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[K:15] Polycrates System; The Crossroads of Conflict
Topic Started: Jan 27 2018, 09:25 AM (285 Views)
Rookzilla
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Polycrates is a large M4 V Red Dwarf star. Polycrates boasts 4 habitable words inside its abnormally large goldilocks zone.

Polycrates I – Miletos
Miletos is a large cold world on the outer edges of the habitable zone. Near the equator of the planet snow covered steppe and tundra occurs where most of the planetary life is. The surface is covered with fur covered beasts not too far thrown from the rams and bears of earth. The planet is rich with iron and one would not have to drill far by modern standards to reach it. Northern Miletos has rich production centres, now long retired but easily pressed back into use. Southern Miletos has an operational space launching facility, and as such can accommodate the porting of soldiers to other space launching docks. Western Miletos is known as the Auroran Fields. These large stretches of grassland are pocked with volcanoes and provide extremely fertile soul, the alien flora that grows here has an intense resistance to the cold and its colour attracts much wildlife. It is a Garden of Eden on a planet otherwise saturated with greys and whites. Eastern Miletos is home to many of the scientific testing grounds on the planet.

Polycrates II – Argos
Argos, named after the famous Greek Naval city, Argos has the systems primarily anomaly. The planet is located in the middle of the stellar alignment, and navigating a course to it directly is indeed difficult due to the silicate nebula’s that interweave the system. Northern and Southern Argos therefore have both cities and extensive orbital complimentary facilities. The large island of central Argos is home to a giant crater created by a long-crashed Alarei Dreadnought; the last one of known space. As such, Argos is guarded heavily by the elite of the Blackshark Mercenaries.

Polycrates III – Samos
Samos is the land of the scarred deserts. It is the closest in the habitable zone to the Polycratic star. Its superheated equator cools on the planets dark side creating extremely fierce winds that could strip a starship in minutes. From its northern and southern poles, it is possible to live with plentiful supplies in a tropical climate. Great lakes span the two top poles and the poles themselves are guarded by field snow-capped mountains. North-Western Samos is home to a functioning space projection port, its close proximity to the desert made it a keen military “drydock” and as such the Polycratic Shipyards hover over the province. Below them are large fortified silos, operated by the Polycratic settlers. North-Western Samos has the fortified factory capability to resist a siege on the province from space, but it is entirely weak to a ground assault. Many of the Polycratic warlords have attempted to base themselves here only to fail to realise that it is only a trinket in a keen commander’s arsenal. To the Northeast are the gaseous Myriad Swamplands of North-Eastern Samos. These underground build-ups of gas yield rich natural gas outputs and are a strong systemic contender for a supply monopoly. South-Western Samos is home to rich agricultural grounds, its jungles are rich with beasts that yield juicy delicacies and its native human settlers are artists and cultured politicians, able to convince the other Polycratic settlers with ease

Polycrates IV – Sardis
Sardis is the provincial capital of Polycrates. Sardis is debated by scholars whether or not to have Gaia status. It is a world rich with life with a complimentary atmosphere for most creatures. Its mountains are rich with rare minerals and its seas are bountiful with food. It has many fossilized ruins around the planet; nothing that would yield substantial scientific gain. It is thought that these ruins are of a former species wiped off the planet, possibly connected to the crashed Alarei dreadnought of Argos. Western Sardis is one of the largest administrative zones in the system. As such, it has a huge population pool and the system capital on it – Helas. Fighters from Helas have been complimenting armies who try to conquest Polycrates for years. Northern Sardis contains the nebula-navigating port technology for the craft of Sardis, and can arrange quick jumps between Sardis’ ports and the ports of Argos, Miletos and Samos. Above Eastern Sardis a large hydroponics field lingers in low atmosphere, this “upstairs” factory utilises advanced human agricultural technology and can produce food that can be easily ported around the system quickly. Eastern Sardis has a large augmentation trade that is known to drop its prices to upgrade soldiers for independent research during conflict. Those who control these zones could see their cybernetic soldiers upgraded and maintained locally rather than having to strain themselves.

Fortuna Fields
Beyond its planetary boundaries is the large asteroid field, known as the Fortuna Fields. Fortuna is rich with Neodymium and the outstandingly rarely occurring Promethium, giving the asteroids an amazing turquoise glow and giving researchers new breakthroughs in rare elemtent based technology.

