《Destruction of Fantasy》 Operation ET: First Contact "Drop in 3...2...1... Realspace Translation successful..." The navigation officer speaks loudly to the rest of the bridge as the exterior cameras of the ship come online. The big screen at the front of the bridge acts like a window into the endless black dotted with stars. Every station onboard looks through all the sensory data they can, visual, radar, lidar, and any other system. They are in a nearly empty section of space at the moment. A few sensors detect gravitational displacements in the local region of space consistent with a stellar body and a few rocky planets. The more specific broadband sensor technician reports the three rocky planets, none of them larger than Mars, and also reports the intensity of the star. A rather young and pale white one that is fairly stable making this region relatively low in radiation. Still enough to cook an unshielded person, but compared to a place like Earth''s home system, nothing. A communications officer searches through all frequencies and all known communication methods for any noise consistent with civilization, looking for a stray transmission of any kind. The only thing picked up is the standard radio and other waves produced by a star and small rocky planets. The officer reports their find with a solemn voice, "No transmissions found. Another blank system." The old captain rubs his chin where an angular beard sits perfectly groomed. He looks around the bridge with a frown and states in a deep voice, "How unfortunate. I commend you all for your patience on this journey we are undertaking. Commander, what number will this system be?" I nod and look at my console before replying curtly, "This is number two hundred and fifty-two, sir." The old man frowns. It has been over a year since we began our mission. Our mission is known as Operation ET, a grand-scale operation dedicated toward the discovery of fellow intelligent life. Hundreds of ships, old retired warships, sent out in all directions looking for any sign of intelligent life. Non-earth life has been well documented for almost four centuries now, just nothing that could be considered intelligent, and very little more advanced than mollusks. It just loses its charm after so long, and convergent evolution appears to be very common so rarely are there any interesting lifeforms. The only goal anyone has even completed during this operation has been the survey of new star systems. Every time we enter one it is scanned, cataloged, and filed. We simply give the information and it''s up to an AI or some scientists to decide what the system can be used for. We are far enough out at the moment that it will be decades before this system we currently are in is colonized. Unfortunately, our main goal has yet to be fulfilled. We are simply the latest ship to go this far, but this operation has gone on for over two decades. I then speak to the captain, "Sir, if I may. I think we should approach the planets and get a closer look. We can''t scan for life this far out. Martian-sized doesn''t mean any life. There could be tribals." I look over the sensor data from my first mate''s console and notice some small anomalies near the planets. No radio signatures or any thermal readings from this far out so they are probably asteroids which tend to be common in new star systems. What catches my eye is the movement, they seemingly change direction randomly, but in over two hundred systems I have in fact seen stranger things. The captain nods while giving me a grandfatherly smile and says to the pilot, "Bring us near the closest one. The commander makes a good point. We are far enough out and I don''t want to waste time. Increase to a constant of 1 C." There is a distant humming as the stars on the screen lengthen as the space around our ship shortens for a moment, a "tunnel" of higher energy space forming around us as space accelerates to a base energy of 1C meaning any movement we make is over the speed of light without actually achieving the feat as physical matter. The pilot thrusts forward barely, just a nudge and we zip through space at impossible speeds, but to us, we only feel the barely perceptible nudge of the engines. The pilot and navigation officer speak for a moment before the pilot states, "Ten minutes out." The captain nods before sitting back down in his chair. He takes a swig of his New Kentucky bourbon hidden within a flask under his command console. He offers me some and I barely sip it as I feel the burn and shake my head while scrunching my face. I hate the taste of bourbon, but that shit is over 100 dollars a bottle, so I won''t turn down expensive booze. The captain is a great man who I respect above all else. After working up the ranks after naval academy and my little stint as the commander of a patrol craft I was granted my commander rank and role as first mate or officer on this ship underneath the Captain. The role is practically grooming me to replace the aging man once he retires or dies. I asked him once and he has stated that is any day now because he is over 200 years old thanks to modern medicine, but that can only go so far. We sit in silence going through data on our consoles, leaving notes on data points for one another to read and understand or explain. I open a drawer on my desk taking a snack cake out of it. Before I start chowing down on my treat the Captain holds out his hand for the dad tax. I sigh and rip it in half to the best of my ability. He takes his choice half and eats the chocolate cake happily. Our relationship while professional, is also very familial. We are not related in any way but in my three years of service under him, we have developed a grandfather-grandson relationship. It''s nice compared to my time under a garrison admiral. I look through the FTL sensor systems and notice some more anomalies and say to the Captain. "Sir, I am picking up something in our way. I recommend halting our jump about a light second away from the planet. I don''t want to hit something this far out at the speed of light." He nods and relays my recommendation to the pilot and navigator. It really doesn''t change our time to destination. With my concerns spoken, I lean back and close my eyes for a second preparing myself for disappointment. "Ten seconds." The pilot announces and I open my eyes back up, forward, and ready for another dead planet... maybe there will be some cool plants or rock formations... The stars return to their normal pinpricks in the black canvas of space with a green and blue marble floating there in the center of the view screen. I am for a second amused to see it is a habitable planet, but then the anomalies on my screen are worse than ever before, they changed direction again, aiming for us. I announce before the sensor tech can, "We have contacts, bearing 50, elevation 30, 90, and 356. Multiple objects on an intercept course." The Captain then orders, "All stations on high alert. Do not act aggressively unless we are fired upon. Do not let your guard down either, I prefer us over them whoever they are." The sensor tech gets a bead on the largest of the objects and the hull-mounted cameras locate and zoom in on the object. In that moment, without a doubt, it is a ship. I am no engineer, nor am I a designer in any capacity, but this ship looks stupid. I would argue it is far more similar to a modern art piece consisting of three oblong shapes connected on long braces to a central rounded almost whale-like structure. There are what appear to be weapons lining the vessel, but I can''t be certain, the ship is so poorly constructed, not to mention a bright pink paint job making it stick out even in space. Nothing about it tells me it''s role unless it''s a strange party vessel. I check out the others and find more strangely shaped ships, various rounded shapes from big jellyfish-looking ones to somewhat sleek or artistic-looking ones. Overall they do not seem very... threatening, except the big one is close to a fucking kilometer long and almost as tall. This means they are at least monument builders if nothing else, meaning a fairly advanced construction capability. You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. What bothers me is the propulsion of these strange craft. It produces little heat and no exhaust gasses. This removes combustion, fusion, or compressed gas propulsion from being possibilities. I do take note of the radiation trail left behind, it''s odd in a way I can''t explain. It''s not acting how radiation should, but the radiation sensors display it as radiation, but can''t say if it''s gamma, or what type of particle it is. The ship eventually slows, impossibly so because no retro thrust was detected. I don''t like this. We send a very direct tight band communication in binary, trinary, and morse. No matter how it is translated it should be the normal "we come in peace" type shit. The communications officer scrolls through every frequency and every communication type, and all of our antennas and dishes face the new ship, listening with interest. Nothing happens. It floats in the void in front of us. There is a sudden uptick in radiation which appears to be coming from the ship. Both sides sit there for a moment and I ask, "Do you think we can tune our radio dish or radar to read that radiation, like a radio telescope?" The communications officer does what he can in tandem with the sensor officer. The bridge is filled with an almost melodic sound, it''s all static like random solar radiation, but it has a clear melody to it, but the melody isn''t the message, it simply is the state of the waves the radiation exists in. The communication officer alongside sensors and the ship''s computer systems try to calibrate our systems to this strange radiation. There is a momentary "pop" and some odd sounds at one setting, then we stop on that and have the computer clean it up. To everyone''s surprise, it''s what sounds like a voice, a very angry-sounding and harsh voice, "AHSHAPA JULLIO REAPRETA HURNDA KIEE!" The voice shouts before waiting a second and saying the same thing again, almost in the same tone. It takes a moment before the communications officer states, "Sir, the radiation... uhh beam or transmission appears to bounce information both ways. We don''t need to send our own signal, it''s like they hooked onto us with a cable or like a string between two cans." The Captain nods and his mic is opened. He says calmly, "Hello. We are humanity, we come in peace. We greet you as friends and galactic neighbors." The air is silent for a moment before the being on the other end makes a sound that I assume is their version of a drawn-out, "Oh" Like they just realized something. The voice is much calmer now and we can hear it speaking to another something in the room with it before the signal they sent is shut off. We wait for an hour, flashing lights and trying to get more communication out of them. Then something breaks off of the other ship and it takes a few seconds for us to realize it''s a shuttle. It flies out and stops halfway between us and them. It''s easy to see they wish for a parlay in a neutral territory. The Captain looks to me and says, "You''re up Commander. " I stand up and salute the Captain who returns the gesture and says, "Good luck. Don''t go in like you''re flirting, I can only see ya strike out so many times." The whole bridge laughs as I smile and leave. I have this task because of my special qualifications. I am not a diplomat or any form of politician, my qualification is not just as a naval officer, but my position as a Joint Command Officer, meaning I trained and qualified for multiple branches of the military, giving me the ability to command anyone under my rank regardless of branch. The main aspect though is that I am infantry combat-trained, so I am better at operating on the ground. I enter the Marine section of the ship where our complement of twenty marines sit around doing marine shit like eating glue and crayons. I grab my two favorites, both named Martinez but they aren''t related. One a man and one a woman. I gotta represent our two main forms. I suit up into an EVA suit as the Marines get into their EVA combat armor. My suit is a slim-fitting affair made out of inch-thick ballistic fiber and radiation shielding. The helmet is still a big fishbowl with clear glass so my face can be seen. It''s navy blue and has my rank insignia on the shoulders alongside New Glory, the newest American flag. Thirteen red and white stripes, and the blue, shifted into the middle as a circle depicting all the continents of earth made out of stars, minus Europe and parts of Asia. I board the shuttle the captain ordered to be ready for us and I take my seat with the two big marines sitting across from me. The hangar is evacuated and all the air is removed before the big doors open and the shuttle is launched out of the ship. There is a jarring falling sensation when the ship leaves the gravity of the vessel. I shoot the shit with the Martinez pair on our short flight to the alien shuttle, the male Martinez bullying me about how I will freeze if the aliens look like smoking hot babes. I laugh to hide my nervousness. The first contact is all on me today... There is another issue for a moment as both ships try to dock with one another but it appears we both have different ideas on what a docking port looks like. Eventually, both sides figure out a solution where a walkway is created in between both ships utilizing one of our umbilical docking modules, and some strange tech of theirs I don''t understand, but the radiation detector in my helmet goes batshit when they use their tech, but my suit blocks it. I stand in front of the door with the Marines flanking me. Their armor makes them an inch or two taller than me, and much bulkier. The door slides open once the walkway is pressurized and has gravity, I step out of the ship and into the walkway floating in the void. I note the other side with our alien friends sits higher than ours meaning their gravity is lower than ours. Looking at the door of the alien vessel I can see that they are probably tall with a huge three-and-a-half meter tall door. The walkway can accommodate it though so it''s not a problem, hopefully. Their door swings open on large hinges and immediately I am hit with a powerful surge of that same strange radiation. It''s not very penetrative so my suit can hold, but if it works anything like gamma I would melt if not for the suit. Lucky for the pilots the shuttle door closed behind us automatically. Then in strides the aliens. Three completely different species, at once... how fucking cool. It is odd though, they aren''t in EVA suits or any protective garb unless you count the armor the two, what I assume are guards, are wearing. The center and lead one, a towering three-meter tall bird creature, similar in looks to a secretary bird but with blue feathers, is wearing what I can best describe as a ballgown. We stand across from one another for a while simply staring at one another. Never in my life have I felt so short, I''m 6''4, and that''s never been a problem, all of these aliens are at least half a meter taller than me though. I''m guessing the bird...lady...maybe... in front of me is thinking something similar in the opposite direction. I don''t question their radiation resistance considering their ship is full of it. I smile at the bird lady with a closed-mouth smile and she sorta nods toward me. We remain silent, unsure how to proceed with communication. The bird then reaches out a hand... wing... toward me. Without thinking I grasp the end gently and shake up and down. The two guards stare at me with what I can tell are horrified expressions as the bird quickly retracts the limb and quickly begins wiping it with a cloth. I feel bad and quietly apologize over my external speakers even if they can''t understand. The bird speaks to the guards for a moment before they step forward hesitantly. One of them reaches forward with their palm upright saying something to me. I hesitantly reach out my hand and place it on top of it. Maybe this is their handshake? It grips my hand in an iron grip. I notice the bird walk back into the ship they came from which is odd. Then in a sudden flash, the other guard draws a fancy-looking sword and I have all of one second to rationalize that fact. My eyes go wide as the sword glows for a second and in a brilliant flash of movement it comes down. I try to pull away, taking the one holding me off of his feet as his grip doesn''t release, but my strength being far greater than his weight it seems, but I was too slow and I fall backward as all pressure is released when my hand is removed at the wrist, he had been aiming for my elbow area. I hit the ground as my shock blocks the pain for a second then my nub starts smoking. I howl in pain as my flesh is burning on my body, I remember now, the radiation... my suit was breached... I feel my skin blister and boil underneath my suit, muscle, bone, and fat all melting and bubbling from the utterly extreme levels of radiation. The guards watch the nub boil in horror, somehow upset despite them doing the damage it seems. Lady Martines grabs me by my collar as I can no longer stand and she starts dragging me. The two guards soon find out what being trapped in close quarters with a pissed-off marine is like. Male Martinez doesn''t shoot trying to avoid a rapid depressurization event, so he punches the one who cut my hand. The marine EVA suits are not power armor, but the punch somehow liquified the skull of the reptilian guard. Through the tears in my eyes, I watch the head explode in gore as the one who held my hand, a different type of bird thing stares in horror, saying something in panic. Man Martinez grabs him and accidentally crushes his forearms when he grabs them, leaving him defenseless. Martinez then drags him into our ship as I slowly lose consciousness from the agony... The console turns off. The replay of what my neurological implants captured during first contact ending. The naval intelligence officer across from me finished taking his notes. He gives me a polite smile and says cheerily, "Thank you, I understand that memory might still hurt a little. Thankfully no one else got hurt and we have worked hard to get over that initial hiccup with the Eternal Kingdom as you know. It''s been five years so it''s mostly forgotten. I just wanted to go over this again because of a current... political issue we are having with them, and it may have been a similar cultural misunderstanding..." I state flatly, "It''s the bird lady." He doesn''t respond but nods instead confirming my assumption. That bird bitch is the one causing a stink. I sigh, lean back in my chair, and flick my metal fingers in the air making a satisfying scraping sound. The officer then says, "Oh, congratulations on your recent promotion." I nod in thanks and he then asks, "Alright, please state your name and rank for the record, ya know how senators get with needing the name of who was a witness." I nod and answer, "I am Commodore Barnabas Hollander, United States Joint Military Marshall Corps." Operation ET: USS Catfish I walk through the halls of the space station, my boots clanking against the metal floor. I pull on the collar of my dress uniform with my metal hand because for some fucking reason the station is being kept at a toasty 78 degrees Fahrenheit. My gait is rather brisk as I pass by the crewmembers of the station and the few marines standing guard at random intervals. I don''t get many stares because I am supposed to be here, sometimes I get a half-assed salute but I really don''t care. The war ended only about a month ago. The boys don''t need an officer chewing their asses. I stop in front of the base commander''s office and take a deep breath. One of the Marines standing guard chuckles and asks, "How fucked are you Commodore?" I shake my head ignoring any lapse in discipline from the marine Lieutenant and respond, "Oh, I''m fucked bad. Might lose a rank." Both of them laugh as the door slides open with a hiss and I step into the darkened office. At the wooden desk is Admiral Alica Koppel. An old woman of indeterminate age, probably multiple age reduction gene therapy treatments, so my guess is at least 100. She looks up from the tablet on her desk with a look of thinly veiled rage as the door slides closed behind me. I salute the woman who returns the gesture and motions me to sit down with an angry grunt. I do so immediately. She then asks, "Commodore Hollander, how is it that my station, the place I am in charge of, has a Skippy Jones class frigate on fire and inside one of the fighter hangars?" I shrug and respond, "Maybe... that''s where the frigate belongs?" I can hear her teeth gritting in her mouth and she asks, "Who was the captain of the vessel prior to their promotion and interview with naval intelligence?" I do not answer and she sharply says, "Answer me. That is an order, Commodore." I sigh, staring a hole through the wall behind her and answer, "That would be me, Ma''am." She nods and then asks, "Does a Skippy Jones class frigate fit inside a fighter hangar?" I respond flatly, "No Ma''am." She then asks again, "Now tell me why the actual fuck is it there?" I sigh and respond, "Call in your traffic controller." She grunts and states, "I''ve already taken him by the balls. You are a commanding officer, you should''ve said no. Yes, I understand parking a capital ship, even a small one is really cool if you can fit it inside an empty hangar, but you are lucky no one died, but the costs are easily in excess of 250 million in damages which itself is a miracle. I called it into high command, but they told me my hands are tied and I can''t do shit. Although I can ban you, and any ships under your command from my station unless we are in a state of war. That is what I am going to do." I ask flatly, "And how will I get off this station?" She sighs and now looks depressed rather than angry and states, "You have new orders. High command sent it down to me and I have the honor of giving it to you despite your blatant disregard for safety and military discipline. Go to office number 219, there isn''t anyone in there. I am lending it to you for now so that you may go over the orders. I am not going to waste any more of my time on you. Get out of my office, Dismissed." I salute and exit the office damn near skipping as I do so. I got out of a court marshall. I knew I fucked up as soon as the pilot tried to drift us into the hangar, but a hundreds of tons ship doesn''t stop on a dime and we had to accept the loss. I feel a little bad for the maintenance crew and for the frigate crew, but I was curious and no one brought up their concerns. Hell, the pilot stated he could make it. I briskly walk down the hallway, following the ring of the station until I get to the designated office. I step inside to find a long-abandoned office, but I quickly get behind the desk and boot up the console in front of me. It kicks to life and a small camera scans me before it logs me in. I have to wait for the long-disused system to come to life. There is a picture on the desk with a nice-looking woman in it. She''s in a full navy dress and I notice the fleet insignia on her uniform shoulder and feel kinda shitty for using this office. The 32nd fleet had been entirely annihilated during the war, this woman was absolutely dead. I remove the picture from its frame and put it inside a pocket on my uniform. I''ll find who it is, and make sure this picture gets to their family. The console finishes booting up and then proceeds to give an error screen when loading the file full of my orders that the Admiral sent me. The system automatically calls up the IT department and I lean back in my chair, thinking about the war... About a week after first contact one of the other human governments decided a nice war would be a wonderful idea. The UEG, or United Earth Government which consists of Europe, the Middle East, and parts of Russia. They declared that they had a higher claim over the African continent rather than the US. This is a very odd reason for war considering there is absolutely no reason to declare war over a continent on Earth anymore. Truly Earth only has a value symbolically as it doesn''t even have the highest population of any planet and all resources have been long exhausted. Right now Earth is nothing but a big nature preserve with a few cultural cities still operating. I think they declared war, just being salty about the big war when mankind first started interstellar travel. Like always it was a big stupid affair, and once I got myself healed up from my injuries I was brought into the fold, and through my service I became a commodore, funnily enough, aside from the diplomatic corps, everyone forgot about the aliens as we glassed a few planets and then decided we didn''t actually need to be at war after a full five years of war. Twenty million dead and all for jack and shit, but the UEG did cede about thirty-star systems to us. Now that the war is over I think we are going to start focusing on the whole alien thing again. I wonder when I''ll be briefed on em, wonder when I''ll be able to make a roast outta that bird bitch. "You''re going to ruin the finish on your hand... it''s such a nice model too." I nearly jump out of my skin as a voice pulls me from my daydream. I realize I''ve been flicking my metal fingers, a habit I''ve started doing after losing my hand. I put all four fingers against my thumb and open my hand quickly scraping the metal. To be honest it''s probably ruining the finish. I look at the intruder in my office and find a rather small woman wearing a naval enlisted uniform. A Tech officer of some flavor. Her long reddish hair is tied back in a navy uniform ponytail, a pair of big brown eyes sit behind a pair of thick, rounded glasses, and a sorta rounded face with a small little nose. To be honest she looks like a young girl trying to dress like navy personnel. I raise an eyebrow at her and state, "Yeah. It''s a bad habit that I started doing." She nods, and at this point, I realize she has been working diligently on the console attached to the desk in front of me. I also noticed she won''t keep eye contact. It doesn''t take me long to understand she is the IT person who was called in to help, but I notice her patches show she is an engineer, not designated IT. I have to tell myself to ignore it as we are no longer at war. During wartime, engineers could not be wasted on random computer problems, navy engineers were needed to run ship systems and fix broken shit on their posting, and civilian contractors generally did IT. I guess her paycheck has to be justified somehow now that the war is over. Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings. She stares at my hand for a moment, thinking about something before she asks, "Is that the m42 high feedback prosthetic?" I nod without a word and she beams for a moment before stopping her work and walking over to me. Without asking she grabs my metal hand and lower arm and rolls up my sleeve a little before picking at the exposed steel and the underlying wires. I can''t feel it but it still feels weird. My eyes tell me my arm is being opened up and messed with but I can''t feel a single thing aside from pressure from her pulling and pushing on my arm. Her expressions are adorable, the look of amazement and wonderment on her face reminds me of one of my many younger cousins when I would let them mess with my officer sidearm, unloaded of course. This continues and she asks about the specifications that were used when granting me a new hand, mostly things like if my hand grants me greater strength or something like that. I always answer with a simple, "Nope, they modeled it exactly after my left hand, the idea being to have balanced hand strength. I have no need for physical cybernetic enhancements." She finally asks a question with a different answer, "What method do you use to control this hand? Is it a direct nervous connection or does it utilize a system that detects your muscle contractions since you still have most of your arm?" I sigh and reply, "It''s actually linked up with the metal I have built into my skull. I think my neural mod is the... uhhhh... xm-25 ship commander neuro mod. It links to that thing and then it contracts and moves as I will it. It''s a little more similar to how my real hand works, just more direct rather than utilizing a direct cable or nervous connection. It also means I can remove and replace it without feeling much in the way of pain, unlike the muscle and nervous connections." She seems impressed by my use of technology and asks, "You have the new xm-25? That''s impressive, I heard they rolled that one off about a year ago. What kind of ship did you command to require such intensive neuro mods?" I give her a confident smirk and respond cockily, "At the end of the war, I was the captain of the USS Alaska, a Wisconsin class battleship." Her eyes go wide in wonderment and she asks, "Amazing! A ship of that size really would require a powerful neuro mod to command such a big ship..." She then remembers something and asks, "Didn''t that ship... umm... get destroyed by that super-dreadnaught the UEG made?" I nod and shrug stating, "Yeah, that thing was a monster, but the sacrifice of my ship was required in the absolute jumping we committed against it. Only four crewmen died, say what you want about my ship getting destroyed, those Wisconsins really knew how to keep their crews alive." She nods, clearly a technophile and very familiar with lots of military hardware. She continues inspecting my metal hand, my console still an error screen, until she moves my sleeve a little too far up, revealing the scarred flesh of the rest of my arm past my metal. Her expression drops and she quickly apologizes saying, "I''m sorry Commodore, I didn''t know..." I give a small laugh and tell her reassuringly, "It''s alright. It''s a lesson you need to learn. As cool as metal arms and legs may be to you, the ones who have them have a reason to. Especially in the military. " She nods and I ask her, "You''re an Ashkhan right?" She seems surprised by how quickly I figured out her home planet. The Ashkhan are machine cultists, or at least their majority are. They tend to replace limbs and other parts of their bodies with machinery, some try to keep it vaguely human-looking, and others will replace their legs with tank treads. It reminds me of something my dad and grandpa used to talk about, something 40k years in the future or whatever, but regardless the planet of Ashkhan is a shithole above all else, and during the early days the machine replacements were required for survival. Now it''s just kinda a cultural thing they are still Christians, just with a healthy dose of replacing body parts. During this short exchange with the girl, I noticed both of her hands, if not her entire arms are made of metal. I don''t know the model but they are very artistic in how they are designed, humanoid, but somehow more ergonomic and smooth. They make for great engineers as they love all things technological. Her surprise is quickly changed to pride and she replies, "Yup! I have been doing my family proud for my service in the navy, working on ships!" I give her a warm smile, nod, and ask, "Why are you on station then?" A station posting, especially for an Ashkhan is almost a punishment due to their love of FTL travel. It''s odd though, she looks at me confused for a moment before asking, "I am not station crew. I thought..." Her eyes go wide as she looks over at the still-broken terminal before letting out a yelp and practically diving back to the access panel where she gets back to work. I am rather confused, but entertained. Normally I''d start dicking around with things on my neuro implant but I have it turned off for the moment, this new xm-25 still gives me a headache. The old m-22 that I used to have was far less... intense in how much data it fed directly into my brain. After a moment of work, the girl announces success and says to me, "It should be done Commodore, try logging in." I log into the console and my orders boot up quickly, a large file opens up revealing a document with multiple links built in. The links open up different documents containing information about my orders and new station. My orders are to take command of the flagship of a small fleet. My role is to perform deep-space patrol along the border with our new alien neighbors. From there more orders will be granted to me, mostly to decide if we will actually begin exploring Xeno space and begin diplomatic operations with them. The Eternal Kingdom is a real conundrum for humanity at the moment and is a possible international nightmare for the US. I ask the girl, "What''s your name and rank girl? " She stands up and replies, "Seaman Ceiel Grant sir." I nod and enter the name into the console and find to my surprise that she is actually under my command and is one of the engineers aboard my flagship according to my orders and other information that came along with it. I give her a smile and say, "Well, it''s nice to meet you, Miss Grant. It will be my pleasure to lead you going forward. Now tell me, why the hell are you on the station doing repairs right now? Shouldn''t you be onboard?" She shakes her head and responds, "According to the Master Cheif of the engineering department, the Admiral said that she didn''t want any of her actual crew to come into contact with a degenerate like Hollander." I nod understanding the situation now. The Admiral is still very mad at me, for good reason. Then Ceiel then asks, "Commodore... If I may ask, Why does your breath smell of cinnamon whiskey?" I walk down the halls of the station with the small cyborg girl following behind me. She is somewhat annoyed with me after I explained to her I celebrated a little too much for the past month because of how the war ended. I completely forgot to tell her that it wasn''t a celebration actually, but drinking shit cinnamon whiskey was just a normal thing for me, actually it''s normally tequila but the frigate I captained into the fighter hangar had the whiskey onboard as the old captain really liked it for some reason. Overall, it''s not good for me to do while on duty. She is annoyed because I damaged the frigate, and the unnecessary destruction of technology is close to heresy to her kind. Right now we are heading to where my ship is docked. I turn off of the main hall of the station and walk down one of the long docking arms where large ships are docked. On this arm only a single ship is docked, a massive warship that will be my home for my entire next posting. The USS Catfish, a Viking Class Large Cruiser, is also known as an orbital supremacy warship. This type of ship is known as such for its role in military action. They are armed with a wide array of weapons and systems with diverse functions. They are of course smaller than the battleships and carriers that stalk the long and lonely void, seeking enemy capital vessels to shatter with apocalyptic firepower and swarms of nuclear-armed fighters and bombers. They are larger than the other classes of heavy and light cruisers who make up the great battle lines offering firepower and defense for friendly carriers. The large cruisers work as the spearhead of smaller operations, or as the dedicated flagship for orbital invasions. Great bays to deploy atmospheric fighters and dropships, massive firepower to deal with enemy ships of most sizes and classes, maneuverable enough to not be a sitting target, armored enough to ignore smaller patrol vessels defending planets, and a good enough sensor suite to designate and guide friendlies to targets. Overall its role is that of a smaller version of other flagships and the Viking class specifically is designed to work with minimal logistical support, a flagship for the outer reaches of US territory, generally leading scouting, deep space patrols, and quick reaction forces when the bigger guns are far off. They are not battlecruisers who fulfill the role of pocket battleships as large cruisers are more flexible in doctrine and in theory should never challenge a battleship, battlecruiser, or certain heavy cruisers in a direct confrontation due to the lesser firepower compared to these other ships. As I walk along the arm I look out the long window running along the entire length, inspecting the matte-black hull of the vessel, and admire the giant catfish painted on the bow. The entire outer hull is spotless, freshly repaired, and retrofitted after the war. I can''t be certain about the armament and specific loadout until I go onboard, fully activate my neuro implant, and connect it to the ship. I could''ve already activated it, but I want to wait until I am onboard and have the ship AI take some of the load of information before it is all forcibly put into my brain. Once boarded through a 10x10 meter docking port, Ceiel disappears down a maintenance corridor and I start following signs to the bridge. I make it to the place of my command, finding the bridge fairly standard for a US warship. It''s centrally located, deep within the ship underneath meters of armor. The whole room is about 10x5x3 meters in size, quite a bit larger than I am used to, but the various systems the Catfish has require more crew than even the battleship I once captained, which really only contained weaponry stations. The bridge is empty aside from myself as I walk across the textured floor inspecting every station, not for flaws or the cleanliness of them, but for a baseline understanding of where each of my officers will be located. Once satisfied with my inspection, I make my way to the captain''s chair in the center of the bridge and toward the back. I sit down in the comfortable captain''s chair and activate my console. It blinks to life and the shipboard AI shoots me a text, "Welcome aboard commodore! I am the USS Catfish. How may I be of service?" Modern AI are not truly sentient, but are very intelligent and knowledgeable, sometimes scary too, but are overall a needed part of any ship capable of FTL, the calculations needed are just far too advanced for even a team of geniuses to figure out in any meaningful time. They also are great at cataloging data and information for future reference, I generally utilize them as a system to lower the information flow to my own console and only send me summarized or important data. With a sigh, I begin the procedure of connecting my brain hardware with the ships systems, and slowly I slip into the very coma-like state that this requires.... Operation ET: New Posting Blues SYSTEMS ONLINE...WELCOME ABOARD THE USS CATFISH COMMODORE HOLLANDER... PLEASE INPUT YOUR CURRENT ORDERS... "Full system diagnostic. Give me the specs of the vessel." INPUT ACCEPTED... GRANTING ACCESS TO SYSTEM DIAGNOSTICS...LOADING FULL SHIP MAP...LOADING FULL SYSTEMS LOADOUT...LOADING CREW AND AUXILLARY SHIP SPECS AND NUMBERS... The "screen" within my mind spins for a few seconds as the ship, AI, and I all become one giant brain. I feel the piercing pain of a direct data transfer but soldier through. This new bit of hardware in my brain is taking some getting used to, but eventually, it''ll stop hurting and I''ll be good to go. I just have to get this shit done and over with. I found understanding where each system is at, speeds up the process of getting used to the ship and makes the pain go away sooner. In my mind, and in front of my eyes a ghostly apparition of the great vessel appears, alongside it is a wall of text I can''t read but know the contents of. I slowly work my way through the data to gain an understanding of the ship layout and what I''ll have at my disposal moving forward. The USS Catfish is a Viking Class large cruiser. This specific one has been modified from the baseline Viking, focusing more on working as a deep space patrol flagship. This means it wields less potent direct-fire capabilities, focusing on support through troop transport, material manufactories for space repairs, and absolutely massive reserves of nuclear and non-nuclear fuels and facilities to refine or produce these resources. While the fleet assumedly has support and logistic vessels, the Catfish is equipped to keep the fleet running in the event those support vessels cannot tag along or we are too far out for routine supply. I haven''t read my orders fully yet, but if the loadout is anything to go by, I won''t be in civilized human space very often or there is a chance I will be cut off from supply lines. The Viking Class is standardly a gargantuan 400 meters in length, 73 meters wide, and 65.5 meters in height. Its displacement is around 200,000 tons but can be more or less depending on loadout and cargo. The armor is composed of a basal layer of steel and titanium forming the internal "shell" of the ship where crew and storage areas are located. This combination of metal with hexagonal bracing methods only capable of being done in zero-G allows for multiple void layers with impressive strength. This bottom layer makes up the external walls of the vessel and is the final layer of armor before the crew starts dying. The next outer shell where all ammo and the lower portion of weapons systems, such as the capacitor arrays for high energy weapons, are located is composed of a similar hexagonal bracing in the void areas but the bracing and walls are made of a combination of titanium-reinforced ceramics, nano-crystal steel, rubber, plastics, and graphite radiators. This offers greater protection than the first layer, but keeps the weapons operational, the hollow areas within are vacuum to avoid fires. The last layer is composed of the least painstakingly woven parts, not requiring the same hexagonal shape as this final layer is closer to add-on armor than the rest. It offers minimal structural support, instead meant to be decimated and replaced as needed so long as the structures underneath remain intact. The most modern armor used is composed of 4-inch tungsten hexes about 2 inches thick working like chainmail, a layer of osmium, rubber, textolite plastics, carbon fiber, and a few ablative outer layers composed of paper-thin sheets of a platinum alloy. Overall this ship is considered standard armored for a 300+ meter long vessel, but underamored for anything in the 500+ category. The Viking class is loaded with a dual FTL system, one being an Alcubierre-style drive for standard use, generally used for shorter-ranged travel or on smaller vessels. Taking the least amount of power, relatively for moving faster than the speed of light, it compresses and expands space in front and behind the ship "speeding" up the route for the vessel, for ease of understanding it is described as increasing the constant speed of a vessel, or at least increasing the constant of the space around the vessel. An order for the activation of the Alcubierre drive would be to increase the vessel or spacial constant of speed to any speed anywhere from a few miles an hour to up to twenty times the speed of light. Despite it being FTL travel, in theory, the ship doesn''t actually break the light barrier, its just space around the vessel changes. The common name for this FTL manner is a warp drive, or sometimes a jump drive depending on who you ask. The other FTL method the Viking class utilizes as a flagship is something known as a rip drive or a singularity drive. I don''t understand the science behind it as a whole, but it creates a "shortcut" through space along a 4th-dimensional route. Somehow the vessel is able to traverse a 4th dimensional plane after ripping reality a new hole. It takes an obscene level of power to work but it opens up a shorter path from point A to point B through the dimensions. No clue what that means, but all exterior viewpoints have to be closed because apparently, the 4th dimension will make you crazy or something. This method actually doesn''t make the ship faster, the warp drive is utilized along this plane to not only halve the distance but also speed up the process as a massive expanse still has to be crossed. Powering these two reality-breaking and bending methods of FTL is the Mk34 Sol Dominatus class fusion reactor. This gargantuan powerplant produces 20,150 Terawatts-hours of energy. Supposedly this is the same output as the entire Earth required in the early 21st century. Not only this but the batteries and capacitors onboard can store up to 70 petawatt-hours of energy. So in around 3 hours the batteries can be fully charged if no power is being consumed, but according to diagnostics standard running allows for the batteries to stay full, the only time these batteries are not full is when either of the FTL drives are running, even the miniature sun powering the vessel can''t keep up with them. This means each FTL jump or translocation in the case of the rip drive, is limited in range by the amount of power the ship can give it. A tandem usage for the USS Catfish has a maximum range of 8 lightyears before the ship needs to stop and recharge. The powerplant is also how the ship is propelled, utilizing something called a "solar flare" system the ship practically does a mass coronal ejection to create obscene amounts of thrust, of course, it reduces the energy output of the reactor, but since it is space, the ship only needs to produce a certain level of acceleration rather than maintain thrust for travel like an atmospheric aircraft. The only unfortunate part is that this is the only process that truly consumes fuel in the form of ejecting hydrogen and helium, but since hydrogen is the most abundant element in the galaxy, and is found literally everywhere refueling is quite easy, so long as the reactor never goes out. The maneuvering thrusters use the same system, utilizing a series of pipes to create directional ejections to rotate, pitch, or yaw the ship. Moving onto weapons, the USS Catfish isn''t lacking, but it is not designed to be a slugger. Simply judging by the loadout I can tell my mission is largely not dedicated to combat, or at least combat against peer capital ships. For main weapons, the Catfish utilizes 12 main armament turrets mounting twin-linked 9-inch or 230mm rail-assisted cannons. While not devastating, they can utilize a wide range of munition types, including nuclear-tipped rounds and precision orbital strike munitions. The Chem-Rails as they are called are an older design and technology. Utilizing a half-length charge of modern chemical propellant activated by an ETC system. This alone can accelerate the round anywhere from 25KMS up to 30KMS depending on the mass of each type of ammunition, the computer compensating for changes in ballistics. While this is impressive, since modern space battles begin at multiple light seconds apart this is far too slow for anything but half a light-second distance and even then predictive targeting computers may have trouble, even with proxy-fused nuclear armament. That is where the modern addition of a railgun barrel comes in. The Barrel is composed of four straight rails running the entire barrel length, and then all wrapped in a coil-gun shroud creating a Helical rail system. This allows for better barrel life, while still offering incredible acceleration. With the rails at full power, the shells can be accelerated up to 100KMS but the average is around 80KMS due to that the magnetic forces produced by the barrels can end up bending them which can prematurely detonate nuclear shells which needs to be avoided. This creates a system that produces less heat than a fully powered chemically propelled cannon and has an immediate acceleration requiring a much shorter barrel than an equivalent caliber purely rail weapon. The shots can travel a full light second in around 2 hours which is difficult to actually hit anything, but with some predictive targeting, AI shots are sent on a path to intercept enemies on a predicted trajectory with all 24 cannons firing in a different solution. Although cannons are mostly for battles well within a light second. With a potential of 60RMP, these cannons can do dual-purpose roles from fighters to smaller-sized capital ships. The other main weapons are the hundreds of VLS tubes containing long-range missiles, some being small interceptor missiles, others 25MT nuclear weapons, and even others being Cassaba howitzer tipped nukes which fire a tungsten-plasma "beam" right through any and all armor, basically a nuclear heat shell. Missiles are the main long-range option, while they are able to fight at closer ranges, the nuclear tipping on them makes this potentially dangerous to nearby allies. Missiles have near unlimited range with semi-autonomous tracking systems allowing them to remain dormant on a certain flight path until the target is within the range of the stored Delta V. The only issue is that missiles are expensive per shot, but the range advantage cannot be overstated. The only limiting factor on the range for missiles is the tracking computers and sensor systems on their vessel. Every other weapon system is dedicated toward defensive action. This falls within US naval doctrine, avoiding the idea of all guns forward vessels throwing thousands of rounds into the void, instead focusing on countermeasures and strike-first doctrine. This won us the most recent war, only failing against the few monsters who could handle one or two nearby nuclear detonations. As for defensive armament, the Catfish seemingly has far too much. It has the same amount of CIWS systems and other defensive weapons as the battleship I once commanded which was easily 100 meters longer. There isn''t much diversity of these weapons, but there sure are a lot of them. There are the swarmer missiles, small 1-meter long by 50cm diameter missiles that fire in large salvos releasing payloads of dozens of osmium shards to create screens to help intercept missiles. There are the hell-storm batteries, which are composed of 4 turrets, each one being 10 barreled iron-storm style weapons but the internals are still rotary allowing for legitimately millions of RPM, and them also being 25mm in caliber. There are a few laser turrets, but they are really only good at dealing with missiles and at very limited ranges. They are a last-ditch effort to stop incoming ordinance dumping however much power as can be gathered into every laser battery for a near-melee ranged final effort. The final defensive weapon isn''t really a weapon but in theory, can do damage. They look like large VLS tubes but instead of missiles, they fire unguided rockets loaded to the brim with chaff. A single one contains enough to create a 16-square-mile chaff screen until the directional force of the blast scatters it too much to be useful. All these weapons are cooled by a large liquid helium system that encapsulates all barrels and firing mechanisms. The helium is produced by the fusion reactor and put into the system at incredible pressures making it liquid in form. The helium runs over the weapons allowing for convection to cool down the weapons themselves, but the helium can only be cooled through radiation. The ship has "capillaries" as they are called right underneath the outermost layer of armor. They can be shut off independently from one another automatically when a specific side faces a stellar body while all the liquid helium is forced to the top on the side facing away. This allows for heat to radiate into space beyond using the entire dark side of the vessel as a giant radiator. When the heat gets too great the helium can be jettisoned into space where it is quickly replaced by fresh stuff from the reactor, and if this system cannot keep up, then the ship is either already dead or it shuts down all systems. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. Another defensive measure is the passive "shielding" of the ship, and they aren''t really shields. Forcefields and energy shields have been in concept for a while now, but functionally are either impossible or impractical. There were some past designs but they made it impossible to actually see out of the ship and in some cases even receive communications thanks to the shields being very good at blocking most things, so until they are more practical they will be only prototypes and drawing room concepts. Despite this, there are forms of passive shielding, just not force and energy-based ones. Instead, all ships are equipped with first and foremost a magnetic field generator. This creates a small magnetosphere around the ship, similar to the ones planets have, and this protects the ship from background radiation, it can be cranked up in power during times of great danger to block things like solar flares, partially, and the radiological effects of nuclear weapons. The downside is that when at higher power, most electromagnetic waves cannot pass through, including ones that the ship would want to come through. The other passive "shield" the ship has is linked to the artificial gravity of the ship. Artificial gravity has been a reality for a long time, but only during the space age was a proper method adopted. The one used mostly nowadays is the Podkletnov technique, in which a superconductor is rotated at high speeds in a vacuum to avoid friction and through this, a gravitational field is created. With modern superconductors and electric motors, an earth-like environment can be created even on much smaller ships. This gravity well works as a shield against small debris in space, hoping to avoid any unnecessary damage to the armor and paint. The gravity works like the wake on a ship, simply pushing things around and away from the ship as it moves through space. It is barely capable of stopping high-energy objects like incoming projectiles and missiles, but smaller mass rounds can have their trajectory greatly thrown off. The final aspect of the Catfish I look at is the hangars and what I get to play with there. There are two personnel shuttles that can carry a maximum of 6 people and are relatively unarmed, they are just for personnel transfers. There are two UD-12 "Pueblo" orbital dropships each one able to deploy twenty marines at a time and are stupidly armored. Then are the three fighters I have onboard. Each one is an SF-21 "Mallard" class fighter, and with them come 6 wingmen drones each. I am not a fighter command type of guy so I have no idea how good or new these fighters are, but considering they are all nuclear rated, I think they will do just fine. I can look it up, but until they are needed I don''t feel the need. The rest of the systems are pretty stock standard, aside from the two massive fabrication plants practically welded to the side of the Catfish. I finished my initial diagnostics and with my neural implant linked to the vessel and now fully online I feel comfortable navigating the ship, and right now I need a painkiller for this brutal headache I have. I get off of my chair and turn off the console. Using the visual overlay granted by my implant I navigate down the rather bleak armored hallways... With the painkiller kicking in I leave the medbay after some small talk and introductions with the medical staff. They all seem like good dudes, and one of the medic ladies is kinda hot, but even with my batting average of .000 with ladies, I still won''t try flirting, it''s the only unprofessional thing I won''t do. I mean it''s been tempting a few times, especially in my early postings as a young and hot-blooded new officer, but thankfully I kept my head on straight. I start thinking about my next plan and dig through the mission files. As the information dances across my vision my heart first sinks, then my stomach churns. It''s not just a deep space patrol... it''s so much worse. I have to call an all-officers meeting, and I pray they won''t mutiny immediately upon hearing of our job... It takes a while due to the problem of every single officer currently taking a 24-hour rec leave since most are fresh from a separate deployment. Of course, there is grumbling and mumbling about as they bitch and moan about their new commander calling them in, but me telling them this now is a mercy. I finish reading all the files as I stand at the head desk of the main briefing room of the Catfish. I clear my throat quietly and loudly shout, "Attention!" The whole room, as if programmed like robots, stands up at once and faces me. I nod and say quieter now, "Alright, sit down." They do as commanded and stare directly at me. I then begin a short introduction, "I am Commodore Hollander, I will be the chief commanding officer of this little fleet we have gathered. As you look around at your fellow officers from different vessels you may quickly see our group is going to be rather diverse in role and capability, this is because our mission is one of great... well...we have a massive lack of information about the area of operation. Now, let''s get this over with. I was one of the first humans to make contact with extraterrestrial life. I even lost a hand due to them too, apparently because of a cultural misunderstanding. We will be going back to that area of operation and we will be... we will..." I can''t spit it out as one of the main objectives of the mission blinks in my vision alongside a single vessel in the fleet. I swallow hard and before I can speak a female voice calls from across the room, "Our fleet will be performing a diplomatic and scientific mission. The only reason it is a military action is because of both the unknown nature of the area of operation and worsening relations with the nations found within." I''ve never heard an entire room groan in unison before until today. Especially a room full of hardened and veteran officers. I held my tongue as I stare at the woman who had just now entered the room. She is a beautiful sort, with tanned skin, piercing emerald eyes that I can see from across the room, gold-streaked brownish hair, and a figure that would make a monk stare. A paradise worlder if I''ve ever seen one. Someone from a world without flaws, either by human design or by nature. Stable weather nearly worldwide, peaceful flora and fauna, low solar radiation, and beautiful scenery. They are usually used as vacation worlds or related things, but many are also utilized as political capitols for regions of US space. Think like a state or provincial capital. These are usually inhabited by politicians, rich folk, and those in service to either of those two groups. By the way this woman walks and is dressed, I can tell she is from an influential political family to some extent. Her uniform looks similar to a naval officer''s uniform but is black instead of the normal navy blue and she doesn''t have a hat. In my head, I coin toss whether she is in Naval Intelligence or the Military Diplomatic Corps. From across the slightly darkened room, my cybernetics pick up her ranking insignia, it''s not Army or Navy but I am told that she is equivalent to a Naval Captain in rank. I watch her wearily until she approaches my stand and with a short salute, not giving me enough time to salute back before she introduces herself, "Diplo-Colonel Shariah Jamestown, I will be your first officer during this entire mission Commodore." I frown and say, "And that allows you to disregard proper discipline and proper respect for your superior?" She sorta scoffs. It''s clear she tried to hide an emotion of amusement and I can see intense disdain in her eyes as she locks her two emeralds with mine. She then responds and her answer immediately makes my face go red, "With all due respect, you are a higher rank, but in no way superior to me." I feel my face go hot, not out of embarrassment, but a level of rage I haven''t felt in a long ass time. