards the combat zone, smooth and silent on its counter-grav drive as it began to enter a sort of aerial slide, bringing its port side guns to bear. It parked a few kilometers out of the strike zone, hovering over the prairie. Abyss usage was locked in the scenario, but frigates were built for atmospheric operations just as well as orbital ones, and the heavy barrels of its Ballista cannons were brought to bear on the larger of the Cybran ships. Smaller, triple bored turrets lined up to engage the larger minor units, while the hatches of dozens of missile silos cracked open.

Spectre, in command, per Storm Witch's absence, surveyed the tac screens on the bridge, nestled within the heavy armored belly of the beast. His command reclined in their stations, eyes closed as they linked through their implants to the shipboard AI, forming a formidable union of men, women, and computer. "All stations, fire at will on Cybran painted targets. Extrude sniper platforms and get the Hounds and Wolves with heavy rifles out on the deck. Kick out Sparrow."

As one, sixteen Ballista's thrummed before the resonant shock of 100mm slugs were blasted downrange at Mach 6, each one no mere chunk of metal. Each was equipped with a three stage enhancement, an optical targeting camera, miniscule fins and a plasma rocket booster, and underneath the camera unit was a thermal core that just before impact, initiated the transformation of the outer shell into dense, superhot plasma. The bolts thundered across the sky, minorly adjusting courses to strike the center of mass on the Cybran warships, where if they struck, carried enough kinetic shock to blow large craters, if not tunnels, straight through their targets.

Exactly three seconds later, they roared again. And would continue to do so for as long as targets remained on the scopes.

At first, dozens, the several hundred missiles rose from the frigate, climbing high into the air to gain maximum velocity. When they turned earthward once more, they kicked on a counter-grav drive that sent them blistering into the forefront on the assault closer to Mach 13, each one releasing smaller smart bombs that rode in their wake as they dropped to hammer the front lines with sheer kinetic shock and a delayed explosion equivalent to a single ton of TNT. The smart bombs, however, only carried a scant equivalent of 200lbs of TNT, but three released per missile changed the perspective of those on the receiving end when they struck almost 5 seconds after the missile volley. The Purgatory held back the next volley for "sweeping".

At the same time, the triple bored turrets of the frigate released line after line of high output lasers into the melee, each throwing a 15 gigawatt/second charge into the larger of the minor Cybran combat units, simply hammering the heavies as the Iron Hounds and Steel Wolves came out onto sniper platforms bearing huge, menacing rifles that they slapped down on mounts at the edge of the platform, targeting particularly effective small Cybran units or leader appearing types, putting 20mm hyperballistic slugs screaming across the sky with deadly efficiency and the skill of long practice at such extended range combat.

Finally, something substantially large rose on the top of the frigate, sailing off the bow before active stealth systems wrapped the A.I.M., taking it from sight as it began a cautious approach of the combat zone.

All said, the sheer destructive force of a single Dark Rain frigate was crippled only by the lock out of its Abyss cannons, but even as it was, it would be terrifying to behold.

Avantia turned sharp eyes to Rebekah from the map she was examining, and she studied the other woman for several moments before she gave a response.

"Very well," she replied. "There's a Taiyou fleet arriving there from the Losenji Island," she said as she pointed to a region on the map. "Coordinate with them, I don't want any accidents out there."

The Matriarch's war council was beginning to arrive as food was being cleared from the table to make room for battle plans.

"Matriarch, we're receiving a transmission from the TNG fleets in orbit," an avorian officer informed her as he put the transmission through.

It was with stoic calm that Avantia observed the discussion going on in orbit over Terra before she signaled one of her men to put her through.

"This is Matriarch Avantia of Volaria," she spoke up - though it was via a translator that her words were repeated across in the common Terran tongue. "I would like to take a moment to remind the Cybran Nation that it was not this Old Order who came to Volaria two months ago and killed my men, and that it was not this Old Order that threatened to return with a military when I sent your diplomat from my lands. It was not this Old Order that sent its fleets from Cybran space to take hostile action against my people unprovoked in pursuit of your war criminals. You spoke then of the Old Order and the threat it posed, but this did not stop your people from attacking my people. Nothing has changed between Volaria and the Cybran nation, and this convenient gesture of goodwill does nothing to alleviate the previous offenses directed at my people. You are not welcome within Volaria, and any attempts to enter Shintenchi space will result in you being fired upon. As of now, Volaria and the Cybran Empire are at a state of war."