Polycrates is swarmed in a large silicate nebula that can permanently damage ships without pre-locked co-ordinated routes. As such the ground based space stations are critical for aerial control of the planets. Each planetary province represents a corresponding area of space in the system. Each zone has a native population of humans that are eager to see an end to conflict, and will surely side with an external peacekeeping force.

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Credentials
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Polycrates III - Samos
South Eastern Samos
Lojari Nomad Trading Provice


The Lojari had been operating in plain site on Polycrates for some time now, specifically Samos. The whiff of any Alarei tech drove most people crazy. The Blacksharks were nothing more than a bunch of over-glorified zealots. How they actually knew about the Alarei material was extremely dubious considering that they seemed to beat the other nations to the mark every single time. Trading tech for some of the most bountiful food was a good deal, and it kept the locals in line with the Lojari working for them. The burning issue for the Lojari currently was the lack of the space port. They could do planetary runs over the desert, but anything beyond that was impossible. Their corvettes were stripped bare by the nebula, flying through it was like flying a steak through a swarm of terrestrial piranha. South-Eastern Samos wasn't a particularly unique zone, it just existed, and it was a perfect place for a few pirates to lay low. Nobody was going to collect a bounty here, not with the low intensity conflicts occurring in the system.

One pirate however had another plan. Dalanzobi was a local warlord who had been training with his own band of Polycratic humans. These men weren't as physically strong or as capable fighters, under a watchful hand hover they could be put to good use. As such, 300 became 3000, 3000 became bases, bases became operational, soon he had claimed towns, power plants schools and basic human structures. He had learned much about humans, how they cared little for their kin, how Polycrates was largely ignored by the council, and how his policy of skirmishing had largely been without retribution. Southwestern Samos had been under the control of fledgling warlords like himself, he'd had to beg borrow and steal to get an army but now he was conducting raids and stealing shipments like nobodies business.

He wasn't shooting down planes, he didn't decimate towns, he felt like if he was going to be a major fighter, maybe one day even the president of the planet, he would have to do this the right way, the way everyone else did it in the known universe. He was going to let the humans kill themselves to accomplish his goals. With that he gave the order, his terran english had become polished. "Fire!" he spouted into the radio, in the distance a battery of General Dynamics M309 howitzers rang out, creating a reddish-yellow flash that slammed into some valley afar.
Edited by Credentials, Jan 27 2018, 10:10 AM.
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Rookzilla
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The Lojari parties had given the Polycrats something to fight over, something real for the first time in the years of turmoil. The Polycratic system was captured originally by the wise, overarching eye of the United Systems Coaltion. The federal zones of control were a huge testament to the power that the NATO-born empire had once held. As such, the technology fielded by the troops was mostly human, by companies that even though their mother nation had perished, they continued and existed not just here, but across the galaxy. The Lojari funded fighters M309 Salvo plastered a local village, splashing it with fire. The Polycrats inhabiting the town of Aegisi who were fighting the Lojari were known only as the Samosian Seperatist Front. The shockwaves of the artillery pounded the town, the response was a volley of Super Tomahawk cruise missiles, uncovered and fired through the sky, it soared towards the Lojari artillery positions.
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MadMacs

Polycrates
Miletos Orbit
Acrimone-Class Stealth Destroyer X1A bridge


As the 3 stealth destroyer slide silently and gracefully from the quantum anomaly the admiral's comms gave a sharp beep. Caption Talj was hailing him from X1B.

"What is it Captain?"

"Admiral sir our preliminary scans have just come in. We detect little life on the surface below and no perceivable planetary defences or threats to our ships."

The Admiral gave a slight guff of humour and gave the order to send down the scout transports immediately.

Miletos
Surface
Landing site Alpha

On arriving on the surface the scout teams quickly set up their relay post and fortifications. Once more the Admiral's comms beeped. "We are ready for the main transport sir" was the message. "Excellent Corporal, lets get this place locked down before any Terran scum show up!"

For hours a stream of transports ferried weapons, mining equipment, ammo, APCs and Obskory soldiers to the surface of Miletos. Being expert excavators and builders the Kory soldiers had built the beginnings of a solid fort into the side of one of the large mountains that dotted the cold, icy tundra in a mere fraction of the time it would take most. When the generators first hummed to life the higher ups were ordered to the surface by the Admiral.

With the base well on its way Brigadier Vestrox called his lieutenants to him and asked them if they had finished their scans of the nearby human settlements.