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see a bunch of the other officers gain the same expression as me, one of anger. Everyone in the room, aside from this... Diplo-Colonel is a veteran of the last war and we are almost all career Navy or Marines according to the readouts that highlighted each face in the crowd when I gazed across the room. The thing is, this woman was not in any of my readouts or files. I did take note I didn''t have a first officer on my list, but assumed I would pick them up somewhere along the way, or it would be my choice. I am not the most well-behaved naval officer in existence, hell my drunk captaining proves that and that is the reason I only recently became a Commodore. The discipline issues I can ignore, it could''ve been funny. The disrespect... now I can''t look past that, especially in front of every single one of my officers. Not only that but according to the military database Diplo-Colonel is the Military Diplomatic Corps a newer branch, only about 200 years old, and it is separate from all others and is treated as a "better" officer corps. Basically, it is the political and military police branch of the Department of Defense, and their equivalent ranks are usually treated as one or two higher than their other branch equivalent. In short, everyone outside of them hates them with a passion for various reasons depending on the person you ask. Unfortunately for her, she is on a naval vessel in the fleet I command, and in a room full of Naval and Marine officers. I keep my voice flat despite my face growing red and ask her, "Are you sure that is what you wish to say? Is there anything else?" She shakes her head and responds in an almost confused tone, "No. Unless you want me to do your job for you... Sir, because you''ve already proven your incompetence at this duty." In a flash, I feel calm, and it''s not a good calm. I take a deep breath and look into the gathered officers and lock eyes with two Marine Captains who are the heads of the main Marine forces we will be bringing along. I say to them calmly and with care, "Marines. Please escort Miss Jamestown to her new accommodations... room BE-12 please." She furrows her brows thinking as I send the directions mentally to the Marines whose neural implants decode the message and show them the way to the room I designated. It is the corner cell of the brig, the smallest and without any windows. The marines stand up, even in their officer''s uniforms their massive feet slam into the metal floor. The two heavily augmented men march over to the woman and pick her up by her arms, each one holding an arm. She stares at me in horror and says, "You can''t do this. I am important to the mission." I say calmly, "You may be important to the mission, but this is my ship and we are not in the area of operations. I am king, judge, executioner, and the jury onboard this ship and the others in the fleet. Until the ship''s AI tells me you are willing to apologize I will not let you out of the brig. You are learning an important lesson in etiquette and a lesson about how you treat those whom you will rely on." Her face twists into one of indignant rage. Her earlier beauty faded away rather quickly with the ugly expression. She then half-shouts at me, "This is why I am here! Because you are incapable of being diplomatic and understanding proper role and significance! I''ve read your file and I know why your hand is missing because you are too stupid to handle this job! You need me and you''ll regret this moving forward." I smirk and give her a little wave as the Marines get tired of her shit and carry her off. As she is about to leave the room I send her off with this, "And I''ll face that regret later." When the door closes I sigh and apologize to the gathered officers. I then give my real explanation, "I will explain it to the Marines when they return unless one of you Marine Lieutenants relays it. Regardless, I want to get this over with. Our mission is to do a long-term action in alien space. We will be escorting a scientific vessel and, as we all unfortunately observed will be escorting at least one diplomat, but I believe there will be a full diplomatic compliment on board the science vessel. We will be visiting at least one, if not more of the aliens nations and will sit around looking tough while the science and Diplo guys and gals handle all the actual work. Apparently, the limited political actions taken during our war have slowly become less productive so this mission will hopefully handle all of that and fix our relations and learn some things. If things go sideways our role is to avoid engagement with the main forces and we have a duty to retreat back home. I am authorized to glass one or two planets along the way to either delay or break the will of our pursuers. Simply put, we shouldn''t do jack." The whole room quietly mumbles a bit upset that our post-war duty will be something boring rather than something fun or at least entertaining. That''s all I have to say right now, the rest of the information is need-to-know in nature so I dismiss the meeting and when I am alone I march back to my command chair in the bridge. Departure is in four hours. I sit at the console and stare ahead, thinking... something that can be dangerous... ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Fleet Composition: 1 Viking Class Large Cruiser- USS Catfish-Role: Flagship and Support. 3 SF-21 Fighters- 6 support wingmen each 2 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration Marine compliment- 40 ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Operation ET: Fleet of The Muddy Pond. Upon my orders, two marines march down to the brig and bring my "first officer" to my quarters and officer which is next to the bridge. She has clearly been crying and looks like an abandoned puppy. She had only been in there for an hour and I even had some snacks sent down. Her perfectly straight hair is messy and frizzy and her clean-pressed uniform is unbuttoned in places and somehow has scuffs on the fabric. I quickly pull up camera footage of her transport just making sure the marined didn''t actually mistreat her. As the videos play across my vision the Diplo-Colonel sits across from me and stares at the ground, shooting teary-eyed glances at me before looking away. My investigation concludes the Marines actually went above and beyond their duty to make sure she was unharmed, and they put her in a more comfortable cell than the one I ordered, but I''ll overlook that. I clear my vision and exhale deeply and shake my head while staring at her. I then ask in a disappointed tone, "Are you ready to apologize and get back to work?" She nods and I lean in with my ear toward her saying, "Then let me hear it." It takes her a moment but she does say in a quiet tone, "I am sorry I acted out Commodore." I nod and lean back before saying, "I am not one to get angry when one of my officers speaks over me, especially when it is something I do not know or understand as well as they do. I am not some super AI that can know and understand everything that comes in front of me. I got onto you for your blatant disrespect for me, which normally I would think is funny, but because at that moment all of the officers under my command were present. You must know you cannot disrespect a commanding officer in front of those he is in charge of. If we were alone when you did what you did there would be little issue so long as you were willing to calm down for a second. Now, I want you to explain to me your role and the mission parameters as a whole. I have write-ups of my orders, which is to play taxi driver and bodyguard. Now I want to know what you know. That is in fact an order, and I hope we can cooperate moving forward." She nods and quickly her appearance is close to what it was before. She buttons her clothes, straightens the wrinkles, and pulls a comb out of nowhere to brush her hair straight once more. She wipes her eyes and quickly reapplies makeup and soon it looks as if she hadn''t been a mess in front of me. It unsettles me, but this isn''t my first time playing with paradise worlders and diplomats. They are amazing at keeping an image and making themselves into an image they want you to see them as, like in this situation, she wanted me to pity her. I can see it only slightly as she tries to hide it in her eyes. A cold and calculating feeling, everything she has done is directed toward her initial goal of getting authority over me. First, she tried to humble me, when that failed she tried to guilt me, and now it looks as if she is trying to play nice and I fear what her next tactic will be. She then leans on the desk as she looks into my eyes. I keep a neutral expression, not letting her get anything out of me. I then notice two of her shirt buttons are undone, and so are the ones on her undershirt... so that''s the game she wishes to play. I sigh as she notices my downward glance as male biology wins for a moment. I say to her, "Diplo-Colonel Jamestown, please fix your clothing and speak what I asked of you." I see in her eyes a small fire of rage, but quickly it disappears and she leans back and fixes her buttons before she begins explaining, "As you wish Commodore. My mission is to work as the head diplomat of the US to the alien nations we will be visiting. My mission is to create peaceful relations and to mend the slowly decaying ones we have with our galactic neighbors. Hopefully, I can open up further channels of cooperation, and pave a path so our scientific attachment can then start doing their work, whatever that may be." I nod and ask, "Why as the Eternal Kingdom slowly lost favor with us? Aside from my little fuckup during first contact?" She thinks for a second, clearly digging through files stored in her neural implant before she responds, "Ideology. Their system of governance is similar to a feudal system and is incredibly authoritarian. Just by nature, our republican ways will clash with their ways." I grunt in displeasure and then order, "Please explain the entire political situation of the Eternal Kingdom." She frowns before continuing, "The Eternal Kingdom is a multi-species feudal-like society that controls an equivalent amount of territory as we do if not more. We do not have the full numbers yet. Their society is very caste-like but non-biologically binding, meaning they are not biologically based castes, simply by birth and bloodline with only heroic effort allowing for ascension. The bottom is the beggar caste, pretty much government-enforced homeless who do sewage and garbage work to survive off of the "charity" of the higher castes. They are effectively slaves. The next caste is the bounded, they are literal slaves or indentured servants although this caste rarely does manual labor, focusing more on domestic duties. Then is the Common caste, these are your every day free men. Anywhere from living in shanties to comfortably upper middle class. This makes up the largest group of people and they are permanently locked to a single planet, or possibly a city according to the local nobles'' tastes and orders. Then is the lower nobility, this group is like the knights of earth or are landlords. This is the only noble rank one can ascend to from a common rank, rarely do they have holdings bigger than a few hundred acres. Their noble holdings tend to be starships. The next caste is the actual nobles, generally, this means planetary governor, but can have smaller roles. They are the lords who are the rulers of large sectors of space, multiple star systems fall under their command. The last caste is the royal family who rule over everything absolutely. According to what we have been able to understand, their king is apparently undying so he has been ruling for nearly 1000 years. We believe this to be hyperbole but we don''t even know what species he is or the lifespan of that species. In fact we don''t know the name of a single one of the species that make up the Eternal Kingdom, that will be part of our tasks." I nod as I mull over her explanation. She is right, our two societies really wouldn''t get along. I then say to the girl, "Alright, that''s all I need to know for now. I will gather the captain of each vessel and will give a short explanation of this as well as a little speech of my own." She nods and I send my request to the captains. Hopefully, this meeting will be more productive... The commanding officers of every vessel in the fleet gather in the same briefing room from before. They are clearly a little miffed about being called in for another meeting, but I think this one is far more important. It''s a matter of life and death. I go through the research notes I managed to find quickly and when I get a good enough grasp I clear my throat and all grumbling stops in the room. I then start, "Alright, this will be short and sweet but listen up. This could mean one of your sailors or marines could die if you do not listen. Especially the marines." I jokingly glare at the marine commander sitting in the room before continuing, "The region of space we will be heading to is incredibly hostile to human life. I have burn scars covering 60% of my body to prove this. The region of space we are going to contains matter and energies that did not exist in science until five years ago. As it turns out physics and chemistry are far more complicated than we ever considered. We finally have the answer for some of the dark matter and energy that make up the rest of the galaxy and universe. In this part of the galaxy, there are our normal elements and standard background radiation, but there is more. According to researchers who have scoured this part of space, there is practically a separate periodic table with whole new elements. This directly correlates with the strange energies and radiation observed and experienced in this part of the galaxy. In the most simple terms, the new elements have all of their charges swapped thus creating a whole new periodic table with swapped charged equivalents of each element. This gives them strange properties that we still do not understand. We are slowly learning what these new elements and materials are called, and the new table is slowly being created. This stuff isn''t anti-matter, just opposite matter. It can create molecules with our known elements without destroying them, this is still unknown to us what happens or why. Due to the way the positive-electrons or whatever the scientists call them, want to bind to things it creates a stupid amount of heat when binding as well as being rather toxic to our biology. When I lost my hand and my suit got breached a good portion of the atoms in the parts of my body that got exposed flipped charges or got bound to one of the new atoms practically melting my flesh and DNA. I now have to wear a spinal implant that constantly scans my body for hyper-aggressive cancers. I can also say for certain it really fucking hurts too. The new flavors of radiation we found in this part of space are known as Delta and Epsilon particles, basically our Alpha and Beta particles but with flipped charges for what their mass should be. Then there are two new types of electromagnetic waves which of course, are deadly to the human body as well. I don''t think they have names yet but they are known as EM1 and EM2 as placeholders. The difference doesn''t matter, and apparently, the Electromagnetic spectrum is further in each direction than initially thought. The lower one is strange as it acts almost like a fluid, flowing from a place of concentration to where there are none. Our bodies are practically vacuums for the stuff. This is known as EM1 flow, and it kills you by dragging Delta and Epsilon particles along with it into your body allowing for the shits to get into your deepest bits. The Higher end stuff, EM2 is just super gamma rays. Pokes holes in your DNA and other such bits and parts so don''t touch it. Do not worry, standard EVA suits are capable of stopping all but the highest concentrations of these new types of radiation, and our ship''s magnetic fields do a great job of stopping it too. The only problem is, if you get shot or otherwise take suit or ship damage in alien space, there is a 10-second window where all you get is surface-level burns which can be easily treated. After that window, surgery is required to get rid of the affected flesh. I tell you all this so that you and your boys can leave alien space unharmed by stupidity. If anyone doesn''t believe me or wants more information I can send my medical report to you After that... well that''s all I''ve got. Go to your vessels and get ready to depart. Thank you for your time. Dismissed!" The crowd of officers is no longer grumbly, instead, they are quite motivated to explain the dangers to their crewmen. I do get a few pings for my medical report and send it quickly. Sometimes the easiest way to get things done is to just show the crewmen the dangers. Plus I need to proliferate my record to all the medical teams onboard every ship. The report includes my treatment and what worked so that in the event there is an exposure event, the guy or gal may only lose some skin. I leave the briefing room and enter the now-busy bridge as the crew works hard to get the ship ready to go. I sit in the captain''s chair and do my normal checks. I check each station remotely, either ordering something to get done or greenlighting them for operation. I independently check the various main systems of the ship, finding everything fresh and ready to go. Our fuel stores are full, plus for the initial journey, we will have two large tankers following us as we pass through areas that may not have the hydrogen we need. This isn''t an issue in alien space because despite the strange and fancy new matter, they still have the standard stuff in their space, we are the ones without. With my ship ready I give the order to shove off. The pilot and communications officer work together to have our departure confirmed by the station and slowly the ship is shoved away from the station by tiny jets of nuclear hellfire, the reinforced hull of the station taking it like a champ. I feel the ship lurch and move as we make sudden maneuvers and the gravity generator spins up to full capability sticking us firmly to the floor and making the acceleration from the engines barely affect us. Other than the external cameras the only notion we are moving are tiny pulls in random directions, even when the ship comes about, facing away from the station in a 180-degree turn. All I feel is a slight pull to the side. Then the great ship boosts away from the station, heading directly for the staging point where only a few of the fleet lie in wait. While sitting in the inky black around me, my friendly vessels mere inches across on my screen I start taking a head count as everyone arrives. The fleet is rather small all things considered and all vessels are fitted to be as long range and able to operate outside of logistics chains. Unfortunately, lasers aren''t really capable of ship-to-ship combat so ammunition and food are the only resources that are difficult to come by. While it doesn''t sound like that big of an issue when we are in a territory where the very matter is deadly, food may be more difficult than usual to find, for all intents and purposes ammo is quite easy to find, since the USS Catfish has a fabrication module that can replenish the entirety of its ammo stores in about a day so long as we can find a mineral-rich asteroid belt to feed the machine. I start listing off vessels in my head and doing my own little checks to see if their systems are ready, my position as fleet commander grants me access to all of the ships under my command. Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel. Starting with biggest to smallest, that''s how I roll. First are the two tankers, nothing special, and are contracted merchant marines. Two gargantuan vessels each nearly 1km in length hauling nothing but pure fuel-grade hydrogen a nice and fun DT mixture of isotopes and without oxygen in the mix it''s actually a fairly safe transport. The tankers are long and skeletal things with a small frontally located bridge and four giant spheres containing hydrogen. This design allows for minimal cost for crew safety and minimal construction cost for the entire vessel focusing on fluid space rather than wasted crew space. While technically armed with dorsal and ventral 5-barrel rotary 25mm ETC cannons these weapons are really only decent at stopping incoming missiles and harassing fighter craft, sometimes. They are mostly there to make the crew feel better. Skipping the Catfish because I already know what it''s about. So next are the two giant fabrication and mining vessels. They are FC-33 "Preist" class vessels at a massive 350 meters long, they are military auxiliary support vessels. Their roles are broad but very important, they have mining arrays for collecting resources, large collection containers for their materials, fabrication arrays to create ammo and other important things, and finally, large external repairing arms allowing them to fix superficial damage and simply patch over major hull damage. Everything else is a little too much for these vessels, but they are the medics of the capital ship world. They are armed lightly with multiple CWIS arrays and a few long strips of VLS tubes for firing interception missiles. These vessels are considered non-combatants, but they remain armed because during all-out war even medics start to get shot at. They are named the USS Shovelnose and the USS Palid. The next vessels are the big guns of this fleet. Two "MacArthur" class Heavy Cruisers. These vessels were mass-produced during the last war, designed to be mainline fleet vessels designed to have slugging matches with other capital vessels. These two have been modified for long-range operations completely having a few of their most notable weapons stripped from them. These two are armed with true railguns, the M8A7 naval railcannon is the most reliable one made to date. Each barrel has a life of 3000 mainline sabot and nuclear-tipped ordinance, this can be expanded if the weapon doesn''t fire at full charge as the forces on the barrel are minor in that event. They are 12 inches in bore and each one of these vessels has 8 twin-linked turrets running the dorsal, ventral, and lateral sides of the vessels. Despite being over 300 meters long the need for extra long helical barrels for the acceleration of ordinance the turrets take up a lot of the length of the ship. These weapons can strike down even larger battleships. They give a massive advantage in that they produce little heat, at the cost of fire rate as the rails need time to charge between shots along with the time for each shot to accelerate down the barrels to their max of 150KMS, On top of that, they have multiple secondary batteries of automatic 5-inch Chemrail cannons for lighter close-in vessels, and then are the various defensive arrays of lasers, iron storm weapons, and VLS tubes. They also carry 40 15 MT nuclear missiles for more stubborn targets. Normally a naval nuclear missile is less than 3 MT, but it was found in the last war, big ones are sometimes needed to shatter the largest vessels. The two ships are known as the USS Terrapin and Snapper. The next four vessels are incredibly important, the "Bowman" class light cruisers, mostly referred to as missile cruisers. They are made of 2 parts. One is the main hull which contains all of the crew, VLS, and important systems. The other part is a large armored structure that makes up the entire front of the vessel. This allows these ships to face forward at a target with armor as thick as a battleship while firing missiles around it. This armored structure only contains a few defensive rotary cannons, but for the most part that ship area is empty meaning to fight these ships frontally is an exercise of futility. While the back and sides are squishy, getting there is difficult as these vessels are noted for their incredible agility and speed even among light cruisers. That and the ship is designed to fight at ranges greater than 1 light second so most vessels find it hard to target and its sensor package is second only to dedicated EW vessels meaning it can see and target an enemy vessel at a maximum of 5 light seconds away, far beyond normal engagement ranges. With missiles tipped with 5 KT to 1 MT Cassaba Howitzers numbering in the 200s, there is little any ship can handle. They also utilize specialized missiles that "break apart" into flaming messes to overwhelm most missile defense systems so the large heavy hitters can end the target. Overall they are the main missile cruiser of the US Navy. At 275 meters long these four are called the USS Hognose, Redhorse, Quillback, and Buffalo. The next few ships are the destroyer escorts of the fleet. There are eight in total, four dedicated escorts called "Cutter" classes, and four "Teach" classes designed for rapid and aggressive raiding. While they technically have different roles, they both perform the duty of destroyer screen, focusing on anti-light ships and filling the air with enough ordinance that incoming missiles and fighters stand no chance. The four cutter classes are the dedicated defensive vessels. At a length of 200 meters, every single open area of the ship has at least one weapons system it feels like. Their main armament is nine 5-barrel rotary 4-inch chemtrail cannons dedicated to close-range devastation of lighter vessels as well as firing bursting rounds to put more burning shrapnel into the air. The rest of the ship is entirely covered by Ironstorm arrays or defensive missile VLSs loaded to the brim with intercepting missiles. Their hull is triangular in shape allowing for 6 of the main weapons to be on target at all times. While lacking any real direct firepower for ship-to-ship combat their role cannot be understated in how important it is. These four are known as the USS Bluegill, Redear, Shellcracker, and Longear. The other 4 Teach class destroyers are raider vessels. With obscenely powerful engines they work as scouts and backline disruptors when not being utilized as a defensive screen. They are 175 meters long with a flat "cornchip" shaped hull being large delta shapes. Their main weapons are the various Cassaba howitzer missiles loaded into forward-launched tubes much like a torpedo tube of old submarines. The shape also allows for all eight of their twin-barreled 6-inch chemrails to aim forward and at the same target. Then they have a few iron storm arrays and intercept missile tubes. The only downside of these vessels is that they cannot fight in a broadside configuration very efficiently so they aim their pointed nose forward and spin around a target utilizing their specialized horizontal and vertical control thrusters. These four vessels are known as the USS Largemouth, smallmouth, spotted, and Neosho. The next vessels are the two "Hellstorm" frigates known for being giant killers. At 150 meters in length, they are the longest and largest of the Frigate class of vessels. Their claim to fame is not direct firepower, which they aren''t lacking for a frigate with eight automatic 5-inch chemrails. Their main weapons are the four long-barreled M2A3 "Pheonix" class plasma weapons. Unlike science fiction plasma which is fired in small bursting globs, these work like giant flamethrowers capable of "burning" in space. Having an oversized fusion engine grants some extra heat and material to be used in these weapons. The plasma consists of hydrogen and helium superheated by the miniature sun contained within the vessel and spewed hundreds of kilometers into the void losing all color and light after a few dozen, but retaining all thermal and infrared energy until it strikes a target in which it creates a massive wall of what appears to be fire as the metal of whatever poor ship is hit begins to burn up and melt. While devastating, this alone cannot get through the armor of many of the larger vessels, instead, the danger is the heat which can quickly overwhelm the cooling systems of an enemy vessel resulting in shut-downs of important systems, hopefully weapons, and eventually either cook or explode the crew inside. These ships may be limited in range capabilities, but they have very good thrust-to-mass ratios allowing for very quick acceleration and maneuvering, along with surprisingly tough armor for their size and class. This means many an unfortunate foe has faced a bad end thanks to them. The plasma stream also serves a dual purpose of extra sensor disruption thanks to the volume of the stream. The superhot material can create a cloud in front of friendly vessels either disengaging locks or quickly intercepting missiles or shells that fly through the osmium-melting cloud of hell. These two deadly vessels are called the USS Eel and Lamprey. The next vessel actually has a pretty funny history, apparently, the design was built around an idea initially from a video game back on Earth, and it turns out it works quite well. The fleet only has one of them 100 meters long by 175 wide and 25 tall at its peak the ship is a large batwing design, and rather flat. It is an "Arsenal Bird" class drone carrier and what it does is in the name. Its direct armament is nothing but defensive turrets, the biggest being 3-inch rotary chemrails having about a dozen of those. Other than that it is covered in defensive CWIS systems. The main draw of this vessel is the literal hundreds of combat drones carried within. They are loaded into large racks like bombs in a bomb bay and are forcibly ejected out to go complete their missions. These normal "parasite" drones are armed with a 25mm rotary chemrail on a traversing turret and usually come with five interceptor missiles and at least one heavier-hitting missile, sometimes nuclear. There are also eight larger drones dedicated to proper bomber roles with two turreted 25mm cannons on dorsal and ventral sides. They are then loaded to the gills with nuclear armament or sometimes traditional explosive ordinance. These small drone crafts have two advantages, they can dodge and weave intelligently allowing them to work as reusable and smart missiles for all intents and purposes, or they can get "below" the effective arc of defensive batteries to launch their deadly payload in a flanking position. The other advantage is like the piloted fighters they can enter the atmosphere and fight there without the need of WMD class weapons that the capital ships would be required to use when attacking a planet. This ship is called the USS Heron. There are six more vessels in the fleet and they are owned and operated by the marines rather than the navy. While they technically have naval crewmen, the commanding officers are those of the Marines. All six of these vessels are 100 meters long and come armed with mostly defensive CWIS and interceptor missile tubes, but two of them have 8 6-inch automatic artillery pieces on the dorsal side for ground support. The class these ships are known as are "Boo hag" class marine transports. The artillery ones only have a complement of around 300 marines onboard, the cannons and ammo taking up a lot of space. The normal ones come with 500 Marines plus vehicles and their crews. These ships are designed to enter the atmosphere as massive drop-ships, the reason why a 100-meter ship can''t carry more marines is that most of the space is dedicated to retrograde thrusters and heat shielding for reentry. Luckily all but my artillery ones are drop-pod oriented so I don''t have to worry about a few thousand-ton ship slamming into a planet at terminal velocity. Then there is the fact that marines are... well I can deal with what they are now later. These four are called the USS Bullfrog, Peeper, Daddy''s Belt, and Toad. The last two of the marine ships are filled with deranged lunatics known as "shipbreakers". These are marines specialized in boarding actions in space. They don''t use dropships or pods to do this, instead, they cram themselves in EVA suits with an exoskeleton and a thrust pack, jump out of their ship at close range to the enemy, and fly on over. Then utilizing modern cutting tools they dismantle a ship bit by bit until they can get inside and do marine things to the poor bastards. While these two vessels do have four dropships, they are mostly for recovering their marines after an enemy vessel is made into a graveyard. This tactic was born due to necessity rather than any real genius idea. As it turns out most tracking systems see floating guys in suits as debris so they don''t usually target them in the heat of combat, and overall the main use of the shipbreakers is for capturing stations and opening docking bays for the rest of the marines to enter. Only when an enemy ship is truly caught off-guard or is disabled can these men climb aboard. Their other use is as salvaging crews to make chop-shop repairs to friendlies as well as breaking down enemy vessels so the support ships can use their materials as needed. Each one of these ships has 400 shipbreakers, the rest of the space is used for the large dropships onboard. The shipbreaker marine transports cannot enter the atmosphere due to the dropship hangars, but the dropships can enter atmosphere. These two lunatic asylums are called the USS Salamander and Newt. The last ship is the science and diplomatic one. It''s a stark white and curvy thing built almost like some great space whale. At 150 meters long it is fairly large for what it is supposed to do. It has no weapons and barely enough armor to handle space debris. A truly civilian vessel, but if the specs I am reading are right, it is much faster than most of the military fleet gathered, at least that means it won''t lag behind. Satisfied with my small fleet I okay every ship and make sure every other captain is ready to leave. All systems check green and when I double-check for them I find everything is in order. The Diplo-Colonel comes and sits next to me in her first officer position. I take a deep breath, preparing myself for the long journey ahead and I give my orders, "Translate to Waypoint Alpha-01." The navigation officer and pilot bark their affirmation and begin working in tandem to find the proper route. All exterior-facing cameras turn off as reality begins to get runny around the edges. I quickly gulp a nausea pill and wash it down with some cheap tequila I have in a flask on my hip. My vision goes blurry as the USS Catfish rips a hole between dimensions, creating a separate route folded across space and time. There is a loud thud as the Alcubierre drive comes to life and the space warps around us. Lengthening behind and shortening before. The ripped pathway made all the shorter as our base constant of speed is increased to multiple times the speed of light. The pilot looks back to me and I stand up, wanting to start this operation with some theatrics. I hold my hand forward and in a commanding tone shout, "Forward, into the void my stalkers of the space between stars! For glory or ruin we set sail! Anchors aweigh!" The pilot slams the thrust forward and I nearly hunch over as the transition from our 3D plane into a 4D one takes place. Unfortunately... I have a very high sensitivity to this kind of thing and sit down quickly, clutching my gut as we sail between stars, speeds unfathomable, to stars far and distant... ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Force Composition 1 Viking Class Large-Cruiser- USS Catfish- Role: Flagship and Fire Support 3 SF-21 Fighters- 6 support wingmen each 2 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration Marine compliment- 100 2 Preist Class Support and Fabrication Vessels- USS Shovelnose, USS Palid- Role: Auxillary Marine Compliment- 50 2 MacArthur Class Heavy Cruisers- USS Terrapin, USS Snapper- Role: Battleline 2 UD-12 Dropship Marine Compliment -100 4 Bowman Class Missile Cruisers- USS Quillback, USS Hognose, USS Redhorse, USS Buffalo-Role: Long Range Combat Marine Compliment- 100 4 Cutter Class Destroyers- USS Bluegill, USS Longear, USS Redear, USS Shellcracker- Role: Escort Marine Compliment- 80 4 Teach Class Destroyers- USS Largemouth, USS Smallmouth, USS Spotted, USS Neosho- Role: Backline Disruption Marine Compliment- 100 2 Hellstorm Class Frigates- USS Eel, USS Lamprey- Role: Naval Raiding Marine Compliment- 50 1 Arsenal Bird Class Drone Carrier- USS Heron- Role: Drone Carrier 400 MQ-25 "Parasite" attack Drones 20 MQ-30 "Plover" Bomber Drones Marine Compliment-25 6 Boohag Class Marine Transports- USS Bullfrog, USS Peeper, USS Daddys Belt, USS Toad, USS Newt, USS Salamander- Role: Marines 8 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration 1200 Marines 800 Shipbreakers 4 M3A1 "Stonewall" MBT 24 M8A3 "Gavin" IFVs 8 M112 MRTWP (Multi-role Transport Weapons Platform) 12 M8 "Bunny" Fast Attack/Recon Vehicles Total Force: 26 Capital Vessels 12 Dropships 3 Manned Fighters 420 Drone Fighters 2505 Marines (Including Shipbreakers) 48 Ground IFVs (Crews included) __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Operation ET: A Nauseating Journey I stay slumped in my commanding chair trying to focus on not throwing up. Apparently, it''s a genetic thing when someone can''t handle the process of translocation. Something about the inside of a singularity causes intense vertigo and nausea for people with the same genetic trait. Even if I have zero vertigo or motion sickness normally, this type of travel always screws with me. Even the normal Alcubierre drives don''t cause this effect, just the singularity one. The only good part is that all of this feeling goes away as soon as we return to normal 3D space. Due to the maximum range per translocation, we will only be in this state for a few days at most between stops to recharge. We could try to go the old way, utilizing only the Alcubierre, but that would take a legitimate century or more to make it out of human space. I sit there with my biological hand covering my face and my metal arm resting on the arm of my chair with my hand held high where I continuously flick my fingers causing a loud metallic scraping to sound out. At least the bridge is lively meaning the sound probably isn''t bothering anybody, that I care if I bother or not. Apparently, though it is bothering the shit out of the Diplo-Colonel considering how she takes an irritated deep breath every time I do it. While the rest of the bridge crew is either doing their standard checks or entertaining themselves with onboard entertainment, there is one rule, and that is no headphones. One can play sound directly into their neural implant if they have it, but nothing is allowed to cover one''s ears according to Naval code. This is because FTL is boring if you don''t have sensitivity, then is it sickening. Once FTL is engaged, especially the singularity drive, nothing really can be done. Sensors don''t work because the ship is moving faster than the signals are at that point, and in the singularity drives 4th-dimensional corridor, nothing can really come in or out. All there is to do aside from dealing with onboard systems is stare at the number counting down how long the translocation or jump has left. Thus the ship''s AI allows for seamen to access large databases of media once it deems their ship-side tasks have been handled first during these periods of long nothing. Eventually, Shariah seems to snap and she carefully, with restrained annoyance asks, "Commodore... you look unwell. Perhaps you should consider retiring back to your bedroom? I think it''s all good up here. This bridge crew is nothing but handpicked veterans." I open my mouth to speak and instead, a horrid belching sound comes out and I taste the cinnamon whiskey from many hours ago.I groan and finally manage to say in a low tone, "I will remain in this seat for the duration of this translocation. I doubt standing up is a good option for me at the moment." She kinda giggles at this but quickly stops as I scrape my fingers again. She then decides to take advantage of the situation by giving me a very diplomatic scolding, "Well, Commodore Hollander, as your first officer and the second in command of this entire operation it is my duty to take care of all diplomatic matters. Looking at your right hand and its current state and after reading your file I''m sure you''ll let me handle it as I wish. Considering you managed to cause a diplomatic incident as well as lost your hand and 40% of the skin on your body, I think you are not qualified for any diplomatic work. So I think we should discuss...." Her voice fades from my consciousness as my ears begin to ring and my vision blurs while my head spins. I exasperatedly choke out, "Diplo-Colonel... shut the fuck up." She freezes in offense at my statement and before she can respond I say in a terrible watery tone, "Just please. I can''t handle it. I have about the worst sensitivity to this shit as anyone can. The anti-nausea pills aren''t doing shit and I think the AI is monitoring my BAC so I can''t drink myself to sleep. Go bother comms or something... or go take a nap in your room. You may be dismissed to go do girl stuff or whatever...I will sit here and wallow in... this state." The biggest problem right now is that the Admiral put the BAC monitoring on this ship. Normally I drink until I can fall asleep or until the nausea pills work. I even shot a message down to the ship''s doctor but they denied my request for more potent medicines. This translocation will take three days... three days of this and multiple months-long deployment while being unable to save myself. Shariah leaves after saying something in bitch-speak and the bridge crew continues doing what they do. No one approaches out of pity, everyone''s first translocation feels like this, but your body is supposed to get used to it, so they all know what I''m going through and really feel for me. Thankfully it very rarely affects my command capability, and if it does I have the pilot and communications officers lined up as my replacement if something needs my attention during a translocation. The Diplo-colonel cannot be used in this manner because she isn''t Navy and none of the officers respect her. While wallowing in my terrible state I reach an epiphany. Using my neural link I compose a short text message and send it down to engineering, where potentially my angel of the machines can come and rescue me. It takes only a few minutes before Ceciel Grant appears next to my command seat. She does look rather flustered and unsure about herself coming onto te bridge. I kinda forgot to tell her in my message why I wanted her so she might think she is in trouble. To solve this I quietly say to her, "Please...seaman...can you adjust the onboard AI''s rules? I''ll give you my privileges. I have FTL sensitivity and the drugs aren''t working fast enough." She stares at me dumbfounded for a moment before she nods and gets behind my console. She hooks herself onto the system and I authorize her access. I watch her work for a moment before she unplugs with a long sigh before explaining, "I''m sorry Commodore. It''s just not happening. The AI is one of the newer generations so it can''t be tricked or hacked. If I had months then I probably could do something about it, but considering your condition I doubt that''s an option. What I did manage though is I convinced the AI to allow for the usage of multiple stronger medications, but after that it''s up to the doctor if they will give them to you. I''m sorry sir, but that''s all I can do." I groan and reply, "It''s alright. Nothing on you. Dismissed." She salutes and scuttles away back into the bowels of the ship. I remain seated and send another request to the ship''s doctor who denies me faster than I expected. I guess they were waiting for me. I then hear heavy footfalls approach, large armored boots slamming against the rubberized floor. I get another wave of bad nausea so I can''t look up as someone else stands in front of me. I am starting to get frustrated that people are bothering me so I choke out, "Who are you and what do you want?" A female voice, partially distorted through a speaker says, "Sir, your knight in shining armor has arrived. Sergeant Louise Ritter is here to take you to your room." I groan, "I didn''t request this." She laughs heartily and responds, "No, but the doctor, Diplo-colonel, and a few bridge crewmen recommended it. A few said they served with you before and they said you''re going through it." I don''t respond I just nod and start to stand, but before I can a pair of massive armored arms cradle me like a baby and I am lifted out of my chair into the metallic embrace of a marine in full armor. Her face is covered by the heavy metal mask but for a moment I look up at her and with all my might I joke, "Mommy, can we go play in the park tomorrow?" I hear the marine laugh as she begins easily carrying me away. I am not a small man by any measure. I am around 6''4ish and about 190 lbs of mostly lean meat. The marine carrying me, as a woman, outside of her armor is probably a good 6''8 and 300-400 lbs of nothing but raw muscle and some skeletal reinforcements. While it is true there isn''t a human alive that isn''t genetically modified in some manner, usually done as a preventative medical procedure, some humans are more than others. This last war against our fellow humans saw some pretty terrible infantry-against-infantry combat. People are just sacks of blood and meat, and there is only so much armor and guns you can make someone carry, even if assisted by an exoskeleton. While we do have FTL, powered armor is still tricky. It works in zero-G really well, but in normal gravity, there is a threshold where it starts breaking the wearer''s bones and joints regardless of how well it was designed. So in the end you could only get a person 2-5X stronger than normal. While impressive it came with a drawback the stronger it was, the more clunky the movements of the wearer would be as they attempted to compensate with the enhanced speed and strength, which in the end created slow-moving, not very agile, and expensive marines and soldiers. Something had to be done. If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. This resulted in a super-soldier program that really did well and wasn''t too much of a scandal and controversy. The program was only okayed for the Marines and special forces and was entirely voluntary. As a Corps of the military, the Marines need more than just combat units so anyone in the Marines who didn''t want to become enhanced would simply work as support staff or pilots. As for spec ops, all of those guys are enhanced and want to be. The process isn''t more painful than any other surgery and drug cycle so that wasn''t a problem. The controversy was that the process isn''t reversible and due to some strange genetic shenanigans, the super soldier traits are able to be passed down to the kids of the person enhanced. This was solved through 2 means. First, the one being enhanced has at least 3 kids'' worth of genetic material stored for later, and second, upon retirement, if their service ended in an honorable discharge or they just plain retired they pay 80% less federal taxes than everyone else, so they can take home much more money from their future employment. The genetic enhancements are done through direct gene manipulation with some special mixture containing either nano-bots or viruses. Then the marine is put into a short coma inside an artificial womb and they are born again after about two weeks with a completely altered makeup, making sure the surgically enhanced muscles and bones stick no matter how much or little they train or injure themselves. The only reversible parts are the cybernetic enhancements which are either removed or replaced with civilian-rated stuff so the discharged super soldier is far more manageable to deal with. The enhancements given to these volunteers are insane. Their muscles are made more dense, their skeleton is reinforced with some medical composites that give them bird-like torsion resistance while still keeping the mammalian compression resistance which is even further expanded by the composites. They have heightened senses, a faster but not necessarily smarter working brain, and they are immune to most poisons. I guess they can also digest most biological matter now too. On average the enhancements the marines get give them a 4-5X human physical capability in speed, strength, agility, flexibility, and reflexes. Due to this, they can be strapped into more potent powered armor because their bones and joints are more reinforced making these monsters far more powerful. Their tech enhancements give them night vision and thermal vision, and they have built-in medical systems. They are overall the current standard perfect soldiers. Also, it makes the Marines act more like Marines. This is horrifying because there is a non-zero chance I''m about to be sexually abused by the sergeant carrying me to my room, and I truly could not do a thing about it if that is the case, not that I''d complain... aside from facial looks which cannot be changed through the augments, the bodies on those enhanced women... The thought nearly makes me puke because I stop focusing on not throwing up. I lie back in the giant woman''s arms and let out a defeated groan. I hear the armored woman giggle inside her helmet as passersby give us strange looks. Eventually, I am brought into my room where the sergeant undoes my boots and then tucks me into bed. I bundle myself in and ask in a child-like voice, "Can you tell me a story before you leave?" She laughs heartily and responds, "I''m sorry dear, I''ve got things to do. I''ll send someone to come check in on you later." I laugh, choke on bile, and then respond, "Thank you, Marine. This will be reported to your CO. Dismissed." She salutes and leaves me alone in my little room where I try to sleep... After two weeks of jumps and rests I managed to survive in my room. For the few hours the ship is in regular space to recharge I do a walk around the ship and make sure everyone is okay. It''s so odd how immediately the symptoms go away upon leaving the 4th dimension. I make my way back to the bridge, I already know where we are. It''s the final space station of civilized human space, beyond it is nothing but barely charted star systems. This void between the US and the aliens is hundreds of lightyears apart with millions of stars and billions of planets in between. The only civilizations that we know of in this area are small start-up colonies or people who wish to live alone. This station is known as Fort Blackjack because the only inhabited planet within the system it orbits is a hellish den of gambling this area of space is yet to be fully integrated into US statehood so right now it is frontier and a territory granting them the special right to self-govern which they used to become gamblers. The fort though is part of the US so federal law binds those onboard. When I get to the bridge I order a shuttle to be prepared as the ships are recharging. I wish to come to the station to see an old friend. The Diplo-Colonel decides to follow me onto the station for some reason beyond my understanding. She probably just wondered what I was up to considering I just spent nearly 2 weeks laying around in a very miserable state. I allow her to follow at her own risk, and I give her fair warning about the man I am about to meet. She seemingly thinks my warning is empty and I am simply trying to shake her off. I shrug and enjoy my short flight. The shuttles do not have artifical gravity due to their size meaning only about 1 m/s^2 of gravity could be created within. The zero-Gs are great for decompressing my back so I love these short journeys. We eventually dock and enter the dimly lit station. These fronteir stations tend to be as basic and spartan as posisble. We walk through the dark halls over metal grate covering various pipes and electrical conduits. Distantly gasses hiss from leaky pipes andthe great steel bulk of the station groan under the gravitational and vacuum forces of space. The reactor at the center feels like a giant heartbeat reverberating through the near silent halls. If I didn''t know better I''d think this was some horror movie rather than cheapest bidder construction, plus the halls are clean despite being bare, there is not a single spot of rust or misplaced tool anywhere as expected. Eventually I make it to the command spire in the center of the ring-like station and turn to Shariah right in front of the door. I tell her, "We are meeting the commanding officer of this installation. You are not the queen of this court. At best we are jesters here, so either laugh at everything or stay quiet." She gives me an overly confident look and puffs out her impressive chest and I simply sigh, having already predicted how this will all play out. I hide my emotions as I step inside the command room. The marine by the door shouts in a voice only a superhuman can, "Commodore Hollander, on deck!" The command crew stands and salutes me and I return the gesture as I approach a raised center area where a monstrous man sits. I stand below it and hold a salute as I hear him tap away at an old mechanical keyboard from centuries ago. He taps with one finger at a time in a slow and almost painful manner. I wait holding my salute as the rest of the crew continues their work. Eventually the man finishes his typing and spins his chair around revealing a clean shaven man with a rock-hard jawline. His hair is snow white and the only way one can tell his advanced age is the creases at the corners of his eyes. He sees me and keeps a stoic expression and salutes me lazily. He looks over at Shariah and then to me before asking in a completely flat tone, "Commodore Hollander... it appears you have impressed me once more..." His facade breaks and a dumb smile crosses his expression as he continues, "I can''t beleive my little Hollander finally got himself a squeeze, and one of them fancy pleasure worlders too! Probably got that one on your leave after the war, how much was your first night with her? Regardless I''m so proud of you boy, you make me wish you were my actual grandson!" My facade breaks as I can see Shariah go through all the stages of greif in less than a second. This is a constant joke in the Navy, all paradise-worlds are quite lax in their laws when it comes to... pleasure activities. While federally prostitution is illegal, there is some laxness when it comes to state to state laws on the matter. While untrue for most, the long standing legend remains as a funny hazing ritual against fresh academy officers, telling them to approach the normally scantilly clad paradise worlders and ask for a good night with a fistful of cash. It always ends comedically. I smile and respond to the man in the center, "Rear Admiral Hollander, it''s great to see you too. Unfortunately for the Diplo-Colonel here I am not looking for someone with such a loud mouth." Despite our shared last names, Rear Admiral Hollander and I are not related in any way, or not in any recent lineage type of way. He is from one of the near-earth systems, I don''t know which one though, he never said. Plus our genetics are clearly different. My build is more wiry and my hair is brown and I have dark blue eyes. The Rear Admiral has always had white hair since he was born, is built like a refrigerator, and has yellowish hazel eyes. He is also my mentor of many years, someone thought it was funny to make me his first officer. He keeps his warm smile before asking, "I knew a fleet was coming through but I had no idea it was you until you got here. What brings you out here?" I respond, "I don''t know exactly how much I am supposed to tell you, but simply put we are on a diplomatic and scientific mission to alien space." His face immediately shifts to a more serious and neutral one before asking, "Are you sure you''ll be okay going back there again? After what happened?" I nod remembering reading the report of what he did after my bloody and still-cooking body was brought back onboard. I shake it from my mind reminding myself now is not the time to think about that. I continue, "I''ll be good. All I have to do is play taxi and send some marines to work as muscle." He nods satisifed and asks, "And I assume the Diplo-Colonel is head of the diplomatic side of the operation?" She nods in response with a salute. There is a long pause before the Rear Admiral asks with a grin, "So Commodore, it''s a nearly month long journey to alien space. How are you going to hold up." I clutch my chest as if I were having a hear attack and speak in a fake Southern-Belle voice and it sounds scarily realistic, "My dear heart can''t handle much more my gentleman. I have been banned from my normal activities of drunken stupor and the doctor has banned the usage of stronger medicne for me. Please, if you would, help little ol me out." He chuckles and responds, "Yeah, I''ll send the authority through to allow a much higher BAC than normal. I don''t know if I can do a full override. As for meds go to the hospital onboard my station and they''ll fill a stronger perscription for you." I salute the old man who returns the gesture, understanding this is his version of telling me I am dismissed. I turn on my heel and march out with the Diplo-Colonel following me, with a dumbfounded expression on her face, still reeling from the ramblings of a man older than two centuries... Operation ET: Journeys End