She took a moment to have the small number of Taiyou ships cleared to enter Shintenchi - the pair of Demon-headed crafts, the Shokaku class carrier, a pair of Shogun battleships, and a handful of Naginata class cruisers. The rest of the Taiyou fleet it would seem was remaining in orbit unless further reinforcements were requested by Shintenchi.

With that matter seen to, she and the gathering war council began to make their plans.

Suddenly, a large second force erupted from the seas, vast battleships arming up their weapons as they appeared from under the surface. A vast fleet of tanks and heavy vehicles pushed towards the land, climbing onto the beaches before they stopped on the flat plains about ten miles from the beaches. A set of engineers quickly began to build a number of firebases, loading their materials off the trucks that came through a constant stream of weaponry and supplies. There was then a number of armoured command units that pushed themselves up from the water, with a group of support command units appearing from behind them.

A vast starship calmly pulled up from the vast ocean pushing it's thrusters to counter the gravity and test it's systems before a couple more appeared to the sides of it. At the command of the HDNS Purger was a younger commander, out of training and armed to the teeth. He stroked his chin before nodding to his systems commander, "Send us up."

The vast starship pushed its way up out of the atmosphere, with a few others following it. They were already preparing an orbital strike of Volaria, with a number of heavy artillery and missile silos quickly being put into swift action, starting to round of shells as soon as they came out the factory. The sheels went into the atmosphere then started landing on the denfive points all over Volaria. The front line bases where the clement had dried within a few minutes were already have hive of activity, great flags and banners being put up along with the anti aircraft weapons. These forces had to rely on anti aircraft guns until the SAM launchers were pulled out the sea. There was already a vast amount of civilians pushing their way around to settle into their new homes on the surface after years of living under the sea.

Unfortunately as the forces located the small path - which would provide little in the way of moving a large body of troops very quickly - the solarcannons once more tore across the cliff lengths in a devastating line of destruction. Paths were closed off as molten rock poured down, and once more gravity took hold as the forces trying to reach the height of the towering cliffs were once again sent cascading back down to the beach below where the turrets continued unabated in firing into the masses gathered on the beaches.

With the artillery strikes and solarcannons lancing along the coast, it was making it difficult to scale the cliffs head on. Even if the Cybran shields could hold against such damage, the cliffs couldn't, and without secure rock to gain purchase on they were left to fall. All along the coastal cliffs entire sections of sheered rock were being knocked loose to crush the Cybran's at their base.

It was proving a poor strategic location for a seabased assault - and serving as a display of why such assaults were so difficult given the massive quantity of lives to be thrown against the rocky cliffs just to make it ashore. They were leaving themselves pinned between the ocean and the enemy artillery.

The poor fishing village itself was at the very height of the cliffs, and wouldn't be so easily overtaken without first breaking through the enemy artillery, and the villagers were making short work of fleeing inland which left little to take but shanty shacks should the Cybrans take the cliffs.

As the tower began to draw more fire, the dome atop it opened further yet and the crystal grew all the brighter. The tower was well designed to hold up under heavy fire until reinforcements could arrive and once more it stood through the reprisal blasts of plasma that dispersed across the shield.

With the towers still up and UCON lending heavy artillery along the coast line, the Cybran's hadn't yet managed to neutralize the defensive measures keeping them from progressing and thus wouldn't be able to simply breach the cliffs casually without a change in tactics - or an ongoing siege that could well span hours, if not days or weeks.

Meanwhile reinforcements were arriving - and it would seem that Avantia's earlier call to reinforce the regions further north had been the right one. As the Cybran's sought to overcome the watchtowers further up the coast, they were swiftly being met with the arrival of transport ships carrying Volarian troops aboard. The Volarian's had the high ground - an advantage that even large numbers would find difficult to overcome. And for every inch the Cybran's fought to gain, there was a rain of artillery bombardments all along the beaches to thin the tide. The few that might reach the heights would be faced with the arriving reinforcements ready to drive them back to the sea once more.