"Yes Sir we have completed our scans and have summarised their numbers to be less than 10 thousand a piece. They have no discernible weapons capable of causing damage to our transports or men. Shall we begin sterilising the populace now or wait until we have finished our permanent fortifications?"

"No, we will not be exterminating this batch lieutenant." Vestrox said with a grin. "These humans are to be our guinea pigs of sorts. Send a party out to their villages with some supplies and tell them that this planet is now under the rule of The Obskory Democratic Republic by order of the Galactic Federation. That ought to quash any problems they may come up with".

With a squad selected Lieutenant Loik set out for the villages with some supplies and a hastily written 'mandate' from the federation claiming Miletos for the Kory.
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Rookzilla
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Polycrates
Miletos North
Obskory Diplomatic Endevours


It didn't take long for the Obskory presence to be noticed. Settlers, already weary from war flocked to the supplies the Obskory were bringing in. Questions arose. Who were these strange aliens? They came from the council, and they brought food, that was good enough. As the biodomes were given the supplies they needed the people came to accept that the Obskory were a relief force. The brigadiers suggestions had gone down well. Common problems were related, humans in other provinces, besides that, information was provided about the nebula and its inhibition on interplanetary sublight travel.
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Credentials
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Polycrates
Samos Northeast
Lojari Assault Preparations


The last of the Lujuz landers went belly down on the crisp sand on the vast Samos desert. Douglas Twain was the forward commander for this mission. Out of range of the human colonists, so far, the landers only had to make one more refuel before they were ready. The Lujuz class was a retrofitted C-330 King Hercules starlifter, albeit with some Lojari improvements. As these huge vessels touched down in the desert night, blue tinted LED lights shone brightly as men disembarked and established a temporary base camp for the assault. The wind howled as many light M5A3 Infantry carriers unloaded, surplus plundered from armouries across the planet. These were complimented by the M309s previously used in the conflict. Douglas Twain himself took no time in assembling his force of M2A3 Gabriel tanks. Escorting these heavy railgun toting vehicles were long range CIWS drones built on the M2A3 Chassis, knicknamed WIS KIDs due to the USC incorrect referral to CIWS as C-WIS.

The low hybrid fueled vehicles tuned up and began their trek across the flatland to the exterior of the fortress, the M309 batteries opened up to sound the commencing of operations in the outer area. Twain grabbed the comms system on his tank, as he looked around his crew in the low green light of the tank he read the information being fed to him on the tanks cross command.
"Alright, were moving into the contact zone for kinetics, artillery is already opening up."
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MadMacs

Polycrates
Miletos North
Obskory Fortress


Having secured the local human trust the Obskory Forward Procurement force moved their attention to the rest of the planet sectors. It was decided that instead of having the possibility of losing their own men the Kory command will use their new pets instead.

"Welcome to our fortress friends!" Brigadier Vestrox stepped forward and extended a large, scaly, taloned claw towards the human leaders. "It is great to meet you Brigadier" Jeff Milan accepts the large claw in a friendly handshake, "We are greatly thankful for the supplies you have given us, they will go a long way to aiding our cause."

Vestrox gave a sly grin, "Just what I wanted to hear" he thought. "That is actually the reason for our invitation, we would like to offer you a deal that you may find is very beneficial to all involved."

Jeff Milan paused for a moment, could these alien beings being the miracle they had been waiting for? Could they be the key to their victory against the rival sectors?

"That depends on whats in the deal Brigadier"

"We will provide you with armaments and equipment for you to wipe all those who oppose you from the planet and in return you swear allegiance to the Revenant Council"


Vestrox could see the little cogs spinning in the human's heads, he knew he had them from the second he mentioned the weapons now he just needed to hear them say it.

"You have a deal Vestrox on the condition that we rule ourselves, we don't want to be told what to do by some far away council. We will look after our own laws so long as they don't collide with your own"

"Excellent Mr Milan!" Vestrox boomed "Now onto the main order of business." Vestrox stood beside Milan and turned him to face the new armoury doors, as they slide silently open and the vast array of weapons, vehicles and supplies became visible Vestrox gave a deep rumbling laugh at Milan's face. "Shall we go shopping?"