With new meds, I can actually function for the last leg of the journey. Of course, my appetite is ruined and I get bad headaches all the time, but I can do my actual duties as a Commodore and command the fleet. Everything goes along well. The Diplo-Colonel and I ignore one another except when we need some work done or something grabbed for the other. I get closer to the crew, choosing to eat in the main mess rather than the officer''s mess which I think is just a waste of space. I highly recommend to the onboard officers to eat in the main mess so we can convert the officers one to storage or something. Measuring it out, the space taken up for it is about thirty low-yield nuclear missiles or a bunch of ammo for various weapons batteries. Rather than taking the many months long journey like I had done long ago when I first entered Alien space, we are making a direct route toward the destination we reached back then, the only place humans have yet to visit in alien space, and with that we only sent a few ships out there to distantly listen in and sometimes talk back to them. Somehow this has resulted in a degradation of relations which were non-existent. Overall this journey shouldn''t be too horrible all things considered. The Catfish only has a single observation deck. It looks like a small ridge along the dorsal part of the bow of the ship and is made up of some impressive ablating clear material. It really only has room for three or four guys at most and it''s real role is for when the cameras are destroyed and someone can sit up here and sorta direct the ship usually for docking or basic maneuvering when the ship is blinded. The small observation deck also seals off from the rest of the ship when combat is going on because as cool as the clear material is, it''s much weaker than the rest of the ship''s armor. During one of our stops to recharge somewhere in the middle of deep space, I sit alone in the observation deck admiring the strange beauty of the void. It''s strange how dark space becomes when you aren''t within a solar system. This location is in the completely empty void between stars bathing the fleet in endless and complete darkness aside from the light produced by ships'' thrusters or the small navigation lights. The observation deck has no internal lighting leaving me alone in the dark. I sip on a cola and lean back in the observation chair enjoying the dark and peace. Every breath I take is deafening inside the enclosed space, the only other sound being a deep rumble from a nearby maneuvering thruster that sounds out every few minutes. My peaceful solitude is interrupted by the entry hatch opening up and the Diplo-Colonel finishes climbing up the ladder. I sigh knowing that my relaxation time is now over, unfortunately. I don''t say anything because I don''t want to. She sits in one of the chairs behind me and her breathing adds to mine in the silent room. I continue ignoring her as I access the ship''s systems with my implant and see how long we have until the next jump. It ends up being a few more minutes before all ships are ready. I sigh in disappointment and then ask, "Alright...What do you want?" The woman acts oblivious for a second until the silence seems to bother her. She then replies, "I''ve just never been on a military vessel this long... I don''t know what to do on board. You''re the most senior officer behind some of the engineering crew, but they are technophiles so they always have something to pass the time with, and I''m not hanging out with the marines... even if the sergeant on board is technically the longest serving member of this crew. I just want to see what you do in your free time when you aren''t holding in your guts." I stay quiet for a moment before replying, "This right here is a rare treat for me. I usually find myself working through these short breaks. I study charts, the mission, and past missions with similar goals, check ship diagnostics, and play simulated situations based on past combat data. I get this stargazing break because there is no data on these aliens other than the very short passing conflict we had during first contact. If I''m not working I''m either here, working out, or praying." I hear her make a sharp breath inward in surprise at the last part. She asks, "You''re religious? I didn''t take the drunken commodore as the prayer type." I grunt and respond, "Look into the stars... see their beauty and understand the intricate balance that their existence requires... that alone is proof enough for me. Plus... there is no such thing as an atheist when your ship is venting atmosphere and still taking fire. I won''t discuss religion any further, it is against the Naval code." She continues without missing a beat, "So tell me about yourself, Commodore, there is so much your record doesn''t tell... plus most of your file is blacked out. Even I can''t see much of your past." I shrug and answer, "Well, looks like you''ll continue not knowing much about me then. I asked for my file to be made classified, it was granted because I am friends with someone at the CIA. Plus there is something about me that does need to get expunged from records... regardless, I don''t feel like telling you anything about myself." She grunts in frustration before asking, "Why do you dislike me so much?" I turn around with a look of disbelief on my face before asking, "Are you fucking with me right now?" She shakes her head and responds, "Well... no. I am simply trying to understand who you are. Asking why you dislike me can help me understand you better. Plus it''s not like we have any bad blood..." I laugh loudly at this statement and respond, "No... I can''t say I dislike you. I don''t like you, but I don''t dislike you. I don''t like you because you not only questioned me in front of my officers but also it wasn''t reasonable. It''s one thing to say something like that in private, and it may annoy me but I probably wouldn''t have had a problem with it if we had been alone. Truthfully, I''m happy you''re taking all the diplomatic duties, thats a weight off of my chest! The problem is that it was in front of everyone. Also, what would make you think I don''t have bad blood with you?" She furrows her brow and responds, "Well, you showed your displeasure and arrested me, that''s even with my disrespect... if that''s what it was. I simply thought I was being assertive and making sure they understood I was in charge of the diplomatic aspect. I mean there is no way they would think I outrank you..." It takes me a bit to process what the fuck she just said. I mean the bad blood part makes sense, can''t complain about that part, I guess we are even. The problem is her mental gymnastics. I sigh as I mentally dig through all the information I have access to about the Diplomatic Corps. After a moment I can answer, "Okay... that may be how you make power plays in the Diplomatic Corps, all those backhanded meanings and whatever. I don''t understand it and I may need to do some research on it, but that''s not how the Navy works." I completely spin my chair around so I am facing her, despite her clearly being unable to see in the near-total darkness of the observation deck. With a sigh, I explain, "We are in a Naval vessel, in a naval fleet. I am the highest commanding officer of the navy in this fleet. Not only that, but I am also a Joint Command guy which gives me some more respect from the Marines. We are dozens, if not hundreds of lightyears from the nearest person higher in rank than me. With FTL communications it would take days for us to receive any orders and that will be in Morse code. As far as everyone but the science crew is concerned I am basically God made manifest. What you did in front of my officers is practically heresy. This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. The biggest problem is it completely destroyed your reputation with the crew and the officers. Even through my sickness I''ve heard the whispers and have received multiple DM''s from the officers letting me know how little they think of you. First, you showed up late to the meeting I called. In the Navy, you show up to those unless the doctor has you literally strapped down in bed. Second, you interrupted my speech and tried to assume control of my meeting, that is not okay, just straight disrespect. Lastly, I''ve heard you''ve acted high and mighty to career officers and NCOs. That is a big No-No. Even if you were Navy, you are too young, despite your higher rank their age grants them a level of respect even from us of a higher rank." She nods along listening and then explains, "I see. In the Diplomatic Corps, it is a constant game of trying to become higher or better than someone. Old age is a disadvantage, not an advantage, and acting anything less than high and mighty is a sign of weakness and should be taken advantage of. Can you send me a write-up of the Naval code of conduct, if there isn''t an official one then please can you give me some material to review?" I sigh with a slight smile, sending a DM to an old NCO on board to compile the cultural norms on board a Naval vessel. He answers in the affirmative before I continue to my next point, "There is one more problem. If you haven''t noticed there are no other paradise worlders on board... well maybe with the machine cultists but they are categorized differently than the rest of us." She looks in my general direction with a questioning face and then asks almost angrily, "Is... is Planetary Discrimination a massive problem on board your vessels?" I shake my head and answer, "No... and it''s not just my vessel. Since I''m guessing you''ve never been off your homeworld I will let you in on this secret. No one respects Paradise Worlders. They value them, but there isn''t much respect. Even the safest and most temperate Agricultural planet offers far greater dangers and trials than the paradise worlds. Not only this, but the base quality of life in a paradise world is about what an upper-class individual will live in most other worlds. Everyone, even the most bleeding-hearted people, has some sort of discriminatory mindset against those from paradise worlds, especially with specific genetic lineages." She rubs her chin and responds, "Genetic lineage... I am half Arphodite and half Sirine... what does that mean for me?" I truly couldn''t tell what her genetic lineage was, all I knew was that she was from one of the aesthetically pleasing ones, considering she is an utterly beautiful woman. Now certain aspects of her make sense, especially her nearly intoxicating voice. Through time planets will develop their own individual genetic lines, unless they are a massive hub of travel and immigration. Every planet that has been inhabited for over 150 years tends to have a genetic trend. Some planets even have specific genetic traits edited into the genome of those who live there in order to adapt them to their new home. It''s usually not extreme, mostly skin and eye color as adaptations to the intensity of the star above the planet, but some planets do require more specialized genetics. This was a problem in the past, but eventually, there was a "standard" for humans. This is a standard that keeps genetic mods from getting out of hand, especially when it''s an entire population and there is a certain level of deviation that is allowed before the person is no longer considered "standard". Marines are not in this standard. Generally, if mods create an average height above 6''5 or below 5''4 it isn''t standard. Any special abilities are not standard like camouflaging skin or bioluminescence. Weight is a little more difficult, but the density of muscle is a big part as no one cares about fat. This standard was actually developed for interplanetary athletic competitions but eventually became a medical thing. The only non-standard mods that are overlooked is bone-reinforcement which decreases the chance of bone breaks, and vision mods so long as they do not grant any form of optical zoom. Of course, editing out genetic diseases is considered standard. Then are the designer genetic lineages. These are creations made for very specific roles or jobs. These are largely illegal as it''s unconstitutional to deny someone opportunities in life based on gene editing. While it''s one hundred percent legal once a person is a consenting adult, there is some argument that editing is quite limited at that point, even with the reactivation of stem cells and the use of artificial wombs in adult size. There are some religious exemptions to this, but those are on thin ice. The designer lineages of course still exist as some continue to reproduce only with similar lineages in order to maintain "purity". The Arphodite and Sirine lineages are examples of Paradise World designer lineages. The Aphrodite being very beautiful, without blemish, and having wonderful proportions, make up most actors in film and nearly all fashion models. The Sirine somehow were granted genetically perfect voices. While not hypnotic like the monster they get their name from, almost all major musical artists in the last three centuries have been of this lineage. Due to enhanced lung capacity to help with singing, they are pretty good divers too. The Sirine also seem to be good orators and make for great public speakers. When these two mix together it creates the perfect diplomat, a pretty face mixed with a hauntingly beautiful voice. They aren''t discriminated against for what they do, or their looks, but what they represent, even if it''s not their fault. For one, they physically have trouble dealing with harsh environments in which people look down upon them for being fragile flowers, they also have a standard quality of life that is considered strictly upper class in even some of the nicest agricultural worlds, and finally, their lineage is a relic of a rather dark time in human history. All these things aren''t strictly the fault of those within these genetic lineages, but sometimes they really do live up to stereotypes and make it hard to not dislike them. It''s also not like every other planet is poor and the standard quality of life is bad elsewhere aside from the shittiest of planets, it''s just that paradise worlds tend to have really nice standards, at the cost of tax dollars. So everyone dislikes them, to some extent. If you haven''t met one, you are envious and dislike them, after you meet a few dozen you learn it actually is in their culture to be assholes. They are practically a whole race of spoiled rich kids. I sigh and explain to the woman, "Both of those are fine enough, and I do not allow open discrimination on my vessels. The crew and the officers are allowed to dislike you for what you are, behind closed doors and in their heads, but when on duty that is a punishable offense as it is against the naval code. All it means is that you''ll be fighting uphill when it comes to gaining their respect. While they will be obedient to your orders, they won''t respect you until you earn it. Plus you''re young and not navy, so good luck. I will try my best to keep the peace, but you have to help yourself to help me. It''s not a matter of liking you or not, it''s a matter of discipline." She nods and thinks for a moment before asking, "You seem to command a lot of respect with the officers and crew... but you''re quite young. How is this? Other than being Navy." I laugh fairly hard and respond, "Oh shit I forget sometimes most of my personal information has been classified or expunged from records... I''ll say this, I''m sixty-four." She stares at me in confused horror for a second before asking, "How in the hell..." I respond shortly, "Classified mostly, but I am from one of them savage worlds, and bred to survive." She nods in understanding. There are many classifications of rocky planets, nearly all of them colloquial. The three actual classes are habitable, meaning they are capable of carrying life, then are dead worlds which are planets whose cores have stopped like Mars. These planets are static and are usually cold and dead but are capable of being terraformed for lots of money and decades of time. The last class is primordial which are planets that are still forming and stabilizing, these are usually uninhabitable for long-term human habitation due to their ever-shifting nature. A savage world is a type of habitable planet known for being incredibly hostile to human life for many reasons while still maintaining a fully diverse biosphere. My home was a special case even among the other rare and special savage worlds. Regardless any genetic lineage designed to thrive and survive on these planets tends to be quite hardy, but are still of course standard humans. Although my kind has two special things, one is very long lives with a maximum of 200 years being the max-age we know of, but past 120 we begin to decline in health quickly, even with modern medicine. The second is a slight adaptation of our eyes allowing some sensitivity to infrared light. While it isn''t full night vision, it is supplemental to our rather keen normal visible light vision. It helps us see in low-light environments and sometimes see certain colors and patterns better than others. She goes to ask what line I am from but I interrupt her with a quick statement, "Let''s head back to the bridge. We are about to shove off again." She tries to speak but quietly follows obediently as we march through the clean and clinical corridors of the vessel... I stand on the bridge as the big screen counts down the time left in this final translocation. I keep calm and say to the crew, "Prepare for contact upon jumping. Do not power weapons or do anything threatening. We are guests here and we are putting our best foot forward. Let the Diplo-Colonel and the science team do all of the talking and we should be fine. We are glorified taxi drivers on this mission... hopefully. " There are murmurs of affirmation and the sense of apprehension is palpable in the air. Everyone is nervous about meeting aliens for the first time, and after many of the officers shared my medical report, they are worried about the hostile environment surrounding us. 5... 4... 3... 2... 1... Destination reached The screens turn back on and we are in deep space, but within the same system, I found myself in over five years ago now. We take a moment for all ships to enter the system before I give the order to fire up the Alcubierre drive and head toward the predetermined meeting place. I flick my metal fingers again, rather than the satisfying scraping sound there is instead the gentle flick of cloth as I am wearing gloves in my full dress uniform. I pull at my tight collar and adjust my tricorn hat. As the stars lengthen in front of us I prepare to meet extraterrestrials another time... hopefully I don''t lose a limb this time... Operation ET: Second Contact The stars are suddenly back to their proper shape and in the distance, I can see a familiar marble floating in the void. We warped in double the distance of Earth''s moon from the designated meeting planet. The meeting was planned, but they never gave us a proper distance to show up. So we did what we believed was respectful. It takes us less than two seconds to spot and ping all space traffic in the area. It''s quite busy this time around with multiple vessels well over 1 Km in length. In tandem with the ships'' AI identification systems, the various sensor arrays designate only about twenty of the ships to be military vessels based on what is believed to be weapon hardpoints externally mounted on the vessels. Considering the very limited knowledge of these aliens these may not be weaponry at all. Regardless they are flagged on the sensor array. We wait in the void for a while, I order all vessels to sit in formation at this distance away. It seems we are not spotted for a while, I then make the call after discussing it with the Diplo-Colonel. I order all vessels to remain at weapons ready, but not general quarters. I also order them to stay back here in the void while I take the science vessel and the USS Catfish forward. I decide to take it slow and have both vessels constantly emit a friendly message in broadband toward the alien vessels. It takes about an hour before the Catfish is struck with a very direct and high-energy transmission, very similar to the one from my previous experience. This time we are able to receive it and patch it into our comms despite its very alien nature. It connects us with whatever vessel has rung us up. There is no video on screen as we still don''t have this type of communication fully understood yet. I step away from my console and let the Diplo-Colonel do her job. The voice coming through is auto-translated by the ship''s AI based on the language we picked up from that one poor bastard we kidnapped five years ago during my questionable first contact. It''s still a bit patchy, but we can get a general idea of what is being said. The voice is masculine sounding and calm this time around, "Welcome back travellers from the great void. I am known as Shipmaster Blessed by the Sun, Viscount Kharl (sounds like Carl) of the Eternal Kingdom. You may refer to me as Shipmaster Kharl for ease of communication." I somewhat cringe at the title finding it strange, but we are different cultures. I can see all of the bridge crew are listening with great interest. Shariah then replies, her voice being translated back to the aliens, "Greetings Shipmaster. I am Diplomatic Colonel Shariah Jamestown of the United States of America. For your own convenience, you may refer to me as Miss Jamestown, Diplomatic Colonel, or Diplo-colonel Jamestown." There is a pause and then the voice replies, "Thank you, Miss Jamestown. Am I to believe the term Diplomatic Colonel is your rank?" She responds, "That is correct." There is another substantial pause before the shipmaster asks, "Am I to assume, by the naming of your rank your duty is as a foreign diplomat? For my understanding alone, as I believe your grasp of our most noble language is still shaky, what are your, or your family''s holdings? This is so I may correctly offer you the proper respect." Shariah looks at me for a second and she mutes the mic to ask me, "What do you think he means by this Commodore?" I shrug and respond, "You have a far better dossier over their society than I do. This is greatly out of my wheelhouse. If I have to interpret his words... I think he''s trying to size you up based on his own society''s culture. Considering the translator told us he is a Viscount, a noble rank, just answer your... well holdings or something. Like what you own." She shrugs and unmutes responding, "My rank is not based on the lands or property of me or my family. My rank is simply my duty." The Shipmaster quickly replies with a surprising amount of excitement, "Ah! So you are some manner of Gentry. " I make a quick mental check on the AI to see if there is an error in translation for that last word. I get a definition meaning a higher class individual. What he actually said was a nearly five-syllable long word that has the closest meaning to Gentry. The AI also states the components of the long word could mean non-landholding nobility, but Gentry is the closest in the English language despite the archaic nature of the word. Shariah doesn''t miss a beat and responds, "I believe that... is close enough to my station... possibly. I believe further discussion and cultural exchange is needed to truly understand these things." The Shipmasters voice, now sounding more jovial responds, "Of course M''lady. I will make sure you are brought to my grand vessel as soon as possible. Will you be taking any escorts with you?" She looks at me and I shrug. She then responds, "Yes, I will be taking with me a superior officer... higher ranking individual, and two escorts military personnel. Is that alright with you Shipmaster?" There is a pause and he replies questioningly, "You are not the highest rank in your ship? Why is it that they do not speak and you do? " She responds cheerily, "This individual is more of a military sort and less of a diplomat like myself. He isn''t great with words." She motions for me to interject and I make my presence known, "Greetings Shipmaster. I am Commodore Barnabas Hollander, if I am not mistaken, my rank is as shipmaster of the vessel before you." I can practically hear the shipmaster explode with joy as he replies, "It is very nice to meet you... um... Com...Oh... Dore... I will be quite happy to bring you onboard my most brilliant vessel!" I stay silent and Shariah takes the conversation back, "Yes, the Commodore seemingly is also quite happy to come along. How will we be transported?" The Shipmaster replies, "My scribes tell of the last time our two nations met, so I believe bringing a small vessel out to you in order to properly ferry you and your retinue onboard will be proper." Shariah responds, "That would be lovely. I look forward to meeting you face-to-face... but please give us a moment to get ourselves ready to meet with you. Also, your small ship should maneuver to meet on the starboard side of our vessel. There will be red lights designating this site as our orientations in space may be different." The Shipmaster gives us a farewell and the stream of radiation stops and the comms are silent. I sigh and say to Shariah, "We have to go get EVA suits on now. Let''s head to the armory and grab two marines. As we walk through the ship halls I start a discussion, "So, we are boarding their vessel, what for? Why am I coming?" She replies, "We are simply knocking on the door and making ourselves known. They seemingly put lots of emphasis on social rank so our two highest-ranking officers will board. We will open dialogue with their leadership, try to get permission for a full cultural and scientific exchange through our science team, and then we will see from there. At least that is my plan so far. All we need right now is a good... second impression and then we will have the civilian scientists and diplomats take over from there... of course, I will be alongside the diplomats, but that''s for the future. Right now let''s play nice, get into their good graces, and then you can stay on your ship or maybe go sightseeing on the planet." I nod silently as we enter the armory. I had sent a mental message to two marine sergeants as we headed to the armory. The two hulking modified humans stand in attention awaiting our arrival. They salute us and we return the gesture as we quickly pull the EVA suits over our dress uniforms. Once on they compress around our bodies fitting comfortably and sealing us away. I pull the fishbowl helmet over my head, somehow managing to keep my tricorn hat on underneath with less than a centimeter of room between it and the clear polymer. Shariah is wearing a cool black and gray suit, differing from my navy blue. I attach a small ranking insignia onto my chest and then affix a pistol to my hip. Shariah notices it and asks, "Why would you bring a gun? We have the Marines." I shake my head and respond, "As much as I trust the Jarheads, I like to keep a piece on me at all times." She nods and then asks, "That one looks old... what is it?" I give her a wide grin and immediately explain the gun to her, "This is a Model 3-25M. It may look vaguely like a hammerless version of the ancient Colt 1851 Navy with a slightly elongated cylinder but that is by design. It is actually a very modern pistol. Utilizing 10x20mm caseless telescoped superposed ammunition twin stacked and fired electronically it has a fairly average 12-round capacity. Upon each trigger pull the cylinder seals against the barrel for better ballistic performance and after every 2 shots the cylinder rotates for the next two shots. Each round is capable of zipping by at a whopping 583 m/s. Every bullet is a palladium-plated round composed of lead with an osmium penetrating rod in the center with a specialized cavitating front allowing this bullet to handle targets with or without body armor. This weapon balances the elegance of those distant times and utilitarian modern technologies. I''ll admit though, this gun is quite a bit larger than it needs to be, and due to the really hot rounds and no recoil compensation the recoil can be a little uncontrollable but I do love it." She scoffs before walking out of the armory. One of the marines says, "Sir, if it means anything I think it''s really cool." Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site. I laugh and give the big man a nod. I''ll admit this gun isn''t exactly the most efficient choice of weapon, but this one is kinda personal. I had it sent to the armory here for general repairs and cleaning by the armorer. The metal is a shiny silver and the grip is made of a very ornate and reddish wood from my homeworld. It''s not engraved or anything but it is very stylish. It''s a product of a cultural movement in the USA that started about 40 years ago and still somewhat persists in its own way across the US. Basically, it''s space cowboy culture. Plaid flannels, leather boots, and half to ten-gallon hats. This also impacted the civilian firearm market where modern weapon technologies are utilized to create modern-spec classic western weapons. I really only got into the gun part as these things are sick. I leave the armory and we walk over to the external airlock on the side of the ship we designated for the aliens'' arrival. I expected to see a small shuttle while looking out the window. The two fully armored marines almost crush me against the airlock as they too want to see the alien ship. I was mistaken about what they meant by "small". A 100-meter-long vessel, built in a manner that looks quite similar to a very massive sailing vessel glides out of the blackness of space. The flat top is encapsulated by some sort of shimmering dome and I can see non-suited figures working on the open deck. Judging by the lack of visible weapon hardpoints I assume this is a purely non-combat vessel. It pulls alongside the catfish and I watch some of the topside crew lower a bridge onto the side of my ship. They luckily were able to understand the red lights surrounding the airlock is their target. The bridge locks onto the side of the Catfish and the shimmering bubble extends from the top deck and creates a tunnel sealed against the hull. The airlock doesn''t want to open. Various warnings about radiation and the toxic reverse air atoms being in the air block my ability to open it up. I eventually brute force my way through the warnings and the airlock opens with only a minor hiss. The air pressure between our vessel and their air bubble is negligible. I let Shariah go first and she walks across the bridge. The crew seems confused about our dress, but seemingly takes it in stride. A very fancily dressed... man...bear...pig... green thing greets us happily and says, the translator AI working through our helmets audio receptors, "Welcome aboard m''lady and most honorable shipmaster. I will be your servant for this short voyage. If there is any accommodations or refreshments you require I will get it for you as soon as possible." I feel my tummy rumble realising I forgot to eat lunch but refuse the offer. The marines and Shariah do the same and we are taken to some very plush seats. I sit down on the strange fabric as does Shariah. The marines stand guard, their helmeted heads moving constantly looking for threats. Their massive automatic weapons are on display, a restrained show of minor force. Once the bridge is retracted the ship begins moving through space silently and smoothly. Shariah and the man-bear-pig converse quietly for a while as I look at all the exotic lifeforms onboard. I don''t know much about this alien nation, but they appear to be multi-species and none of the ones present are seemingly enslaved or are lesser beyond a normal ranking system, so at least we aren''t dealing with slavers or something... right? The ship we approach is... something else. It''s built in a way I would best describe as whale-like. Long smooth curves and with "wings" that somewhat resemble giant fins. The only thing not whale-like is its 3-kilometer length according to my neurolinks measurement feature. I can see multiple batteries of what look to be cannons with absolutely insane bores. The smallest one I can easily make out is at least 16 inches or 405mm! Even if their technology is comparable to ours, or even a little less I cannot imagine how utterly destructive these weapons are. Considering I am standing in a fucking force-field of some sort it''s safe to assume their technology is far more advanced than ours. Based on the specs I know, their smallest cannon, if it is comparable to any American Chem-rail system in capability would poke a hole through the Catfish with ease. The biggest guns mounted in a broadside configuration have at least a meter bore, so that''s probably capable of erasing the Catfish from existence. This is a very dangerous situation. I keep my poker face, even though these aliens may not be able to read my body language. Our boat... ship thing goes under the massive vessel and just sorta attaches to the bottom. A large opening in the bottom of the space whale fits our 100-meter ride perfectly. Our servant politely ushers us forward and through many corridors. The interior is strange, a mix of what appears to be wooden paneling and carved stone, like the interior of a Gothic castle. Artwork depicting all kinds of things line the walls, all immaculately created. The floor is covered in a long red carpet which is odd to me since this ship is probably military, considering the armored...knights that stand guard along the walls. They have halberds and other similar weapons in their hands which seems odd, but they have strange shapes to them as well, so they are probably more than just medieval melee weapons. We walk up long flights of stairs and during this whole trek, I am taking as many readings as my suit can take about the environment around me. The atmosphere is entirely breathable if there weren''t any of that strange backward radiation and elements. The sensors can''t really tell me what the backward charged part of the atmospheric composition is aside from it being an "unknown deadly substance" as the science nerds haven''t fully understood what it is yet. The atmosphere is incredibly oxygen-rich at a whopping 30 percent, with nitrogen making up a major component. The sensor readout also tells me the atmosphere is largely biologically produced meaning they don''t use fusion or other methods to create the onboard oxygen, instead utilizing plants, bacteria, or algae for their breathable air. Seeing some arthropod beings walk by, the oxygen richness may be needed to sustain a few of the species found here while not being detrimental to everything else. I also note the gravity is lower than the Earth standard, it sits at a comfortable but light 8.9 m/s^2. Aside from that my suit isn''t equipped for more detailed environmental scanning and documentation. We are led into a very posh room where two bipedal bovine creatures stand like statues wearing what looks like butler uniforms from human culture. I don''t think they''re emulating our culture, it may just be some sort of cultural constant for butlers. The one leading us tells me and the marines to wait here while he takes Shariah with him elsewhere. She assures me that she will be fine and I sit down on one of the fluffy couches that I quickly find are stuffed with some sort of feathers. The marines stand behind my couch, their powered armor locking them into standing positions so they can effectively "lie down" while still standing. The two cow people then speak to me in tandem, "Shipmaster Hollander... we are your humble servants for the time of your stay here. Are you in need of anything at this moment?" Despite being creepy I smile and respond, "No thank you, boys. I''ll just wait around." They do not speak again. I start looking around the room and appreciate the beauty and artisanship of whoever built this place. These aliens are really dedicated to their aesthetics. The closest I can describe the architecture and decorative style is like old pictures and reconstructions of the Palace Versailles or even the Doge''s palace. Grand, but still somehow cozy and... as I notice the fireplace and the very torch-like crystalline lamps on the walls, very rustic. A voice pulls me from my appreciation, a recognizable one, "Ah, you seem to enjoy the beauty of my vessel! I am quite happy about that! She is my pride and joy!" I turn my head to see the Shipmaster his voice full of joy, like a grandfather excitedly seeing his grandkids after a long while. He is smiling back at me from under a thick, bushy, and immaculately groomed beard. I am staring at a fucking dwarf... The Shipmaster is a short and round man looking like a fantasy dwarf but his skin is gray and looks like it''s made of stone almost like that of a rhino or maybe some sort of crocodile. Cracks splinter across his face allowing it to articulate in emotion, I safely assume the rest of his body is the same. His hair is a very dark red color, like cooling magma. He is wearing a puffy sort of uniform with bright yellow pinstripes running down the purple fabric. I smile at him and respond, "It''s a beautiful vessel! Everything is far grander than anything I''ve seen sailing through the stars. If I may ask what is the role of this vessel? Our design philosophies may be different so it''s difficult for me to truly understand the purpose of this mighty vessel." He somehow seems to glow... wait no he does glow. His beard seemingly glows like an ember that had just been blown onto as he responds, "This is the Grand Dutchess of Thundering Storms, she is one of the greatest ships of the line in our navy! She has served as the flasgship of over a hundred fleets in her five thousand year service!" I try not to seem suprised by the staggeringly long lifespan of a single vessel. Humanity hasn''t even been a space fairing species for five thousand years. I do stay attentive hoping to learn more, but he is probably under some obligations of secrecy for securtiy reasons. He doesn''t explain any more aside from the many battles the ship has won, and none of them really mean anything to me. The Shipmaster then asks me, "Tell me about your ship oh Shipmaster. She is rather small for a flagship so I assume your kind sent a lighter vessel in order to not seem threatening right?" I laugh nervously and respond, "No... that is the flagship I command. It''s not the biggest class we have of course, but she isn''t exactly small either. She is called the USS Catfish and is a sort of jack of all trades when it comes to combat roles." He nods and strokes his beard. In his firey eyes I can see him thinking deeply about my ship before he continues, "So it appears your kind has yet to really take to the stars... Can''t be helped not everyone is as far along as us, but your kind being able to sail the stars is quite an acheivement. Most we meet haven''t even reached upper orbit." I nod and respond, "That''s very interesting. So I assume your first contact rules allow you to speak with...ummm... non-space fairing races." He nods and asks, "I understand you may be a little defensive as this is a new situation with a new nation, so please forgive me for asking. How many stars and planets fall under your kinds rule?" I imemdiately go searching through the US database for this information to find an utterly staggering number, but for a... race... or nation that has been in the stars for at least 5000 years if the dwarf is to be beleived it''s probably quite small. I answer, "My nation, the USA controls well over 3450 stars, with 1000 contested with foreign powers and an estimated 5000 more within reach that have yet to have anything more than a scouting mission to them. Humanity, my species, as a whole probably encompasses 30,000 stars total. This can be debated as some of the star systems only contain asteroids and dead planets with less than one hundred in population." According to international treaty for a star system to fall under a nations flag it must have at least one permanent object in orbit around it, either free-floating or on a solid body. The only outlier of this rule is the encirclement rule where any system without planets or permanent man-made object that is encircled entirely by national borders falls under that nations control. There is more nuance and lots of legalese but thats the gist of it and allows for thousands of stars and planets to fall under mankinds rule, even if less than a third have any permanent human residence and have only a communication relay satallite. The Shipmasters reaction is strange, his eyes go wide and his beard brightens up again. His mouth hangs agape for a second as he seemingly short-circuts from my information. He then shakes his head and responds, "Having that many stars... that''s amazing, but if they aren''t all inhabited then it would makes sense how you could have that many." I then return the question, "Fair is fair shipmaster, how many worlds does the Eternal Kingdom have under its rule?" I lean in excitedly, hoping to learn more about this alien society. The Shipmaster responds, "We are currently sitting as the largest known nation... until you I guess... with over 2000 stars and each one has a habitable world on it." I gasp in surpise at how full of life this part of the galaxy is if that''s the case, but I ask another question, "So how many stars do you control that aren''t inhabited." He looks at me for a second with a strange expression and responds, "None, so far no star system has been found without life. Except for the area in which you come from... we call it the long void as we haven''t yet found any signs of life until your kind just appeared... and then disappeared back into the long void." I shrug and respond, "I may have been on that ship that showed up here... I was the second in command." The Shipmaster lets out a deep belly laugh that I can feel through the floor and he says, "Now isn''t that something! I assume that brute who grabbed Lady Skarshoul''s wing got a proper beating once he came back onboard! I can''t imagne how embarassed I''d be if any of my crew did that." I look away from him and respond honestly, "That was me... that grabbing is our kinds respectful greeting gesture..." The Shipmaster pauses for a moment as he tries to see if I am lying or something then he laughs again and answers, "Now that is funny! A cultural misunderstanding if I''ve heard of one. So is that grabbing like a bow or something for your kind?" I shake my head and respond, "No, bowing is something we haven''t really done in a long time, depending on culture. It''s basically a greeting letting the other know you respect them and are unarmed as it should be done by your dominant hand. It''s like saying you come in peace when meeting someone new, and for people you already know it''s like saying hello, I respect you." The shipmaster strokes his beard and says distantly, "That is a reasonable gesture of greeting when done between equals I guess." He then looks me in the eye and asks jokingly, "So can your kind regrow limbs? I heard the offender had lost the offending hand." I shake my head and point at my right hand saying, "Nope. This hand is now entirely made of metal, a cool little cybernetic. I will see if I am able to show you or not." He now seems very interested and leans forward as I start working on the sleeve of my suit. I activate the auto tourniquet system right where my metal forearm and hand starts and remove the glove. With all air ways closed to my flesh this is mostly safe. He stares at the metallic construct for a moment before asking, "May I please touch it?" I nod and hold out my hand for him. He grins and takes my hand in a similar way to how I''m holding my metal one. We grasp eachother firmly and I shake his hand up and down. It takes him a moment to understand what I am doing before he smiles warmly and says, "So... I guess that''s the first official human greeting between the Eternal Kingdom and this... USA..." Operation ET: Seal the Deal For a good hour or more, the Shipmaster and I sit there sharing old war stories. We are seemingly both careful to obscure any information about our technologies, but there are certain things that we both understand. Things like commanding a ship, zero-G maneuvers for offensive or defensive reasons, and the many battles we faced during the wars we served in. As ship captains do best, we embellish our roles and make our grand assaults seem like the linchpin of whatever battle we took part in, even if we were tasked overall with what is effectively backline supply escort. After a lull in our stories, the Shipmaster asks me, "So tell me Shipmaster Commodore. To me, it sounds like you''ve been the shipmaster of multiple different ships. I don''t mean to assume as our cultures appear to have some gaps. How is it you are able to be the shipmaster of multiple vessels without being completely stripped of any honor and even being disowned by your family?" This question does catch me off guard but it did come from a man who is in charge of a 5000-year-old ship, and their years are probably quite similar to ours considering the habitable zone has its limits. I try to answer in a way he may understand, "I don''t know how your ships are constructed... I mean this vessel is beyond beautiful and it is an understatement to call it art. Our vessels are quite drab and gray. Our interiors are bare metal and our furniture is designed to fulfil a role instead of being comfortable. Considering our biggest combat and shipping vessels are about half the size of your ship here at the biggest. While we do have large orbital habitats much larger, they aren''t really considered ships since they can only barely move. I think our abilities of construction and materials may be different as we produce and lose ships quite quickly, we are in a period of rapid development so some ships are made obsolete on a year-to-year basis. Of course, I have lost ships, but only one of them was fully destroyed and I did get in trouble for it because I was using it improperly. My other ship changes were station shifts or the vessel was damaged and needed month-long repairs, or was being entirely decommissioned. If I had my way I wouldn''t change from one or two of my vessels but here we are." This makes the shipmaster rub his chin and he says in a low voice, "I see... how interesting. It appears your people are in a state of rapid growth in capability and territory. We haven''t encountered another race in a similar state as yours since the initial founding of the Eternal Kingdom. I have a feeling our peoples can gain much from interacting with one another." I nod along and I respond, "Also, most of our ships are built along a specific template at mass scale so there isn''t too much uniqueness about each ship." The Dwarfs eyes go wide for a moment and he asks, "So the ship you arrived in is not your own?" I shake my head and respond, "Nope, I am simply put in charge of it. It is owned by our government." The dwarf responds, mostly talking to himself, "I see... so their ships are not family heirlooms... they make them in batches." He asks me carefully, "How many ships like yours exist?" I shrugged and sent an inquiry to the AI onboard the catfish. It gives me an answer and I reply, "About one hundred and sixty-two of these exact ships exist under US control. Of course, my ship, the USS Catfish which I arrived in is heavily modified for this diplomatic mission." The dwarf looks at me for a while, staring with incredulity before shaking his head and grabbing a bottle from the table. He takes a long drink from what I assume is alcohol. Once he stops and gasps he asks me, "I understand we are still in the phase of contact where we cannot disclose much information about our ships and weapons and the like. But please inform me what materials your vessels are composed of?" I raise an eyebrow in confusion and respond flatly, "Largely steel contstruction with bits of tungsten, ceramics, and osmium... the armor is classified but all those materials are utilized. I''m sure those materials are old school for your kingdom." He takes another long drink and once done he laughs loudly and responds, "Ah! Steel makes sense, it''s quite easy to shape and the stars hold lots of iron. The other materials aside from ceramic I do not know of. I am guessing you use the ceramic for defeating heat-based attacks that would normally melt steel?" I nod and he offers me a swig of his drink. I hold up my hand and respond carefully, "I am sorry and do not mean to offend in any way but I am unable to accept that drink, as much as I would like to partake in it." He frowns, shrugs, and finishes the bottle before asking, "That suit of yours. It is very strange. Is it your cultural diplomatic uniform? If you are under orders to not take it off I understand it would get in the way of food and drink." I bow my head and respond downtrodden, "No. The problem is your air has something in it that is toxic to my kind. When I lost my hand last time I was wearing a suit like this and when the air touched my bare flesh it scorched me. We have found any object produced in your part of space contains this poison and unfortunately, we are required to wear these suits when outside of our ships." The dwarf strokes his beard and responds sadly, "That is most unfortunate. If I may ask, would your air be toxic to my kind?" I shake my head and respond, "We simply lack what kills us. You should be fine without it." He nods seemingly content and asks, "Would I perhaps be allowed to embark on your vessel Shipmaster Commodore? I wish to see what a royal-owned and mass-produced space vessel looks like." I nod and don''t correct him. From the language he has used so far, and their nation being called a kingdom, I can tell their society has some manner of Feudal rule. I will let the diplomats break the news of our differing governance styles. I respond, "That would be lovely, but we would probably require you to wear a suit similar to mine as your flesh simply radiates what kills us, and we don''t want anyone to get hurt as it is very painful." The man pauses for a second, deep in thought before he asks flatly and incredulously, "Do you mean my mana streams?" I lock eyes with him, looking for some sort of other meaning in those words. I ask the AI who assures me that is a direct translation. I ask, "Like magic?" He nods while eyeing me like I''m stupid and responds with another question, "Yes... what else could it be? Is your knowledge of our language lacking?" I shake my head and decide to leave it to the diplomats and scientists. I respond, "I guess... maybe... I think it is your mana that is toxic to us." He looks at me as if I just put a flashbang in front of his face and he goes to speak but the door Shariah went through opens with fanfare, literally. A chorus of trumpets plays from somewhere unseen as an odd goblin-looking creature waddles out with a scroll. He then announces to all four of us in the room in a deep bass voice, "Let it be known. Today marks the end of the first official meeting with the new species known as Humanity, and their nation of the United States of America. From here diplomatic and cultural relations may now commence so that they may reach us to their full extent." Then he was gone. Simply disappeared. One moment there, next non-existent. I blink a few times trying to understand but Shariah comes out from that door with the same blue secretary bird bitch walking next to her. They are laughing and making merry until they see me and I stand up. I give them both a wide smile upon seeing my chance to avoid an awkward situation that was slowly starting to unfold. The bird seems to recognize me as her pupils dilate in and out rapidly. She then speaks in a slow and haughty tone, This book is hosted on another platform. Read the official version and support the author''s work. "Ah... the little interloper from before. Well met. It appears you have recovered from the injury you sustained after your grave mistake. " I nod and respond, "Yes and better for it. " She seems satisfied before stating, "As of now, our peoples may begin to meet and embrace one another." Then she turns around and leaves. What a fucking bitch, or maybe it''s upbringing? I can''t tell... The ride back to the USS Catfish is quick but quiet. Shariah spends the whole time sitting quietly, tapping away at some sort of tablet. Her face is neutral so I can''t tell if what happened was good or bad. I mull over my conversation with the Shipmaster, I don''t know his name or what he even is, but he seems like a pretty good dude. I wonder what he meant by mana or whatever but I''ll leave that to the scientists. We dock and return onboard and remain silent. The marines are silent, but I know damn well those SOBs have a private channel open and are joking around since I see their shoulders heave every now and again. I wish they would let me join in. We strip back into our normal uniforms in the armory and I replace my pistol which never was questioned. When we are undressed Shariah says to me in a strangely flat and respectful tone, "Sir, may we meet in your stateroom ASAP?" I nod and reply, "Yes. I''ll send orders to the pilot to get us back to the fleet. Why my stateroom?" She doesn''t budge but replies, "It''s private enough... and no funny business." I nod, ignoring the last part. I send the message mentally and walk with her to my stateroom. Inside I give her the only chair in my room as I choose to sit on my bed. She doesn''t sit. I lock the door and turn on sound-proofing and when I turn around she squeals with delight and begins bouncing up and down. I am confused as hell when she suddenly leaps forward and gives me a big hug. She doesn''t leave me waiting as she explains, "I did it! I did it! I successfully achieved diplomatic relations with an alien power! My name will go down in history! I''m going to be famous! Can you believe it?" I can''t help but chuckle as I pat her on the back awkwardly. I guess it makes sense that she would want to be private in this situation. I pry her off of me and ask, "So tell me, how did it go? Mind you that is the bird woman who did order my hand to be removed. " She calms down and straightens herself. She then explains the situation, "I started talking to Lady Skarshoul, it was a fine meeting and we greeted one another in their way rather than a human handshake. We discussed what our nations wanted with one another. She is a rather uptight and cold woman, but she explained that was more the culture of their higher culture. I managed to figure out that they do have a feudal society to an extent and she is a big deal, like people of her rank are second only to the royal family or something. Archduchess would be the closest English word for her station, with a focus on a sector-wide authority. They simply stated they wanted us to reach out to them so that we may eventually connect our people. I think we are overall in a good position. I negotiated passage onto the world below for me, the diplomats, and the science teams. We were granted a fairly free reign to explore and negotiate with them. They will also be researching us this whole time as they still are unsure about us. I think that is fair. I also got us permission to park our fleet deeper in the system as to facilitate proper security and of course, they will be taking surface-level readings of our ships. That''s about all I have now." I nod and respond, "I''ll write a report and send it back home. I will park my fleet nearby where you all will be located and will follow what orders I receive from there." She nods and seemingly notices she is inside my stateroom and takes a look around. Her eyes lock onto the shredded and blood-stained baby-blue flag I have hanging on my wall and the color drains from her face. She asks, "where did you get that?" I shrug and respond, "Classified, but I am over 60, I''ve been around." I start to gently guide her out of my room before she can ask more questions about my captured United Nations Central Authority flag. I follow her out of the room and head to the bridge to start writing my report. I lock eyes with Shariah and tell her, "Please don''t ask questions about that flag... if you start mentioning them...as what you are... it may end badly for your reputation and I will perform disciplinary actions. Those wounds are still fresh for many... and everyone but your kind still suffers." She shudders for a moment before quietly asking, "Are there any reports of... it happening?" I shake my head and respond, "No, everyone has passed their medical screening too. It''s not a radioactive subject at the moment, but let''s not remind everyone." She nods and tries to leave but I say, "Send me your report, I''ll combine ours both while I look through all the footage from our helmets. Better to only start up the ol'' Insta-link once." She nods and hurries away, her once happy demeanor changing to one of slight fear. I really didn''t like doing that, especially damaging her happy mood like that. It was nice to see how happy she was. If things go well we may have a very powerful ally. Although I am concerned about both the apparent feudal system utilized by these aliens as well as the mention of mana. That is an odd thing to say, possibly it''s a term for some esoteric technology, or maybe that''s just what they call radiation or something? I mean advanced enough technology is indistinguishable from magic, and potentially they could be a really repressed society where captains don''t even understand how their ships work. Their not knowing osmium or tungsten could be evidence for this, all he knows is his captain''s duties and zero-g combat doctrine, leaving materials and tech to specialized individuals. I''ll leave these deeper thoughts to the scientists. I sit down on my captain''s seat and tap away on my console writing my report. While I could do it mentally, I prefer the stimulus of typing. I do send the orders to the rest of the fleet to move up with us and reveal to the science vessel they are allowed planetside. I''ll have Shariah take care of the rest of that, but for now, everyone can sit around the Catfish, and overall I feel safer with a destroyer and cruiser screen. Satisfied with my report and all the information I gathered I began converting all of my helmet video into a compressed format for FTL communication. I then go through the Diplo-Colonels footage mentally and find she told the entire truth aside from some girl talk with the noble bird woman. Those two apparently got along very well. They both talked mad shit about me after Shariah revealed my identity to the bird who simply laughed and said some unkind things. With a huff, I remove the unprofessional parts from the video before compressing it as well. Soon after this Shariah sends her report which matches the video with some notes and recommendations being put down on it as well. My name is absent aside from means of contact and approach. I take this report and attach it to the nice little packet I''m putting together. I then send it to the communications officer who quickly gets to transmitting the message. FTL communication is entirely instant as it uses quantum entanglement to communicate. For most ships, it is switched off as it takes a ton of power. How it works is it either entangles or doesn''t entangle a small bit of copper. This copper completes a circuit in a central communication hub which then decodes the message being sent. The message is sent in binary with the copper appearing and disappearing creating the 1s and 0s. This information is transcribed and decoded where text, video, and sound can be transmitted across impossible distances. Every ship in the navy has its own little bit of copper in the massive facility. The military central communication hub is different from the civilian one and has much more space for every ship over a certain size to have its own little copper piece. As the communications officer sends the message, the terrible sound of binary fills the bridge. There is no way to soundproof this process as the sound is actually coming from the walls and frame of the ship so even putting the entanglement communication device in the void of space wouldn''t help unless it is completely disconnected from the ship, but the power draw required makes this impossible. The only other problem is the time it takes to send the message. While the message is sent immediately across the distance, the time it takes for the data transfer is brutal. Even with all the technology humanity has the largest data stream ever sent in this manner was 2KBS. The USS Catfish is sitting at a blistering 1.5KBS. With two videos, this takes a while. I watch as multiple bridge crew members put headphones on, which somewhat helps. Hours later our message is sent and then we get a response. This takes a few minutes as it is only text and I go over the new orders, and the start of a whole new operation. My role is now officially separate from Shariah''s and she is no longer in command of any part of my ship and has been entirely moved to the civilian science and diplomatic team. I will oversee this new operation and I have now been granted further executive powers, even over the civilians. So begins... Operation Courtier ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ End of Operation Force Composition 1 Viking Class Large-Cruiser- USS Catfish- Role: Flagship and Fire Support 3 SF-21 Fighters- 6 support wingmen each 2 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration Marine compliment- 100 2 Preist Class Support and Fabrication Vessels- USS Shovelnose, USS Palid- Role: Auxillary Marine Compliment- 50 2 MacArthur Class Heavy Cruisers- USS Terrapin, USS Snapper- Role: Battleline 2 UD-12 Dropship Marine Compliment -100 4 Bowman Class Missile Cruisers- USS Quillback, USS Hognose, USS Redhorse, USS Buffalo-Role: Long Range Combat Marine Compliment- 100 4 Cutter Class Destroyers- USS Bluegill, USS Longear, USS Redear, USS Shellcracker- Role: Escort Marine Compliment- 80 4 Teach Class Destroyers- USS Largemouth, USS Smallmouth, USS Spotted, USS Neosho- Role: Backline Disruption Marine Compliment- 100 2 Hellstorm Class