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TheWildSpud
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Polycrates III
Samos Orbit
Privateer Corvette – The Snapper

Sir Estevez Mata had also been somewhat of a scoundrel from his earliest days. His frequent boasts and roguish nature dragging him in too many events which if not for a combination of luck and cunning, would have resulted in either his death or disgrace. The results of these exploits had the unintentional consequence of producing somewhat of a heroic reputation for Mata. Something which even he himself considered rather dubious, especially since there was this growing expectation from noble and peasant alike that he would overcome tasks that would send the most courageous and imbecilic running for cover. Mata had on occasion deliberated on the prospect of being more restraint and finding quiet employment with a High Lord, but alas buxom Maidens and wealth cannot be gained by the meek!

The current predicament which he found himself in, however, made is previous escapades appear nothing more than child’s play. Attaching himself to the entourage of the Duke of Gascony the brother of the king, a feat achieved by his charming of the Duke’s youngest daughter who was very much smitten with him. The King having taken counsel with his son Prince Duran; called for courageous and exceptional Knights or Lords to lead expeditions that would uncover more information on the other Nations of the Galaxy. It was also expressed that discovering planets for possible colonisation would result in a suitable reward and any booty acquired by the Noble and his crew would be lawfully theirs. Spurred on by the prospect of riches and giving a charismatic speech to the entire court, a Corsair commission was soon awarded to Mata. Complications soon arose however when he went to collect his commission from Prince Duran. Asking for information on his assigned ship, Mata was instead given the bemused smirk of the Prince who stated that a specified ship would need to be purchased from the Royal Navy. In no uncertain terms, this meant that Mata would need to pay for the privilege of conducting his expedition, no doubt an insurance policy for the Crown. Recruitment of a crew would also be the responsibility of Mata. The mountain of coin needed to facilitate his time as a Corsair Captain made Estevez’s head spin and the issue of how to raise such a fortune was another matter enterally. Removing himself from this course of action was now out of the question as his reputation would not be able to survive such a blow. Begrudgingly Mata took out several hefty loans, paying for his ship; a dated and beat up Corvette as well as an ad hoc crew of sailors and soldiers of varying quality, several of which were Hedge Knights. With his preparations made, Estevez along with his crew set off on their expedition.

Having no naval experience Mata’s captaincy had a rocky beginning, with one episode, in particular, resulting in them being lost for a few days. However, thanks to the skill of the ship’s first mate, a squat bald-headed man called Pedro, who was possessed of an intense suspicion of Mata and his abilities, disaster was averted. Effectively leaving control of the ship to Pedro, Mata’s command now results in him regaling his crew with tales of his exploits and pointing to areas on the map. As a result of his fingering, the men of ‘The Snapper’ find themselves in their present situation.

Sitting comfortably in his chair on the control room, Mata looked intently at the images of the planet below which were being shown on the overhead monitors. Unexpectedly, however, the picture on the monitors began to crack and warp making the images unviewable.

“Sorry Cap'n but there be issues with the relay again” declared Black Walt Dennell, the pale lanky operator of the communication equipment “The Kid and the rest of the grease monkeys said they’ve fixed it as best they could, but if it starts acting up again they’ve said to give it a good thump” Black Walt then followed up his words by bashing the top of the controls with a wrench he procured from the underside of his seat “Work yeah scurvy whore, WORK!”

“If that’s the advice of the professionals, then, by all means, bash away my good man” replied Mata in his dandyish accent as Walt finished his assault on his workstation “As long as it works, I care not what unorthodox treatments we must deliver to this vessel’s blasted machinery.”

Repeated bashing of equipment seemed to be the only viable solution offered by the maintenance teams when a machine or console becomes unwilling to work. Mata didn’t entirely disagree with this line of instruction. His late Father had often remarked that a good bash could solve many of man’s issues, unresponsive machinery amongst them. But soon Mata wondered how long bashing alone could continue to keep the old and decrepit equipment on ‘The Snapper’ running. It was a miracle that the old ship was still space-worthy, and it was a testament to the skill of the maintenance crews that she still continued to function.

“Equipment issues again Cap’n?” the words belonged to Pedro, the first mate of ‘The Snapper’ who Mata did not hear approach due to his musings.

“Yes, my dear Pedro” replied Mata gesturing towards Black Walt as he seemed to revive his workstation “We have the usual issues, but as always the skill of our fellow crew members ensures that all disaster is reverted.”

Pedro merely grunted at the words of his dandy captain as he turned his attention towards the overhead monitors which again clearly showed the images of the planet below. “I take it we’ll soon be making some form of landing Cap’n?”