Frigates- USS Eel, USS Lamprey- Role: Naval Raiding Marine Compliment- 50 1 Arsenal Bird Class Drone Carrier- USS Heron- Role: Drone Carrier 400 MQ-25 "Parasite" attack Drones 20 MQ-30 "Plover" Bomber Drones Marine Compliment-25 6 Boohag Class Marine Transports- USS Bullfrog, USS Peeper, USS Daddys Belt, USS Toad, USS Newt, USS Salamander- Role: Marines 8 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration 1200 Marines 800 Shipbreakers 4 M3A1 "Stonewall" MBT 24 M8A3 "Gavin" IFVs 8 M112 MRTWP (Multi-role Transport Weapons Platform) 12 M8 "Bunny" Fast Attack/Recon Vehicles Total Force: 26 Capital Vessels 12 Dropships 3 Manned Fighters 420 Drone Fighters 2505 Marines (Including Shipbreakers) 48 Ground IFVs (Crews included) __________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Operation Courtier: New Groove Warning! Warning! Cooling systems overloaded, temperature rising, beginning purge of atmosphere for crew safety. The ship shudders violently as another round of railgun slugs slam into the frontal armor. The air is incredibly hot as I finish putting on my EVA suit. One of the bridge crew falls onto the floor, flesh instantly cooking to the metal as the ship begins quickly heating up. They lose skin as they peel from the floor, the good sailor they are they keep moving to their station. The ship vibrates violently as all weapons fire forward at the abominable vessel in front of us. I continue to bark orders, designate targets, and check with different weapons crews and other systems on the ship. My screen tells me the entire ship is in bad shape as the atmosphere rapidly disappears immediately making my suit''s cooling system''s job much easier without a medium for the heat to transfer. I open a channel for all nearby ships shouting, "Any callsign come in! This is the USS Starwish, we are being shredded!" The line stays silent as expected. Only a minute ago my last fleet mate went silent. I check the side and rear cameras of the Starwish and see empty and dark vessels drifting in orbit over the green world below me. In front of me is another field of destroyed vessels, enemy and friend alike, and in the middle of it is the giant jellyfish-shaped vessel. Small firing ports open in the large "head" and nearly relativistic slugs come zooming out toward my ship having already been in flight for at least a second before it was visible. The entire vessel shudders again as armor and weapons systems are atomized by the impossible slug. I watch as two of the twelve 16-inch gun turrets go completely offline, just as the ship is shaken by a cataclysmic ammo explosion as the relativistic slug does create enough heat to ignite the propellant. Thankfully all the nuclear shells have been expended already, even though it probably wouldn''t matter. I look and check how fucked I am and find that the actual fusion reactor has plasma leaking into multiple crew compartments across the vessel. I am able to mentally shut off the flow to the ruptured pipes removing the flow of power to another few reaction thrusters. I start shouting orders once more, telling the gunners to focus on enemy propulsion and weapons, hoping the cripple the vessel that outsizes my 750-meter-long fast battleship by a multiple of ten or more. I watch as the last of the onboard VLS tubes run out of missiles, all nuclear weapons expended across the entire vessel, and defensive missiles exhausted. Immediately the sound and visual of drones swarming my vessel fills all screens. The CWIS and a few laser point defense weapons are being overwhelmed as yet another massive volley of slugs rips through the Starwish. I check my screen to see what is happening planetside and see nothing but messages for evacuation or air support. Visuals show massive flashes of light planetside and I have to turn off communications as the screams of the soldiers and marines distract me. Then the great ship I am facing opens thousands of VLS hatches mounted radially creating multiple rings along its immense bulk. Quick readings reveal almost all of them are nuclear and I prepare for the flash that is coming as literal thousands of nuclear weapons come toward me, then they veer away and turn toward the planet. Horror fills me as I watch the missiles enter low orbit before every single one of the easily four thousand nuclear weapons finds an empty spot, and then they drop into the atmosphere. On top of this overkill, multiple of those relativistic slugs are fired from radially mounted weapons. There are thousands of flashes across the world followed by debris being launched into orbit as kill vehicles moving at a minor percentage of the speed of light damn near penetrate the core of the planet. It takes less than forty seconds for the entire atmosphere to fill with ash and debris as the planet is destroyed. I watch as all of the forces planetside are killed, all remaining civilians obliterated... the world has broken...My home... I look up at the massive vessel responsible and burned into my mind are the many blue rectangles painted onto it... the flag of the United Nations Central Authority... I awake with a start and stare at the flag on my wall. I sigh, get out of bed, and say to myself, "I guess I did forget to work out for a hot minute." I was so caught up in preparing for another first-contact scenario I forgot to work out, when I am not physically tired my mind wanders to places it shouldn''t while I sleep. I quickly change and head to the small and rather pitiful gym the Catfish has on board. Most Navy vessels over 200 meters tend to have a small gym of some sort, usually only stocked with cardio machines and the like rather than weights. Smaller ships tend to have pullup bars in the bunk rooms for strength and cardio is up to the captain. Marine vessels have fully stocked weight rooms, and the Catfish''s marine quarters do have a single-weight bench with over a ton of plates. I fire up a treadmill, put it on a 25-degree incline, and begin jogging after putting a 45 lbs weight vest on. My heavy steps fill the room with thunder and through my neural link play some music. I try not to think about my early career and how my home was obliterated, instead, I get deep into thought about what I learned about from the Shipmaster, specifically what he called Mana. Considering the AI doesn''t screw around because it literally can''t, Mana is the correct translation. Mana has two definitions in my understanding, the bread from the sky in the Old Testament, and magic energy from video games and the like. I can''t wrap my mind around it but I have two theories. One is that technology and sciences developed differently in our societies and the term Mana was the term used in a more backward era and it stuck in their language. This is like cells within our bodies; the term comes around with a random description that just stuck. Maybe that is what they call radiation or something? The second theory is that these folks have created some technology that is truly indistinguishable from magic and if these people are somewhat more advanced than us then maybe that is the case. A singularity drive and the Alcubierre drive are practically magic if you look at them from a 21st or 22nd-century perspective. "Are you on a call with someone?" I nearly jump out of my skin and look to see Shariah in workout gear standing in the doorway. I also realize I have been discussing the situation with myself out loud. I shake my head and reply, "Nope, just talking to myself." She giggles and answers, "So long as you aren''t replying it''s all good." I shake my head with a laugh and turn my music down as she takes the treadmill next to me. I keep my steady pace, already breathing hard. I really have gotten out of shape during this mission. We run in silence for the most part, we both listen to our own music, and Shariah watches some show on the screen built into the treadmill. I notice her take some glances at me and the treadmill I am running on. Then she exclaims, "What the fuck are you? A robot?" I look down at my treadmill''s timer and see 2 hours 5 minutes and reply, "No? I''m rather out of shape. Can''t you see me breathing hard?" Admittedly she is breathing even harder than me despite only having run for thirty. The gears turn in my head for a second before I gently facepalm and respond, "Ah, my file is in fact classified but here is a hint, my kind was modified a long while ago to be... very good at anaerobic exercise and have a generally quite efficient metabolism meaning I have far greater stamina than most, plus I only need about 4 to 5 hours of sleep to be happy and healthy. Although I do prefer my 8 hours of beauty rest." You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story. I look over at Shariah and angle my head downward looking up at the woman while fluttering my eyes. She shakes her head as her breathing begins growing more ragged. I also note she is moving a little quicker than me on her treadmill. Makes sense, my kind was bred for stamina and overall endurance rather than outright performance. I once again notice wondering eyes, but not at any of my meaty bits, instead at my metal hand. Through strained breaths, she asks, "Is that the hand she took?" I nod and respond with a laugh, "Nah, it''s the other one!" She shakes her head and notes that I am wearing a long sleeve shirt and she wonders, "So what''s with the long sleeves? Good stamina but no bicep definition?" I laugh at the joke and respond, "Nope, my skin melted and stuff when my suit got breached, I released my medical records so you should know this. I don''t really care about my nasty grafts, it''s more for the others ya know?" She nods and asks me carefully, "So... you''re in your sixties... are you from one of the types who have a... well very long lifespan?" I shake my head and respond flatly, "Classified, but I only live to about eighty or ninety, just like everyone else. My kind just degenerates rapidly in the last two years of our lives. I will forever be in my mid-twenties until my body simply shuts down and I age fifty years in about a week. It''s not a pretty sight." She shudders for a moment thinking about it before telling me, "Well I hope your workout was good because there is an unfortunately mandatory meeting onboard the science vessel soon." I shrug and respond, "Damn... have fun." Then my neural link pings me, letting me know I am expected at this meeting." I swear and ask, "Why the hell do they need me? This operation is no longer a military matter." Shariah can''t catch her breath to respond and she turns off her treadmill and catches he breath for a moment before replying, "Yes, but as the military escort commander, it was decided to require your presence at strategy meetings. Basically, it was agreed you need to be well informed about when and where we go and the bigger happenings. Of course, you are not required to have any input unless it is a safety issue as in this civilian committee we formed...or council... whatever you want to call it, we elected you as the security head." I bow my head with a long breath and respond, "Okay, it''s in three hours. I have time." She stares at me like I grew a second head before leaving without saying goodbye. I continue my workout for another hour before calling it quits, deciding I don''t need to exhaust myself yet because any meeting like this is going to be mental torture. The short shuttle ride is uneventful and the docking is the same. The science vessel is quite different than a military one, the interior is far more cozy, like a warm and friendly hospital, still white and sterile but not super harsh. I think it has something to do with the lighting. There are lots of pictures and photos on the walls and murals of landscapes and the like making it much nicer than the dark gray, black, and bare metal of military vessels. I walk through the halls, my hands clasped behind my back as I inspect the ship. I am able to navigate as my neural link displays a navigation HUD in my vision. Eventually, we make it to meeting room 1 in the vessel and it looks fairly normal. A long, wooden table with rolling chairs. I then take note of those present as Shariah may have made my shuttle fashionably late as she kept noticing small mistakes in her makeup or something. I have no idea, it''s stupid to me, especially since this is a work meeting. I already know two of the others from previous deployments, and one of them is glaring at me and I can only smile. A very unfortunately named man stands up with a big grin and with an almost stereotypical German accent says, "AH! Commodore Hollander! It Is great to see you again mein friend!" I shake his hand and respond, "It''s great to see you again too Dr.Joesef Mengele. What are you doing here?" The short, balding man beams up at me through his heavy glasses and responds proudly, "I am ze head of Ze Biological sciences for this expedition!" No shit, he is actually one of the best bio scientists I know, we met way back in the day when he got drafted and was a medical technician on a vessel I helped command. A suited man approaches, interjecting in my greeting with my friend. He is what could be best described as a silver fox kind of man, clearly he is some sort of diplomat. He holds out his hand and introduces himself with a winning smile, "I am Jackson Lionel, I am the legal head of this whole operation." I was wrong, worse than a diplomat, a lawyer. I greet him with my name and rank and then another scientist-type approaches and it''s a short and rather heavyset black woman who greets me with, "I am Dr. Whittney McCormick. I am the head of the technology department for this expedition. I''m here to figure out how their stuff works." I smile and nod as I shake her hand. Then the one who is scowling at me approaches, a very sharp-featured blonde woman. She literally looks as if she were chiseled from stone, and from experience she is just as warm and cuddly. She holds out her hand and I salute her saying, "Nice to see you again Lieutenant Kelly." She grimaces and with a cold and cruel smile responds. "And it''s nice to see you again, Doctor Hollander." We both laugh dryly and Shariah asks confused, "Doctor? Lieutentnat?" Dr. Ureil Kelly responds, "It''s just me and Commodore Hollander here greeting each other with the ranks we no longer hold... or at least no longer go by." Shariah looks between us confused and I answer, mostly to Uriel, "My file is classified. As you know." Shariah stares a hole through me and I sigh and answer, "I guess this isn''t classified but I did get a doctorate at one point... the university no longer exists and hasn''t for thirty years so it''s questionable if I still have it. It was in interstellar studies, focusing on ship management and piloting. I''m an old man in a young man''s body, you gotta remember that." Shariah nods not accepting it entirely but greets Uriel before asking her, "And how do you know the Commodore here? You both seem well acquainted. I''m sensing a deeper relationship?" This makes both Uriel and I lock eyes with one another a look of mutual disgust between us. I motion for Uriel to take over and say, "You''re the more level-headed one." She nods serenely and responds, "We both come from the same planet, actually growing up with one another. With different genetic lineages, my family immigrated in only a year before my birth. Then we also served on the same vessels, twice which is quite strange and the Commodore and I have never... well we never got along. Politically, religiously, and morally we can''t agree on anything that''s worthwhile. Our relationship is closer to that of either childhood rivals or estranged siblings at best and worst." I nod, I couldn''t describe our long relationship better. She isn''t like me, biologically she is truly in her early thirties and looks it too, she simply ages at half the rate of normal humans, and can live to 200 easily. Shariah then asks, "Will this be a problem in the future? I can have the Commodore send a representative instead." I shake my head and Uriel responds with a sigh, "No. We will behave. We have been able to deal with everything so far and we will do our work. We may not look it but we are old and wise with decades of experience. " I then say, "Dr.Kelly, can you please state your role on this council so introductions can be finished and we can get this over with?" She nods and responds, "I am Dr. Uriel Kelly, I am the head of the Abiotic sciences aspect of this mission. Commodore... I will be in your care." My gaze locks onto hers as the corner of her generally stoic mouth turns upward. I hiss quietly, "Please... let''s not mention that..." There is no response and we all take a seat. The meeting ended an hour ago and I am sitting in a lounge with Uriel and Josef. Josef and I are sipping on large steins of a deep brown wheat beer he brought, and Uriel nurses a fine scotch on the rocks. We sit around as music quietly plays in the background before Josef speaks, "It feels so odd. All three of us are all in ze same room drinking again. About ten years now, no?" I nod and Uriel responds, "And it''s been ten years too soon. Although I am glad you two seem to be doing well, despite Barnabas being an arm lighter... and now a metal one heavier." Josef chuckles and I shake my head. Uriel then asks, "Barnie, you''ve met the aliens and have experienced more about them than anyone else. What can I expect?" I cringe at hearing my nickname, that only she calls me, no one else, but I answer, "Feudalism and strange radiation. Hurts like a bitch when it gets on ya, melted all the skin on the right of my body and I had to get some new muscles, bones, and tendons remade to replace my hyper-cancer-filled ones. They are different looking, but not overly so. Nothing Lovecraftian as far as I can tell. They definitely rely on social ranks to judge your worth so act as if you''re some sort of hot-shot noble. Think like a lord or lady or something. I don''t really care, but I think it will lubricate operations properly. So stay in safe environments and suits, be respectful, act like you are a feudal lord, and everything should go well. Of course, I''m always here to bail you all out." They both nod and Uriel asks in a tone far more... scared than her normal flat demeanor, "Are you sure you can handle these aliens? If necessary?" I take a long drink and say in a near growl, "Heaven and Earth couldn''t stop me. You know that answer already, after all... You two are the reason I am known as the Eater of Worlds..." Josef raises his stein and we gently clank our drinks together the mood back to a quiet and polite one as Josef and I catch up with Uriel listening content with my answer. It''s nice though, sitting in a room like this drinking with my two best friends in the entire universe. The two I would do anything for. Maybe it''s the good beer Josef brought but I say to them, "I really missed you guys..." Operation Courtier: Playing Nice The merry-making lasted until supper-time and we are all a little jolly by that point. Shariah is the one who comes to collect us as todays dinner will be with all the heads for a sort of secondary meeting, and for fraternization. I am not required to attend but I will be going with good company. Shariah does give all three of us strange looks, especially between me and Uriel. I guess she thought we actually disliked each other. We all laugh and make inside jokes the whole way to the science vessel galley. Shariah seems rather awkward the whole time, unsure of what to say. As a sort of social butterfly and a trained diplomat, she appears to be having issues with being completely lost in the conversation. She then asks, "So... you all seem to know one another... how did that come to be? Military service?" I shake my head and respond flatly, "Nah, we all come from the same hometown." Josef then responds, "Actually we came from ze town, you came from ze woods mein friend!" Uriel elbows me in the ribs knowingly and I laugh along and say with an overexaggerated twang, "Okay! I''m a country bumkin!" This gets a laugh from my two friends but Shariah remains neutral all things considered. We reach the dining area and as it turns out, the civilian vessels have far better rations, but this makes sense as their space doesn''t have to be occupied by weapons, armor, and ammo, therefore they can afford to store better and more food, which is good especially considering who they have on board. We sit at the long table and start enjoying our supper of sloppy joe and fries. Throughout the meal, there is quiet and calm conversation but I do notice Shariah staring at Uriel. While an untrained eye may think she is staring out of some sort of jealousy or other form of woman territoriality, this time it is a mix of amazement and disgust. Uriel, as dainty and unbothered as possible is slamming well over six portions of fries. One fry at a time in a quick but polite manner. I eat and can''t finish my meal all the way and slide a partially eaten uncouth Joseph over to her, and in a quick blur of a knife and fork, it is gone. Then she pours some instant gravy on her fries and continues to eat in the quick manner she does. Uriel is great at hiding her rather limited capacity for emotion, but there is one thing she cannot hide, her sheer and utter gluttony, in more than one way. Despite having an admittedly great figure, her capability to eat quadruple what I can is uncanny. I don''t know how she keeps slim, but she never vomits up her meals, in fact, her gut sometimes gets a little pooched by the sheer volume consumed. She is self-conscious about it, but she can''t help her genetics stop her from ever feeling truly satisfied. Luckily her genes do allow her to eat nearly anything biological for calories and with minimum side-effect. Not only this but she has something of a very sensitive palette meaning she can taste more than the average person meaning in her mass intake of food, she enjoys it more than everyone else. So in her self-conscious state and ravenous hunger, she acts unbothered and keeps eating rather politely so as not to draw more attention than her eight plates do already. Apparently, the volume of calories does grant the advantage of a harder-working brain or something, I don''t know the full details but her exact lineage was bred to be human computers and the high caloric intake was to fuel the smart head meat. I still don''t understand fully as I am not a biologist and I do not truly care about her genetic shortcomings, all I know is like me, her gene line is banned from being replicated again, aside from standard reproduction. Apparently, it''s a sort of hell she goes through. With supper ended and Shriah greatly concerned for her fellow head of operations, especially after the small cake Uriel ate, we left and I traveled alone to the Catfish on my own as Shariah is being rehomed in the civilian vessel and after seeing those staterooms I can''t say I blame her. By this point, I am sobering up and feel really tired, and a little upset my slightly tipsy state didn''t last longer. I take one last check through all reports from all ships in my head and sit on my bed. I remove my hat and lie on my back still clothed and stare at the photo taped to my ceiling. The group of thirty people standing close, all but three faces marked out with black marker, and no one is in a military uniform. I groan to myself annoyed about having a good memory despite being over sixty. I roll over to my side, stare at the UN flag, pick the small knife off of my nearby nightstand, and then throw it into the nearly irreplaceable memento. Unfortunately, the knife bounces off the metal wall behind it, leaving only a pin-prick in the flag. The knife clatters against the metal deck and I stare at the flag, feeling hollow...then hateful... "I want at least two marines going with any team sent planetside. Communications, connect with the Shipmaster and request permission to park a drone in low orbit at minimum, or in a circling escort pattern over the team. I want eyes on them at all times. I do somewhat trust our galactic neighbors, but I prefer keeping my eyes on our boys and girls. " My voice carries through the bridge and through radio to the civilian operation heads and Shariah. Planetside research teams are being gathered for the first expeditions onboard the civilian vessel which is now in low orbit of the planet below. Uriel, Josef, and Shariah sign off for their respective teams to have marine Escorts, except Jackson and his legal team. He claims that the rule of law and creating trust means having an armed escort is unneeded and offensive. I responded, "You''re fucking retarded, you''re getting those marines and you''re welcome to try and... well remove them from your shuttle." This shut him up quickly, but I did get an anonymous message telling me how unprofessional I was. I send back my helmet cam from when my hand was cut off with full audio of my screams. There were no other messages. While it was a cultural misunderstanding it still makes sense to have an enhanced human to bail you out when shit goes south. Speaking of just in case I order the marines not to carry their standard rifle, while chambered in a caseless telescoped version of the old .408 Cheytac, which is plenty for all but the most armored of human opponents, I am not sure what this planet has in the way of wildlife, and considering these aliens are a multi-species empire you never know if they have a living tank or something. I order them to carry the "Mah Duce" M2A25E2 Super-heavy Rifle. Which is an M2 Browning heavy machine gun rechambered in a caseless telescoped 50bmg derivative the firing pin is replaced by an electronic ignition system and has polymer furniture built around it to look like a standard rifle, but bigger, and only marines can really use them and that''s who they are built for. Now with modern chemical propellants and mostly tungsten construction of bullets they almost quadruple the pressure of the original bullet. Overall, a ship of Theseus problem but I mean, it''s a classic. Regardless the communications officer gets the okay from the aliens to have a drone escort after a short discussion. He sends me a text message about how our new friends feel a little insulted that we do not trust them enough yet, but they did concede as they too understood the need for caution when meeting new people. Also, The communications officer did make it known we are not making a display of force by bringing the marines, they are simply there as escorts, and as enforcers for the rule of law for our own people. They accepted this too as to hopefully discourage any other incidents like mine. The carrier deploys four drones, one for each team, and is loaded with mainly ground attack missiles. I am fully confident any non-capitol ship air unit can be swatted rather easily by any of my capitol ships, but if any of those big vessels choose a I fight I have already given the order to run and have the science teams accept capture until negotiations can be achieved once more, and for the marines to start causing hell and to not allow capture at any cost for themselves. With my security orders being followed I sit back down in my command seat and watch the screen as the shuttles head toward the planet below. Suddenly, I find myself rather lacking in tasks to take care of for the day. Nothing on any of the ships requires my attention and I really don''t feel like having a random equipment inspection, as I had done one of those days earlier. I don''t even have to ask for reports as the AI found on all the ships compiles everything mission-sensitive or otherwise important into nice little texts that are sent directly to the Catfish where the AI there summarizes the information and highlights things that both Naval doctrine and myself have designated as important. Of course, I can go through all of the reports but we are sorta just floating around in orbit and the biggest changes and slight course adjustments to avoid collisions or to maintain orbital status. Although some anomalies have been reported. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Most of these reports are related to alien vessels and how they move. It was noted earlier that the ships are locked in space. They are not in a steady orbit but are not moving at all when idle. They aren''t in geosynchronous orbit, they have a total velocity of zero in space. This is quite odd as there are no signs of thrust being emitted by the ships meaning something else is holding them in place. Not only this but the ships that come and go from the system for various reasons. Our best guess is commerce and other cargo hauls. We have figured out their engines run cold but produce an insane amount of thrust and an easily followable train of their special local radiation. I do like how the trails are very distinct and disperse measurably so tracking of their vessels is possible, and they have the radar cross sections of skyscraper buildings. The other strange thing is their FTL. Their ships just blink into reality after a burst of their radiation. This is observable, but so far all sensors cannot track this happening prior to it finishing meaning their FTL is pretty close to true teleportation or something. Maybe we can get ahold of it. I would love to see the Euro''s faces when a battleship blinks above New Brussels and rains nuclear fire upon their little union building. Moving on from my nearly war-criminal tendencies I study more of the reports on the alien vessels and go over all the optical data as well. I have noticed the ships are really poorly constructed, based on human metrics. Their average size is over a kilometer long which has the benefits of being a heavyweight with more area for armor and guns, but also a bigger target and requiring more Deta-V to turn and move. Utilizing chronography and radar pings we have determined their ship hulls are made from a mixture of rather poor quality steel and actual masonry. There are signs of exotic materials mixed into the composition but while tracking space debris which impacted something invisible 30 meters off of the hull of one of their ships, it is theorized they have some manner of force-feild or energy shield. This possibly doesn''t bode well for us in a fight if it comes to that. Regardless the locals seem to like Shariah and her diplomatic team so hopefully they can continue to keep good relations going. Sitting there, slowly growing bored I am pulled to attention by a small ping. I open the message and it''s from Shariah who simply asks, "Are the main guns of the Catfish ready to fire?" I feel my stomach sink for a moment before calming down and I request clarification, but with an affirmative to the question. A few moments later she replies, "The Shipmaster has requested a weapons demonstration, he will also be firing his main armament so it''s fair. The target will be some asteroids in orbit around the local gas giant." I send back an affirmative as a very vague destination is sent to me. I bark my orders to the pilots and order the rest of the fleet to maintain current headings. The USS Catfish comes to life as great plumes of solar flame trail behind the behemoth. We pull away from the rest of the fleet before activating the Alcubierre drive, changing the average acceleration of space around us to the speed of light, the stars stretching in front of us as reality is slightly warped and then we accelerate with standard sub-light engines and in less than twenty minutes we arrive near the designated meeting point. Once we return to a normal state of space there is a pause and then the gargantuan ship blinks into reality with a burst of radiation that causes a few warnings to blink onto screen for a moment. Immediately we are sent one of their odd communication links. "Good morning Shipmaster Commodore!" The jolly voice of the Shipmaster comes through and I can''t help but crack a smile even though he can''t see me. I return the greeting and then ask, "So Shipmaster, are we doing so target practice?" He laughs loudly and then replies, "Yes, that is the case, my good sir. I will begin, as the host of this little adventure it is only fair. I do request you fire your main battery as I will be doing the same." I give an affirmative and he tells me, "I will be aiming for an asteroid that''s about... 50 cubits across, it appears to be a largely nickel-iron one." I say nothing a little confused about the target. While decent-sized and probably quite dense that isn''t really a show of force. Maybe he is designating a target like that for a baseline since a nickel-iron asteroid is probably as close as one can get to steel armor in natural form. Not too dense, not too weak, and not too resistant. So maybe he is proving a point. I watch the big ship rotate to its side, facing a broadside cannon toward the small field of asteroids. I have external cameras highlight and track all asteroids of the size and composition the Shipmaster designated. It''s close to a few hundred but manageable to track. I also focus multiple sensors on the large ship, hoping to get a good baseline of data for their weapons. There is a notable uptick in the local radiation around the barrel of one of the 1-meter bore weapons, it looks as if the radiation is being drawn into the barrel. This continues for a while as lightning arcs off of the barrel and temperature increases. The Shipmaster communicates, "I will not lie, as it is not honorable, but this is meant to be a humbling experience. To show you the absolute power of our mighty kingdom. I like you so please do not feel too disheartened when you learn of your weapon''s ineffectiveness compared to ours. This is a full charge for this weapon so be amazed, not fearful as it shouldn''t be used against you." Then it fires. I expected the weapons to be some sort of massive railgun, instead, a focused beam of light is fired from the massive barrel, but it''s not light as it moves much slower than luminal speed, relativistic yes, but not light speed. According to readings, it is almost nothing except the strange local radiation with intense heat and light being produced somehow. It strikes the asteroid and after a few seconds of burning the metallic rock, it then explodes. The beam immediately disappears as the AI goes about calculating the intensity of the blast that broke the asteroid apart. `25T. That is the calculated power of the blast before us. 25 tons of TNT equivalent power. If the Shipmaster isn''t lying then that is pretty pitiful, well sorta. The weapon itself is insanely cool, a direct energy weapon, or maybe a radiation weapon, but whatever it is it is far better than all of our direct energy weapons. Unfortunately, it has the same capability as some secondary batteries in direct power. The standard non-nuclear anti-capitol ship round fired by the USS Catfish has its impact at a max of 125T, admittedly that is pushing it and will damage the barrel through intense magnetic force. The average is about what that big beam was at 25 tons of TNT. Devastating, but can be negated by good sloped armor and specialized construction. Since their weapon is direct energy, and at a manageable level I am certain the construction of the USS Catfish can easily handle multiple shots from those weapons, the thermal transfer being negated through ablation of external layers of armor. I decide not to fire a nuclear shell, instead I order a DT round or direct transfer round. A shell designed to not penetrate armor, but instead transfer a massive amount of kinetic energy usually utilized to shove enemy vessels out of orbit. These shells are made of super-dense materials that are rather soft, many are composed of large quantities of Neptunium and Platinum for high weight and the ability to "Squish" when hitting enemy vessels. One of the Dorsal batteries comes to life at my order. Large magnets separate the ring of the turret from its housing by a millimeter allowing for frictionless traverse. The ammo feed system takes the special round, replacing one of the pre-loaded nuclear shells in the six-round drum behind the selected cannon. I target one of the asteroids the same size as the one he shot at and of the same composition. I have one of the CWIS guns fire a tracer into the asteroid so that the Shipmaster can see what I am firing upon. I say no words as the gunner takes aim. There is no charging sequence as that would be impractical, large banks of capacitors having already been filled and at the ready. I simply nod and the shot flies. Much slower than their weapon, but the impact is similar. There is only a slight flash when the shell strikes but the asteroid is blown apart by the earth-shattering impact. Calculations show our shot hit with a similar amount of power, but probably less since the shot was fired at standard speed rather than overcharging the barrels. Believed to be about 24T, maybe. When targeting things like asteroids its more akin to how you hit it rather than how hard you hit it, an armor-penetrating round could''ve easily shot through it if fired hard enough without transferring all the energy so my DT round was the best option for the demonstration. The Shipmaster asks me, "Was that... your most powerful shot?" I think for a moment before replying, "Yes and no. That is the most powerful shot from that cannon alone, relying on nothing more than the force of the slug it fired. No specialty ammo was used." There is a long pause and the Shipmaster asks meekly, and almost incredulously, "Please show... the specialty ammo..." I shrug and the great drum rotates behind the cannon and the shot is sent flying. A nuclear shell not even a megaton in size is sent out. It''s a non-directed shell meaning it''s a strategic warhead meant for explosive effect rather than penetration. Basically a nuclear HE shell. In a few seconds the round impacts and the asteroid, with a few others around it are blown to bits after a small flash. Nukes look strange going off in space, there isn''t a fireball, just a single small flash and then nothing but radiation and depending on the situation a shockwave. In this moment it mostly hyper-accelerated bits of the asteroid that was impacted which did most of the effect on the others rather than a true shockwave which requires a medium to work. I made sure not to load a nuclear shrapnel shell as thousands of nuclear-accelerated tungsten hexagons would be quite unfortunate for any civilian vessels in the system who happen to be passing through. There is a dead stillness in the air and I have to ask, "Did the EMP knock communications somehow?" The Shipmaster then stutters, "No... no... I may have to report something back to the crown... tell me what is that weapon? What kind of magics did you use... or well any other terms you may have?" I don''t know how to respond but record the message for the smart people to deal with later. I then respond, "No magic, it is simply the properties of the materials found within. It''s called nuclear fusion, I''m sure your kind has something by a different name and is far greater than ours." He simply responds in a near growl, "We do not..." Operation Courtier: A strange discussion I stomp through the hallways of the civilian science vessel, my mind reeling from the information I have recently become wary of. I am making my way to another meeting at the end of the day where the scientists and diplomats are going to discuss their findings. What I learned is extremely disturbing and could mean trouble. The Eternal Kingdom has never figured out nuclear fusion or even fission. In fact they truly have never heard of Uranium metal, or even any fissile material at all. The Shipmaster seemed quite disturbed by my showing of standard nuclear armament and when he asked if that was my strongest attack I told him it was the strongest in a way, but only for the main cannons of my ship. I was referencing the nuclear HEAT shells we have for really hard targets, but the nuclear effect shells used for slapping things with light armor technically have a higher yield. Still, it has less damaging capability compared to the hellish Cassaba howitzer nuclear HEAT shells, which are the main guns the USS Catfish can use. The 12-inch guns are the smallest caliber guns capable of firing these weapons with any reasonable yield. I explained this to the Shipmaster who really seemed horrified and as a gesture of good faith, I offered to show him our highest-yield tactical device the USS Catfish has on board. He declined stating, "I need some time to go and think about these developments. Let us end these weapons tests, but thank you for showing me." He then severed the line before I could answer and then his massive ship blinked away in another burst of radiation.I recognize a terrified retreat when I see one so the weight of the situation dawned on me and I quickly made my way back the the fleet and waited until the ground teams were done before boarding the civilian vessel worried that the Eternal Kingdom may choose some manner of preemptive strike out of fear of our nuclear weapons, or possibly may try and take them from us for study through force. I enter the meeting room and find it entirely jolly. Everyone is talking giddily, it''s not just the team leads, instead its all the team leads plus the heads of specific science groups like microbiology, geology, chemistry, ETC. All the eggheads ignore my entrance as I slink over to the table and sit down at an open chair next to Uriel who still keeps her icy expression despite her overly excited tone of voice. From what I am picking up from the room, what has been found is an absolute breakthrough in science. Regardless I lean in and whisper in Uriel''s ear, "I fucked up... no... Shariah fucked up and I followed through." She glances at me in that icy way she always has for a moment and without breaking stride sends me a text through our neural links which reads, "send through texts, don''t fucking ruin the situation here. We are enjoying ourselves." It takes me a while to word what I need to say correctly and the whole time Uriel can see in the corner of her vision me attempting to create a response through text. Eventually, I found the right words so as not to make the situation seem overly dire, but definitely something that cannot be ignored. The situation is laid out and all she sends back is, "The meeting is starting soon. You will go last as the information we uncovered may actually give you peace of mind." I do not respond but pat her on the shoulder before facing the meeting table. I activate the built-in console so I can access pictures and reports as the scientists and diplomats explain their findings. Since this is a civilian vessel one of the heads has to send all the information directly to my head rather than me just downloading it myself. I flick out my metal fingers the gloves dulling the loud metal scraping. The conversation slows down before Uriel gets to the head of the table and opens with, "Alright, let''s get into this. I know we are all excited about the findings but I will start us up here. I know we all want to share but all the heads of this operation aside from the Commodore here have decided the abiotic information we have found is foundational to the biotic things and also the political and legal." A projector turns on and a small presentation starts. Uriel then begins, "In our further studies of the strange matter and radiation found within this area of space, these findings have been a mixture of disturbing and highly interesting. First, the basis of this all is physics and the sometimes utter lack of them. The locals call these phenomena "magic" and the radiation "Mana" or at least these words are the closest translations we have to standard English. As you all know this part of space has radioactive particles that are opposite charges to ours back home, this is also on top of them having the same Alpha, Beta, and Gamma particles we know and love. This novel radiation, from here on out referred to as Reverse Polar Radiation or RPR. This RPR is fairly easy to manipulate once one understands how it works. This is through means of electromagnetism as well as utilizing normal radiation. The previously known radiation prior to this study will be referred to as OR or old radiation for ease of understanding, this will change later as this is a placeholder. It has been found small controlled gamma bursts from some of our equipment can cause the RPR to act in predictable ways as they are attracted or repulsed by the gamma if done in specific ways light can be produced along the gamma stream through still unknown means. Electromagnets can also achieve this in a far more controllable way. When done in certain ways, as shown in video 1a3 a layer of RPR can be forced to gain mass through creating a super dense layer creating something like new matter without the radioactive particles actually starting fission. This creates a dull glow of various colors, it is unknown why different colors are expressed, but this glowing patch has mass but is still permeable, like a non-Newtonian fluid. Certain levels of energy are allowed to pass, such as a falling leaf, but when a stick was swung at the subject the stick''s acceleration was reduced as if it had been run through an area of higher resistance. This was described as trying to swing the stick while underwater. Every time the electromagnet was switched off the wall of radioactive particles was dissipated with little to no residual particles left behind. RPR when interacting with OR does not result in destruction of either, this usually results in strange phenomena that we have yet to understand. Both types of radiation exist throughout this part of space and on the planets but do not interact at all unless acted upon by extreme bursts of OR, and theoretically bursts of RPR. Why this happens is unknown as they are of opposite charges. The biggest finding we have found is how radioactive this part of space is. If this whole area was composed entirely of OR it would be similar to the aftermath of a fission reactor meltdown. The levels of radiation found planetside composed of OR and RPR are just as common as photons coming from the sun, or that is theorized. All planetside radiation kits showed the highest readings and possibly would go further. Scans from space corroborate this data, but the surrounding space is so much more saturated in RPR and OR that taking readings of the planet is near impossible thanks to interference in the void. This whole part of space is similar to standing inside the reactor of a completely melted-down powerplant. The next part of our findings is how RPR interacts with matter. The existence of RPR means there are subatomic particles within atoms of the same charge. This is true and thus creates something we call Strange Matter or SM. I will continue on this subject later but first is how RPR interacts with our normal matter or NM. Despite how it seems NR isn''t always affected by RPR as NM exists in large quantities in this part of space, of course, most of this matter is hydrogen and the SM version of hydrogen which we will get back to. It has been found that all SM is practically immune to RPR unless it is directed into a piece of matter through electromagnetic force. What usually happens is the release of light and heat and other releases of energy such as a disproportional amount of kinetic force. During testing, it was found that the RPR can increase electromagnetic forces placed upon an object. This was expressed via the use of an electromagnet to lift a small ingot of iron. The magnet was nowhere near the strength to lift the 1KG ingot of iron, but when observed the RPR surrounded the object and more than doubled the forces as if a hand or something picked up the iron as kinetic forces were being placed on the iron. This of course will be further researched. Videos 3a1 through 3a10 show this phenomenon in action along with a breakdown of the current findings. What is most interesting, and almost disturbing about the RPR is its transformative effects on NM and SM. The RPR can directly add atomic mass and charge to atoms of NM and apparently to SM as well, but research on SM must be studied further before this is confirmed. This RPR Fusion event hereby referred to as FE works in an interesting way compared to normal atomic fusion. There is no great burst of light and heat as we know, when RPR is used this event becomes the FE. As far as we can tell normal fusion works as expected, but more protons, electrons, and neutrons can be added to NM and SM at random due to this anomalous effect. We were unable to perform this by ourselves and required assistance from a local. They managed to turn hydrogen into helium with minimal effort, only a slight glow was observed without any thermal release. It is currently believed that the opposite can happen with similar effects. This means RPR can completely remove the effects of normal fission and fusion. Videos 3a1 through 3a20 prove this action with multiple different tests. Then is the SM, which is a matter that utilizes the oppositely charged subatomic particles in its construction. As far as we can tell there is an equivalent periodic table composed of SM. This matter is capable of being entirely stable without any RPR being released in its base state, and this SM acts similarly to its NM counterpart but with sometimes strange behaviors such as being lighter than air but being as tough as the lead it is the direct opposite of. This shouldn''t work at all considering the atomic mass is the same as regular lead. There is so much information to go over all figures are being put on hold before release before more information can be gained. It also should be noted that SM and NM can sometimes alloy or create an exothermic reaction similar to thermite. How and why this happens is unknown at this time. Last is the sheer abundance of natural resources on the planet. A local who escorted us to the testing area told us this planet is rather low in resources and they find it hard to make a living when it comes to mining. We so far do not know the geological history of this planet yet, or at least much of the history but this planet is so far one of the most abundant planets in records. The planet has a universally temperate climate, even at the poles, the dirt has hunks of iron, gold, and other precious or useful metals easily accessible. Nearly county-sized ore veins of nearly pure metals or other resources. The soil is fertile and allows for easy farming without much fertilization or irrigation. The planet surpasses any standard classification as it is what should be known as a world without any threats to human life or progress. Something never before seen. The aliens refer to this planet as poor. What this could mean is unknown at this time. Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings. With this baseline out of the way, we shall now move onto the biotic nature of this alien part of space." Uriel sits back down and the crowd of scientists murmur in excitement about the prospects all this new science can offer. I sit there shocked and slowly coming up with my own theories and answers to questions brewing in my mind. From what I can piece together it''s starting to sound like these aliens have something quite similar to legit magic. I mean multiple processes that should result in an actual nuclear explosion, or at least require an equivalent amount of energy is being done without the threat of even slight burns. The only danger is that the radiation that makes this possible literally melts our flesh and gives turbo cancer. I focus up again as Josef stands up front with a balding professor type. Josef says, "I am sorry mein friends, but mein accent may be difficult for some to underzand me fully so I will have ze doktor Klein here explain ze biological studies." (Authors note: I didn''t want to write the explanation in a crappy German accent.) Dr.Klein clears his throat and starts his own presentation. He then speaks, "I understand we have had only a day to do research but what we know, even after a single day, is far beyond what we could do back home in a hundred years. I shall begin speaking about the major things we have learned about these novel aliens and how our biology reacts. First, why is radiation that seems harmless to the locals deadly to us? This is simple, we do not have resistance to it at all. Our cellular makeup was formed without RPR and our cells cannot resist the attractive and repulsive forces of the RPR. Due to having none to learn to resist, our naturally limited radiation protection cannot help us at all against RPR resulting in immediate DNA destruction in the exposed cells. This can result in almost immediate, and highly aggressive cancers as Commodore Hollander found out. Not only this, but since our bodies are a theoretical area of no RPR or SM it immediately binds or enters known biological tissue resulting in burns similar to being doused in strong acids. Despite lots of smoke, there is little in the way of an exothermic reaction. So far we theorize why this happens with known biological matter while NM is completely unaffected is that our known biomatter does not exist in this part of space while NM does. As this part of space is closer to the galactic core than our known area of space we believe most NM formed alongside SM and for some reason, RPR and related SM either was somehow stopped or decomposed before reaching Earth and the other biologically viable planets in our part of space. This is a theory but we have evidence to corraborate this theory. Next is the incredibly strange... things the living organisms of this part of space can do, or at least some of them can do. More research must be done before any certain statements, but we have observed something strange." The man sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose before he continues, "I do not know how to describe this in scientific terms, but simply put the organisms can straight up use magic. While we have a good theory about how it works and the possible limits of this magic it is the simplest name to call it and it is a pretty apt description of the actions and abilities of these alien organisms. As the abiotic science team found, RPR can be practically controlled through the usage of electromagnetism. This appears to be the case on a biological level too. Referred to as the mana field of an organism by the locals, this field is a naturally produced form of electromagnetism that can be trained and controlled with incredible precision. We haven''t been able to dissect a cadaver to figure out how this works, even the prisoner taken five years ago has not passed on and it was seen as cruel to execute them for the sole reason of cutting it to bits. We currently believe that electromagnetic fields are produced through a complex series of either nerves or subdermal muscles like a shark''s electroreceptors or an electric eel. More research must be done, but what the organisms are capable of is... intense. It appears differing species and genetic lines within species can have affinities with their supposed magic. We did note differences in each individual mana field so this could be the truth. The physics-breaking nature of RPR can be utilized through their fields to seemingly produce matter, energy, and other... effects out of thin air, without needing air just ample RPR and a potent enough mana field to wield the proper amount of RPR or matter. We have observed aliens producing fire, lightning, and some potent acids, and even performing telekinesis with this power. We also have been told there are living statues in places somehow enchanted to walk around through this... strange phenomenon. Seemingly the limits are endless and all known physical laws are going to have to be revised. Regardless each individual is born with limited capabilities to produce certain effects for their entire life, but the capacity and scale within these effects can be trained as if it were a muscle. This is all we have at the moment, and I believe there is lots more we need to understand, and we will find out more in the future. I apologize for how short this was, but biological sciences do take more time sometimes than chemistry and physics due to the extreme complexity of even the most simple biological systems." He suddenly sits down, looking drained from his speech which he seemingly did on a total of four breaths. For a moment I have to take a look around the room just to make sure this isn''t some elaborate prank. Finding everyone discussing this as seriously as a heart attack I sink into my chair feeling a little silly about being so worked up about them possibly being intimidated by nukes. I wouldn''t be if I, and lots of others could shoot fire and all kinds of cool magic stuff. I put both hands on my face and leaned against the table in front of me. I think I need a drink. Then Shariah takes the floor and she starts with, "Now that we have gotten a summary of all the scientific aspects of our current... scenario I will now share the political situation of the Eternal Kingdom. I am going last because the science behind this part of space plays a big part in their society. First, their society is one of a feudal-style monarchy. This monarchy and all its noble houses formed around the most potent magic people whatever the term they used was. It was ruled by the strongest for the longest while, but slowly as the kingdom expanded some of the nobles became less powerful, but now they hold soft power instead. Apparently, there still are some heavy hitters running around though. According to those I talked with, the King is seen as some sort of divine entity and possibly may be a living breathing nuclear device. These claims have yet to be proven or denied, so tread with caution on that, although we are most likely never going to meet the king. While this may seem like a slight to us, it''s really not. The King, who has no other name, never leaves the palace unless it''s time to basically commit a punitive genocide. From what I''ve gathered he is the pillar that holds up their entire interstellar empire. How this is I don''t know. Second, their society strongly lives by who has the higher power level and some really complicated social etiquette. The social etiquette is mostly for the upper class, it''s a convoluted web of gossip, rumors, and never actually saying what you mean. Then it''s all piled high with professional ass-kissing your higher-ups. Reputation is everything to them and a small slip-up could lead to an eventual hostile takeover of one''s family holdings. Damaging another reputation through any means aside from martial is considered an incredibly grave offense usually met with a deadly response. On top of this social stratification is usually decided by the power and influence of either an individual or the family name they are attached to. Power levels or whatever you want to refer to them as, are genetically predetermined to an extent meaning there is little upward social mobility. Also, apparently, most commoners, peasants, and the like have a very limited magical field or none at all resulting in no magical capability worth noting. Lastly, and most upsetting is the practice of mass slavery in their kingdom. There are entire species that are enslaved within their kingdom usually for reasons of past criminality or resistance to being integrated into their society. One is born into slavery and is able to get out of it based on some incredibly rare and lucky circumstances but slaves truly have no rights. The only rights they have is based entirely on their master''s whims. They are property and stealing or harming another''s slave without permission is criminal. While this is against our most basic American ideals, we can in the future move toward... enriching their society and hopefully resulting in eventual