“You’d be correct in your assumptions Pedro. I had a few of the men run scans of the surface and I believe that I have found a suitable landing place. From there we can use it as a base to fully explore this world.”

“Will we be expecting trouble Cap’n?”

“Nothing that we cannot handle my dear Pedro. There does appear to be civilised people living on the surface but upon seeing the sight of Espérerian Knights and troops they shall no doubt leave us be.”

“Do you intended to join the surface party Cap’n?”

“Of course! I will not sit idly by while men explore the unknown. Now enough of this talk, I desire to address the men before we make history. Have them gather in the hanger if you please Pedro.”

“All of them Cap’n?” asked Pedro with the obvious enthusiasm of a man dealing with a charlatan.

“All of them Pedro. Now enough chat, I shall await you and the men in the hanger!”

Nodding Pedro did as he was bid, gathering together the entire crew with a combination of word of mouth and ship announcements. As the crew arrived in small groups to the hanger, they were greeted with the site of Mata, dressed in his power armour, stick in hand and standing triumphantly on a metallic crate. On a similar crate beside him, holding a large map of the surface of Polycrates III and balancing preciously on either side, were the two cabin boys Billus and Benson. As the last crew members slowly drifted in Mata began his address.

“As I’m sure your all aware men, we are currently orbiting a planet which until very recently has not been observed by any of his majesty’s subjects. Not only have we observed it, but very soon I will lead punitive expedition to uncover not only the nature of the planet but also the supposed civilised life that it may be home to”

At their Captain’s words the group of men broke out in excited conversation, but it was quickly hushed by Mata as he raised his hand so that he may be able to continue his speech.

“When we have come across these, and I use the term in the loosest possible sense, ‘civilised people’, whether they may be man, women or beast we shall learn all we can from them. In particular, I will ask specific questions in regards to the mineral wealth of this planet and any treasures that may lurk in the soil or rivers.”

“Why would yeah ask that then Cap'n?” asked Billus inquisitively

“Because young Billus, I will ask these vital questions so that we may ascertain the location of the very thing that any man, regardless of his station, may seek.”

“A good pair of socks then Cap’n?”

“No you young fool, Gold! If Sol willing, the planet below is home to the vast riches which I suspect are there. Then everyman here will return to our beloved Nation as rich as any of the highest Lords.”

“I hope I get a good pile of Gold then” spoke Benson amid the rising voices of the other crew members “If I come home rich then me sister won’t have to be a prostitute anymore to support our sick mother.”

Mata nodded at the young cabin boy’s words. He was quite well informed on the situation of the Benson family, as it was his sister’s exquisite and intense performance that got her younger brother the position for cabin boy in the first place. Mata preparing to conclude his speech made a mental note to revisit the Lady Benson at the conclusion of the voyage.

“Now that you all are well informed of my intentions for the next stage of this expedition, I will begin the assembly of our landing team. Myself and Sir Sauveterre along with ten men from the warriors amongst us. We shall land on the South-Western continent here,” using his stick he gestured towards the map held by the two cabin boys, “and will use the valley which is sheltered between these two mountain ranges as a safe point while we conduct our expedition. We shall only use force if necessary. Now then, I and the landing team will prepare and leave within the hour. Mr Pedro shall be in charge of the ship upon my return. Any questions?”

When no one spoke back Mata used it as a sign that his audience had reached its conclusion. “Very Good. Now return to your duties and I shall meet the members of the landing team here in one hour. Dismissed.”

After an hour and allowing his landing team to assemble, Sir Mata left for the surface.
Edited by TheWildSpud, Feb 12 2018, 12:49 PM.
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Rookzilla
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Polycrates IV - Sardis
Helas
448 Patton Drive


This wasn’t the first restless night he had had and it surely wasn’t going to be the last. Deacon Aliyev rolled over, itching his back in the darkness of his prefabricated structure. His throat was dry, his tongue clamming off the roof of his mouth like sandpaper. He pushed his bedcovers away and scratched his head. He orienteered himself sideways and let out a small belch, his foot disturbed a few clinking bottles of locally produced colonial ale. He blinked a few times, the dull burning sensation under his eyes told him that he needed to drink water. If that wasn’t indicative enough, his next warning sign came when he walked across the cold latticed floor to go to the toilet. He flicked the lights on and looked at the clock. 4:51AM he stared into the clean LED umbrella of light, expecting something brilliant to happen.

Gee, that would be something, he thought to himself. Something brilliant to happen. Deacon looked over at his open wardrobe. Before he went out last night he’d laid his uniform out; a crisp former USC BDU that was now loosely associated with the Polycratic Defence League. He stared at it, looking at the individual differences in the strange digital patterns. It wasn’t long before the rumbling of the past spiked in his mind; where else he wore his combat uniform, things that he had done in that uniform that were less glorious than the medals pinned on it . In a flash of seconds the memory overtook him, like a fire in the front of his mind. He twitched; a brief sharp shiver, shaking it off. He walked over to the drawer beside his bed unit, opening the top shelf to show a treasure trove of military decorations. He meant to hang them up, but he didn’t really care for them much. Bits of metal that glorified things he knew he didn’t do, some of them he lied about, some of them he wasn’t proud of.

He opened a well-polished oak box. The inside was blood red felt. Inside it lay a Colt 1911, plated in silver and scribed in Latin. He’d never bothered to find out what it meant. He stared at quizzically, the alcohol hadn’t fully worn off from the shenanigans of last night and he was in a mood to test the archaic machine. He picked up the weapon, looking it over. There was no automatic charging button to press, it had to be done manually. He pulled the weapon back on itself, clicking the slide back. It sat there, the hole in the slide like a mouth asking to be fed. He put one of the ceremonial shiny .45s into the top of the slide and after some inspection, thumbed down the slide catch, charging the weapon.

He pursed his lips, biting down on his back teeth. He looked at the weapon as he thumbed the safety off. He pointed it across his room, looking down the primitive metal sights. How did anyone hit anything with primitive tools like this. He then turned the gun on himself. He pressed it to his chin, it was cold, and amongst all the other thoughts in his head his primary one thought that his grubby skin on his chin would smudge on the shine of the weapon. Eurgh, disgusting; killing yourself was the cowards way out, lesser men than him had tried, men above and below him on the ladder of command had done it. Then again, he wouldn’t have to worry about what people thought of him when he was gone. He cringed; who thought like this. He threw the gun down on the table beside the open box and walked to his bathroom, firing on a steaming high pressure shower. He wandered to the kitchen as the shower heated up when his door was pounded.

He grumbled something about visitors at unsavoury hours then opened his front door. Standing there was Malcolm Lavell. Malcolm was a lifelong buddy of Deacon and on Polycrates they’d served on countless lines together fighting Polycratic Separatists for the USC. Malcolm wasn’t in his uniform however, he donned boots and black cargo trousers, with a white t-shirt. Deacon blinked and rubbed his wide eyes in disbelief.


“Lavell?! What are you doing darkening my door, heh, it’s good to see you buddy, come in, come in!” Deacon said, he immediately realised he was autopiloting, empty bottles of alchohol and a loaded gun on an illuminated desk. He nipped around his small complex hiding the evidence, he put the colt under the desk and shut the lid, not having time to put the box away. Malcolm headed in behind him, scanning the apartment, Deacon sensed Malcolm thought something was wrong, but Malcolm wasn’t ever one to dance around an issue.

“Well Deacon, I’m going to cut the shit here.” He said, walking past Deacon who was struggling to put on a sweatshirt. Malcolm walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge, hauling out a bottle of vodka. He opened it and knocked some of it back, sipping directly from the bottle. “I lost my job. It turns out private security firms don’t feel they need a combat analyst for a country that doesn’t exist outside of paper.” He grumbled, furrowing his brow. He continued, “but you’re probably wondering why I’m here, stealing your booze and ransacking your fridge so I’ll just get straight to it.” Deacon sat at his desk chair, closing the lid of the oak box and putting on his best attention-giving face.

“Shoot, go ahead.” Deacon said, accenting his statement with a light shrug. His sweatshirt was still cold and he was trying to get some motion going to warm himself up.

“Alright, we went through some grizzly shit together, more confirmed kills than any other unit. We both know we did some things that might not have been officially sanctioned but at the end of the separation insurgency we came out decorated heroes. We cut corners, made villages disappear and we let the helium-3 flow because of it. Hell, I owe my whole private career to your command! Now it’s all fucked, now we’re back here.”

“I never left.” Said Deacon, tightening the corners of his mouth.