emancipation. So those are the main three aspects of their society that need to be addressed for future interactions. Any questions?" I raise my hand and Shariah nods toward me and I ask, "So... we know how they are socially, but what is their society actually like? By this, I mean how does the standard person live?" Shariah nods in acknowledgment and continues, "I neglected to speak about that out of oversight, thank you Commodore. Their society is both backward and very advanced. On average their standard civilian or commoner lives in standards similar to the late medieval period or early Renaissance but with indoor plumbing and magic crystals for lighting. The nobility lives in great castles of stone and beautiful artisan glass, but lives similar to the time period they seemingly emulate. It appears their social development is quite stagnant while their technology advances to a fairly large stellar empire... according to them that is." I nod and lean back as other scientists ask questions. I think over the information I have been confronted with and decide... I am not impressed with these aliens. Non-nuclear, and while magic is cool they are not a threat. My only questions are about their FTL. That looked really cool. Simply appearing in one place and then another with minimal external indicators of anything happening. If we can figure out how to use that, the next time those Euro-fucks come for us we can just show up in New Brussels and glass the whole world. Regardless this information is really cool... I send a note about my potential concerns to Uriel, Josef, and Shariah before standing up and leaving the science vessel. I get back onto a shuttle and head back to the Catfish, this whole thing may not require someone like me and I need time to digest the information. If anything comes up that needs my attention they know how to get ahold of me. I sit in my command chair on the bridge when Shariah enters from behind me. She sits in her chair from before the new operation and she simply scrolls through information on her console. I am simply going over basic reports and making sure all the ducks are in a row. The backup communications officer gets up from his seat and starts to head for the bathroom. Out of the corner of my eye, I notice he is a little wobbly then just as he passes in front of me he collapses to the ground, writhing in agony as his mouth begins foaming. I feel my heart sink into my stomach as I practically leap over my console to hold him still so he doesn''t hurt himself on the steel floor. I bark an order loudly, "GET MEDICAL UP HERE RIGHT NOW! CODE ALPHA 21!" The seizing stops and the man sits up confused and crying. As I hear the medics approaching I look him in the eye praying not to see what I know I will. Small spots of his brown irises are losing color, a pale, pearl white replacing the deep chocolate brown as both pupils look like pinpricks despite the light levels being quite comfortable. I feel a lump in my throat and say in a low voice, "How long?" He slowly begins sobbing and says quietly, "I''m sorry sir... I can''t... I don''t wanna..." I grip his shoulders and keep my eyes locked on his as the medics start trying to pull me off. He then answers with a sob, "This was my third one... three weeks... I''ve been fighting it off..." I let go, bow my head, and say to the medics, "Get him to the med bay... I''ll follow you down to deal with it as his commanding officer. " I start to leave when Shariah asks me in a scared tone, "What''s wrong with him?" I glare at her from under my hat as the room stares at the paradise worlder with sheer disgust. I respond trying not to grit my teeth as I know it isn''t her fault, "The curse everyone but your kind carries." She looks around the room, at all the angry stares and shrinks. I leave the bridge my will steeling for what must be done as I make a stop by the armory for the task I will have to do... Operation Courtier: Curse of Mankind The med bay is a place of solemn silence aside from the occasional sob from Lieutenant Carter... the second communication officer. I sit across from him as the ship''s doctor does all manner of blood tests and neurological scans. I stare at the ground knowing what will happen as I''ve seen it hundreds of times in my over sixty years of life. It just isn''t fair, but it''s the curse nearly all of mankind is forced to carry. The doctor looks over at me and gives me a look telling me it is the curse that is causing the LT to suffer. Based on what he told me, he either has two days of sanity or life left. Depends on how tough he is. I ask him lowly, "What religion do you follow? I''ll call a chaplain." He sniffles out, "I''m a Christian... no denomination." I nod and send a text to the USS Catfish''s chaplain, a priest of the Astra Christian Church, the evolution of the Catholic church after... well... after what caused the illness we see now. I stand up and look him in the eye before stating, "Go to your stateroom. Write a letter for your loved ones and get into your dress uniform." Through tears, he asks, "Please, sir... I...I have a family. I want to go home... Just let me go..." I frown and grit my teeth together loudly but keep my composure and say again, "Lieutenant Carter. Give your family some solace. Write the letter... it would mean the world to them. I will deliver it myself to them." He simply bows his head in defeat before wandering off through the halls of the ship. His gait is slow and he seemingly can barely keep his footing. I feel a burning in the back of my eyes but I keep my face stone cold. I cannot let anyone see this break me. I walk back to the bridge, dragging my feet as I keep my composure. Once there I announce, "There will be a funeral for Lieutenant Carter in hangar 1. You all have one hour, wear your best. It''s the least we can do." I then leave for hangar 1. Shariah follows me but says nothing, the look in my eyes is probably not a good one. Once in the open space, I have the hangar crew put the shuttle stored there onto the ceiling rack, giving a large open space for the process. I retrieve a small box from my pocket, one I grabbed on my way to the armory, and hold it in my gloved hands. I don''t want to think about it. Soon people begin trickling in, including LT Carter who has wiped his face. He stands in front of the blast doors in parade rest as a line of naval officers and marines line up before him. The Chaplain, an old priest shuffles in and stands at the ready. I then stand two feet away from the dead man and stare him in the eye. I wait another few minutes as he wipes the last tears on his sleeve. I then start, "Lieutenant Carter of the USS Catfish... on behalf of the entirety of the United States of America I thank you for your service. You have acted diligently and honorably and we cannot ask for more. While your service has ended here, you will live on with the ship you called home. In the legends and myths of all the great sailors and seamen, from the days of wood and sails to our modern trails of steel and nuclear fire there are men like you. They litter the sea floor and the stars beyond. May you join them in the hearts and minds of those who will follow. I now offer you, your final medal." I open the small box revealing a brilliant red heart. A medal made for occasions like these. I then continue, "As we faced our great foe who put us in chains in his dying breaths he cursed us all. This curse follows mankind wherever it roams. For our loss, and your service I award you with the Crimson Heart. This medal is awarded to those who until their final moments challenge our oppressors even when separated by over a century. A life made short by the spite of wicked men is a hard one to live, but to march forward, to rage against the curse that has cut your life short is the greatest thing a man can do. We thank you for all your sacrifice and service." I pin the medal to his chest and then finish my speech, "As your commanding officer, I will be the executor of your final will. Let the choice be yours what you leave behind and how you wish to go." He hands me a letter with his shaky hands and I take it. Carefully I put it into my breast pocket. He doesn''t speak for a while as he fights tears, facing oblivion like a true man. He then says, "I want you to do it sir. It would be a great honor." My face shows no emotion but I want to scream. I want to grab him and curse him for his choice, but it is my role. I nod and step aside stating, "So it shall be. If it is your will, your last rites will be performed." The priest approaches and they go through the whole ceremony and finally, it is time. His last words are spoken and he kneels to the ground. His comrades and closest friends place a large American flag on the ground behind him and I swallow heavily. He takes a pair of noise-cancelling headphones from his pocket and says quietly, "It''s the last message from my family... before going on this voyage." I say nothing and let it play for a moment as I draw the large caliber handgun from my side. It''s a single-shot 12.7x40mm handgun designed for this task. He closes his eyes and his whole body shakes as he holds back tears. I don''t touch the gun to him but he can probably feel how close it is. He whispers as I assume the video ends, The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement. "I love you too..." *Bang.....* His friends wrap him in the flag, covering everything. It is bundled up and the wrapped body is carried away to be properly cremated before his ashes are stored for the return home. I feel my knees shake and even my metal fingers won''t stop shaking as I try to remove the brass casing from the handgun as is proper. I place the brass onto the star-spangled burial shroud. I then salute him a final time... I sit on my bed my eyes wet now that I am far away from it all. I can''t drink, not tonight despite my shaking hands practically begging me to. If anything touched my lips I think I''d hurl. My night gets worse by Shariah enters my room. She silently moves to the small desk near my bed and sits on the chair there as I stare at her. I see sweat form on her brow, I can only imagine the glare I''m giving her at the moment. She then asks a stupid question, "What...What was that?" I fall back onto training and the books to avoid an angry outburst, "Naval Code section 5 article 7. Any beginning to show mental degradation due to the curse laid upon humanity shall be removed from duty. If the curse has progressed past the third major seizure the subject shall face an honorable death as an act of mercy. If the subject''s mental state doesn''t allow for consent anymore it falls upon the highest commanding officer to carry out the task of this death. May God have mercy upon us who are cursed. End Code." She grits her teeth and says in an outburst, "I know the codes! The Diplo-Corps has the same one. I just don''t understand why that is. How can it come to this?" I frown and say in a low voice avoiding eye contact, "I have lived for sixty-four years. That is twenty years more than the average expected lifespan of a human male in this current year. My kind is not immune to the curse, I am simply lucky it has not been expressed. You are from a paradise world, you were bred to be a plaything and a pet to those men who put humanity in chains. Why would they curse their own pets? " I can tell my words hurt her, but she says nothing as I continue, "I have outlived almost all my friends and family. Uriel, Josef, and my old mentor are also lucky, and I am lucky to have them around still although I am sure my old mentor has passed on by now. You come from a privileged group, from a world where the curse isn''t a concern to you and you''ve never seen its effects." She shudders and asks, "What does it do? Why do you have to kill them?" I grit my teeth and answer, "Have you ever watched a mother slaughter her own children? Seen a man flay himself alive with a smile on his face? Have you watched cannibals devour their neighbors? No... you haven''t and I hope you never will. I have and I know the consequence of letting the curse carry on until it is fully expressed." She grimaces at the thought and asks innocently, "What is it? We never learned it in school..." I give a dry laugh before responding, "A Prion. Simply put it is a form of prion modified from the Creutzfeldt-Jakob prion from Earth. In all of our wonderful scientific innovations, cures for all diseases and nearly all cancers...we cannot fix a misfolded protein... It was a two-pronged attack. One was a specially designed virus with no symptoms and highly contagious that implanted a new genetic code into all of mankind, except the paradise worlders and their own breed. While the code has been repaired the damage cannot be. It forced the body to produce the wrong protein and it took just long enough to start killing that by that point it had been passed to nearly everyone. It spreads through placental nutrition, hell I don''t think there is a mammal meat in existence that doesn''t contain at least one of these prions. It likes to wait... and then it strikes... 80% of all humans will die from it... that arent your kind or the kind of our oppressors... It was the final cost of breaking the chains, a form of MAD that took the most horrible method to do so. It''s so incurable, and so targeted it''s hard to call it a disease, simply it is a curse. It can be delayed... but never beaten... As far as I know, no one knows why the paradise worlders are immune to it, but you are... so you are lucky." I stop talking because I don''t want to continue, plus I may have gotten something wrong so it''s better to go quiet now. She thinks on this for a moment before asking, "I was never told the complete history of the crimes the United Nations Central Authority committed... they were seen on my homeworld as... corrupt but with the right vision for humanity." I scoff and say under my breath, "Good dog..." But I apologize as she continues after glaring at me, "We were always taught it was something wrong with everyone else. A consequence of people being... too free... and not free of consequences. I don''t know how you take it so well..." I slam the ground as I stand up rapidly and shout, "I don''t take it well! I am the commanding officer of this ship and this fleet! My job is to protect everyone and make sure they get home safe! To see them as my beloved children! My heart breaks every time one of my crewmates dies even in combat! How do you think taking one of their lives makes me feel? It''s like my heart is being riddled full of holes with white-hot needles!" I sit down with a huff and breathe heavily before I lower my voice and say quietly, "Let this be a lesson... never let your crew see you cry, or anyone under your command. The CO is the foundation... don''t show any cracks. I''m sorry for yelling, today has been a bad day." She sits there for a while completely quiet before whispering, "Why did you have to call me a dog?" I reply quietly, "If you''re a dog, then I''m a mangy old stray. Please leave me be. I need to compose myself." She leaves without further questions or response. That''s the proper reaction. I''ve seen so many die... why is it always the young ones with family? The curse... it doesn''t discriminate, young or old it shows up when it wants. It kills some in a mercifully quick manner, and others it doesn''t kill, only allowing them to fall into madness as their brains are turned into mush. It was so insidiously designed it cannot be detected until it is in full production and in the process of performing its task. It''s found in meat, it''s found in breastmilk from mothers, it''s found in water for short periods of time, and it''s found in soil. It is the perfect bioweapon for the purpose of slowly destroying your enemy, that was their plan. They lost the war, they lost control of humanity and left known space. They waited until we had fractured once more when the curse had ravaged our people so greatly we were weak and they came back. They focused on the worlds which opposed them the worst, my home being one of them and the consequences were... devastating. There never needed to be a dangerous alien race... we had that and more within ourselves. I look over at that tattered and bloodstained flag on my wall and feel empty. I say to it, "I''m not much better than you all... am I?" I stand up and slap my face a few times. My expression growing stoic and cold. I say to the flag, "I am the eater of worlds, your final executioner... you continue to remind me of that." I can''t help but smirk at my own little mental act of defiance before finishing, "I glassed your homes as you did mine, it''s only a shame I can''t torment you as long as you''ve tormented me. I won''t break, that is how I''ll haunt your ghosts..." I sit down in the command seat and make a general order for all those who went to the funeral to take the day off. I know it''s unprofessional but it''s the least I can do. I sit at my console and link all the information into my neural link. It hurts my head but it allows me to do the tasks of everyone in the bridge crew at once. I can''t keep it up for very long, eight hours at most, but I am the foundation, and I am hard as a rock... Operation Courtier: Working on An Offer Eight hours after my self-imposed death march of a shift I am aboard the civilian science vessel in a nice lounge sipping strong distilled spirits with Josef and Uriel. My head is killing me and no non-addictive painkillers work on this type of pain. It''s not a true headache or a migraine although it does feel somewhat similar except my entire brain hurts. It''s from the overflow of information that gets plugged into the brain from every single ship system as well as fleet diagnostics. There is a reason why there are still multiple people working as bridge crew even though technically only a single person is needed to pilot, command, and gun the ship. This isn''t my first rodeo doing a full 8 hours like that but I really shouldn''t do it as apparently too much exposure to that can cause brain damage and aneurysms somehow. Josef and Uriel quietly discuss their science, theory-crafting about the connections between their biological and abiotic sciences. It would be fascinating if it wasn''t that every time I learn something new at the moment it feels like a white-hot spike is driven into my brain. Quiet city pop from our shared home and childhood plays in the background making the scene feel like some speakeasy bar or whatever if it weren''t for the brightness of the room. After a while of this as I practically melt into the nice couch Uriel looks at me and says in a gentle, but uniquely Uriel-like emotionless voice, "Barbie, go to bed. You''ve worked too hard, and at this point, mistakes will start being made. If you''re needed then someone can come get you." I frown both at hearing my old nickname I hated back in the day too, but also being told to go to bed. I have my duties... but she is right. I sigh and stand up heading over to the shuttle docking arm and take the short flight back to the Catfish where like a zombie I head to bed and collapse onto the rather uncomfortable Navy-grade bed. Mercifully there are no dreams, a side-effect of my little 8-hour shift, my brain is far too tired to even give me pictures in my sleep... After a good 6 hours of sleep I get up refreshed and ready, silently I am thankful for my genetics lowering my sleep requirements as it makes it so much easier to get stuff done. I head over to the bridge and check up on everyone and make sure everything is A-okay for now. While a little shaken from the news, as is expected, this shift didn''t know the poor unfortunate soul from the shift before as well, but onboard a navy vessel we are all family and at one point or another they have all met one another or know someone who was friends with the man. Thankfully this crew is veteran, so they are all quite capable of handling it and grieving in their own time. I just have to make sure no one is losing it or killing themselves with overwork as is possible after a tragedy. With that out of the way, I look through the logs sent from other vessels and get a request from one of the marine transports to do some outdoor drilling. I deny this request for now, but let them know I will work on letting that happen for them. I then go through the recorded footage of the Shipmasters vessel and how it moved through space, simply interested in the workings of the very artistic vessel. Their FTL may or may not be as fast as ours, but it is quite interesting because if there is a more efficient way to sail the stars I want to know for strategic reasons, also especially if I don''t have adverse reactions to it like I do to the singularity drives. I decide to send the footage to the science folks because they might be able to tell something from it that. Regardless it is out of my hands now. I watch the footage of that strange beam weapon the aliens used. It was really cool to watch but overall unimpressive all things considered. A direct energy weapon, even with the help of their "magic" still would have to consume far more energy than what is output there, not to mention their cooling troubles are probably beyond comprehension with that thing too. I also notice a major lack of point defense weapons on their ship, but that could be because they are hidden away in any number of the castle-like structures dotting the surface, or maybe they have a lower setting for those big beams and they sorta swing em around to clear smaller stuff. Regardless I am always interested in learning about novel methods and strategies. I get a random mental buzz and it''s from Uriel who is letting me know that my presence would be greatly appreciated planetside. The details are sparse but it appears that there is going to be some sort of treaty or related thing. The nobility of the planet wants me present and to be a signatory. While annoying because I have spent my entire life avoiding politics, they take rank very seriously here so as the highest active officer at the moment I am required to attend. I leave the bridge to switch from my normal naval officers uniform to the dress uniform instead, only to cover it all up in a spacesuit. The shuttle burns through the surprisingly thin atmosphere and low gravity of the planet. This makes the ride surprisingly smooth and comfortable as the pilot puts us down right outside of the city that had been designated as our landing zone. Apparently, according to the science folks, their orbital docking and unloading methods are different than ours so they don''t have true shuttle ports. I didn''t get a good look at the city as we came down thanks to the shuttle having no windows aside from those of the cockpit and I leave that space just for the pilots. The side door opens and I step right into a fucking fairytale. Everything is the wrong color of green as if it were painted or animated rather than the naturally varied shades that real grass and forests have. The sky looks too blue, and in the distance, I can see some majestic mountains. Small multi-colored insects flutter around happily drinking from any number of the thousands of colorful flowers. The sun seems to even have a golden glow to it that fills the air with a sort of dreamlike look. Then the city is about what one would expect an old fairytale city would look like with tall spires of the castle romanticism style. There even is an actual castle on top of a hill in the center of the city made of practically glowing marble. I try to rub my eyes but hit my clear visor. It feels so surreal as all the architecture and stuff feels... familiar, but alien at the same time. This is helped especially by the multitude of different aliens walking through the streets or riding... some strange creatures around like horses. Everything seems... backward... I knew their society was feudal, but... I thought they meant purely in a governmental sense, not this far! If I legitimately hadn''t seen their spaceships I would think we landed on some sort of primitive world. I feel my heart sink as a horseless carriage pulls up. Not a car, but a full-ass carriage with reigns and everything, but no draft animal. My emotions continue to sour as a literal cat boy thing dressed in some absolutely gaudy puffy finery steps from the carriage and bows to me deeply. The cat thing then speaks in their language but with a strange accent which the translator AI for some reason changes to an old-earth Irish accent, "Good morning to ya Shipmaster Commodore of the United States of America! I welcome ya to my humble village here. I will be driving you to the castle so the formal business can be dealt." Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon. It was a little off at the end, but I ignore it and respond kindly, "Ah thank you... um... so I just get in?" The creature nods and opens the door to me, and inside it is beyond luxury. I notice the whole thing shakes violently as I step in and I can''t help but feel fat. I don''t have a marine escort thankfully. I sit down in what is probably a really comfortable chair, but the softness is greatly reduced by my suited butt. I walk into the castle a husk of a man and Shariah approaches me with a similar expression and demeanor. I look her in the eye and say lowly, "Irish cat thing... furries... I thought...no... no good." She nods and asks me lowly, "Uriel... Josef...what about you?" I hold up a hand and shake my head and I respond, "I know, I''m sorry you had to see any of that." We walk side-by-side and head toward what is supposed to be a type of council chamber or something. I am already done with this place, everything seems so cliche, and all the art along the walls continues to prove my negative outlook. Massive multiple-story tall murals and tapestries of great battles against dragons and other fantasy creatures. Magical BS happening all over the place... I just wish things weren''t like this. I hoped the magic they were describing was just some weird physics, strange matter and energy, and the like. Unfortunately, this place, this planet proves that it''s not... magic, fantasy magic is real... somehow. I enter the council room and find a massive round table surrounded by all kinds of colorfully dressed aliens. Something that looks elven, the bird fucks, some lizard man thing, and then the shipmaster which I slowly piece together is a dwarf or something. I sit down in an empty chair, moving past the weird goblin-looking thing trying to pull my chair out for me. I slump down and don''t listen to the long speeches being said as I come to terms with my whole concept of reality coming undone, and now feel really awkward about always wanting to go to some fantasy reality after reading too much during my childhood. I eventually come back to reality just as the bird noblewoman says to the chamber, "Alright, let us begin this moment in history with a share in culture. Both parties will begin with their national anthems." I smile, because this is something normal. The aliens start first with a whole orchestra and chorus who perform an utterly beautiful composition. Even the bird woman joins in song, her shrill calls adding a wonderful high note to it all. The translator has to work overtime, but it reveals some lyrics letting me know the song is about how wonderful their kingdom is as well as how great their king is. I make sure to keep a recording for later. They end after a solid 20 minutes of singing and playing and I can''t help but give a quiet applause which seems to catch the aliens off-guard, but they seemingly understand it''s a display of enjoyment and seem content. The room is then quiet as Shariah messes with a speaker before she cusses over closed comms and says to all humans present, "It''s broken..." I feel my blood run cold as suddenly all the humans in the room, Uriel, Josef, Shariah, and the others all look at me and I try to shrink down. Shariah then says quietly just to me, "Please..." I frown but I stand up turn my speaker onto full and have the translator start pre-translating the national anthem. I have the song saved in my neural link and start the insturmental. Then with a deep breath I begin... "Oh say can you seEEEEEEEEEEE! By the Dawns Early Light!" I try to stare straight forward as my voice has already cracked once. I peek once and see Shariah has her head down, and I can see the corners of her mouth turning upward in a smile and I keep going, "What so proudly we hailed At the Twilights last gleaming! Whose Broad Stripes and Bright stars Through the Perilous fight over the Ramparts we Watched were so Gallantly Streaming?" I prepare for the high notes as the marines behind me join in, their rich and deep voices adding to my off-key and cracking voice, "And the rockets red glare! the bombs bursting in air! gave proof through the night! That our flag was still there! Oh say does that star-spangled banneeerrr yet waaaavveee? Ore the land of the freeeeeeeee!!!! And the home... of the.... BRAAAAAAAVVVVVVVEEEEEEEEEE!" My worst crack comes as I belt out the last word and I am left standing there in the silent chamber as I see the shoulders of everyone but the marines heaving through their suits. From what little of their faces I can see under their downturned heads there are smiles. If comms were to come back on I would be sure to hear lots of laughter. I sit down in my chair, my face bright red as the bird noblewoman stares at me with a strange look. She then speaks, "That...was... amazing... While the singing was... subpar I could really feel the patriotism behind that voice, the sheer loyalty and pride. Truly a noble song, not long at all but shares your martial history. Thank you Shipmaster Commodore, that was beyond our expectations." It doesn''t make me feel better but I can raise my head. The talks keep going for a while, which feels far more like speeches in some sort of strange ritual, probably some sort of signing ceremony that their kingdom does. From what I can tell, none of it is of actual substance, just listing off their justifications and the rights they were given by the king to do this. I guess it''s their version of legal proceedings. Then the doors burst open and a strange...maybe elf with pastel-colored skin bursts in and shouts while bowing, "M''ladies and Lords! Terrible news, the filthy secessionists have begun an attack on the city and we have reason to believe that some of their forces are headed toward where our guests from another world are located." I get up quickly as all the aliens'' faces go their species version of sour, and some even look afraid. I walk over to where the Shipmaster sits with a grim expression and I ask him in a low tone, "Shipmaster, I must ask you, what are the secessionists? Should I be worried for my people?" The Shipmaster gently puts a hand on my shoulder and pulls me in as the nobles begin squabbling over the situation. He then tells me, "They are those who do not wish to bow down to our King. Usually, they are those who are ignorant and are easily... brought back into the fold. These ones on this planet are... well they believe they are powerful enough to be independent. They are known for their brutal tactics and treatment of prisoners. So yes, your people may be in trouble." I frown and ask, "May I request salvation from your kingdom?" He sadly shakes his head and responds, "We will be busy defending against them, we cannot spare any knights or mages for a rescue until the situation is solved." I then ask in a serious voice, "Then can I rescue them?" The shipmaster looks me in the eye for a while, trying to gauge my confidence before he responds, "Yes you may... but please do not utilize attacks from space. It is quite... dishonorable." I nod and tell him, "I will do my best to not cause unneeded damage to the planet and especially to your people. Plus orbital strikes would put my own people at great risk." He nods and tells me, "I will make sure your quest is not challenged by any of the nobility here, I understand the need to protect you own." Without a word, I nod and salute the man before walking off. I send comms up to the fleet to prepare for an extraction mission and let the rest of everyone planetside know the situation. I held onto the shuttle and as the ship rises up and off the planet I start getting reports from the drone operators of the approaching enemy and even some reports from the marines on the ground that their group was being tailed. I patch into some drone footage and watch as full-plate-wearing warriors charge the city below me as flames, lightning, and other beams of light begin arcing across the field of battle. I then order more drones to be deployed and have multiple marine gunships load up and ready for launch... Operation Coutier: Rain of Steel Eye in the Sky drone system launched... There is a distant rumble as the huge missile launches from one of the VLS tubes. It''s not especially fast or agile but its payload can easily change hundreds up to millions of lives. This system fires an anti-ship-sized missile that "skims" across the upper atmosphere of a planet and spills thousands of specialized drones across a battlefield. Each drone is about the size of a human hand, nearly silent, and able to loiter for about 12 hours. They contain extremely high-resolution cameras, thermal optics, and specialized material-penetrating radars. Together the information is compiled and turns the battlefield into a real-time updated 3d space with very few places left to hide. It is a necessity for any planet-side invasion as orbital cameras can only do so much against things like heavy foliage and roofs. Due to the scientists planetside who are in danger having their location beacon on as well as their marines, the battlefield doesn''t have to be hundreds of miles in size. I make the battlefield a 15-mile diameter circle around the centermost location of the scientists, this allows for the drone coverage to be very thick meaning all target designation can be done with less than a millimeter of deviation. As the drones enter their spots, flying hundreds of meters in the air the initial scans come back rather dire. There are roughly three thousand unknown contacts making their way through the battlespace and more are trickling in from elsewhere. There are even some unknown contacts within 500 meters of the scientists and marines, but the group is 2 KM away from their shuttle. Luckily the area is heavily forested therefore the nearby enemies have yet to spot the scientists. I order the deployment of three additional drones loaded with ground attack munitions, focusing on anti-infantry with one or two anti-tank missiles just in case. As the drones finish scanning the battlespace, I am now able to get a full 3D rendering of the battlefield with incredible detail. I can then start categorizing the enemy and designating targets of interest. I note the enemy force is comprised entirely of either infantry or mounted calvalry who stick to pathways through the forest. I do not notice any outliers in their force. They appear to be trying to head toward where the shuttle is but aren''t 100% sure where it actually landed. This means their formation is incredibly wide, but not in a searching formation. They still keep tight groups, marching in a sort of lockstep through the woods and along the paths, highly disciplined but overall useless. The officers are also very obvious as they wear the most flamboyant clothing imaginable, or very shiny and decorative metal-plate armor. I don''t know much about the properties of the NM metals but I also know there isn''t much in the way of armor that an infantryman can wear that will protect them from a 75mm HE missile. Regardless I will first make sure the enemies are hostile to us. While I sorta trust the Shipmaster I don''t entirely. These are rebels and not all rebels are terrorists or radicals. Sometimes they are the honest ones in the situation. As a short test, I order a single marine drop-pod of 4 marines to deploy and to make contact with the unknown contacts. I watch the feed as a drop pod enters and slams into the forest. This causes multiple enemy formations to start heading in that direction. The four marines immediately follow the path I draw on the map for them and they bound out toward the nearest enemy formation at a break-neck 50km/h. They reach their target and as ordered they slow down before greeting them so as not to startle them too much. They approach them with a hand raised and I tell them to act as friendly as possible. The leading sargeant approaches and I patch into their helmet audio and she greets the commander of the approaching force, "Howdy friends! I am Sargeant Karelia of the United States Marines! I hope we didn''t startle y''all too bad!" The commander walks forward, it is some sort of... furry werewolf thing and stands about as tall as the marine. Its expression is not friendly but marines do not get intimidated. The best man then says in a gruff tone, "You are those in meeting with the false kingdom. Surrender and we may allow you to keep some honor knight." The Sargeant responds, "We are not your enemy, we wish to peacefully coexist with you and the kingdom if possible. This is not our fight. We are only trying to leave the planet so y''all can fight." The wolf immediately draws a sword and barks back, "No. You shall come with us now or we will be forced to slaughter or ravage you all." I then say to the Marines over comms, "Permission to engage granted. Lethal force authorized." The wolf has less than a second to realize the marines have chosen violence as their enhanced human reflexes and powered armor lets them level their weapons in the blink of an eye and not much really can save someone from 50 cal. While some might say I jumped the gun when it comes to rules of engagement, these are armored and armed combatants and the leader drew a weapon. I considered this to be the equivalent to them drawing a firearm or similar weapon. My role is to protect US citizens and that is what I will do. I will deal with the legal issues and paperwork later, right now it is time to defend my kind. As the heavy machine guns rip apart the group of twenty aliens with complete ease I declare every non-human in the battlespace as OPFOR. I then give the order for the scientists and their escorts to escape to the shuttle as fast as they can as the nearest enemy formation grows closer. To hinder this I have a combat drone fly overhead and its internal 25mm single-barrel chemrail is put to use. A single shot is fired and the huge HE round slams into the face of the commander of that formation. Their helmet visor was up, and it now clatters to the ground empty aside from gore. This causes the formation to halt immediately as they cannot see the drone as it hovers 2 KM away. The same happens for the next three closest groups as the drones hover within the picturesque fluffy white clouds, kilometers away from their targets. One shot, one kill. The easiest way to neuter any coordination in a large force is to start decapitating the outlying forces first, until a main leader on the field is located. Then you take them out and large forces tend to fall apart. Since it is best to run a military bottom-up with good sergeant and small force commanders with one or two overall commanders this is the only way decapitation strikes work. This isn''t 1600 where a single general commanded all forces and sergeants only had the role of relaying the commander''s orders. Quickly I understood this method doesn''t work on this enemy as the formations either continue on their path like robots, or just stop moving until apparently they get orders from a higher up... so that means I have to find the top of their leadership, and perform an older-style decapitation. I slowly narrow this down by watching the paths the enemy force is taking. All the vanguard forces appear to move in a way that matches a central formation. This central formation moves a certain way first, then the rest match that path after a few seconds. The center formation is composed of about 200 units and some cavalry, so it looks like a main force. I take some time observing the uniforms for me to understand which group within the formation is either the officers or an honor guard. Unfortunately, the commander in this group isn''t obvious as all within the fancy group are wearing heavy plates and are covered in expensive-looking engravings and coats of arms. I smile to myself as I get to use an older weapon I haven''t been able to use in years. I order a drone to fire a "Shreiker" missile. This missile is the final evolution of the air-bursting flechette bombs and artillery shells. The missile is a 152mm bore precision munition that detonates about 1km in the air where it deploys about 100 10cm long and 2.5cm round dart-shaped micromunitions. These are stored lining the sides and front of the initial larger missile. All of these micromunitions have control surfaces on their fins and are propelled by a small rocket. The rocket, due to the small hole the exhaust comes from creates a loud shrieking howl when deployed in atmosphere. They are guided with millimeter precision to individually designated targets, where they fall from the sky boosting into their target at Mach 1.5 where their osmium tips penetrate helmets and probably the entire soldier from the top of the skull and out their pelvis the whole way ripping and burning flesh. While designated as anti-infantry they are known for doing little miracles against light vehicles. Their main utilization is for the erasure of enemy forces when collateral damage is a concern as the weapon tends to only kill their target and without any explosive payload there is no risk for unexploded ordinance. If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation. The swarm of spotting drones in the sky begins highlighting targets based on my criteria, first focusing on the most well-dressed and armored individuals and then radiating out from there until all micromunitions have a single target. I watch as the missile is launched and bursts overhead. I watch some of the enemy formations look into the sky and then in a short instant it looks like 100 of the soldiers "jump" as the ground beneath them puffs from something impacting it. Then they all fall over, their skulls hollow and all internal organs shredded. Due to the sheer speed and traumatic impact of the micromunitions there isn''t any blood until they hit the ground. Now this causes the morale and chain of command impact I was looking for. I watch as all enemy formations immediately stop moving. This is about as good as it gets, I really don''t want to eradicate this force because at the end of the day, it could just be the commanders of this group that are hot-headed and the actual secessionists could be semi-decent people. So my plan is to get my people out of there and I really hope there doesn''t have to be a single casualty more. Unfortunately, this is not going to be the case as the formations start somewhat breaking up and multiple groups start making good time toward the shuttle. The scientists also are making terrible time and when I check with the marines they explain that some scientists are having actual panic attacks and many are unable to move cross-country with ease. I cuss to myself and make a note to ban any mobility-impaired people from fieldwork unless they do not leave a 100-meter distance from the shuttle. The drop pod marines finished their first contact with little issue and began moving toward the scientists and I order them to assist in carrying stuff if that is causing a problem. If there is someone dragging ass they have permission to carry them. Right now no enemy has contact with any of my people so there are no current problems, but there is an enemy force moving into the path between the scientists and the shuttle. To prevent an interception I have a drone circle around and suppress the enemy force. I splatter three enemies that look like commanders then rake the ground in front of them to show that they are not allowed to go any further. This causes them to pause and start looking about before they take a defensive formation. I then get to witness casted "magic" for the first time. In a double-line formation like an old-style red coat, they begin firing in multiple directions with impressive-looking streams of flame, bolts of lightning, and what looks to be ice shards. Their shots are slow and almost random as they try to saturate the area in their attacks. I take note none of the attacks are especially devastating, but they are doing a good job at deforestation around themselves. It appears they believe my forces are hiding in the nearby trees. I leave them to it but have the AI watch closely for any changes in their defensive positions. I watch as my people are able to get close to the shuttle, including the dropped in marines. They arrive at the location as a new fiarly large unit of enemy combatants enter the battlefield. It''s not another group of fancy-pants folks, but they are in a formation similar to that one. A distinct central group riding mounts surrounded by a screen of footmen. These riders are not dressed nicely, instead are dressed in what I would descibe as "Black Knight" armor. From what I can see from the drone footage they look rather sinister, the one in the middle the scariest by far, but they are also at the edge of the battlefield and don''t appear to have any indirect fire capabilities meaning they at the moment are no threat to my people. Just as I am about to look away and check on the closer enemies I notice the new formation open up and the central figure dismount. He then faces in the general direction the scientists and marines are and then he holds out his hand. I watch for a second confused before think he might be casting some sort of detection magic or something... I don''t know it''s magic. Then dust from the ground around him begins spiraling into the air above him as a small light forms. The light begins to grow in intensity until it is like a small sun over his head. I realize this might be a bad situation so I have a drone put a 25mm round through his skull just as he begins heaving forward which I assume is him launching the attack. The HE round splashes onto the helmet whcih causes the man to stumble, but I widen my eyes in suprise upon seeing that he appears to be shaken but fine, but his attack goes wild all the same. The fireball doesn''t fly off, instead it bursts outward in a huge arc of flame that expands in 30 degrees for well over 3 KM. The whole way it incenerates everything, trees, soldiers, and socrching the dirt below. I feel my mouth fall agape upon seeing this attack as it easily was a similar amount of energy to the blast from the capital ship, maybe... I decide then an there all black armored individuals need to be neutralized. I check on my people who appear to only be staring in horror at the wall of flame that appeared randomly. I order them to hurry up. As I go to give the order for the drone to drop a missile on the strangely well-armored person, I think for a second and decide I know too little about magic, therefore all enemies who have displayed magic should be neutralized in order to ensure the safety of my people. I have the hovering drones drop more of the Shreiker missiles on large formations, eradicating entire companies worth of men in mere seconds. As they do this I test something and send another 25mm round into a different black armored individual who also survives the shot, but appears to be unable to get up as quickly as the main black armored man. In another test I have the drone shoot an APFSDS round into one of the armored individuals, whose skull contents and some white-hot spalling slam into the one behind him, resulting in minor injury to the one who got splattered. I decide that the black armor is equivalent to about 20-30mm of RHS which is insane. I check the AP rounds against the main black armored man and watch in terror as it shatters against his chest sending the hot fragments into his mount, killing it. The impact does knock him flat though and he doesn''t get up quickly. It clearly hurt him, so with the drones finished with thier culling of enemy...mages I guess, I order a missile to be dropped on the main black armored man, an anti-infantry incendiary missile. The missile slams into the ground and there is a translucent orange wave for a second as the chemicals inside expand rapidly, and then there is a pilliar of rapidly expanding flame as the ignition trigger is struck on the back of the missile as it finishes hitting the ground. The nearly clear orange gel that is a compound known as "IM-223" which is a gel composed of petrochemicals, phosphorous, alkaline metals, magnesium, and an oxidizing agent for low oxygen environments. While not a single molecule, the mixture is all mixed togther to create a new and fun space age napalm. The only issue is that the stuff has a really high activation energy for the reason of safe storage so it can only be ingnited by the ignition trigger at the back of the missile, limiting it''s use outside of specialized munitions. For a second I am worried as it appears the strange black armor is protecting the warriors inside as they struggle to move through the inferno I created around them. I make sure to note down that the black armor does have some heat proofing, and after a minute they begin collapsing as the air around them becomes either toxic to them, or just lacking in oxygen. I watch for a little longer as the forces around them begin to route and the main black armored man somehow starts standing back up. He makes a circular motion with his hand and a sudden gust of intense wind extingushes a 4 meter circle around him. Now truly fearful of this strange person I have an anti-tank missile launched at him, thankful I had these loaded. The missile moves faster than the speed of sound, but the black armored man seems to notice it and rasies a hand toward it. The missile slams into an invisible wall and once more my mouth goes agape, but the wall apears to be barely a barrier as the first, smaller warhead detonates allowing for the main missile to move through the new gap. The large HEAT shell slams into the chest of the armored man and there is a suprisingly small explosion as the ground behind him is hit with all the explosive force and the plasma jet that was once solid steel. He doesn''t survive this as the entry wound is only about 1mm across, but the exit wound through his black armor is about 1 ft. Modern HEAT shells are quite interesting, but constructing the rear and walls of the shaped charge out of harder and tougher metals or alloys this forces more of the explosive force onto the steel penetrator. It also makes them less dual purpose due to the reduced sideways and backwards blast. The missile used there, the AGM-255B can easily penetrate ~2000-3000mm of RHS, so it was overkill. I did take note of the fact his armor held up to the explosive force of the shell as the armor surrounding the 1mm hole looks to be nearly undamaged. I designate men in that type of armor as high priority and classify them as MBTs so automatic targeting systems will hit them with powerful shots. I do the same for the other black armored individuals, but mark them as IFVs so lower caliber armor penetration can be used against them. In the end the enemy forces without leadership begin running from the battlefield and I do not fire upon them as the marines and scientists did make it back to the shuttle and it takes off unmolested. I have the attack drones fire the remaineder of their explosive missiles at the drop-pod so no alien can get ahold of our tech as they rise out of atmosphere. A second ship is dispatched from one of the carriers in the fleet and it goes into the atmosphere where it hovers. All of the small drones swarm to it as it opens a cargo bay and all the small drones are recovered. They will be reloaded into the same missile as before because the deployment missile was recovered when it flew back to the Catfish. I unhook myself from the system and lean back in my chair with a long sigh and a dumb smile on my face. I am proud of my actions and feel acomplished. I just won the first ever engagement with non-human intelligent life, without any losses. I then remember our new "friends" leaving my people out there to die and feel rather frustrated. I am going to give them an earfull when I get back down there and probably will verbally kick some ass over this. It''s their planet, they should police it better. I then get a message from Uriel who requests me for a meeting on the civilian vessel. With a sigh I get up and prepare to board the other ship... Operation Coutier: The Offer I lean back on the comfortable recliner I decided was mine in the science vessels lounge. I take a sip from the bitter and chemical-tasting bourbon Uriel offered me and grimace. This causes Josef to chuckle and I even see Uriel crack a thin smile for once. She then says in a patronizing way, "You really don''t like whiskey and bourbon do you? This stuff is even nice and smooth..." I just shake my head and respond flatly, "Dollar shot night. Big Bass Bar, thirty-two years ago..." I watch as the blonde woman physically recoils from the memory causing both Josef and I to laugh as she shakes her head disappointed in us for bringing up a fairly bad memory, that despite the alcohol consumed, still lives in our minds. I finish my glass of the amber liquid and stand up to go find something more palatable, Josef lets me know there is a keg of beer we can share in a cabinet nearby. I roll the keg over to him, and he sets it up and begins unsealing it. I dig through the nearby freezer for the liter steins we normally drink out of. Grabbing the metal and composite constructs I close the door after taking an ice cream sandwich and head back over to where Josef fills the containers with practiced precision, not a drop missed, a nice head, and the head is just small enough not to waste precious volume that could be filled with beer. We sit around sipping and not really talking before Uriel asks, "What was the final kill count?" Josef doesn''t change his placid expression, but I do see him stiffen with excitement and interest in my answer. I respond neutrally, "I believe it was around 1500 were confirmed by the AI, then there were the incendiary and explosive kills which the AI cannot count as direct kills due to compliance laws. An estimate it gave was close to about 2800 or so. If they were running from the space I didn''t drop anything on their heads." She nods and asks, "What''s your guess how the Kingdom will react?" I shrug and answer, "Probably somewhat happy ''cause we took out some of their enemies. After that, no clue. I hope they are apologetic for leaving it to us." She nods and states, "I saw some of the footage of the fight. That leader guy... that was intense and breaks literally known laws of physics." I nod and take a long swig of my drink after finishing my snack. It still bothers me that a single person had fired a beam or wave of fire that most likely had the same yield as a fairly small fission bomb. This changes the dynamic I believed was the truth, I slowly began getting cocky that we had some political capital in the sense we have nukes and they don''t. Unfortunately, it appears they have at least one individual who is a living nuke, as low yield as it is, there is still an incredible amount of power. I do not like this one bit. I look up and am surprised as Shariah enters the lounge. She looks at the two scientists across from me with a suspicious look and she takes the chair next to me letting out a long sigh. She then asks in a very tired voice, "Can I please get a drink?" In a near instant, a glass of bourbon on the rocks is in her hands and she takes a sip before grimacing. She pulls it away from her face and stares at the liquid in horror and asks, "What is this? Bourbon normally doesn''t burn this bad." Uriel responds, "It''s the stuff from Moskau Noct, they like it 50% ABV or higher." Shariah shakes her head before taking a sip and saying through a grimace, "Okay. Thank you very much, Doctor." We sit in quiet, the only sound of ice jiggling in the glasses of the spirit drinkers. Shariah looks between the two every now and again before asking me, "So what''s going on between... those two? I saw them kissing before the big meeting with the Kingdom." I chuckle as Uriel looks in the other direction and Josef gives the diplo-colonel a wide smile. I then say, "Well... If I''m not mistaken they will be married for...hmmmm... forty years in about three weeks. It''s normal to give your beloved a smooch before a stressful situation. Josef isn''t big on big diplomatic situations." Shariah''s eyes go wide as she looks at the three of us, trying to tell if we are lying. I raise my eyebrows and ask, "What''s the matter?" She responds, "Well, they don''t share a last name, plus the way you and Uriel interacted I thought there had been something but it had failed." This causes me to loudly laugh and Josef shares in my laughter. Uriel even gives one of her rare and adorable giggles. I respond, "Oh, that''s the most unrealistic thing you''ve thought about me. First, they don''t share a last name because they are both highly acclaimed scientific authors in separate disciplines so they would rather keep their works separate from one another and be awarded as individuals. The second part... well... long story short they are perfect for one another, and I''m not a good fit." I shrug at the end, indifferent to the situation. After all, I was Josefs best man and unfortunately, walked Uriel down the aisle before taking my best man position. There was never any jealousy or thoughts against their relationship, as it was they got married after dating for well over a decade. Uriel then explains, "Yes, Barbie explained it pretty well. We have our own accomplishments and as for the relationship, it''s been so long I can hardly remember how and when it started between Josef and I. I think it sort of naturally progressed through mutual feelings and we just followed what made us happy." Shariah nods looking at the floor, a look of slight jealousy in her eyes, not a dire one, but one that comes from seeing someone have something that very few people can even imagine having. It''s a beautiful thing that only happens in rare situations or romantic novels. I still grimace as Uriel calls me Barbie though, I almost start to tell an embarrassing story of hers, but I stop myself and lean back with a smile on my face. I then ask Shariah, "Alright, I know we shouldn''t talk shop during a break like this, but how did the Kingdom react to my defense? What is their current plans." Pulling Shariah from her thoughts through talks of work she smiles and responds, "News was trickling in slowly because they hadn''t dealt with their defense entirely yet by the time you finished up. I was able to leave the planet during the lull caused by your near annihilation of the attacking force. I believe they are still fighting or are mopping up stragglers. In other news, they are postponing the big meeting we were in to digest the current situation, but the Shipmaster has requested to come aboard our ship with one or two fellows who are interested in our tech. Some of the science team members are working on figuring out how to get him on board, his size is a little too big for any of our EVA suits... not his height but his belly." I nod and respond, "That would be nice. I sorta want to show him around, within reason of course. " She nods and our little group sits around for a while sipping on our drinks and having polite small talk. Nothing of note happens except Shariah tries to keep up with out casual drinking, and since she