Malcolm knew what he was getting at, he shot the conversation back on track. “The point I’m trying to get at is, we’ve got a decade of experience with this place, and we’re sitting here acting like the Yankees are coming back to this place to bail us out. I’m a wanted criminal under the new European Federal laws, and in the Commonwealth? I’d be nothing, a second rate citizen; Yankee baby killer. The humans have fucked us, the only way we’re going to get any sort of live comfortable to ourselves is if we make our case, here.”

Deacon agreed, he stared at the floor and gave things time to absorb in. He stared at the floor, the shower was still running quietly in the background and steam was flowing from the bathroom. He thought about where his life had been these last few years. He thought about all the nights since the campaign, the drink, the drugs. The lack of purpose. What the hell did he have to lose. HE looked up. “Alright Malcolm, what are you getting at here.”

“We need to use our experience, as soldiers, as commandos. You’ve read the news, aliens in Miletos, organised offensives in Samos, a crashed Alaeri Dreadnought and pirate mercs in Argos! Look what the system is doing. Individuals are making policy now, not some bureaucratic beast overburdened by its own weight.”

“So what are you suggesting we do?”

“There is a faction, from Lojar, they seem like they’re going to let us operate with some autonomy in all of this. This dude called Dalanzobi and me have been trading emails. Who knows, if we win we might be able to pull a title and some land out of this whole shebang. They've raided a fuckload of the armouries and they're deploying mechanised battlegroups, in the next few hours they're gonna get control of the port of Samos, I'm gonna get Artie to give me a flight over in his Citroen.”

“Artie from C Company? Wait, are you seriously suggesting we use our military contacts to offer our services?”

“Look at the blacksharks, half of their upper echelons are former Zeleyni Spetsnaz. What are they doing now, huh?”

“Making a bit of cash, owning a bit of land-“

“Oh don’t downplay it, they have mercenaries on the surface of Talarin for God’s sake. I’ll be damned if Uncle Sam can’t do it better. Get your uniform on, we have things to do.”

“What things?!”

“There’s some alien causing a big ruckus on Samos and I want to see if we can get in and get a piece of the action.”

“Fuck Samos, too much sand, I’m not living there.”

“No you dimwit, we’re talking about bringing them here! To Sardis!”


Deacon gulped. Exporting alien influence seemed like the utmost forbidden sin. Especially to a USC man. Then he thought about the gun, the uniform, the memories and what it stood for and he started nodding. Fuck the USC, he thought. It was time for a power change and the politics didn’t matter as long as he got filthy rich. He nodded. “Alright, let me get my shit together and we'll get the fuck out of here.”

Polycrates III - Samos
Northwestern Samos
Star Port - The Walls


Infront of the Lojari stood a large walled fortress. 50ft High and sloped to the ground with a 30 degree incline. With metal latticed concrete dragons teeth between them. The walls ate the incoming fire, the concrete cracked violently as railguns thrashed them about but the compound hardened metal of the walls did not let them come undone. The walls themselves had mobile batteries moving behind them, firing and sprinting away as the counter artillery slammed down in their wake. Large curtains of thermobaric rocket artillery plundered the urban fortress and the desert gulches the Lojari sponsored troops were using to advance from. Advanced sensors could see the brilliant flashes of white as rockets were launched and sent into the defence fields of lasers. The battlefield itself was eerily quiet in the air. Neither side had amassed a large fighter wing, the odd fighter-bomber launched a standoff missile, but no planes were being shot down. Anti-aircraft guns had their work cut out for them, they spewed forth death with bright yellow tracers at rates of 4000 rounds per minute. Buttoning tanks, slaughtering bunker slits and annihilating optical equipment on bigger hazards. The AA itself was used to prevent the use of large scale cruise weaponry on the battlefield. The armour of the vehicles allowed the battlefield to condense and condense, until the fighting was happening in the dips of the dunes. The defenders had destroyed scores of tanks with their heavily defended artillery bunkers; launching deadly accurate rounds that tore tanks open like a tin of beans. Men sprinted from the wrecks, burning in sickening chemical fire which burned a dull green. The defending forces, although inflicting casualties to gloat about, were losing ground rapidly. The attackers would be at the walls soon, and then the artillery would be exposed. Without the artillery the defenders couldn’t stifle the blows of the Lojari. Or stop them oozing their shocktroops through the passages leading to the open desert. The dim orange sand in the dusk was accented with the black burning husks of vehicles, sending stinking black smoke into the clouds.
Edited by Rookzilla, Feb 12 2018, 11:49 AM.
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MadMacs

Polycrates I
Miletos
"The Citadel" fortress


"Brigadier Sir!!" The young private shouted as he raced in from the comms room. "SIR!". Vestrox turned towards the private, "What is it private? What has you braying like a birthing rock mite?!" The private stood to attention before the Brigadier, "Sir could you please accompany me to the comms room? You really need to see whats happening".

Vestrox stopped for just a split second, he could see the fear and excitement on the private's face, this was going to be good.

Comms Room
The Citadel


Vestrox sat in his command seat in the comms room surveying the plethora of screen in front of him, each one spewing new information for him to take in, pirate transmission had been intercepted near Argos, Samos was being consumed by some foreigner conflicts which was cause for some concern, but the main reason for Vestrox's smirk was the crashed dreadnought that had exploded across the transmission channels, and it wasn't just any old human dreadnought or Lojari tech, it was a god damn Alaeri freaking dreadnought!

"Get me a direct line to the council now!" Vestrox boomed "NOW boys NOW!".

Oium
Council Communication Centre


"Brigadier Vestrox, to what do we owe the pleasure of your transmission? I'm sure it must be something good what with us being in the middle of a council meeting." Vestrox bowed his head and touched his top lip in the customary greeting of an Obskory to a member of the Council.

"Magnus Elder, we have intercepted a large quantity of chatter here in Polycrates that you may want to hear. An Alaeri dreadnought has been discovered, crashed, on the planet Argos. If those shifty Nakar diplomats have not yet left the system we could possibly come to some sort of arrangement, I know from experience that they are also quiet friendly with the Lojari as well. That may prove invaluable if we are to secure and of the available tech from the dreadnought crash site."

The Magnus Elder stood frozen for a moment, his mind racing from possibility to possibility, his fellow council members adding their own ideas to the pile as they all thought over this new development. Polycrates was only supposed to be a quiet expansion, no one would notice if they took a planet no one wanted, who would consciously decide that an ice locked planet would be the perfect place to settle. But now..... now they could jump into the middle of a possible war, "We have at least one ally that we can call upon", the thought floated through the uplink ether like a cursed pen, no one daring grab it and take it further because of what it represented, "Vestrox, leave it with us, we will contact the Nakar diplomats and ask them a few questions, i find it strange that they would visit us so close to this new discovery. I will inform you and the Admiral as soon as we know anything more. In the mean time contact the Admiral and discuss what our combat possibilities are with your currently forces should we engage. Council out."

The Citadel
Comms room


Vestrox leaned back in his chair, the council were not people you summon for a holo-call unless you have a seriously good reason to, especially if you include the Magnus in your demand. Now onto a much more reasonable transmission. "Ekt-Fra, open up a channel to the Admiral's ship." "Yes Brigadier sir!" Corporal Ekt-Fra's claws quickly dashed across the control panel punching in the encryption key and pinging the Admiral's heavy destroyer.

The comms array pinged a quick triple burst, the beep code for an urgent message, Admiral Trar quickly punched in his personal decryption code and waited for the transmission to lock. "Vestrox, whats the hurry for?" Trar joked. "Admiral sir we have just learned of a crashed Alaeri dreadnought on the nearby planet of Samos, I have already contacted the Council and they are going to contact the Nakar diplomats about it, I believe it may be too late to act should the diplomats be out of system so I would suggest that we move 2 of our destroyers into Samos orbit and make a battle critical scan of the crash site. I fear we mat already be too late but we may be lucky enough to stake a claim before too much blood is spilled." The Admiral heard the sharp gasp of air as Vestrox finished his sentence and filled his lungs with air again. "Excellent suggestion Vestrox, excellent indeed. I will have Talj and Prisjk jump to Samos orbit immediately with weapons systems primed. X1A bridge out."

Trar gave the order as soon as the comms channels were open, "X1B, X1C immediate jump, Argos orbit, weapon systems primed and coordinate locked, no torps, kinetic only."

With the order given the Admiral could do nothing more than sit and watch, and he thought to himself there was something oddly poetic watching the 2 destroyers slowly turn to face the far away planet and then slip silently from view with nothing more than a strange distortion of stars. "I may never see thouse ships again".
Edited by MadMacs, Feb 12 2018, 12:46 PM.
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