isn''t like us professional alcoholics she gets a little fuckered on the strong bourbon Uriel has. She doesn''t get sloppy, but she definitely starts having a hard time holding her head up. Uriel and Josef abandoned me after they decided to retire for the night as they could not stay awake for as long as I could. I wash the glasses and steins before replacing them where they are supposed to be stored. I put away the booze, sit back down on my claimed chair, and put the daily reports over my vision. I begin doing my daily tasks sitting on the comfortable chair staring off into nothing, jolly from the good drink. Shariah pulls me from my work by asking, "Commodore... you''re in your sixties. Were you ever married?" I reply in a low but calm voice, "No." She frowns and then says, "It must be lonely..." I shake my head responding, "It''s not. There are days and nights that feel lonely but overall it isn''t. I have work, I have crew, and on this mission I have friends. There is no reason for me to feel lonely." She adjusts her sitting position and then asks, "Hey... can you walk me to my room, I can''t handle liquor." This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon. I laugh and stand up. She walks beside me, only stumbling once. Our walk is in silence until Shariah asks me, "Commodore, I don''t know who you are, as you said your file is closed but from whispers of those who work alongside Dr.Kelly and Mengele and apparently Dr.McCormick, they speak of you like a boogeyman. A monster of legend almost...I guess my question is, why are you only just now a commodore despite a nearly forty-year service record from what I can find." I frown and tell the drunk woman, "Almost all the answers I can give are classified and you are not privy to that information, but my only answer will be, this is not my first time holding the rank of commodore." She goes quiet as she understands what I mean. I was once a commodore, lost that rank somehow, and now have reclaimed it. Although the truth is I didn''t just drop one rank... We make it to her room and I help her through the door and make sure she has a glass of water nearby. I then leave. She tries to ask something more but I tell her goodnight and shut the door behind me. As I walk away I start thinking and realize she may have wanted me to stay for whatever reason. I feel my face flush like a schoolgirl at the thought but get it out of my head quickly remembering that not only am I her commanding officer which makes any relations illegal. I am also old enough to be her grandfather if her grandpa had kids at 18 that is. I board my shuttle and return to the Catfish, the thought gone from my mind... Three days later the scientists figure out a major breakthrough. They find that we have the technology to scrub the strange radiation off of objects found within this part of space. This is of course unless the object contains Strange Matter, then it naturally produces small amounts of RPR or is outright toxic to anything biological from our part of space. Due to this breakthrough in science, and the unfortunate sacrifice of multiple lab mice, we are able to eat some alien food or use their ingredients to resupply our food stores which are around half full at this point in time. It''s not a problem yet, but it''s always better if we can resupply planetside. We also discovered certain alloys between our normal matter and their strange matter are stable and can be interacted with once the surface radiation is scrubbed away. As far as I know, the scrubbing method utilizes a beam of X-rays or some gamma radiation or something that "blows" off the RPR or neutralizes it. The most important thing we found is that living organisms can survive this process without any significant negative issues. Plants and small animals alike. A major theory is that due to the sheer radioactive nature of their part of space, most organisms have developed major radiation resistance because even with the RPR the sheer amount of OR they consider normal levels is fallout-zone levels according to us. There are no pain responses to the scrubbing process, the only noticeable issue is the loss of anomalous features. Like a glowing fern of some sort stops glowing, a floating mouse-thing stops floating, and the foot-long fire-breathing lizard can no longer spit flames. The response from the animals is usually confusion, but after weeks of observation, they don''t die and behave normally as they adjust to life without their anomalous abilities. The scientists even were granted a trial on a person from the Kingdom. Unfortunately, this resulted in us purchasing a slave. There was a huge controversy and it came down to me to pass judgment, I found out by watching the helmet camera of the scientist, that he was tricked into buying the poor bastard. I ruled him innocent, but we all agreed to emancipate the person when we finished as well as give them some gold to start their life anew. When we tested the scrubbing on the strange orange-goblin thing we found that just like the plants and animals, there were no major issues. The test subject did state they felt strange and we did find that there was still some RPR within their body, we found that their natural electromagnetic field which they use to manipulate RPR and SR contains it like a shield. When a mouse from our part of space was placed in their hands no issues were found. Then a scientist shook the hand of the test subject and no problems came about. According to the test subject, the only issue is that they feel slightly drained stating, "It feels as if I have cast too much magic and run out." According to their understanding of reality, this is correct. The subjects were also capable of doing some magic tricks, which consisted entirely of making their hands glow. After scrubbing they could no longer do this. Overall this was an amazing find and we plan to utilize it so that the Shipmaster can come aboard without having to cannibilize multiple EVA suits to fit the rotund man. A week later, after many refinements to the process and when the scientists are happy that there are no potential dangers to any being decontaminated, the Shipmaster and a small retinue are invited onto the Catfish. I have the ship prepared as if an Admiral were coming for an inspection and then we wait. The Shipmaster will first be brought onto the civilian vessel where he will be decontaminated and then a shuttle will take him to me. I wait just outside the shuttle bay alongside the Captain of my marine compliment who is outside his armor, instead wearing his blue and white uniform. The gray-mustached man towers over me with a placid expression. The look of a well-drilled officer. We watch through the triple-reinforced glass built into the airlock as the shuttle gently sets down inside the hangar and the big doors slam shut behind it. Atmosphere fills the hangar and the door opens into a ramp for the passengers to disembark. I watch Shariah lead the group of five aliens. The shipmaster, a bird-looking thing, a werewolf thing, some squid critter, and then an honest to God Elf. Well, maybe an elf but close enough. Human-like, long pointed ears, a slender frame, so it checks out as far as I know. The door slides open and the captain and I salute the what I assume are nobles as they enter the ship properly. The Shipmaster smiles at me as they enter the stark gray hallways of the Catfish, and as the aliens look around their faces drop. The bird says. "It appears... very utilitarian here... there is no comfort. Are there no artists among their kind?" My neural implant translates in real-time, but now I can hear their actual voices. The birds talk with a harsh cadence, similar to a crow calling. I say nothing as after seeing their ships I understand they prioritize aesthetics more than functionality. There is no reason to argue. I then say with a smile, "Good afternoon my fair ladies and gentlemen. I welcome you to my humble warship, the flag of our small fleet, the USS Catfish. I understand we may lack in aesthetics, but our people focus on the efficiency of our vessels first and foremost, comfort is only a secondary thought." They all consider this for a second before they seemingly accept my statement and greeting. Shariah then takes over, "Alright, if you all will follow me I will give you a tour." The shipmaster interrupts, "If I may, lady Shariah, I wish to talk man to man with the Shipmaster Commodore here. As we are more alike." Shariah looks at me and I nod, happy I don''t have to deal with the rest of the nobles. I motion the hefty man to follow and he does. I take him to my room and have a chair waiting for him there. I just sit on my bed and crack open one of the bottles Uriel lent me for this exact meeting. I had been ready for the Shipmaster to have a one-on-one with me, as we are both warhearts. I do notice the elf thing comes with us, and I can''t help but notice how less nice her clothing is. I don''t make mention of it and pretend she isn''t there, standing in the corner. The bearded man takes a sip of the fine liquor and the distinct glowing flames built into his flesh and hair glow brightly for a second. He smiles and I ask the man, "How are you feeling Shipmaster? I know the process to allow you to walk among us is... different." He nods and responds in a calm voice, "Ah, yes it was rather uncomfortable. It was like all of my mana was being drained, just like back in my academy days when I was pushed to my extremes. It still feels quite strange, like I am in the void of the stars but without a protective barrier giving me air. It''s also so strange to be in a place with no ambient mana either... it feels strange to me. It''s cold and hostile, much like the cold steel of your walls... no offense!" I chuckle and take a sip, grimace, and then respond in an overly poetic way I''ll admit, "No offense taken. Our cultures are different and our military vessel designs are different. What is hostile to you, is comfort to me. I can feel the heartbeat of the vessel, the thrum of the small sun we hold captive. While visually this ship may not be an art piece such as yours, it has its beauty in the sheer efficiency and practicality of the vessel. Much like a sword blade where the simplicity grants it strength, much like a sword." I take a small gamble on the last part considering even the officers of those I slaughtered carried rather simple swords. While the handguards appeared rather ornate, the blades themselves were plain. The Shipmaster nods and responds, "Now that makes more sense. This is a vessel designed entirely for war. It must be your show of force so as to not seem weak to our kingdom... it''s your most powerful vessel." My face drops and I say in a flat tone, "This is a large cruiser, as standard warship designs go it is the sixth largest class." He grimaces and then asks, "But it must be your newest and most advanced right?" I shake my head and respond, "No. This ship is considered out of date. It was retrofitted before this mission, and the retrofit reduced the direct combat capability of this ship so that it may work as a central command center and flagship. This is a diplomatic mission, so we sent what was deemed to be necessary for defensive purposes, so that we may beat a hasty retreat if the terrible situation of open war were to happen between our nations." I can see his internal fire dim and cool as an unreadable expression crosses his face before he responds lowly, "Tell me Shipmaster Commodore... not in a diplomatic way, but in a way between two military men. How strong is your fleet in the grand scheme of things?" I shrug and lean forward and say, "This fleet would at best be considered a token garrison for a frontier planet, well in firepower, not in composition. The ships here are all offensive in nature plus we have the marines so it''s built to act independently and far from support. Overall if a standard attack battlegroup appeared in the system to fight us, even if it were of a notably weaker power from our part of space, I would flee, and even then we wouldn''t walk away unscathed." The Shipmaster finishes his drink and I refill his glass, he then says to me, "Shipmaster Commodore, I don''t know how knowledgeable you are about our state of affairs and power scales... It''s clear from your researchers that you have little knowledge of our kind. I just want you to know the defense of your people... we didn''t deny it because we were being arrogant, it was that we literally couldn''t. We don''t have the military force available here to fight all of those rebels. Your defense I assume was without loss am I correct?" I nod and this causes him to deflate more and say, "We took major losses... and we managed to kill one hundred and eighty of the sieging rebels, a toll that is considered a massive blow to any force composed of mages. What you did, without loss is considered a devastating victory, a victory that has a loss ratio similar to what happens when a peasant uprising is quelled. We even confirmed the deaths of multiple members of fallen noble families. That shouldn''t happen." I ask carefully, "And what does that mean?" He does what I assume is his version of a shrug and he answers, "I don''t know... because if you are truly not lying and I believe you aren''t this will be a massive shakeup. I am safe to assume you cannot control magic, and I do not know what means you use to fight and kill as you do, or how your weapons work, but I know they are better. Maybe not all the time but if you have that many planets, and if this fleet here is a token garrison fleet, your kind is beyond powerful. I do not know what will happen but I... I know what the Kingdom will do." He looks guilty and the words do not pass his lips. I ask, "What is that?" He shuffles, drinks, I refill, and then he drinks again before saying, "It is an offer and the only one we give. It is to swear fealty to the King... or be conquered and enslaved until the king decides your slight against him has been repaid... which can take hundreds of years." He locks eyes with me and asks, "Will you accept that offer?" I respond coldly, "No." He nods and responds, "I assumed as much... I do not expect you to, and I can respect that, but I will serve my king." I nod, no hard feelings. He then sees the UN flag on my wall and asks, "Is that your flag?" I shake my head and respond, "No... that is the flag of those who once tried to make us slaves... They don''t exist anymore." He nods and drinks. He then asks, "Why don''t we find the others? I apologize for bringing you to the side just to ask this question. I just needed to ask this... because it may be important." I nod and stand up. We then leave my room with the woman following close. My mind is racing as I consider the offer, and find it disgusting. I flush it for later as right now I have to play host... Operation Courtier: Emancipation Explaination We enter a briefing room where all the nobles sit awkwardly in the surprisingly cramped room. There is barely enough space to move past someone while they sit in their chair. I take my seat at the head and the Shipmaster sits next to me. Shariah is giving a presentation on the screen on the far side of the room from me. She explains some basics about human military culture and our various structures. Some nobles seem disturbed and the others have neutral expressions as far as I can tell. I can''t read alien body language that well. When the explanation ends the floor is open to questions and a bird alien asks in a harsh voice, "So... what you are saying is... your leadership can come from the peasantry...or even non-nobility?" Shariah''s brows furrow but I answer, my voice strong in the room, "Yes. Our military structure in theory is built on a pure merit and capability method. Our officers are supposed to be formed from those of us who either show great leadership, a tactical mind, a strategic mind or have some other quality that is useful for the military to operate smoothly. I don''t know how it works for your many species, but there is little in the way of genetic superiority. While genetics do play a part in physical traits and in a few unfortunate cases the intelligence of a human, overall we are quite equal with only minor differences, advantages, and disadvantages. The quality or nobility of one''s bloodline means nothing aside from the money or opportunities one can have. Historically we did have a noble or social rank-based command structure but we found that to be inefficient, especially when egos got in the way of victory." The bird cocks their head and then asks again, harshly, which I am starting to understand is their normal tone, "I see, so your kind has a long martial history. We have races in our kingdom who are much like that. It would make sense if your kinds bloodline doesn''t grant absolute advantages then you would allow this to happen. Tell me Shipmaster, were you of noble stock or a commoner?" This throws me for a loop and I have to think for a second before I answer, "That''s a difficult question. My family did own lots of land and my father was a successful and rather wealthy man, but we only came to money later in my life... so I guess there was something you could call noble about what I come from, but our country doesn''t have true nobles, but there are people who do fulfill the role. Dr.Kelly is from a group that would be considered noble as her mother was the planetary governor." The bird seemingly raises their brow feathers in interest and behind those predatory eyes, I can see a shift in perspective. I don''t know if I fucked up, but it''s the truth and it''s probably better that I keep this whole meeting truthful. I do note none of the nobles around look at me disdainfully, instead, they seem... hesitant about me. I guess this whole tour and explanation has shifted some perspectives. I peek over at the Shipmaster who appears to be concentrating and making a face toward the others. I access the ships internal sensors through my neural link and find a very weak stream of radiation linking the nobles, or that''s what the visuals look like. It''s luckily only about as strong as a microwave, but probably dangerous. For now, it''s contained so I won''t complain. I do send a note to Shariah telling her not to walk between any of the aliens for this reason. I don''t know their magic or whatever, but I can tell when people are communicating through neural links silently, and this looks just like that. The Shipmaster then clears his throat and stands up, his big belly shifting the table. He apologizes and then says directed toward me, "Our local nobility has decided it is of utmost importance that Shipmaster Commodore here should be properly rewarded for his actions against the rebel forces. As he has inflicted the greatest harm against them ever recorded in such a short time. This is a gesture of goodwill... so that we may..." He pauses and locks eyes with me with a knowing look before continuing, "so that we may continue a positive relationship." Now knowing the actual goals of the Eternal Kingdom this is most likely going to be some rewards or something so that I don''t take great offense when the actual question is popped. I stay silent and nod for him to continue. I do take note the strange woman he was guiding around is now staring at me with what I guess to be an expression of horror and intrigue. The Shipmaster then continues, "The best of the spoils of this battle shall be yours. Due to the nature of your kind most of the actual spoils would be useless to you so we will give you an equivalent in precious metals or other materials your... scientists... request since they appear interested. This is equal to four royal boons of gold in value." I don''t know what that converts to, but the bowed heads of some of the nobles let me know that it is a huge quantity of money. I nod in acceptance and the Shipmaster continues, "The next boon is more personal out of respect for the Shipmaster and his combat capabilities. I grant here the daughter of the arch-traitor, the Ex-Archduke Philleanous Contall Hektos the destroyer of unity, to be the personal slave for our most respected and esteemed Shipmaster Commodore." I raise an eyebrow but Shariah reacts verbally, "What the hell, a slave?" This takes the Shipmaster aback and he then says to her confused, "Yes? I mean it''s only part of the deal. The conquered belong to the conquerer and since the Shipmaster Commodore slew the arch-traitor I believe the family of such a villain should belong to the vanquisher. This girl while not very capable of physical labor does seem to match your race biology and what I assume is your beauty standards. I also will note she has remained pure while in our custody. A rather rare and high-quality slave." Shariah is flabbergasted and sputters a few times as her face slowly turns red. She then says harshly, "Slaves... are no good. Slavery is a wicked practice." The nobles stare at her with a look of confusion but I remain calm. I somewhat expected this after seeing the girl. I know the kingdom keeps slaves, that much was clear and slaves are not people, they are property. Therefore they can be given freely by the owner. I then loudly clear my throat, strangely I am the level-headed one and say, "Thank you Shipmaster I will accept the gift as it would be rude to do otherwise." Shariah damn near shreiks at me, "What the hell is wrong with you Commodore? What about the..." I hold up a hand to stop her and then explain to the group, "Our friendly host the Diplo-Colonel here is rather upset about the practice of slavery for good reason. I will explain this now and what will happen with your gift." The Shipmaster sits down hesitantly and I start, "Our nation has outlawed slavery for the century we have been reborn. Our nation, the United States of America exists as an antithesis to slavery. We are a society where every man and woman can pursue their own destinies, for better or worse, due to this defining philosophy slavery is one of the major things outlawed in our society. Some say it is for moral reasons, which is fair since many of our individual races have been held as slaves in their history. There is religious reasons for it as well as ownership of another person spits in the face of the many depictions of God in our cultures. Since we do not share a religion I will not use this to explain this. The logical reason is a mix of two things. One, if we are a society of free and equal people, regardless of birth, then it would mean holding slaves would be hypocritical of us and therefore illogical and wrong in that sense. The second is the inefficiency of slavery. In simple terms, slaves do not innovate, expand, or participate in economies or society. As a people dedicated to expansion and innovation holding slaves would hinder this and we absolutely cannot stand stagnation. I understand you may not understand but I just want you to know why what is about to happen will. Due to the relation of this woman and your nation, I will not simply free her and let her loose. No, I will emancipate her as is my right as her new owner. From there I plan to grant her the rare right of foreign auxiliary where she will serve upon this ship until she can be properly made into a citizen of the United States as we cannot do that here so far from our home. She will be investigated for any actions committed during her life we consider dire and she will face justice and punishment as is necessary under the codes of international laws we follow." Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit. I finish and the nobles and the Shipmaster seem to discuss among themselves silently before the Shipmaster tells me, "She is yours, that is your call. I apologize for any offense this may have caused." I respond, "It is your customs. Even if we do not share a moral compass, I cannot be offended when prior to my explanation you were not knowledgeable." He considers this for a second before nodding and quickly the group of nobles excuses themselves and Shariah goes to escort them back home. I catch her as she is leaving and I tell her, "We will deal with this later. For diplomatic reasons, we will accept it as is right now. I will manage this girl and make sure she is treated well and safely." She nods, steeling herself and returning to her fake diplomatic happy demeanor. Then I am alone with the slave woman who stands in the corner observing me. I turn to face her and ask, "Please miss, sit down. I wish to discuss things with you." She does as told quickly, sitting far from me as I lock eyes with her. I then start, "Are you hungry or thirsty?" She thinks for a moment before spitting back, her voice soft and melodic, "Yes. Those royalists don''t seem to enjoy feeding those they own. Something about control." I nod and send a note to the galley to bring me a rather simple meal based on our scientist''s observations on the diets of the different species. Just to be sure I ask her, "Do you have any restrictions on what you can eat?" She tilts her head side to side and she responds, "Not much. We can eat just about anything but our diets are majority savory vegetables and too much meat can cause digestive issues." I nod and complete my order, deciding not to have anything spicy come up, and luckily todays supper was going to be creamy chicken and rice which should be neutral enough. I try not to stare at her but in my glances, I do take note of how she looks. Definitely elven in looks, with a slender frame like a non-modified Olympic distance runner, and some long freaking ears. She looks mostly human, or human-like. I guess her nose is slightly more pointed than normal and shaped like a cutting edge on a knife. Her eyes are strange, somewhat too large for her head but with no sclera, the irises fill her entire eye but they are smooth, none of the wrinkles and patterns that are normal on human irises. The pupil is normal, which makes sense because it''s just a hole into the head. Her skin is what I would call deliciously golden, but like I noticed before she has tiger stripes that look like dark bruises on her skin but their pattern makes it seem like she is actually striped not abused. Her sleeves are short so I can see more than just her face has them so I assume she is covered in them. The food arrives and the entire time she stares at me with various expressions on her face. The food is set before her alongside some water to drink. She seems confused by the spork. The galley worker also brought me food too, I thank him and send an order to the kitchen officer to grant him an extra cookie or whatever is for dessert as a reward, because he isn''t a waiter or servant. I pick up my spork and take a bite before smiling at her. She then asks carefully, "What is this?" I respond after swallowing, "A boiled grain with bird meat and the lactate from a large land animal... with some seasonings." She nods and then asks, "Is this what your No... Your leaders eat? Why offer it to me, a slave? What is your angle?" I respond flatly after another bite, "My angle is that I am hungry and so are you. We do not have separate meals for officers or enlisted in the navy, that would waste too much precious space. This means from the highest to the lowest we get the same slop. " Its the truth, but I''ve gotten out of navy galley fare by going to the civilian vessel for their meals... which is admittedly unfair but nothing beats creamy chicken and rice sometimes. The woman takes a hesitant bite, nods in enjoyment and I notice her ears perk up slightly like a dog or something. She eats with dignity after understanding the versatility of the spork, Gods intended and most perfect utensil. We eat in silence for a while and when finished she says to me, "Thank you for the meal, but do not think I will be your plaything..." This causes my brain to lag for a second as I come to terms with what she said and through a laugh ask, "What the hell? Where did that come from?" She stares at me blankly and responds, "Don''t think I am fooled by your incredibly... nice-sounding explanation. No society ever conceived has ever changed to become that way. You are a conquerer beyond all comprehension, you vanquished not only my father but decimated an army. No one like you would ever be so pure as not to have a harem of women, slaves or not. I will not be a willing participant in that." I laugh awkwardly and respond, "Uhhhhh, no. I have no harem, hell I have trouble getting a second date...errr... getting a girl to see me a second time." She laughs incredulously shakes her head and asks in a near-joking manner, "And so you are just taking me onboard for the laughs?" I shake my head and with a long sigh I tell her, "No. Our nation, the United States of America has existed twice. One time, it was in our homeworld, and then, after the fall of the Federalized United Nations, known as the United Nations Central Authority which is the one now. My nation exists in spite of slavery and tyranny. We wish to make all men free, which some would argue would include races and species that are not human. Simply put our goal is to help guide all we meet to emancipate their slaves and toss out their old ways. If that doesn''t work then there may be conflict, but that''s what we wish to avoid." This causes the woman to cackle loudly with hysteric laughter and through the harsh laughter she explains, "Guide the Eternal Kingdom? Are you stupid? That''s not how they work! Hell, this little diplomatic dance they''ve been doing with your kind is nothing but a reaction to your novelty. The Eternal Kingdom does not change, that is in the name. They do not work alongside others, they consume and assimilate them into their culture. They only want to study you all so that they may take what they want from you before completely destroying your culture, government, and history. They can outproduce everyone, as they control the entirety of all foundries in existence, and judging by the size of your ships, they far out scale yours by many times! They can produce hundreds of magical weapons and mages in the time it would take for you to make one. You may have been able to beat my father and his men in a devastating battle but how many times can you cast those spells? A dozen? That''s a laughable amount when they have a standing army of one hundred thousand mages, more powerful than those you slew, and they can levy over a million non-military mages in an instant. How will you face that? You will be conquered, so it''s better to fall in line, your position will allow you to reap all the rewards." I lean forward and then interface with the screen on the far wall from me. I motion toward the screen and in surprise, the woman looks up at the screen as it flickers to life. She starts to talk about it but I fold my hands and rest my chin on my knuckles, my elbows on the table and I say in a flat and stern tone, "There is no magic. I have none, this ship was produced without it, that screen has not a drop of magic, and before coming here I''d never heard of it. Do not impose your world-views and knowledge onto me, onto us. I do not follow your rules, nor do I follow the rules of the Eternal Kingdom, even things they declare absolute truths. The attacks you saw were not uncommon pieces of weaponry for us, in fact, they are considered the standard issue when it comes to dealing with infantry. They are produced in millions during wartime. They are not even considered top-of-the-line or overly destructive. In my report on the slaughter of that entire group, including your father I considered a low-casualty event¡ªthe bare minimum of enemy casualties in order to force a retreat. My entire time here, as I''ve begun understanding the Eternal Kingdom, and all the peoples inside is that we, humanity are the antithesis of everything you know. " I motion to the screen as it pulls up a detailed external scan of the Shipmaster''s vessel. The woman''s eyes go wide at the extreme detail of the vessel. I then have an external view of the Catfish appear next to it. I then continue, "This ship you are on, the USS Catfish is a large cruiser class. It is not equipped as a ship-to-ship slugger, it is effectively just a mobile command center with just enough firepower to not be defenseless. This vessel is considered to be out of date if not for recent retrofits, in the entire time this model of ship was produced there were three hundred built, and only twenty remain as the rest were scrapped or lost in combat." I then have a light battleship appear, a 1 km long vessel of the same class as the USS Starwish, one of my first postings. I then continue, "This is a light battleship. They are the smallest vessels with the classification of "planet breakers" meaning they have enough firepower to glass an entire world leaving it uninhabitable. This model of the ship was designed to work outside of fleet operations, existing to work as a solo hunter-killer designed to destroy targets of opportunity or to preform surgical strategic orbital bombardment. Over eight hundred were made in its run being updated with new technologies every three years. One hundred remain but are considered out of date and are being phased out and scrapped." She tries to speak again but I stop her by pulling up the image of a heavy dreadnaught, a 3 KM long ship designed entirely to end worlds. It is still dwarfed by the Kingdoms ship, mostly in girth but the length is getting there. I then continue, "This is a heavy dreadnaught, a ship made to destroy worlds. Cracking the earth and boiling away all the seas. It can absolutely devastate any ship it faces but that would be a waste of its talents. This class of ship was produced twenty times in under five years during our most recent war. All are still in service but due to new technologies they are being updated to become even more potent at their most horrible task." She doesn''t even try to talk as a Freedom-Class supercarrier appears next to the royal ship. At 6 KM long it is much longer than the huge castle-like vessel, but is much skinnier as it is shaped like a giant triangle. Capable of carrying smaller capital ships, swarms of drones so thick you cannot see the stars, and hundreds of manned fighters this class of ship is old, but remains the central component to the US Naval doctrine as flagships. I then explain, "This is a Freedom-class supercarrier. These ships work as our flagships and as the pinnacle of our navy. They are the oldest still serving ships in our navy for good reason as none have yet to be destroyed or really challenged. They can be used as an entire fleet themselves and easily can devastate planets down to ash and fire. We also have thirty of them across our entire navy. " To push my point further the screen zooms out and an example of every class of capital vessel still in service appears on the screen scaled to the central Kingdom ship. Their numeric system is used to show the numbers of each of the vessels that are still in service. This shows thousands of vessels in our navy and her mouth goes slack and she stares in horror at the sheer size of the US navy. I then say, "I do not want war, I in fact want peaceful coexistence, but don''t think for a second that our freedom will ever be trampled on. I do not fear the Eternal Kingdom... They should fear me..." Operation Courtier: New Recruit Over an hour passes as I continue to educate the stripey elf on how the Eternal Kingdom isn''t shit. I show pictures of industry, cities, military training planets, defensive star stations, artificial planetary rings, dumbed-down versions of our FTL concepts, and the total recruitable population of the USA alone. I made sure she understood the USA was one of three major human powers, the dominant one of course, but there are twenty human nations, and all but the two single system nations field a navy and army that easily doubles the Eternal Kingdom, at minimum. Her face drops the whole time, her stripes growing darker as each revelation hits her. I guess that is her species version of the blood draining from her face. When finished with what I wanted to show I ask her, "So what do you think?" She shudders and responds, "Without magic... such capabilities...I fear what wars would warrant military power such as you have displayed, such insane mobilization potentials...and you aren''t a unified species. What wars... what tragedies would cause such a military and such a people to exist." I smirk and then answer, "I pray you never find out." She simply nods understanding my explanation is done. She then meekly asks, "So what is it you want to do with me?" I respond in a jolly tone, "Well, as the commanding officer of this whole operation, I plan to bring you onto my crew as you were a gift to me. Then again you''d have to go through training and things like that. I won''t force you to accept my offer of course but that is a whole can of worms that you really do not want to open." She nods and asks, "So for clarification, because I was your gift you want me to work on this ship as a sailor?" I nod and respond, "As an enemy of the state you come from, I cannot free you and then send you away. So the only option I see is to make you a citizen of the USA. Foreign auxiliary is the easiest path to reach citizenship as it doesn''t require you to go through that whole process. Since you have some form of martial background I find this option easier for you as well. Basically, this means you will join my crew and will be granted all rights and perks of being a US citizen and after 1 tour of duty you can be a full citizen if you choose to do so." She stares at me confused before saying, "Well... what can I do on your crew? I mean... the idea of having a foreign person as a soldier seems insane. Why would you even offer this?" I shrug and explain, "The foreign auxiliary program came about during the earlier days of stellar conflict after we as humans fragmented into multiple nations once more. Basically everyone made claims to different solar systems and sectors of space but not all of those living within the areas really agreed with the government that claimed them, but most of the time couldn''t do much about it. The foreign auxiliary program works in two ways, one it offers US citizenship and an escape from whatever nation that claimed them, two it is a foundation for rebel groups who go against an enemy we are working against to receive proper gear, training, and coordination with US forces. So it''s just a way to bolster frontline forces or remove garrison work from actual US forces. Yeah its a risk, but rarely are foreign auxiliaries in positions where they could cause anything more than a headache. As for you, well tell me, your name and what skills do you have so I can start you on some training and indoctrination?" She cringes at the last word but nods and begins listing what she can do, "Well... My name is Arch... no... My name is, Phillia Hektos I have no more titles, I am a top-tier mage, generally focused on defensive and healing magics as I wished to support my father in combat and he is a purely offensive mage..." She trails off remembering who is technically responsible for her father''s demise but she continues, "I am also a very skilled swordswoman. I am of noble birth so I have some administrative and leadership capabilities... that''s about it." I lean forward and lace my fingers once more and rest my chin on them. I then burst her bubble, "Magic is toxic to humans, so I will have to ask you not to use it in any major capacity. We no longer use swords as anything other than decoration or for athletic competitions they are useless as actual weapons now. Finally, as a foreign auxiliary you cannot hold any administrative or leadership roles because you not only do not know anything about my nation, nor can you read our language. That is an unfortunate thing you have no other skills like cooking, sewing, or generally being strong..." She frowns and answers, "As a noble, I never was required to do any of that." I nod and think for a moment before I give a solution, "How about this? You will be my cultural assistant. You will follow me around and give me context on certain cultural things about the Eternal Kingdom that I do not yet understand. I will also have you pursue basic literacy courses so that you may write reports for me about individuals I may meet or combat. How does that sound?" She nods without saying a word and says almost dejectedly, "Yeah... That sounds fine if that is my only option." I nod give her a winning smile and respond, "Don''t worry, I''ll treat you well and you can make a good career of this job. Now let me begin your primer on US Navy code." The AI finished translating the basic sailor handbook and I began the briefing... Hours later Shariah walks into the briefing room to the table shoved to one side as I continue drilling proper etiquette into the woman. Correct faces, proper salute form, and other such important formalities. I only started doing this after she nearly fell asleep thanks to the very detailed nature of the handbook. She does them with a completely flat expression after I had a nearby marine sergeant patrolling the vessel come in and give her a twenty-minute long boot camp session. The modified man was somehow capable of using the autotranslation software while screaming. I was honestly impressed but Phillia really picked up proper parade etiquette quickly as it was far easier to handle than the handbook which was almost entirely composed of legal stuff and expectations of sailors. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere. Shariah asks me, "Commodore, what is going on here?" I tell the Diplo-colonel, "A few hour-long basic training course. I plan to put her to work quickly before educating her on certain aspects that are important to her job." Shariah nods and looks at the girl saying apologetically, "Let me know if he gets out of hand and you need to be rescued. " With that, she leaves and Phillia stands there awaiting more orders. I tell her, "Put the table and chair back into place. I believe you are disciplined enough and smart enough to learn the handbook during your free time moving forward. You are not expected to be a perfect sailor, just expected not to break laws and regulation. I will now begin educating you for your role." She nods and I have to help her move the table as she comments under her breath, "Why is everything so much heavier here?" I take mental note that most Kingdom races are from slightly lower gravity worlds than Earth. When the table is reset, the translated history lesson I had been formulating while training her is in a complete enough state. We sit down and I say to her flatly, "Your role will be as a cultural advisior for me and everyone under me. This means you will explain to me context about situations I do not understand based on cultural norms. You will also fulfil this role in reverse for our foes or friends. This role is important because I dont want a mass casualty event if conflict breaks out. I understand some cultures may do actions that seem hostile, but are actually gestures of kindness and friendship. I lost my hand this way. Do you understand." She nods, staring at my right hand as I remove my glove revealing the steel underneath. I flick my fingers causing the sound of scraping of metal to fill the room. I then continue, "To understand the disconnect of our cultures I will give you a very short history of our nation, and humanity in the more recent centuries." She nods and actually looks somewhat curious and excited. I then start, "Alright, first off, the United States of America in its current state is known as something called a ressurected nation. This means the nation existed once, disappeared, and then was remade in a near identical image. While there are arguments we arent the old USA, I would argue we are better in some ways, maybe worse in others. Anyway, the original USA was a continental sized country back when humanity was locked to one world. It was formed in response to an oppressive king and a republic was formed." Her brows furrow at the word so I clear it up, "A republic is a governing system where representatives are elected by locals to run a country. It usually has a head in one way or another who is in charge for a limited time." She nods and asks, "So it is somewhat like a royal court..." I nod and explain further, "Yes, a bunch of officials, like nobles are put in charge, but they are elected and only serve for set time limits. Dynasties are rare in this system as it requires an entire region to vote in majoirty for them to get this position." She nods and I continue, "This republic lasted for three hundred years which is very impressive for humans. After those three hundred years it more or less fell apart as due to the stagnating nature of time and security it became an antethesis to its inital ideals. It once was a paragon of freedom, but became only that on paper, not reality so it was time for it to fall. This was also the catalyst for the massive war we call World War 3 as the American Civil war saw massive destabilization world wide. This war was a mass casualty event. Due to the nature of human conflict our technology lept forward relentlessly and eventually we found our way to the stars, usually as a way to get resources or more effectively kill one another. Eventually the killing stopped after sixty percent of the human population was killed. All world governments were devastated and a new world order took power. It was known at first as the UN or United Nations and humanity prospered for a time. We actually expanded from our home star and began populating new planets. During this time the UN was a pretty good republic based off of a European and American standard. As we expanded to the stars further and further, there were more wars and due to this decentralization of humanity due to distance things got difficult. More and more wars, too many to count, this time was known as the Century of Slaughter where mankind couldn''t get its act together. Then it happened. It was voted by those who still respected the authority of the UN to trade freedom for safety and all of the independent planets and solar systems lost their autonomy through another horrifying, apocolyptic war. This war was over forty years in length due to the slow speed of our interstellar travel at the time. The newly founded United Nations Central Authority began as nothing more than a strong federalized government, but as the war continued they felt more resentful toward those they had to fight in order to subdue and collar. Slowly the government was granted more power over the average person, slowly those who had to be forced into the fold lost more rights, and slowly those in charge stopped losing elections. This created a very bad system. Those with all the rights on top, those who willingly put collars onto their necks or those who lived in the worlds who were compliant immediately after the federalization. As the power centralized more, as those who willingly did this to themselved continued to support thier masters, those who resisted no longer were seen as human. Then began the two hundred and fifty year reign of the United Nations Central Authority, right after the last human world was made compliant, a superpower never seen by human eyes before then. This time did see great technological leaps as we had access to an entire galaxy of resources. We expanded and grew until eventually the UNCA started getting too top heavy and inefficent due to institutional bloat and stagnation. The advances slowed because no one had the ability, the right, or the will to advance humanity. There was a big war when a group of humans, who had fled during the initial compliance war began into deep unexplored space on century-long journies. These people advanced equally and came back for vengace. Even though they couldn''t win in an outright fight, their actions spurred those under the yoke to rebel and melt their chains into swords. Then war, war, and more war happen until the UNCA was defeated and any reminants were sent running into unexplored space. I''ll explain this conflict, the UNCA, and their consequences more later. From the shattering of the big government entity lots of people wished to find a new system. A large number of planets agreed to unify under a single banner, yet wanted to keep their own cultural identities. They looked into history and found a nation that was composed of unified, but entirely independent states. Thus the USA, the United States of America was born once more. There are diffrences in our system from the old one. Mostly it''s that the inital documentation was written to be taken literally and have little room for interpertation. This made sure certain rights are not to be infringed under any circumstance. This is things like, no slavery, universal right to vote for citizens, freedom of speech, and universal legal equality. There are more but they mean nothing out here on a naval vessel for you, but just know the USA is built on a foundation of liberty and justice. While we are technically more free than the old version, the issues arise with our independent state system at times as every solar system is its own state. This means proper representation gets tricky whith constantly changing borders and populations, so I''ll admit we need some work there. But yeah, that''s a quick history of the nation you now swear to. " Phillia stares at me for a moment as she tries to understand everything I just said. She then asks, "So you''re telling me it is normal for nations to last that short of a time, and you consider it a bad thing for a government to exist for longer than three centuries?" I nod and she continues asking, "And your people are so against slavery and unequal rights that it is written into your most sacred documents." I respond, "I don''t know about sacred but yes." She goes through multiple expressions before she asks, "So there are other systems than the one I know... there is no need for a king...right?" I answer, "We are against kings." She thinks for a moment longer before telling me, "This history... it completely challenges what is considered fact in my mind. While I fought for freedom and better legal equality I never knew there were such things as alternative governing systems...my father was to be the next king when we overthrew the old one. Please answer me this...." We talk for hours about alternative government systems, what it means to be free, and what is means to be equal under law. Slowly I manage to have her understand our government system and she is absolutely ravenous for more information about it. From what I get from her is that she truly had no other concept of alternative governments. Since she is an open and zealous rebel she really likes the idea of our American government, even after explaining some of the other current human nations governing systems. Eventually the conversation winds down and she stands up suddenly before dropping into a deep bow on one knee. I lean back in suprise for a moment before she says, just as serious as a heart attack, "I from here on out, swear on my soul, as my name no longer has any meaning, to follow in the teachings of the United States of America. I promise to uphold the consitituion in order to protect the people from tyrants within and without. I swear undying loyalty to my mentor, my leader, and my savior, you Shipmaster Commodore, so please help me understand this new idea of freedom, and allow it to spread throughout the stars." I don''t want to laugh because she really was heartfelt with that vow, but my eyes water slightly as I hold in a deep belly laugh. I stand up and turn away clasping my hands behind y back hiding my smile and I somehow manage to say without cracking up, "My dear Phillia, freedom doesn''t spread. Freedom Rings..." Operation Courtier: Conspiracy (Operation Finale) Shariah finished sending her FTL communication, it took her hours to send the purely text-based report back home, but she got a response nearly immediately as it is one word, Classified... She frowns and begins searching for her actual answer in the civilian science vessel files but finds nothing, just like on the Catfish and the few other vessels she had visited. Thinking back she does remember a few of the captains wanted her as a permanent member on their ships as a "Diplomatic Advisor". Shariah isn''t stupid she recognized their stares and also knows she is outside the US Navy code and relations are technically legal, except she is certain that Commodore Hollander would probably skin the offending captain alive if they tried anything on her. That is something she likes about the Commodore, aside from the one time she tried to "convince" him when they first met, he has never stared at her in that way. Disregarding the respect she has for the paradoxically old man, she doesn''t trust him one bit. She grits her teeth and quietly cusses as once again she cannot find a single shred of information on her Commanding Officer. He only exists in the sense he is accounted for in naval records, but no history, no birthplace, and no previous stations. What really bothers her is that he is in his sixties and has admitted he graduated from one of the Naval Academies rather early for some reason, therefore he has had at least a forty-year service record. Being a Commodore is great and all, but being in the navy that long and seemingly being as respected as him, he should at least be some form of admiral. It makes no sense to her so she can''t trust him. She leans back in her chair the plush fake leather of the civilian ship''s chair sticking to her bare skin as she sits in her room half-nude and desperate for information. Her distrust becoming worse now that the Commodore has practically adopted the alien girl. Mostly Shariah worries he will be abusive to her in some way, purposefully or not. Taking the last swig of astronaut drink in her glass she sighs and gets up from her chair, her feet hitting the carpet of her room. She pulls a diplomatic corps tank-top over her torso and leaves her room. The heated floor makes it so that she doesn''t need to wear socks as she walks toward the kitchen area of this section of the ship. Since it is considered "night" for the civillian ship the overhead lights are turned off so the walkway is illuminated by the soft warm, yellow-green glow that the floor tiles produce. Entering the kitchen area she finds Doctor Kelly sitting there in nothing but her underclothes and socks, and she is eating what could be considered a family-sized meal. The doctor greets her in her normal expressionless way, "It''s a little late for you to be up Miss Jamestown. What are you after this late?" Shariah huffs in amusement as the icy and beautiful blonde shovels another heaping bite of food into her mouth before Shariah responds shaking her empty glass, "Drank all of my tang. " The scientist nods and continues eating as Shariah opens the fridge and grabs the pitcher. While pouring herself a glass she asks Uriel, "So, doctor... I know it''s your genetic line that gives you an appetite like this, but how do you keep your amazing figure? I mean I feel bad even drinking this artificial stuff." Uriel huffs in amusement, swallows, and then answers, "Well, it''s partially my lineage too, basically we have huge appetites, but we are like steam boilers we burn through calories like wildfire. Something about an intense metabolism. Apparently, it allows for some better brainpower and sometimes better stamina recovery but all I see it as is I can eat and drink and still remain proper sized. Plus I work out for two hours every day because that energy has to be released somewhere." Shariah is stunned for a moment at the response of the woman, expecting a purely clinical explanation as she normally does, but this was oddly human for her. Uriel then scoots her chair back squeezes a pinch from her gut and laments, "But as I get older I find it hard to keep my pooch off." Shariah makes a small stunned noise at this, never had she ever thought Dr.Uriel Kelly would be self conscious. Her icy yet dignified expression, good build, and incredible accolades made Shariah feel almost inadequate, but at the same time, Shariah really liked this more human side of her. She actually feels like a person to her, rather than some pillar of perfect womanhood. Shariah nods as Dr.Uriel cocks her head and still speaking flatly asks, "Is something bothering you Diplo-Colonel? Feel free to speak about it with me. As much as I seem to be disinterested in everything and keep things professional, I would like to be friendly with my fellows on this ship. Plus, how can a grandma ignore such a young sweet thing?" Shariah feels her hair damn near stand on in as she exclaims, "You''re a grandma?!" Uriel cracks a slight smile and answers, "Yes, Josef and I have three children who are all grown up and have their own lives on different planets, and recently two of them gave us our first grandchildren." Shariah now sits down across from the woman who she just remembered was in her mid-sixties despite her late twenties appearance. She is interested in this now. She leans forward and asks, "So why did you accept this task despite having grandkids?" She shrugs and responds flatly as ever, "Well, as much as we do love our kids and grandkids, they wouldnt forgive us for letting an oppurtunity like this slip away just to see our grandchildren at an age where they won''t remember us. Plus each one of our kids have families on different planets so it''s rare we get to see them anyway. " Shariah exhales sharply in amusement at how absurd this information is, but the old woman catches her, "Well, you sat down. Now tell me what''s on your mind?" Shariah realizes she has been trapped, lulled in by the conversation, and now is forced to share her information after Uriel had shared it with her already. With a sigh, Shariah starts, "Well... it''s about Commodore Hollander..." While Uriel''s expression remains flat, through the darkness Shariah can see mischief in the eyes of the blonde as she says flatly, "Ohhhh? Is this young lady falling in love with the dashing naval officer?" Shariah sighs, not reacting and giving the woman any satisfaction before explaining, "No, quite the opposite. I can''t trust him. He is a paradox and I don''t like being so unsure about a person. It goes against my training and the way I was raised. Plus there is the alien girl. She is quite attractive and I''m worried he may use his position of absolute power over her to do something wrong." To Shariah''s suprise Uriel breaks her normal stoic demeanor and starts quietly laughing, covering her mouth as her whole body heaves in amusement. When she collects herself Uriel explains, "Well, if it''s that last part that''s bothering you don''t worry about it. Barnabas is a very special breed of man. Yeah, he''ll get unprofessionally attached to her probably, but not in the way you worry about. He''ll probably take her in as a daughter most likely, hell he''s been looking for something to fill the whole for a while since he lost his kids." Shariah feels her jaw damn near fall to the table and Uriel notices that before explaining, "Sorry, while yes he was technically a father, none were biologically his and he''s never had a girlfriend past two dates, much less a wife. Back on our homeworld his family eventually came into money and he unfortunately inherited it far too young but he did lots of philanthropy with it while the business expanded before his younger brother got old enough to take it over. One of his biggest projects was running a sort of orphanage or temporary living home for kids who lost their parents to the curse, or otherwise, since our homeworld was a shithole. He got really attached to all of the kids and you can''t imagine how he blubbered on and on when one got adopted or the foster system finally found a foster family for them." Shariah for a moment feels bad about distrusting the Commodore. If Uriel is telling the complete truth it sounds like he is a completely upstanding and kind person. There still is one issue in her mind though as she asks, Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon. "Tell me Dr.Kelly, why is he only a Commodore despite his long service time? His entire file is missing and classified no matter how high of a person I ask for the information. " She stops for a moment but before Uriel and respond Shariah remembers, "And you called him the Eater of Worlds. What is that about, is it related?" Uriel doesn''t show any emotion but in her eyes, Shariah can see sadness. Uriel then responds, "I see that has been bothering you and I can''t say I blame you. I won''t explain it as I will not talk about negative things about my friend behind his back, but I will tell you this. If you haven''t had any luck looking him up, check the database on this ship, not under personnel records but public ones. Make sure you look up that nickname. You''ll find something." Shariah nods and thanks the woman before heading back to her room. Once inside she removes the top gets back to her computer and types in, "Eater of Worlds." Immediately she gets lots of results. She kicks herself out of frustration having neglected searching those exact words. Every image is of what looks to be a chimera of derelict ships that crashed into one another over time after being in a debris field for a prolonged period. If the glow of the fusion engines wasn''t present, this would probably be the case. Shariah notes everything is strapped to a central vessel, an American battleship of some sort, through image enhancement she can see the nearly completely scraped-off word, "USS Starwish." Looking at that central ship she can see most of the main turrets were blown clean off with long gouges in the many-meter-thick armor before and after the destroyed weapon system. The front of the ship looks to have been obliterated by something incomprehensibly powerful, somehow melted, sheared, and shattered all at the same time easily halving the ship''s entire length. Most of the other attached ships are smaller and seemingly were only attached as replacements for the main weapons systems. Shariah has the science vessels onboard damage control and identification AI take a look at it to see what hit the ship. It quickly reports, PROBABLE CAUSE OF DAMAGE CONFIRMED WITH 80% CERTAINTY NATIVE WEAPON SYSTEMS DESTROYED BY RELATIVISTIC WEAPONRY 95% CERTAINTY MAIN BODY DAMAGED BY RAMMING ACTION AT HYPERSONIC VELOCITY 99.5% CERTAINTY VARIOUS MUNITION STRIKES 50% CERTAINTY NUCLEAR DETONATION 70% CERTAINTY IMPROPER SHIP MODIFICATIONS 100% CERTAINTY RECOMMENDATION: HAVE THE SHIP SENT TO A SCRAPPING STATION TO BE RECYCLED. Shariah leans forward interested in her find, whatever happened to this ship was catastrophic and it is some sort of answer to her questions about the Commodore. looking through all the information she notices they are all news reports from the Reconquest War, where the UNCA tried to come back after a good hundred years to reconquer. Then there is the headlines themselves. "Millions Dead... Planet left uninhabitable for Hundreds of years scientists say... Monster... US Navy leaves no comment... Seas boiled away in nuclear fire... Gomorrah capital of UNCA remnants turned to ash as atmosphere burns..." Shariah''s eyes go wide as she reads about the atrocities committed by this so-called "Eater of Worlds", she can''t see Commodore Hollander doing this. Then there is the final headline mentioning the Eater of Worlds, "Court declares Eater of Worlds not guilty of genocide, instead found guilty of disregarding Naval codes and going AWOL. The actual sentence is unknown, but the Admiral of the entire Navy states that he will be punished severely for a long time." All of this floors Shariah, it makes no sense, not one bit of it. Yet at the same time it does make sense. She is confused and quite worried about this mission, most of all she worries about why the Navy made him the head military officer of the operation. Unfortunately, she cannot think of an answer. If he really is this Eater of Worlds, he is also the only one willing to eradicate a potentially hostile alien race in order for humanity to survive... The council of nobles is in an uproar. They are arguing over one another about the strange beings from an area of space life shouldn''t have formed, much less a space fairing species. Lots of allegations of conspiracy, outright lies, and the validity of one another''s mothers'' marital statuses get thrown around before finally, a shrill bird-like whistle causes the room to be silent immediately. Lady Skarshoul then speaks, "Enough squabbling like chicks awaiting their mother''s beak! Now let us let those who came aboard the Human vessel speak first as they have also the most experience in diplomatic talks with the humans." One of the nobles stands and begins, "The Humans are a crude and plain species. Clearly, they have no room for aesthetics in their culture and society. This means they are quite primitive, but still space-capable which is worrying. I believe they will have some novel concepts for us to learn once they join our glorious kingdom." They sit and another speaks, "Their ships are constructed entirely of metals, both steel and unknown. I believe their home systems are quite rich in mineral resources and they have the means to harvest them and utilize them in grand quantity. This alone means bringing them in will be quite a boon. I also believe any compliance issues will be solved easily as their level of magic is so naturally low I could barely sense it, and the richness of our natural auras would kill them!" This one sits and another speaks, "Another early star sailing species. Nothing new, but entertaining nonetheless. " No others speak until Lady Skarshoul looks right at the Shipmaster and asks, "Shipmaster Gharlguts, you have been quiet yet you are the most familiar on a personal level with the human leader. Tell us what you recommend." The Shipmaster sits quietly for a moment, the fire in his beard a dull smolder and he says, "I recommend cooperation with the humans rather than outright annexation and assimilation. We should strive to bring them in slowly." The whole chamber gasps in shock and Lady Skarshoul raises a wing before questioning mockingly, "Has old Gharlguts gone soft in his eighth century? Tell me, did a novel spell catch you off guard." He sighs and then answers, "No. I had it explained and shown to me. Those attacks from the sky were not rare for them. Those were mass-produced weapons, and they consider them nearly standard-issue for their soldiers and navy. Their ships, while quite stark in appearance are outdated and mass-produced, the Commodore could not give a number of total vessels they field. Most of all I saw their ship armament. Their flagship, while small easily matched mine in firepower from a single weapons system. Then changing the projectile they fired they outdid my ship many times over in capability. I fear that weapon as it could shatter my vessel in a single shot, and I have reason to believe that this so-called Yue-Ess-Ess Kot Feesh is not their heaviest-hitting vessel as it is purely a mobile command center. Their planets number in the thousands with millions of populations each. What worried me the most was how their Shipmaster Commodore saw the slaughter he committed. He considered it in the same way a skirmish should be considered and he highly insinuated that their battles most likely cost thousands upon thousands of lives. So pardon my cowardice, but we should seek cooperation until we can either counter their weapons or they willingly join us." The room is silent as their most respected warrior and military officer speaks in a sad and defeated tone. The Shipmaster was known for being prideful, and in this moment he admitted he not only felt afraid but felt as if his ship would be easily defeated. No one speaks for a while unitl the shocked Lady Skarshoul decrees, "We will not engage the humans in conflict. We should send for a royal inquisitor to advise us on this whole human situation. We should allow the royal family to decide the fate of these humans. Raise your right hand if you agree with this vote." All hands raise, and the deal is done. A magical message is sent to the capital. One reading, "Unknown species found. Novel magical concepts are believed. Send Inquisitor for advice." It is accepted by the king himself by the end of the day... End Operation Courtier Begin Operation Inquisition
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ End of Operation Force Composition 1 Viking Class Large-Cruiser- USS Catfish- Role: Flagship and Fire Support 3 SF-21 Fighters- 6 support wingmen each 2 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration Marine compliment- 100 2 Preist Class Support and Fabrication Vessels- USS Shovelnose, USS Palid- Role: Auxillary Marine Compliment- 50 2 MacArthur Class Heavy Cruisers- USS Terrapin, USS Snapper- Role: Battleline 2 UD-12 Dropship Marine Compliment -100 4 Bowman Class Missile Cruisers- USS Quillback, USS Hognose, USS Redhorse, USS Buffalo-Role: Long Range Combat Marine Compliment- 100 4 Cutter Class Destroyers- USS Bluegill, USS Longear, USS Redear, USS Shellcracker- Role: Escort Marine Compliment- 80 4 Teach Class Destroyers- USS Largemouth, USS Smallmouth, USS Spotted, USS Neosho- Role: Backline Disruption Marine Compliment- 100 2 Hellstorm Class Frigates- USS Eel, USS Lamprey- Role: Naval Raiding Marine Compliment- 50 1 Arsenal Bird Class Drone Carrier- USS Heron- Role: Drone Carrier 400 MQ-25 "Parasite" attack Drones 20 MQ-30 "Plover" Bomber Drones Marine Compliment-25 6 Boohag Class Marine Transports- USS Bullfrog, USS Peeper, USS Daddys Belt, USS Toad, USS Newt, USS Salamander- Role: Marines 8 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration 1200 Marines 800 Shipbreakers 4 M3A1 "Stonewall" MBT 24 M8A3 "Gavin" IFVs 8 M112 MRTWP (Multi-role Transport Weapons Platform) 12 M8 "Bunny" Fast Attack/Recon Vehicles Total Force: 26 Capital Vessels 12 Dropships 3 Manned Fighters 420 Drone Fighters 2505 Marines (Including Shipbreakers) 48 Ground IFVs (Crews included) _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Operation Inquisition: Theory The forest is quiet, too quiet. The ferns that compose the entirety of the underbrush are still, it''s like the wind has stopped to hold its breath. The towering redwoods reach into the sky, blocking the pale light of the moon and its tiny speck of a sibling. I wait there, trying to keep my breathing low and steady as one stray exhale could create a plume of steam in the moist nighttime air, giving away my position. The floor of the temperate rainforest is moist and soft, threatening to sink my feet, but unable to thanks to the thick carpet of moss and roots. In the silence the sound of something carefully moving through the ferns is deafening. A slight "swish-swish" of the soft plant being squished down or being pushed aside. I slowly raise the rifle in my hands, setting it gently against the front bar of the treestand. I am sitting about twenty feet in the air, supported by two large screws dug into the side of a towering pillar of wood. I then feel it, I don''t hear it. A low rumble that shakes my bones and soft innards. A gentle purring for what made the low-frequency rumble, a content noise after filling a belly. In front of me is a small pool of water, a depression in the ground that fills with rainwater during the more rainy months of the year. The thing moving through the forest, a king, an apex, still moves silently and carefully even when not hunting as if it too fears drawing unnecessary attention. Its feet are designed perfectly for the soft ground below, like the steps of a cat, padded and with the weight well dispersed. It then comes around the tree I am hiding in, carefully slinking around the titan of wood checking its surroundings, careful as always. I hold my breath and don''t move an inch as its eye level is just a foot shy of my stand. It stares for a moment, taking in the sights in the low light before making the same rumble that threatens to rattle my teeth. Satisfied and after having decided the strange object attached to the side of the tree isn''t a threat or food it strides forward. Even this close its steps only make the sound of the ferns moving underfoot. As it moves to water I shoulder the high-caliber weapon, a traditional chemically propelled firearm, the only modern aspects being the recoil compensation system which is needed for the prey at hand. There is no scope as this level of light would not allow it, and a night vision or thermal would be considered cheating. I aim the gun but don''t prepare to shoot as the beast is facing away from me, I need to strike the vitals of this 10-ton behemoth or it won''t fall easily. While there is some danger in this hunt, the bigger worry is letting this type of prize suffer before death. A swift and quick one is what the king deserves, in respect for its long and successful life as the apex of this part of the forest. It makes it to water where it crouches down in a similar way to a bird sitting on a nest. The sound of it guzzling down water fills the forest and then suddenly, the cacophony returns as the small creatures of the woods realize the king is satisfied with only a drink at this moment. The wind even returns, this time of year it blows to the West meaning my scent is blown away from the beast. Unfortunately, even after it drinks it remains facing away from me, seemingly contemplating something as it stares into the reflective pool. I wait there for over an hour, my arms screaming from holding the large caliber weapon up for so long, but it pays off as the king stands, its regal form illuminated for a moment as the wind blows the canopy overhead just right to allow moonlight through. The Fully grown Bull Tyrannosaurus Rex stands proud, its side now facing me as it seemingly poses for its final moments. I move my finger, only a twitch but its incredible eyesight notices it and its massive head whips over to stare at me. Two predatory eyes gaze into mine, even at this distance I can see the intelligence behind them, the calculating gaze of an experienced hunter. Its face is scarred from all the lessons it learned the hard way growing up in this hellish primal world. A world full of recreated prehistoric animals. Unfortunately for the Rex, my shot is already lined up. With a thunderous crack the nighttime forest is illuminated in harsh orange light for a spit second. The Double-nickle, or .55 caliber bullet (13.9mm) sails through the air for a fraction of a second before it impacts the large creature, shredding bone, meat, and organs. My shot is true and the Rex makes a horrible gurgling roar as its lungs breath out the last of their air. It staggers for a second before it falls over with a final defiant groan. I climb from the treestand, using my specialized boot spikes to get purchase on the sheer trunk. I approach the fallen preadator and run my hand across its massive frame. My fingers go through its downy plume and my chest swells with pride. I then grab the radio on my hip and call in my sucessful hunt. I sit on top of my prey admiring its brutish beauty. Then it dawns on me... this happened just shy of fifty years ago... a moment of happiness...just a day before... The scene disappears and I find myself in a hospital room next to four beds... all of them with the same last name displayed at the foot of them. Each one in it strapped to the bed for the safety of themselves and the hospital staff. I remember how I felt in this situation, devastated... but at the same time it felt really strange... what luck that the curse affects four people all within the same month, each one at a different rate. I also find it odd how I was left alone buy the same curse running through my veins. I look into the eyes of the closest one, and they don''t know me. Fear, rage, and nothing, all at once. They can''t remember me, in less than a week they forgot their own brother. I stand up and walk over to the bed with the last one, the only one still functioning and alive. I don''t remember if there were doctors here at this time. I know they left the syringes in the room with me. I approach the IV tube and stick the syringe into the attachment port and slowly inject the clear fluid. I don''t remember looking as the vitals slowed before stopping... I sit up in my bunk with a groan. I hate having that memory show up. For some reason, my brain remembers something good right before reminding me of that final scene. I slid out of bed and begin dressing before going to the bathroom and brushing my teeth and hair. I don''t meet my own gaze as it would only serve to judge and scorn me. When finished I button the last few clasps on my uniform, slap my face, and put a confident smile on my face before stepping out of my stateroom and straight into Phillia who has seemingly been waiting at my door. The weight difference between us causes her to go sprawling to the ground. With a swear I help her back to her feet and with my free hand I dust off her new Navy uniform. To be honest I''m glad her biology is similar to ours so we were able to find a fitting uniform in storage. She looks good in it, her striped face really matching the dark blue of the uniform. I laugh lightly but then breathe through my nose and I immediately ask, "Private Phillia... have you been regularly bathing?" Her stripes darken and she asks innocently, "Are baths and other routine cleanings a daily occurrence for your kind?" I nod and respond, "Yes, you''ve been here for three days, have you bathed?" She responds flatly, avoiding eye contact, If you discover this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation. "No sir... I do not know how to use the facilities here." I facepalm and immediately go through the current shifts looking for a female sailor or marine who is soon going off shift. I find a marine, unfortunately for Phillia. I tell her, "It is considered baseline cleanliness for humans. Our standards are we have no natural smell if possible, especially when on a navy vessel. " She nods as the marine, still in armor glides into the hallway. Despite the heavy armor, she makes almost no sound while walking. She grabs the poor stripey woman by her shoulders and through the heavy distortion of the helmet speakers she says in a deep and booming voice, "Looks like the little tiger woman needs to get herself clean..." I try not to shudder and I tell the marine, "Yes, please help her understand how to use the showers and then send her my way before you go off shift. I expect no tomfoolery." Phillia looks at us in confusion as we hadn''t used our implants to translate our speech. I make a mental note to have the scientists look into her biology to see if an implant is possible for her, if not then get some sort of headset that fits her long ears. As the marine drags the wimpering elf-creature away I head to the bridge to get my daily tasks done. I walk around the windowless room and make sure all my officers are doing well. Everything seems in order and after checking with the captains of other ships I find everything is in a nominal state. I mentally enter the systems of the ship and converse with the AI who had been in contact with the other ships too, they report similarly to the COs of the other vessels. I sit down in my command chair and relax for a bit as I start going through individual sections of the ship to make sure those in certain roles are doing okay. After an hour Phillia shows up, washed alongside her clothing. I comment offhandedly, "Glad you could get cleaned up." She doesn''t respond, she just stares at me and after a moment she states, "It is strange... Your showers, while the Kingdom does have heated water fixtures in vessels for bathing, they are exclusive to the nobility and officers corps. That... Muh-Reen as she called herself was a private first class, which she explained meant she was the second lowest rank possible... it is odd how your kind considers hot water a basic thing for even the lowest on board." I nod and reply, "Yes. While there is differences in military rank, there is no real difference in the amenities on board between even me and the lowest private. The only difference is that me and the heads of specific operations, ship systems, or general highest rank of a station, have individual rooms. This is because of the paperwork that comes along with the rank meaning there needs to be a place where they can do it in quiet." She furrows her brow for a second before smiling and asking, "So rank directly corresponds to responsibility with your kind?" I nod and answer, "Yes, in theory, the higher rank you are, the more things you have to do, this usually means the higher ranked individuals are of higher capability. I think the old saying was Leadership through service. Basically, it means leadership means you are working for those underneath you." I watch as her eyes go wide and she astonished says, "Your American system must be the greatest governing system to ever exist." I sigh and shake my head and answer flatly, "There is no such thing as best ever. There is only the best option for a certain situation. To think a single system, a single way lasts forever is not the smartest way to think. Things must change and be amended constantly just as the people do within the system. Doesn''t matter how, or why, it just must." She frowns and asks, "The Eternal Kingdom has had the same government for thousands of years, and only now it has a rebel group. Why can''t your... Deem-Oh-Cratic Ree-Poob-lick style work for just as long?" I simply shrug answering, "Humans don''t like doing the same thing for very long. I don''t know enough about the Eternal Kingdom to truly answer you." She silently nods and watches my command console, not understanding anything displayed on it. I then ask her, "Phillia, I want you to help me with target priority. I want you to tell me what to look for in the event of possible future military engagements. I am only knowledgeable about human targets. Tell me how to tell something is dangerous before they attack...also I can''t detect magic...or whatever." She nods and thinks for a moment before saying without a hint of sarcasm, "Whoever has the fanciest armor." I frown and reply, "Explain." She thinks for a moment, seemingly confused by my question and she says slowly, "Well... the most powerful mage or ship generally has the most money meaning that they usually make sure to flaunt their family wealth..." I nod understanding there may have been a minor cultural misunderstanding. I sigh and say, "Alright. I understand. So I need to look for gilding, bright colors, and anything over the top?" She thinks for a second and then nods. I slump deeper into my command seat and rub the bridge of my nose. I then go to my console and pull up the Shipmasters vessel onto the screen and ask her, "What priority is this ship?" She tilts her head side-to-side for a second before answering, "Pretty important. That''s definitely a heavy hitter." I nod as the onboard AI logs it into targeting data. The AI already puts it down as a fairly decent threat due to the beam weapons that were shown to us. While nothing compared to a nuclear-propelled tungsten rod at point blank, those beams are most likely able to be held for a prolonged period of time since the big ship didn''t heat up much at all. Because they are beam weapons which humanity hasn''t really faced in any major form they scare me a little. While the math checks out that most American ships can survive a fairly prolonged blast, eventually they will bore through the many layers of armor regardless of heat resistance and angling. I rub my chin and ask for clarification, "How long can those big broadside guns fire for before they need to recharge...or reload." Phillia thinks for a moment and responds, "I''m not really a navy girl, but if I remember correctly each one can hold a beam for minutes at a time before they need to cool down." I quietly nod. The AI might know how damaging those beams are and I could ask for damage projections, but I decide to go with the philosophy of don''t get hit. I nod and ask her, "Okay, do you know what the ships are made out of? The outer armor?" She looks at me confused for a moment before looking around as an expression of realization crosses her face. She explains, "They are made of the finest mana-reinforced stone, which can be produced with specialized metal reinforcements inside to protect important parts. Since they are as defensive as castles after all... As far as I understood before meeting your kind, metal ships like the one we are on are nearly impossible to produce in a reasonable time for reasonable prices. Only a few of the Royal Capital defensive fleet are of metal construction." I feel something inside me snap and I stare at the screen blankly. I don''t think, because that revelation hurt me. I understood from scans some of their ship''s exterior has masonry on it, I had assumed that was simply a decorative choice...not a defensive choice. Phillia seems to notice my state of stupor and asks, "Is stone in your part of space not very strong?" I say flatly, "It is... against small arms and some smaller caliber defensive weapons on ships. The weakest of our main ship weapons can easily penetrate a solid meter of very sturdy stone if using the correct ammunition." She frowns and asks, "How would the Catfish stack up?" I reply, "When comparing main weapons with the Shipmaster a weak shell designed largely for moving space debris out of orbital lanes shattered a nickel-iron asteroid just like those main beams. We then proceeded to atomize a similar-sized and dense asteroid... this ship as I stated is not meant to do heavy-hitting slugging matches. " She doesn''t say anything and seems lost in thought as I rationalize the situation. Yes, stone is fairly tough and I assume this mana stone is tougher than regular stuff Im familiar with. The problem is, stone shatters and cracks, and when it does it''s a complete failure of integrity. I shake my head and to save myself from spiraling down this path of thinking I''ll just assume its really good and tough thanks to their mana or whatever. I sigh and then say to Phillia, "Alright, I understand you aren''t a navy person but please enlighten me on all royal navy doctrine..." A few hours later I am sitting in the mess eating meatloaf with a thousand-yard stare. Phillia explained that their navy fights at visual ranges, and in line formations like old sailing ships. They also rely on exterior defensive positions similar to castle walls where mages stand in fucking space with a shield holding atmosphere in while they cast magic at the enemy.... what the hell is going on? Operation Inquisition: Confession My shift for the day ends and I make a beeline for my favorite observation room. I climb the small ladder through the manhole-sized port sit in one of the seats and begin to watch the planet below... or above... I check the ship''s orientation and decide above is the correct answer. I sent Phillia to the medic area to either get fitted with a cybernetic or get an earpiece so she can communicate with everyone onboard, even those without translation software or hardware. Over my shift, my opinion of the Kingdom''s navy has changed multiple times. Despite my initial surprise I now understand they are still 100% a threat. Their weapons have a limited range, but that is entirely based on their sensor systems or whatever their "magic" equivalent is. The weapons themselves have near-unlimited range unless they hit something, but they can also be terminated at any time. The end of the beam can be forced to have a set end point somehow which is odd, but fairly cool as it limits collateral. The combat AI on board did a simulation of their weapons potential effect against the Catfish, while glancing blows or a direct hit for a second will hurt, the Catfish would only lose armor that was designed to practically ablate already which is considered okay. But a beam for longer than 2 seconds would most likely begin doing devastating damage. So I''ll have to consult the survivability onion for all potential engagements. I watch the clouds move across the planet''s surface for a while getting lost in the beauty of the blue and green world below. I imagine the quaint villages composed of cottages with castles and keep dotting the landscape. I let my mind wander into this strange fairytale reality that sits just beyond the impossibly thick clear composite... and about 3000 miles. It''s a nice thought even though my more rational mind fully understands their society is oppressive, stagnant, and probably really backward. I don''t know enough about them yet, just off of their first attempts to explain their way of life I can tell so much. I just hope they aren''t hyper-theocratic or something... I am pulled out of my stargazing by the distinct sound of someone clambering up the ladder. In the oppressive silence of the enclosed observation deck the boots and hands on metal sounds as deafening as a gunshot. In a place like this, even a hard breath feels almost heretical as it breaks the sanctity of the quiet. What I''m getting at is I am unhappy to be interrupted, but I am a professional so I don''t let it show as I already recognize the soft feminine breathing of Shariah at this point. I hear her slump down into a chair behind me and we sit quietly for a while. She then asks, "Commodore? Permission to speak... about something personal?" I feel my heart drop, hoping its not something really important, or possibly.... could she be confessing her undying love to me? No, I guess it is most likely a marine or other officer who had been rather... aggressive in their flirting. She is a beautiful woman after all, plus there hasn''t been any shore leave, the boys and sometimes girls get a little... cooky. I prepare to have to either give someone a dressing down, throw them in the brig, or possibly hold a court marshall. I say, "Yes. What is on your mind?" She then asks a question that makes my blood run cold, "Commodore, what do you know of the Eater of Worlds?" I frown immediately as a part of my life I really don''t like thinking about is brought up. I sigh and ask, "So Uriel spilled the beans... well probably not directly. Why did you look me up?" Shariah goes quiet and seems hesitant before stating, "So... you don''t deny it. I was worried about your intentions with the alien woman... and your overall character. I was raised and trained to never trust anyone." I nod, even though she probably couldn''t see my head. I then respond, "I have no bad intentions for the girl. For one, it''s not professional. Second, I''m still not sure about the moral implications of human-alien relations...but yeah. I am an old man despite my looks Shariah. I am past the point where I give even the slightest shit about lying to make myself look better. I only follow the rules of classification... my record is classified and you do not have access. I cannot explain everything in detail, but I can confirm this, I am a war criminal. Thus I cannot achieve a higher rank than Commodore, and that was a miracle, to say the least. My intentions are pure, I am a patriot, and most of all... I see my crew as my beloved children. I do not want anyone to come to harm. That is all I can confirm of anything you learned." I can tell she is frowning without looking, even if I could see her in the darkness. She then asks, "So... do you regret it?" I grip the arms of my chair tightly and say flatly, "Yes and no... I cannot explain further Diplo-Colonel. It is classified information. My entire file is. Even if I wished to tell you I am not at liberty to share that information. Please drop this topic immediately. I will fulfill my mission, no harm will come upon those I am in charge of if I can prevent it, and Phillia the alien girl will not be mistreated in any manner. That is all I will speak on this Diplo-Colonel." My last words are spoken a little harsher than the rest, but in reality, I am not angry at her. I am making it seem that way to dissuade her from continuing down that path. I don''t fear for her career or the government silencing her or something. My file sealing was more of something I requested, a reward for accepting a bad deal. Simply, it is more because I figured something out that no one wants to come to the light. Regardless she seems to take my fake hint and gets up to leave before firing off harshly, "I hope that classification can keep you safe from what you''ve done." I cuss under my breath, unhappy to see she took the wrong message. I lean back in my chair and watch a large storm move over one of the oceans of the planet below and I let my mind simply go blank for a while... I walk onto the bridge and greet my officers for this shift. The general feeling on board is quite positive as everything is going well, plus it''s sloppy joe and pudding day at the mess. A very wet meal, but a crew favorite. I get a communication ping from an unknown contact code and I open it. Before I can even introduce myself and request identification the deafening squeal of microphone feedback fills my head. I flinch violently as I can hear some voices slowly come into tune. A stern female voice says, "You gotta do it this way! You''re probably deafening the Commodore!" I then hear Phillia, who stammers out,Reading on Amazon or a pirate site? This novel is from Royal Road. Support the author by reading it there. "Oh no! I''m sorry Commodore!" As the sound dies out, the ear-mounted communicator and translator''s microphone are balanced correctly. She then says, "Can you hear me, Commodore?" I respond, "Yes, and thanks for tickling my brain like that." She gasps and says, "This thing is amazing, we can communicate like this... without magic! You humans are so impressive! Plus your voice sounds... more natural. Like you talk more fluently." I chuckle and respond, "Yes, that should be the case. I was using one of those machines in your ears to talk to you, instead mine is built into my head. Now that you have your own, the two devices communicate meaning the machines decide to translate our languages much better. " I vaguely describe the concept of two learning translation AIs working together to more accurately translate. I then patch the doctor into the call and say, "Doc, keep her down there for the day and help her get used to her new machine. Also please fit her with an optical lens to help her out as well." The doctor replies, "Aye Sir!" I then close the channel and go back to my daily work. Going over reports, checking for anomalies, and making sure our food stores are still good. While we have the technology to scrub the "magic" off of the stuff from here, I don''t fully trust it, plus it takes too long. All food stores are pretty good for now, it''s really the only resource that we cannot replenish easily in space. Water can be recycled or found in asteroids and ice. Ammo can be replenished by those fabricator ships once they find an asteroid belt, the same thing with basic ship repairs. Food is the only constraint on time for this mission. As of now, we are still good on all non-replinishable supplies. I mentally take a peek through the ship''s cameras to see if anything interesting is going on. This is the only downside of having a really competent crew, nothing requires my attention. It''s very easy to get bored while on shift, and the naval code means no one can watch the onboard movies and other stuff while on duty. To my surprise, Shariah is coming to the bridge even though she is no longer supposed to be on this vessel. Leaving me without a first officer. She enters the bridge and sits down next to me in her first officer''s seat still looking a little miffed so I ask with a shit-eating grin, "Done with your tantrum?" I say it loud enough for the entire bridge to hear. She shakes her head and responds, "No. And it''s not a tantrum I''m just coming to terms with it." I nod and take a shot, "I''m guessing that''s not all?" She nods and asks, "Commodore... I know your opinion on the UNSA, so why were you so reasonable with the Kingdom offering you a slave? You swore an oath to protect freedom." I shrug and respond, "It was the fastest way to liberate Phillia. For a diplomatic sort, you really don''t know how to be diplomatic with foreigners. They have separate cultures and ideals. You don''t get anywhere just calling them evil or shouting at them. It usually makes them angry or double down on their ways. We are here on a diplomatic mission, we are here to create a positive relationship with aliens who have a completely different culture and governing system. We have to play nice for now. In my eyes, the best way to free the slaves is to prove to them it is an inefficient way of doing things. Our modern tech as I have learned is mindblowing to them. Entertainment, production, and food. That''s how we will liberate their people in bondage. " She nods seemingly understanding what I mean and asks, "Why the heck aren''t you a diplomat? I couldn''t conceive of that...I guess I was thinking far to... modern." I nod and answer, "I am in my sixties and I''ve spent my life on navy vessels. I have lots of time to think and learn. " She nods and before another word can be spoken a sensor officer says, "Sir! We are getting a massive radiation spike! If it were back home I''d say a huge nuclear device just went off. " I lean forward and switch my screen to his. The cloud of radiation appears as a bright green blob on the sensors. I notice it isn''t moving, it seemingly expands only to turn back in on itself keeping the cloud uniform. He isn''t wrong, it looks like the initial radiation cloud from a really dirty nuclear device. I shout, "Get optics on that location now. I want to see if anything is hiding in there!" After a moment a camera is pointed at the location where I see a very strange sight. Rather than being just blank space as it should be, there are long streaks of brilliant blue light coming from the center looking exactly like Cherenkov Radiation which is impossible since that only happens within a medium like water. I have an idea and turn on a spectroscope and look at the cloud. The computers read the information and informed me that within the radiation cloud is also a cloud of gas, largely composed of oxygen. Then before my eyes, there is a brilliant flash, the radiation disperses as expected and in its place is what I could best describe as a two-sided castle. Initial measurements on the optical sensors describe the vessel as 25 km across and close to 30 tall when accounting for the topmost and bottom-most spires. It looks like a tiered wedding-cake-styled castle, one going up and another going down with the lowest wall or their foundations meeting for a nearly 1KM tall belt. The whole thing is circular in nature and the AI immediately begins cataloging all potential weapons systems on the vessel. As soon as it passes 2000 of the same beam cannons on the Shipmasters vessel I stop paying attention. It also notes that there are multiple much larger beam cannons, easily 200 of them each with a bore of about 20 meters. To say this thing is beyond dangerous is an understatement. Even with the limited range and outdated tactics Phillia described, this ship is well past the planet-killer class of vessel, by at least virtue of the volume of fire. For a moment I thought it was some sort of defensive space station or castle they sent as a deterrent, and then it began moving on a trail of their fancy radiation. Surprisingly fast too, easily breaking hypersonic in only a few minutes, meaning they have some nasty inertial dampeners inside the vessel to keep the crew from passing out from the intense forces. The castle ship moves into a low orbit of the world below, much lower than the one the Catfish is on, and sits there silently. A 500-meter-long ship pulls out of what can be described as a dock and heads down to the surface. The whole while I am going over every inch of this ship, wanting to know more. It is covered in what looks to be cloth banners, dancing in non-existent wind, most are of the Eternal Kingdoms, but there are ones the AI cannot recognize, but it classifies them as religious in nature. I query why and it brings up a photo from my helmet camera from inside the Alien city and I pass by what is easily described as a church. The symbols match with 80% certainty. I accept this answer and tell the AI to be willing to change as needed. The non-visible light sensors finally finish their report of the new vessel and it''s both jarring and strange. First, there is a huge cloud of their "magic" radiation around it, considering they have admitted to utilizing some sort of shield I assume this cloud represents a very powerful array. Second, after penetrating the shields with specially tuned radiological-based sensors the ship was found to be composed largely of stone, what appeared to be wood, and with a central core composed of unknown, but highly dense metals. The penetrating radar believed the belt of the ship is about 20 meters thick of their "manastone" which seemingly does have strange properties that make it considerably more shatter-proof than the normal stuff. Third and final, the ship has little to no thermal signature. The only heat being detected is the crew who are somehow patrolling the exterior of the vessel without EVA suits. With a sigh, I designate this new ship the highest grade on the threat assessment scale so in the event of open conflict, it will receive multiple megatons of freedom as an opening salvo. With the new threat spotted and logged, all I can do it wait and put the entire fleet on guard. Basically, no weapons are pointed at the vessel, and there hasn''t been a call for everyone to get into Battlestations, just the captains of each vessel keep their hand close to the button. It takes over an hour before something else happens. Uriel sends a message my way stating, "We have received a hail from the castle thing. It is a mobile headquarters for their religious organization. It has come in peace and those onboard wish to speak with us planetside. According to our contacts in the local government, it is in order to make sure we aren''t actually evil demons or something. No clue what that is about but I recommend we listen. Stay in orbit, we will do the diplomatic meetings. We are dealing with religious figures here and I don''t think they are the love thy neighbor kind. Be ready to pull us out at a moment''s notice." I send a wordless acknowledgment to her then have a few marine dropships ready and have the sensor drone network missiles loaded into their respective tubes. All main guns are loaded with non-nuclear munitions. I set the fleet on high alert as the fighters on board the carriers are prepped with their drone wingmen. No pilots inside them yet, just setting them down on the catapult and waiting. Now, all we can do is hold our breath as the diplomatic shuttle silently glides through the void and down onto an alien world that is becoming more and more dangerous by the second. Operation Inquisition: Conversation between Monsters I bounce my hands up and down as they are clasped behind my back. I keep my eyes on the screens in front of me as well as my vision being filled with every bit of data I can''t fit on the screens. In the past, this state of being would cause a pretty severe migraine, but I have gotten used to it over the years. The dangers of neural cybernetics are largely based on how long you''ve practiced and gotten used to them. People who try to go full throttle on their first one are usually left either schizophrenic, very depressed, or paranoid. Basically it''s a fast track to mental illness. I''m not a doctor so I don''t know how it works, but something with overwhelming the senses resulting in some kind of brain damage and chemical imbalances I guess. Nothing of note happens for a while. Watching the vitals of those sent to the planet below reveals only momentarily increased vitals, but the medical AI and the medical officer both tell me those increased vitals are consistent with nervousness. That makes sense and after a time they seemingly calm down and I consider that good enough to be considered a non-issue for now. Hours pass with shallow breaths. The bridge crew joke amongst themselves with hollow laughs. This behavior is usually only seen during the FTL journeys to a hot combat zone. Everyone is on edge. This is because of the many unknowns that are present. At any moment we could have our first contact war and we don''t truly know the capabilities of these aliens. While we have seen their main ship weapons and have a decent idea of their masonry-composed armor, this means nothing until hypersonic slugs start flying and nuclear fusion is forced in brilliant microsecond displays. Their beam weapons are quite potent while glancing blows and even momentary strikes are probably survivable due to thermodynamics interacting with the void spaces within modern ship armor, but they can still punch through if a maneuver is botched. I don''t have a complete answer on what those weapons do to internals when they make it through armor, but I know it isn''t good. There are the shields the aliens have too. In theory, based on our modern science, they shouldn''t stop anything physical due to them being fields of radiation according to most sensors, but I''m fairly certain they are quite capable of stopping some kinetics. Then are the stone hulls, while stone is easy to defeat normally, this is their strange magic stone or whatever. It could have properties closer to tungsten for all I know. Finally is Electronic warfare. Modern ship battles are opened with electronic warfare, a hacking war between ship-based offensive AI meant to disable any systems they can worm into. These potential enemies do not have computers according to Phillia, and if they did, they could be so different that even the most advanced electronic warfare AI may not be able to touch them. This is bad because it is uncertain and because nothing is happening. It''s bad on the minds of soldiers, sailors, and marines to be waiting for something to happen. Waiting for someone to swing or to back down. It could result in disaster if someone gets a little too antsy on the trigger. Luckily I think the situation isn''t that bad yet. My orders were for everyone to just hand around their stations and be ready for something rather than actually putting us on imminent combat alert. Hopefully, this keeps heads cool and nerves steady. More hours pass and everything seems fine, no screams for help over comms or any signs of loss of life. That''s good, no news is good news in this type of situation. Then a notification for a direct call appears in the corner of my vision. I answer it to find it is Shariah calling to report on the situation on the ground, "Talk to me Diplo-Colonel, what''s the situation?" She responds immediately, her voice somewhat confused and apprehensive, "Commodore. We have met with the newest... official contact from the Eternal Kingdom. They are called the inquisitor, they gave no other name and refuse to as we are supposedly below them... him? I don''t know what it is. We have been able to discuss with them about the current state of things in the royal capital but he has only spoken from a position of power speaking as if he is... in charge. We brought up your existence and the Inquisitor has shown great interest in meeting with you to discuss important matters that are apparently above us... commoners..." I sigh and respond, "Alright. I''ll come down. Create a report over the Inquisitor so I may be ready to deal with him. Mannerisms, looks, and potential opinions on things." I close the line and go find Phillia, I will definitely require a cultural context translator for this. The term inquisitor somewhat bothers me. I don''t know the theological situation of the Eternal Kingdom so this could be a translation error on the side of the AI, a purely political inquisitor, or a brimstone-and-fire Spanish inquisition type of person. I gather my thoughts and start clearing my vision of all the information I had been digesting, with that done I head down to go and get my EVA suit on and have a shuttle prepared. The military shuttle lands next to the diplomatic one outside of the city''s walls. A draftless carriage awaits me just like before. I hop inside with Phillia following closely. She seems nervous in her navy dress uniform. I mean she is the daughter of a big rebel guy so it would make sense she is nervous about meeting an inquisitor, regardless of what that means in this situation, but by her demeanor when I told her who we were going to meet, I can tell it is most likely the zealot kind of inquisitor. As I enter the central palace-like building the notes Shariah took for me arrive. I read through them quickly as I walk through the cavernous halls. The notes are sparse and lacking but the gist is that the Inquisitor is a very zealous person, holds social rankings in high regard, talks down on everyone, and apparently looks "very disturbing". I don''t dwell on the last part but prepare myself mentally for some sort of eldritch horror or possibly a spider. Most folks are put off by large arachnids. I pass by the group of humans waiting outside what I am told is a simple meeting room. I greet them shake hands with a few and then step inside through the massive wooden doors which open automatically for me. The interior is not a meeting room. I would describe it as a den or something, like the kind from those films about the Victorian era with mounted animal heads, a big hearth with a stone fireplace, and elegant furniture. The room feels incredibly cozy, not the sterile office space I expected. Sitting on one of the plush chairs is the "disturbing" inquisitor. I had mentally prepared myself for a monster of some manner, but what I get is a golden human... sorta. The inquisitor looks human enough, but his skin is gold, his eyes are gold, and his hair is gold. Slowly I begin to notice the differences to humanity, the shape of the eyes, the pointed ears, the small wings on his back, and the overly long canines shining silver in the hearth light as he smiles at me. I return the expression and announce myself, "Hello there Inquisitor, I am Commodore Barnabas Hollander. It is my pleasure to meet you!" The inquisitor stands and approaches me, and towers over me. This thing is easily 8 feet tall. The inquisitor holds out a massive hand and responds, "Well met Commodore Barnabas Hollander... while this greeting is odd, I have been told it is common for your kind." I nod and grip the large hand. Clearly he tries to big dick me by clamping down hard, but it feels like a middle schooler trying to grip me. I apply slight pressure, not enough to hurt but enough to let the tall thing know I am considerably more sturdy than our size difference would make one believe. I could tell, from the look in his eyes this isn''t the type of person who humors political games. He is not some suave politician or investigator. He is a zealot, a complete and utter immovable object when it comes to his convictions and the way he stares at me makes me believe that he looks down on us. I am no politician, but I am well aware of how to deal with people like this, and I won''t let him take advantage of the situation. I smile and ask, "Sir Inquisitor, if I may, what is your name? It should greatly speed along all talks we have." He seems taken aback by my forwardness and grip, he answers, "I am simply a humble inquisitor in service of His Majesty, my name is not for someone like you, and it is Lord, not sir." I tilt my head and respond, "Well, the way I like to do things isn''t really that formal. I highly prefer we meet each other as friends and equals rather than being locked into some rigid and boring roles." There is a momentary pause and I feel him try and release my hand, but I keep my grip like iron, an expectant look on my face. He responds, "I am Lord High Inquisitor of the glorious royal faith his majesty above all else, Flavian Ontos." I smile and let go of his hand responding, "Nice to meet you Flavian. Feel free to call me Barnabas. " Despite not being the host I direct him to take a seat which he does seemingly in shock over my blatant disregard for any sort of formality. I don''t know the dance of politics, but I know the art of war, and if I can decide how, when, and where a battle is fought I have the advantage, disregarding my own capabilities. I decide when a topic is tackled, I decide how this meeting goes, and I decide where the discussions take place. The simple act of deciding when we sit rather than stand puts me in a position of power over him. While I don''t plan to run an aggressive psyop for the whole discussion, I definitely want to start strong. Build myself up so he doesn''t try to take advantage of or look down on me. If that situation starts to happen, I will throw him off. My helmet''s review mirror shows Phillia staring at me in abject horror. That means this guy is no joke, all the more reason to keep him suppressed. We sit down and I begin the conversation where I keep an absolutely pleasant demeanor about myself, "So Flavian, why did you bring me down here? Have my diplomats done something to offend you or were otherwise deficient?" This question is one he was prepared for so he answers, the confusion and whiplash subsiding, "Ah yes, Com... Yes Barnabas they were deficient for the purposes of my questioning. As you know we are higher in society than they are. Me though my job and family ties and you from your military rank, if I read the notes correctly about your kind." I nod affirming him despite the incorrect observation and he continues, "Since it is clear there is no need for tact with you I will get to my point. I have been called here because the nobility of this frontier planet has no clue what to make of your kind. Since I just got here recently and all I have are the notes of incompetent backwater nobles I still do not know what to make of your kind. If it would be permissible, would you please allow yourself to be subject to questions I have?" I respond with a smile, "Sure thing my friend! I''ll answer nearly anything so long as it''s not a military secret, which I''m sure you understand." He nods with an accepting expression and starts us off, "First and foremost, I will address the dragon peaking into the room. What is the current situation with the daughter of the arch-traitor standing behind you?" I make a show to look behind me only to see Phillia nearly pass out in fear. I then turn back and respond somewhat honestly, "She is a slave trophy I have taken after my defeat of the army of traitors that was bothering this planet." He responds with a question, "Where is her collar? And why does she appear to be in a uniform of sorts instead of slave rags... or a nice set of clothes to... your tastes." I raise an eyebrow and respond, "It is simply the code of my ship. If you are on board you wear proper uniforms. Notice a lack of gold, silver, or brass. She has no official rank. Also, she wouldn''t dare betray or disobey me."This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. He nods and then continues, "Why is she here?" I respond quickly, "Since I am of a very foreign culture to yours she is here to help me understand cultural context in case there is a statement or action either of us take that could be seen as offensive or confusing." This causes him to laugh and he responds, "If you have been avoiding offense and confusion, I fear to see what you would do if that was your point." I laugh at the definitely not a joke and then motion for the Inquisitor to continue, keeping this at my pace. He then asks, "Okay, with all that out of the way. I wish to know more about your people. The first and easiest question is why do you wear those strange suits? I have never seen anything similar to what you wear. " I nod and quickly come up with a somewhat correct, and believable lie, "This is a bit awkward to admit, but the mana in your air is toxic to us. I think our wavelengths or whatever are incompatible. Our best researchers are looking for solutions right now, but these suits are able to protect us from it. I have experienced what happens when your mana touches us... and well let''s just say it was very painful!" I chuckle at the end while shaking my head, making it seem like an embarrassing story. While not an entire lie, from what I have perceived, magic is considered a universal constant for them so it''s better to explain it in a context they know. This explanation seems to go well, or at least is fully understood by the Inquisitor and he replies and asks, "I see, that is unfortunate for your kind, but if our mana is incompatible it would make sense we cannot detect you and your ships. Tell me though, how can you detect ours? It seems your vessels are able to see and detect ours very quickly and from ranges thought impossible?" I nod and respond, "While I do not wish to bore you with a super detailed explanation, we send a pulse of... well what could be called mana out and it echos against objects and we can figure out where an object is using mathematics based off of that echo." I realize what I said isn''t a lie considering their "mana" is a form of radiation, so electromagnetic waves more or less should be considered mana to them, even if they aren''t particles. Regardless I am no physicist and I have no clue how their mana works other than peeling my skin off. The Inquisitor asks, "Why would you develop such a process? Would it not be easier to just simply detect the ambient mana of objects? Even if it''s in your strange... wavelength?" I respond, "The great gap between our areas of space is completely devoid of our mana just as it is of yours. To explore this area to avoid crashing into moons and planets this is required for exploration." This seems to spark something in the mind of the golden being and he mutters to himself, my helmets microphones picking up the very quiet voice, "That is very intelligent... these people are strange." I pretend I can''t hear his words as his low voice tells me I wasn''t supposed to hear. He then says, "That is a novel process. Thank you for educating me on it. I can see how a situation like that would cause one to develop a method like that." I nod and a small goblin-like creature appears at his side, bringing him a drink before disappearing through a hidden crawlspace. He takes a long drink from the clearly expensive booze and asks me, "Now... since I have been reminded by the presence of the Arch-Traitors daughter, I must ask. How were you able to defeat him? Aside from myself, my kin, and the King''s Court no one in the kingdom was able to defeat him in battle, and his ability to evade more dangerous foes had allowed his continued existence. Then in under an hour, you managed to annihilate him and most of his army. How was this possible? " I exhale sharply, choosing my words carefully. I cannot boast too much, nor can I downplay it. I know he has probably heard what I said earlier from the shipmaster, but he probably wants to hear my explanation himself. I find my words and tell him, "I am not boasting, nor will I downplay what I am saying here. That battle was little more than a minor planetary skirmish. We utilized minimal resources to defeat that army and lost not a single man." I watch a multitude of expressions cross the Inquisitor''s face before he says bluntly, "I do not believe you. That is utterly impossible for anyone other than His Majesty and his closest advisors. There is no need to boast, we will eventually find the truth." I reply with a flat expression, "There was no lie, if you saw that battle as something impressive, what wars we have waged against ourselves would leave you stunned and in fear. If you believe me or not that is up to you. I know what I know, and have done what I''ve done." There is a tense silence for a little while. The Inquisitor sips on his drink and a look of offense, disbelief, and curiosity crosses his face. He ends with an indignant expression and somewhat accusingly asks, "So you''re trying to tell me, that our Eternal Kingdom, which has lasted for thousands of years under his Divine Majesty, in the way of warfare is less capable of conflict? That your kind regularly in war kills thousands of powerful mages while we have spent centuries hunting down that group you routed and slaughtered in mere moments? That isn''t possible considering your claim of your current nation only existing for a mere few hundred years at most. There is not enough time to build dynastic strength in that period. Here is the reality I see here. While I do believe you on the fact your magic is a novel form to ours and have found some interesting workarounds to your deficiencies, what I truly believe is you have a very large army in hiding somewhere, hidden by the fact we aren''t able to see your mana yet. While I do not think of you and your kind as backstabbing, and I truly believe you are working for peace, you are also trying to posture and pretend you are much stronger than you really are in order to be in a higher position." His expression softens to one of condescending understanding and says nearly mockingly, "It is okay. I can respect the attempt and there is no reason to be embarrassed. What you have done is great alone so there is no need to pretend with me anymore. I can definitely offer you a better position out of all of this. " I exhale sharply and respond with a smug grin, "I don''t know what to say except I''m baffled by the fact you can see anything with your... eyes shut like that. While I will not outright lie by saying you are completely wrong, I also will say you are not correct either. I deployed less than ten total... warriors onto the planet to secure my people. Everything else was done utilizing my own ability, which is not unique to me alone. And you are correct in that we didn''t have enough time to build dynasties, because our strength does not come from family lines, most of the time. We are not empowered by our blood, we are empowered by our own personal experience and will to improve. You are also correct in that we only want peaceful relations with the Eternal Kingdom as we have been alone for so long. We always wanted friends among the stars." This causes him to think for a while before exhaling deeply. He takes another swig and before he can ask for a new drink another slave is there refilling his cup. He then says with a far more friendly tone, "I will take your word for now. I will go on to the next point, which is the one most important to me. It is a matter of faith." I lean forward and casually ask, "What is it you want to know about our faith?" He nods and begins, "I am a holy man and I am largely tasked with matters of faith. Before we continue further talks I wish to know what gods your people worship. Most new peoples we meet barely have moved past ancestors'' worship and basic tribal shamanism, very unorganized. Tell me how your people see faith?" I nod and think for a moment and with a casual tone I reply, "Due to the nature of my job as a military man, I must first start with a disclaimer that all I am about to say about my personal beliefs are not those inherent to the rest of my kind. Second, I am also not extremely well-read in matters of different faiths and any incorrect statements about others are accidental and have no bearing on my opinion on those people and were not done in malice." The Inquisitor stares at me confused as I finish my disclaimer for the record being kept by my helmets systems. In the corner of my vision, I can see a small notification that most of the diplomatic team is logged into the stream of my current situation. He motions for me to continue, choosing to ignore my strange statement as I prepare to explain human religion to an alien inquisitorial zealot, "In my nation as of this moment, there are technically three major religions, each of them fully organized in a similar manner. Two of them are structured similarly and the last one is technically a breakaway version of one of the others that has changed itself rather radically in comparison. The first is known as Abrahamic Christianity, also known as Abrahamism, this one has quite a long history and its more recent history in the last half millennia is very... tumultuous. This is the combination of three old faiths after a massive war in the region where they all started resulting in the fundamental breakdown of two of the religions. The third survived because they did not base themselves mainly on this region. Due to the catastrophic nature of this war, the three groups slowly began trying to understand one another as the worst zealots against one another more or less eradicated each other. With certain bad actors being annihilated those who normally were repressed by theocratic administrations began cooperation. Eventually, there were compromises to share worship buildings which led to proper theological discussion and research and in simple terms of a few centuries of unimaginable suffering due to massive wars all their beliefs sorta combined. This was made easy since they all started from an original proto-faith stated in all three of their most sacred religious texts, which had been started by a man named Abraham, hence the name. The Christianity part comes from the name of one of those three starting religions known as the Christian Church. During this time of great strife, this church had slowly become a single entity after having been split into thousands of denominations leading to massive structural changes to act more in a way like the man known as Christ, which the church was named after. Christ is one of the most important figures in human history, for the religious he is the Messiah and actually God, and for others simply an important figure at the time. The term Christianity stuck on this religion because they were the ones who survived the war in the Holy Land and had the resources to stay united basically they had more people and assimilated the others. This religion is the most popular and has the most followers of any in human space, including my nation the USA. The second major religion is known as the Machine Cult. Its true name is kept secret by its followers. This religion is structured exactly like Abrahamism but instead of worshiping God or Christ, they worship machinery like the spaceships we came here on. They are usually quite intelligent and focus on properly maintaining machines and creating newer and better ones. From what I understand they worship the machines as they are a manifestation of the Abrahamic God in some way. Apparently their founding can be traced back to a really old... ummm... text... thing..." I catch myself from having to explain computers to the Inquisitor and continue, "Called Temple OS, and their prophet left behind some messages. I can''t remember the person''s name as I am not of this faith. The most zealous of these worshipers try to improve their own human bodies by replacing parts with machines and... artifices so they can become closer to God." The Inquisitor shudders about this part and interrupts saying, "And your government allows them to do this?" I nod and respond, "It''s their choice what they want to do with their bodies, but these modifications usually improve the capability of the worshiper to build machinery better." The inquisitor nods and I move to the last major religion in the current USA, "The last one is technically the only one that hasn''t undergone massive change in the last five centuries, but it''s roots are the second youngest compared to the Machine Cult. This is the Church of Latter-Day Saints, or simply the Mormon Church. This is a group of people who broke away from the standard Christian faith and have a bunch of different views. I am not well educated in their theology but they cannot drink alcohol and believe in some extra texts that work as add-ons to the standard holy books. Those are the main religions that are found in the USA. There are many more, but they are usually super minorities and something like 10% of the population is atheist if I remember." The Inquisitor quickly replies questioningly, "How can you function with so many different religions alongside non-believers." I shrug and respond, "Humans are very diverse, we in the USA are quite accepting." He frowns and asks, "What of these faiths do you follow?" I quickly answer, "A denomination of the Abrahamic Church known as The Order of St.Miachel. It''s practically the same and was only followed on my homeworld." He nods and says matter of factly, "Well, all these different faiths make things difficult, but it isn''t something that can be rectified." I frown and ask, "What do you mean by that?" He seems utterly confused and he responds, "Well, I mean the Eternal Kingdom follows a single faith and that is the worship of His Majesty." I motion for him to continue and he stares at me for a while before a look of realization crosses his face. He then speaks slowly and in a manner to how one would explain something to a slow child, "Well... when your people become part of the Eternal Kingdom it is expected that you follow our religion. " I take a deep breath and then slowly ask, "What led you to believe that we wish to become part of your kingdom?" He frowns and responds, "Because as you said, your people seek peace. Simply joining is the peaceful method to this whole situation." I again ask, "What reason do you have for thinking my people will become part of your nation?" I seem to be really confusing the Inquisitor before he says, "Because that is the natural progression of things. The Eternal Kingdom, as a divinely driven and inspired nation, is the pinnacle of civilization. As the masters of all peoples, you will be assimilated into our kingdom. That is how things go. Sometimes minor military campaigns are required to subdue more prideful peoples but since you seek peace that can be avoided." It''s now my turn to speak slowly like he is the retard, "That is not how things work. When I say peace I mean for our people to cooperate as peers. As friends, not as part of your kingdom." He laughs heartily and responds, "Of course! Of course! Yeah, your people are a peer to the Glorious Eternal Kingdom! A nation with less than a thousand years behind it is a peer who will not serve His Majesty!" I frown and he continues, "Of course not! Stop acting so high and mighty! This is a natural progression, all nations will serve under the kingdom, and those that do not are either barbarians who need to be enlightened through slavery or those who should not exist as they clearly do not have the light of intelligence within them." I stand up and keep my voice level and my head cool. I tell him, "That is not nature, that is delusion and religious zealotry. Our discussion is over so long as you hold this belief. My time will not be wasted with the likes of you." He then stands, now clearly angry and he says sharply, "You would disrespect me as such?" I respond a little harshly, "It takes respect in the first place to be disrespectful." This really gets him mad as he literally begins glowing and he angrily says, "Commodore. Do not test the kingdom if you do not wish for your people to be enslaved." I step closer and nearly touch the glass of my helmet to his face and say aggressively, "Try it and you will not survive." He doesn''t have time to respond before I turn away and drag Phillia behind me. I leave the room and head to the exit of the palace where a carriage is waiting. That''s when the messages from the diplomatic team start streaming in. I ignore them and continue walking as in the distance I hear a large explosion as a wall of the palace is engulfed in flame. While this is a diplomatic nightmare, I absolutely will not waste my time on the insane.... Operation Inquisition: Phillias Mistake The conference room of the science vessel is tense. I sit there with a hand covering my face as I feel a headache coming on. Uriel and Josef stare forward each with a thousand-yard stare. Whittney stares at me with a mixture of disappointment and incoherent rage. Then there is Shariah who is three shades paler and is pacing back and forth in front of me. She had laid into me for about an hour. I can''t really complain or get her in trouble because I probably screwed the pooch when it comes to diplomatic stuff, something I should''ve never been allowed to even touch. I am embarrassed about the situation but I feel as if my argument was justified, I''ll admit I should''ve probably not been as confrontational. But shit, I''m a sixty-plus-year-old Navy Captain, or commodore now. I''m a salty space dog, I''m not good at this kind of thing. I break the tense silence by stating, "So when was the diplomatic and science team going to explain to me that the Eternal Kingdom was under the assumption that all of this whole diplomatic situation was so we could be annexed or otherwise integrated into their nation? I mean I think I acted as well as I could''ve considering my lack of intelligence." Shariah growls, "Yeah, we know you lack intelligence." I have to stop myself from laughing at the clever response as now is not the time. She realizes her rash response and after taking a deep breath she comes over and puts her hands on the table. She then explains, "Yes, we knew that was their role and goal. They are an expansionist empire that believes itself to be divinely inspired and created. Their understanding of the universe is that it is orbiting around them. We had not expected this inquisitor guy to show up, but the plan was to slowly educate these people that it is better that we cooperate mutually as equals rather than serving under them and integrating into their culture. The Inquisitor gave us no reason to believe he would approach that subject that quickly, but in hindsight we see that it was rather... shortsighted of us to assume that. So I don''t think you are entirely to blame for this situation, but we are going to have to fix this." She looks over at Phillia who has been standing behind me still in what appears to be shock. Shariah asks her, "Phillia, is there any way we can take the authority of the Commodore and utilize it in order to continue proper negotiations with the Inquisitor?" The poor alien woman stands there clearly having just now joined us in reality. Her color has yet to return to her face from our time with the golden man. Phillia then responds shakily, "Uh, he can send you with a letter carrying his seal... and that letter can detail that you all are his voice." Shariah nods and looks at me asking, "Do you have a seal?" I shake my head and joke, "What is this? The 1500s?" I dig around in my pocket and pull out a quarter. The head of the nearly ancient President Washington shining brightly in the artificial light. I flip it over to Shariah who catches it expertly. I say, "Use this and say the face of the man is my ancestor or something, or use tails. It doesn''t matter really. " Shariah nods and tells Phillia, "Stay here with us and explain to us how to properly create this letter and seal." I stand up with a grunt and say with a smile, "Well... my shift is over for today, I pulled a 14 hour so I am off!" I stride out of the room and head directly for the shuttle which will take me to the Catfish... Phillia Perspective This whole situation is messed up. This man... or demon, whatever he is somehow, even with that protective suit was able to not only shrug off the Inquisitor''s pressure, but he also managed to put him on the back foot! There is no way he is a living being or isn''t something infernal. I still can''t figure out if he, like all the other humans is stupid, incredibly trusting, or if they see me so below them they are willing to bring me into their inner circle like this. I''ll admit my time here has been enlightening, and in fact, has taught me some amazing things I am happy to have learned. These humans are beyond my imagination, and if I hadn''t been present for their magicless miracles I would have believed them to be fantasy. Their art, their artifice, their culture, and their governing systems are so alien, yet they all make sense when they are described to me. Despite all of this... I hate them all. Despite the kindness they have shown, unless this is all a game and they are demons, of course, I can never forgive them. My father... most of my friends and comrades, and my freedom all of these things have been stripped from me, but I also know these humans are my only chance to survive at the moment, to strike a blow at the kingdom whom I have dedicated my life to destroying. Now here we are, all of that a moot point as we have pissed off the inquisition. I know the humans are strong, but there is no way they will be able to defeat the Eternal Kingdom. I am pulled from my stupor by the woman. I care not for her name. She asks me how they may speak to the Inquisitor since the Commodore can no longer be trusted to speak with any other important figures, which is reasonable. Strangely he seems unbothered and somewhat happy that he was disrespected in this way, further confirming to me that he is some sort of incredibly powerful demon, far above the rest of us. I explain the simple process of how a noble can give delegates permission to speak for them, but I am held back as the Commodore leaves quickly. Despite my hatred for the man who killed my father, he has been rather benevolent to me which is quite concerning, to be honest, it shows he knows I resent him and he is simply torturing me through his kindness. I don''t want him to leave me with these people though, I do not like them. The emotionless one, the fat one with a sadistic glare as his standard look, the diplomat woman, and the worst of all, a legal scholar... After an hour or so of teaching the humans the simple task of a noble granting authority, I am released back to the USS Catfish. The emotionless woman sends a message to the larger ship apparently and by the time I make it to the port, the ship is awaiting me. I board the strange vessel of metal and unknown materials and arrive at the Catfish, a strangely named vessel. The ship healer explained that nearly all of the ships in this fleet are named after fish in some way. If the Commodore didn''t lie to me, they may have enough ships to where there aren''t enough names for each ship to have a grand one. Once onboard the larger vessel I touch the strange device on my ear, the strange thing allows me to understand their odd and guttural language as well as speak it apparently, but it''s most important utility is how it allows me to communicate with anyone on the ship I am on. I am told there are more powerful versions that can speak to anyone in the fleet, but I was given the cheapest and weakest one because of my strangely shaped ears, according to the healer. I "open a line" with the Commodore who is breathing heavily. I shudder to imagine what kind of debaucheries the demon could be partaking in right now to cause him to pant like that. His tone is friendly as always and I say,If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. Please report it. "Commodore, I have returned to the Catfish. What other tasks do you have for me?" I hear a loud thudding in the background and a strange whirring sound and through his pants he says, "Alright, you can take off for now. I''ll get ya when we need you." Then the communication device shuts off. I shudder physically, my stripes darkening as I imagine the horrifying task he is doing. I head toward the quarters given to me, a place somewhat close to the healing area of the ship. It''s supposedly a healing room that is usually reserved for the rare events the healer is overwhelmed, an "overflow" room. I walk quietly down the metal halls, my feet feel so heavy on these human ships for some reason, but slowly I''m getting used to it. Along the way I pass by one of the dark green knights, I shy away out of instinct as the imposing being passes by, the clearly heavy being making very little sound as its metal boots hit the metal floor. I have no idea how they are able to walk so silently, even my ears cannot hear them approach if not for the slight squeaking sound that comes from them every time they move a limb. I''ve seen one without their armor, they are terrifying, their eyes speak of barely contained violence and their bodies are forged to enact that violence. They even eat strange colorful sticks, I managed to get ahold of one and found it beyond horrible tasting, I have no clue how they are able to eat them. I enter the area of the ship near the healing area and come across one of the "Corpsman", an assistant to the actual healer. He is one of the stranger variants of human, with dark brown skin, dense curly hair, and golden-colored eyes. Rather interesting how humans are so diverse despite being only one species. He greets me kindly and I do the same. He stops me to chat for a moment, he seems really interested in the more hairy species within the Eternal Kingdom, his questions about "cat girls" are strange but his description does sound somewhat like a primitive race called the "Jakkolins". Our conversation continues for a while and I notice his voice is changing pitch wrong and quickly I notice his hands tremoring a little. His facial expressions seemingly change randomly and he is getting progressively louder. I step back and he steps toward me. I feel fearful of this man as he is clearly insane, his interest in the hairy Jakkolin now seems to be extreme perversion as I can see drool come from the side of his mouth as his pupils dilate. I prepare to scream for help when suddenly he falls over and begins violently seizing on the ground in front of me. Panic runs through my veins as I realize he may have been having a health issue rather than being insane or dangerous. I try to remember what my mentor said about healing magic in this situation. Then I remembered that humans will die if exposed to mana. I try to find a solution and decide that maybe a small amount wouldn''t hurt. I kneel down and try to draw out all of the mana I have left in my body after the strange "cleansing" machine the humans used on me. My first spell is less directly on him, rather an area that includes him. A standard field of intuition that allows me to see into his body and help discern what''s wrong. I''ve heard mention of humans having a curse on them or something so I look for that and find nothing... I then try to imagine a non-magical curse and slowly the field of intuition finds something wrong in his body, mostly in his brain and spine. I stop the field quickly as it tells me his skin has become burnt in many areas as he continues seizing and foaming at the mouth. I grab his shaking hand, bite into his finger, and draw blood. I put the drop into my hand and create a smaller field, luckily for me the strange curse... things... are within his blood. In my palm, I experiment with healing magic of all kinds to see what can destroy this thing. I pause remembering my dislike for the humans and wonder why I shouldn''t just let this man die. I have no obligation to save him and I am sure the humans can understand that I may not have the proper magic to heal him... but... this... thing... this non-magic curse... it''s so incredibly curious that I have to cure it, if for no reason other than I want to be able to, so I continue my discovery task. It''s a strange thing... it looks and feels like it''s part of their body but somehow it is causing damage, focusing on the brain and nerves. I''ve heard in ancient texts there were words about something like this, they aren''t a disease or infection... they are something wrong with the body, a non-magical curse is an apt description. I focus my magic, refine it, and make sure I can hit the curse rather than the man''s body. When I finally make a sample of blood free of the curse with... minimal damage to the blood itself as far as I can tell, I prepare for the operation. Around my hands a sickly green aura forms as I draw every last bit of mana from my body, I feel myself become weaker and weaker as this happens, as the very mana that makes me up is used in this focused attack. The green glow extends around the man, I make sure not a single drop of mana touches his body aside from the targeted curse. With a single word of power, one that I cannot pronounce in a normal state, where mana is required for the word to even manifest, the green flashes and suddenly the man stops convulsing and lies there stunned. I sigh and collapse onto my back and there, standing above me is the head healer... Back to Commodore Hollander''s POV I am pulled from my workout by a desperate ping from the medical officer. I ignore the fact that I am still in workout clothes and bound down the hallways on a mission. The short message simply read, "Curse victim, Phillia attempted to rescue with magic." I don''t know what happened yet, but it sounds really bad. Magic can fuck someone up, and if the curse is involved then this whole situation could probably get me court marshaled again and Phillia sent back to the Eternal Kingdom if the suits decide to throw the book at us. My sneakers squeal on the metal floor as I round corners, while in my mind I am moving at incredible speed, for those watching the cameras see my slow, long-legged lope through the halls at below-average sprint speed. I reach the medical area quickly and storm through the main doors a look of worry on my face. The chief medical officer is crying along with a few of the other medical officers and corpsmen, men and women alike. Phillia is sitting with her head down and ears droopy. On the bed is a man who looks to be a corpsman. He is unconscious but his vitals are steady. I notice small marks all over his bare body where a medical machine had cut out tissue and burned the hole shut. I walk over to the group and ask in a low voice, not angry or anything, just serious, "What happened here?" The crying Chief wipes her eyes, and springs to attention as her years of work have conditioned her to, and explains, "Petty Officer 3rd Class McCoy had fallen to the early stages of the curse in front of Phillia. This manifested as mania and eventually a violent seizure. Phillia being a healer mage...wizard... or whatever attempted to heal McCoy despite her knowledge that humans will die if they are exposed to mana. According to her, she utilized pinpoint streams of mana in order to target what was ailing him, which as we know is a devastating prion found within our neural tissue and really anywhere within our bodies. After apparently identifying the prions within him she then hit them with mana. Being as prions are made of the same atomic and molecular structures that make up us, the prions were systematically destroyed... Sir, what I am saying is, Phillia cured Petty Officer 3rd Class McCoy of his curse." I feel as if I just had the wind knocked from my lungs, and I have to lean against a wall, then I laugh. Not one just of joy but a laugh of disbelief, relief, and because I have no other reaction to this news. If we finally found a cure... that would be beyond my wildest dreams... no one else would have to suffer the terrible fate. I get myself together turn to Phillia and ask her, "Is her retelling correct?" The alien woman looks up and responds, "Yes sir. I feel as if I have done something wrong..." I quickly rush to her and drop to a knee, taking her hand in mine and raising her chin. I say to her with a warm smile on my face, "No, you haven''t done anything wrong. You did what you thought was right and in the end, it was right. You freed that man lying in the bed there. Maybe you''ve opened a pathway to free all of us." She stares me in the eye for a while before looking away. I release her and then turn back to the Chief. I ask the woman, "What consequences did McCoy face when exposed to the targeted mana?" The officer turns to a console and reads off, "Multiple 3rd-degree burns, all smaller than 1cm in diameter, down to bone. Multiple tumors formed on the skin and within the flesh, all were removed by the medical machines. All cancers were noninvasive and were still in development. This is like your injuries but localized to single, small points in non-vital areas that can be healed and treated easily, unlike you who needed to be practically flayed alive." I shudder in memory but feel a soft smile grow on my face. I then give an order, "Call Mengel, no one else. Work with him and Phillia to figure out the viability of this treatment. I want this fully understood and if it is possible to use on a mass scale I want it perfected. Be careful who you share this information with, I don''t want any panic or too much hype." She nods and salutes, and I look over the various pieces of medical equipment. I ask the Chief, "Why is he still asleep?" She frowns and explains, "Despite the curse no longer being in his system, there was massive damage to his brain and nervous system already. He will live, but we don''t know yet if he will ever be okay." I nod with a frown and set him on medical leave. I then leave the medical crew to their task. I have lots of work to do... Operation Inquisition: Research and Knowing It has been over a week since the possible cure for the curse has been discovered. No information leaks have been detected as of yet, the only person outside of those I authorized to know of the cure is the high brass back home. I had spent hours encrypting the binary message that was sent through the entangled channel. It was sent with the highest classification I am able to put on a report. Only the upper admirals in the navy, and at least 3-star generals in other branches are able to access this report, at least on the military side. I am sure the intelligence spooks have already gotten their grubby hands on it. I only got a short response within the hour of the full data transfer being sent and probably decrypted., "Continue research. Keep secret until it is fully known. Report all major findings in the same manner as before..." There is no signature which means someone with at least 4 stars sent the message, or someone with the title of "director". Looks like I''m popular. Since it has been a week I head down to the medical room and find Phllia looking absolutely drained, the medical officers tired, and Josef absolutely buzzing with energy with his signature mad-scientist smile. I greet them all happily and I am given largely dismissive looks. Josef greets me happily and drags Phillia over to a chamber. I ask, "What''s that Josef?" He happily responds, "Ms.Phillia here explained she cannot endlessly produce her magic so she needs to recharge from ambient mana. This chamber allows the background mana radiation to flow into it which helps charge her up. It is a modified version of the decontamination chamber, so after she is properly charged we then decontaminate her which unfortunately reduces her internal reserves. This is why she looks so... drained." I nod and say, "Just don''t break her." I am about to leave when the Chief Medical officer grabs me by the sleeve and begs me, "Please Commodore... tell him to stop. While his research is great, he hasn''t stopped to eat or sleep for this entire week it feels like. I''ve gotten less than 2 hours a night." I nod and shout at Josef, "Call it for the day, remember not everyone can survive off of their energy stores like you." The much thinner Josef turns to me with a sheepish look and he apologizes to the group. I leave alongside the rest. Josef''s lineage was initially designed for long-term space exploration prior to FTL. Basically his body stores fat and nutrients and this allows him to last for a long time without eating and little sleep, he also can literally hibernate like a bear if needed as well. At the start of this week, he was easily 270 lbs, but now I''d say he weighs about 200. That means he has been active all week, if he were to lounge around he could probably go nearly a month without a meal when he was 270. I return to the bridge with that settled before realizing that I had forgotten to ask how the research was going. I sigh and send a message to Josef who immediately sends me a huge document that has all his findings typed up in his normal frantic and nearly schizophrenic style. These are just his notes rather than a real scientific report like I asked for, but since the research is still going on that means that won''t be done for some time. So while doing my normal command tasks, I am sorting through the huge document and summarizing it into easily digestible bits so I can send anything major to the unknown important figure. The gist of the research is this: The mana is absolutely destructive to the prion, just like it is to the person it resides within. This is because of known biological structures becoming destroyed and damaged by alien radiation. This means there is now an effective way to destroy prions within a body or just in general. Basically a form of radiation that can absolutely destroy the prion, converting it to new molecules utilizing the reversed pole particles. Thus the prion no longer exists. The problems being found right now are two things, first is the need for targeting as blasting a person with the necessary amount of mana radiation to cure them would also turn them into a pile of cancer and burned flesh. Second, the resulting product formed out of the prion has to be removed or else it will most likely create blood or brain cancer, which is tricky even with modern cancer removal technologies. So the two problems are targeting and extraction of products. This is unfortunate because with our technology we can''t really bend beams of radiation and they don''t usually work like science fiction tractor beams. So unfortunately this means a mage or wizard or whatever is required to utilize the radiation as a cure. That or something that can intricately move and flow mana through a system, dodging cells and most important things, destroying and extracting the raw molecules left behind from the destruction of a prion. Unfortunately, the conclusion Joesf gives is that as of the current moment, the only way known to cure the curse inside of a human is a sufficiently potent and capable mage. He then lists the names, ranks, and ID numbers of all those so far who have been cured, which basically is all of the medical crew and Josef. It also details the cancers and burns that resulted from being cured and the refining of the process to remove and heal the damaged skin. There is a medical AI report stating that the chance for cancer later in life after this treatment is most likely marginally larger, but with current capabilities and medications, most cancers can either be cured or cut out. With this information, I take the summary, encrypt it, and send it to my unknown contact back home. I put in my operational advice to potentially begin sending the resupply fleet as it will take a long time to get here. I recommend that a full medical research vessel come here to help Josef. While I completely believe Josef to be the best for the job, he isn''t a medical scientist, he is simply a biologist and technically focused specifically on mycology, or at least his thesis was over it. He has expanded his horizons through his six decades of life and has great knowledge of the human body and with his wife''s abiotic research, he can probably figure out how this all works. It''s just we need actual medical researchers if we want to know how viable this treatment will be. Plus the medical staff aboard the Catfish have a grand total of eight years of university between 12 people, they aren''t doctors, just corpsmen and medical officers. With more hours of my life spent sending an encrypted message halfway across the galaxy... Later on, I''m in my room, listening to music all the way up as I have just finished showering. I sing along poorly to the high-energy music. On the wall a movie is playing, some modern action flick that I can''t remember the name of. I begin polishing my right hand, despite it being made of an alloy that won''t rust unless a really acidic mixture is put on it, It does lose its shiny and new look after repeated showers, so I make sure to keep it nice and shiny, even if I always wear gloves. As I shuffle around enjoying my free time, I find out I forgot to lock my door. As it slides open as someone barges in without knocking my music immediately mutes and the movie turns off so I can give the person my full attention, being an old cranky guy I turn around with a rather stern look on my face. Shariahs POV I can''t believe it. The Commodore would hide something so important from me! It would''ve gone completely over my head if it wasn''t for one of the corpsmen talking to me about it. From his expression when I expressed confusion when he asked a question about, "The Cure for the Curse" the Commodore really wanted this under wraps. I am the head diplomatic officer on this mission, this type of information is important so I can do my job. So I can create a fair exchange with our alien friends. This is the proper way to do things, and he has gone around me.This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it. I storm through the halls of the warship, I will give him a piece of my mind!" The bridge crew tells me that he has gone back to his room as he is off for the next seven hours. I storm toward his room and when I arrive I find the door isn''t sealed. I press the exterior button and the door opens with a hiss. Light fills the dark room from the hallway as I go inside and freeze immediately as my blood runs cold. A pair of reflective blue eyes stare back at me. The eyes of a predator, whose den had just been intruded on. The light coming from the hall barely illuminates the room, but I can see him. He is shirtless and at one point I had thought would''ve been a nice sight, instead a feeling of disgust fills me, his body is a depiction of unimaginable abuse. Large swathes of skin look melted and shredded, pieced together with long snaking scars where the grafts meet. Metal implants stick from seemingly random parts of his body, some just the external parts of artificial internal organs. There is a jagged and shredded edge of flesh slowly fuzing with steel where his robotic arm is attached. Even while facing him partially head-on I can see where ports for connecting cables end on the sides of his neck, and I assume they run down his spine. Scars of various sizes and shapes cover him, all of them surgical and from internal implants or skeletal reinforcements that I cannot see from the outside of his body. He speaks sternly but not angrily his voice level and without the normal humor behind it, "How may I help you Diplo-Colonel?" I stammer out, forgetting the reason I came, "Y-You''re more machine than man... you... are barely human..." Back to Commodore Hollander''s POV" I furrow my brow in confusion at the question. It kinda hurt yes, but I find myself confused. I mean we literally have machine cultists in engineering. How is it strange? Then I remember that I have the lights off because it doesn''t affect my vision. The dim light of the TV was enough to illuminate the room for me as if it were midday, and by my nature, my pupils adjust to light near-instantly so I never noticed the difference in light between the two areas. I cuss and with a thought, the lights turn back on and Shariah gets a better look at my pretty awful state. I sigh and pull my shirt on, even though I was planning to get some sleep soon. I sit on my bed while shaking my head. I say to her, "Come on in, what was it that you needed? I was just heading to bed." Poor girl, I probably scared the shit outta her. When you grew up with your entire family and many of your friends having tapetum lucidum it doesn''t bother you. There are only 3 lineages that have a tapetum lucidum: mine, the marines who have nearly full internal night vision, and one lineage that comes from an orbitally locked planet that keeps one side always night, and the twilight area was the only habitable zone a long time ago while technology wasn''t as good. Shariah fully enters the room now that it is lit and she quickly regains composure after light illuminates the horrorshow of my body. I rub the bridge of my nose wishing I had a drink right now. I ask her, "What can I do for ya Diplo-Colonel." She shakes off her initial shock it seems and responds in an accusatory tone, "What is it you haven''t been telling me? I know Dr.Mengel is working on something but he is hiding it from me. What is it? As your second I need to know." I mutter under my breath about Josef leaking even a little before I tell her, "Okay, but you better not tell anyone. This is a matter of operation professionalism. I don''t want the crew getting a false hope or something like that, if things turn out negative. Basically, we may have found a cure for humanity''s curse." Her face is stoic for a second before suddenly realization hits her. I frown knowing why. Since she is a paradise worlder the original virus that resulted in the misfolding of proteins in nearly all humans, does not affect her or her kind. This means the curse on her home planet was most likely seen as a historical anecdote, rather than something very pressing and traumatizing that defines life for most people. I guess since no one talks about it really until someone succumbs to it, most likely it rarely crosses her mind. I forgive her mentally as she harshly asks, "I am the head of diplomacy. Why shouldn''t I know other than for panic? Do you not trust me?" I simply nod and respond, "Yes. I do not trust you not to spill the beans." She seems frustrated for a second before she sighs and asks, "Encrypted contact from command?" I nod and she rubs the bridge of her nose. The mutual understanding between officers here is that when someone of at least four stars or is of the intelligence department sends a message they want to be classified or otherwise obscured they send it without contact details or signatures, any lower officer is supposed to act as if they never received the message. Across branches, the statement, "I do not trust you not to spill the beans" means one received a message like this. We sit in silence for a bit before she states, "As the head diplomatic officer, it is important for me to know things like this because it is something we may want out of our new alien friends. So please, when the findings are at a more complete state, let me know what you are allowed to do." I nod and she then asks, "How is it that all of you can have something like that on the top of your mind? Why would a potential cure cause such a negative reaction that it must be classified?" I frown and from her expression, it''s clear my expression darkened more than I wanted to show. I explain, "It''s hard to explain if you never grew up with the curse. Consider yourself lucky. Everyone, I mean everyone on this ship either knows someone close who fell or watched someone fall to the curse. It''s traumatizing, at best they just fall over braindead or something, worst case they go berserk. Incapable of feeling pain and without self-preservation, they don''t know their family or friends, they are scared and angry, and like cornered animals, they lash out. Maybe they hallucinate the nearest person as a scary monster they try to kill or a nearby baby as a bucket of chicken and they are starving. It''s traumatic, and everyone knows that it''s inside of them. Every little bit of Deja Vu is horrifying causing someone to ask if they are falling or if it''s their minds playing tricks on them. Every mental slip-up is as scary as a car wreck because a moment of dizziness could be low iron, or that your brain is turning to swiss cheese. Everything like that is a reminder, and trust me, everyone is desperate. Not a panicking type of desperation, but a quiet and fragile one that everyone lives with. Any mention of a proper treatment or cure can shatter that fragility. I''ve seen when that fragility shatters, we don''t want to see it." She sits in stunned silence as if this all was news to her, and it might be. I let her drink it all in before she stands up. She salutes me and with a determined expression says, "I will keep this to myself, sir. All I request is that you let me know what you can when I can utilize the information." I nod and motion for her to leave which she does. As she stops at the door she glances back at me with an expression I cannot read. Then she steps into the hall and the door slides shut. With that done I lock it with a thought, strip once more, and try to get some sleep... The next morning I stand on the bridge with a cup of coffee in my hand. Normally I can operate without the bitter liquid, but I guess my sleep wasn''t that good last night. It happens, some days are worse than others. Sipping along and reading through the various reports is thankfully boring as usual. Boring means nothing bad happened, the worst was some sailors got in a brawl over a dessert. They were punished correctly and nothing more had come of it so far. Then a high-priority message enters the corner of my vision. I find it is through the FTL communication array and is deeply encrypted. I already know it is from my unknown contact in response to my report. It reads "Commodore Hollander, after deliberation among the highest military and intelligence authorities your request for a relief fleet has been granted and will contain medical research vessels as well as infrastructure construction vessels. Your mission has now been elevated to Alaska-level Priority. At the request of the Selective Intelligence Committee in Congress, current findings will remain classified until infrastructure is developed or more information has been known. The President and their closest advisors with high authority have been notified. Continue with your current action, stand-by for further orders." I swallow nervously staring at the Alaska-level priority. This priority is the second highest category, and I''ve only seen it once before and that was when the UNCA remnants invaded. This priority basically means maximum resource allocation to the mission or situation. The next step higher is the Omega level, a non-state named level meaning all resources, regardless of legality or constitutionality are to be used, basically reserved for a MAD or similar scenario where nothing matters anymore. If this mission is now considered Alaska that means the relief fleet will not only contain the medical vessel and resupply vessels but will probably contain other research vessels and more potent warships than the ones already here in alien space. They also mentioned infrastructure vessels which could mean a lot of things when something is designated Alaska. It could be ships coming to build orbital stations, planetary rings, Dyson constructs, or something else incredible. I don''t know their full plans, but with more people back at home knowing about the current situation it makes me more comfortable about the whole situation. More brains will be thinking about this, and more resources can be allocated if needed. Operation Inquisition: Prayer For Salvation
I lie down on the bed in the medical bay. I sigh and once again ask, "Are you sure I can''t take a shot of whiskey? At least for the nerves?" Josef shakes his head and responds with his usual borderline demented smile, "No Mein Friend. We do not know ze problems that could come from excessive alcohol consumption with the treatment." I cuss but don''t say anything more and rest my head on the military-grade scratchy pillow. All of the medical staff and Josef had already been cured of the curse so they needed another test subject and being the only other person in the know I volunteered. The only reason for this is because no one is willing to have the curse placed back upon them. I am only hesitant now because half of my body looks like melted cheese because of my exposure to alien radiation. As a forethought, they did a test to see if I had the curse still due to my exposure. They found it in abundance as expected, only part of my body was exposed, hence why I am still alive and not a pile of goo. With that, I am covered in all kinds of medical sensors and have a few tubes shoved into my arms, and a few of my cybernetic attachment points are hooked into Josef''s console. I get to have the very fun experience of a high-pitched sound ringing inside my head for a few seconds as he had forgotten to actually turn on the damn thing before hooking me up, which he apologizes for as I glare at him. I guess it''s good they have me for this test due to my naval captain implants. The series of ports running along my spine and hooking into my neck and head are standard for all Navy captains or higher officers. They allow us, in combat scenarios to completely become one with the ship. The sensors become like our own senses, the optics of weapons become our eyes, and the hull of this ship our skin. It''s hard to explain because it doesn''t feel exactly like that of course, but it allows for more perfect control of all systems, if needed, but it''s main usage is so a commanding officer can immediately have all tactical data in their mind and using onboard computers run multiple simulations in our heads. Along with this, the connected commanding officer can more quickly give orders to different crew members. While it may seem useless to still allow others to control different systems on the ship it is sorta needed because running a whole ship can be overwhelming for most people, including myself sometimes, especially with newer vessels, all kinds of new bells and whistles. Recently the technology has adapted to where new commanding officers don''t need physical attachments to do this, meaning they don''t have to clean out random metal holes on them like I do. Unfortunately for me I still have to stick a cable into myself to enter this full control state and my wireless capabilities are limited. A very good feature of the ports is the medical data that can be extracted, since it''s a machine hooked into my nervous system, it can get readings right from the source. Thus making me a perfect medical research guinea pig. It takes a while for everything to become ready before Phillia is put into position over my bed. She holds out her hands which begin to glow. An aura of light surrounds me and the medical readouts show my slowly growing stress. I am not afraid per se but I am not excited about potentially having the other half of my body melted. The light show continues for a bit and Josef asks, "Phillia, what is the problem?" She responds with a grunt, "All of this metal in his body. It messes with my magic, the sheer volume is unlike anything I''ve seen. Should be a few more minutes..." After that period of time she says, "I have it targeted, at your command Doctor." Josef smiles and nods. The aura disappears and suddenly there are sunspots in my vision and my internal computers warn of damage to my body. I feel dozens of tiny holes burn into my flesh and my heart rate increases rapidly. I grit my teeth and don''t make a sound as it feels like fire coursing through my veins. Then suddenly it stops and a ghostly shape carries what looks to be dust into a nearby bucket. Then the medical equipment helpfully informs everyone that I now have cancer and multiple 3rd-degree burns, so the surgery begins... About three hours later and a clean bill of health I sit in the canteen eating a grilled cheese and tomato soup. I am a little sore all over, especially after the surgery machine slammed a drill right into some of my internal metal bits. I''ll probably be sore for a good few days, which usually happens when cybernetics are jostled. The repaired burns seem to have healed well enough, and no one could differentiate the new scars from the mess that is my torso. After my treatment, Phillia seemed really upset and disgusted about all the metal that my body is comprised of. She asked a few questions to the medical officers but after a few answers, she seemingly turned green and had to leave the room. I think when they described my reconstructed digestive system it really began bothering her. It is kinda gross to me too and I don''t like thinking about the hybrid system that my guts are now. Half metal or composite and half good ol smooth muscle from cloned tissue. Unfortunately at the time cloning my flesh was not easy due to the fun little fact radiation pokes holes in DNA, so in order to enhance the effectiveness of my sickly organs they made me into a metal man. With my treatment over I don''t know how to feel. I am relieved of course, knowing I am cured of the curse for now, because I can still become cursed again in the event of coming into contact with the prion again. I also feel a bit sad, remembering all the people I knew who passed from the curse and the familiar feeling of survivor guilt is within me as well. I can''t help but wonder why I was spared this end while all those others had to pass. I let my mind wander for a moment before I collect myself, flush it and when my meal is done I head back to the bridge. On the bridge, I am pinged by a message through the FTL communications. I open the message as it was designated for my eyes only. It reads, "The president has been informed of your cure. The president has requested that it become your top priority to gain unlimited access to the potential cure. Offer whatever you feel would make for an equitable deal with the local authority." My nameless contact ends the message abruptly but I have my orders. I remember now, that the current president is of a more anti-war faction in politics and led to the equitable ending of the last war. I also remember they lost their very young child to the curse, so they will absolutely be driven to cure their still-living loved ones. I understand their desperation, but I hope they can keep their diplomatic head on them when we receive the answer that I know we will. I message Shariah that we now have orders from the president, to double her efforts and to begin offering trades. With the message sent I try to ignore the growing lump in my gut, something is going to go wrong... A week passes with no ground gained on the diplomatic end. Josef has concluded that the treatment is entirely viable and according to his current understanding, it has no lasting side effects. I doubt the research is actually done, and we definitely need that research vessel to figure out everything. I sent this information back home over the course of a few days and got no response. Shariah is clearly growing more and more frustrated with her dealings with the aliens. I think the inquisitor guy is rather stubborn. According to her reports, the inquisitor is 100% convinced there is nothing we can offer them that isn''t bending the knee to their kingdom. His arguments boil down to, "Even if you have something we want, we would have it all the same if you became part of the kingdom." This is not a possible outcome. At best we are peer nations in the galaxy and at worst we have them outclassed, the magic factor doesn''t fall into any normal metrics so I can''t say for certain who is really outclassed, as potentially magic grants them an edge that I have yet to see. Command back home is aware of this roadblock and of course, accepting those terms is completely off the table. We were given the authority to go as far to share nuclear energy and potentially weapons with them if it grants us unlimited access to their magic to heal us of our curse. I don''t know exactly what Shariah is asking for, whether it is the ability to hire them for services, which is a reasonable request, or asking for them to do it out of kindness or something. In my mind, it would benefit us both if we were allowed to load a few thousand of their mages onto a ship and send them home for a few months then send them home and rotate them out. This seems like the best solution and we are absolutely willing to pay for whatever they ask, just not our autonomy. The President is apparently really pushing me hard to get a deal done or at least framed before the relief fleet gets here. I understand but don''t at the same time for this desperation. I get wanting to cure this curse, to solve one of the major issues plaguing humanity, but I don''t think the logistics for the cure are exactly the most doable. While I can see how there could be mass healings, the problem with prions is they have to be entirely eradicated or just through existence they will come back. An infected person could cough on a doorknob and it will be tainted for years with no amount of standard disinfectant able to clean it. Anything less than incineration. If the cure the alien magic produces could be made into a pill I think this push would be much more reasonable. I get it, but I am a military man, logistics are an important part of any operation, ones of death or of healing. I have a meeting scheduled with Shariah to see her progress and to help her brainstorm. I have watched her EVA suits helmet camera footage of her negotiations and it just seems so... awful. The inquisitor is one hundred percent confident that we are lesser and of course, looks down on Shariah even though she is acting on my orders. The social ranking system of the Eternal Kingdom appears to be a massive roadblock. The only solution I see immediately is for me to once more meet with him, and with a little more tact than before try to big-dick him into compliance. Sitting down with Shariah at one of the galley tables, she is scarfing down an early supper of breaded pork chops. She had been planetside for the entire day and due to the radioactive nature of alien space, her only sustenance was water. She is a hungry girl right now, so I let her eat before we get into business. This is a decent place to talk as the galley is empty aside from the cooks who are clanking away loudly alongside the many automated cooking systems. As she finishes her last swallow as I sip on an afternoon coffee she says, "This entire thing is stupid..." I raise my eyebrows and she continues, "This negotiation is not going to get us anywhere. They don''t know they want what we have and what we are offering, and the problem is their foreign policy is expansionist at best. I think the only reason there hasn''t been a threat of war is that we are so far away. I think even their most zealous like the inquisitor can tell that would be a near logistical impossibility at the moment like it would be for us. While I do not see war as the answer here, since it is considered the final option of diplomacy it looks like it''s the only option." I respond, "War is off the table. We do not want war." Shariah nods and with a sigh answers, "I know, that was an over-exaggeration. I am so fucking tired of dealing with that golden asshole. The problem is that he is a religious zealot and we have come to understand that their king and kingdom are holy entities. Their creed is to assimilate all intelligent life and civilization as some sort of grand duty. It is dogma, not politics we are arguing against, and that is difficult. Unfortunately, it appears their religion is not a diplomatic one, it is a fire and brimstone one. Apparently we have lasted the longest when it comes to either joining them or going to war with them, and they have yet to get their nose bloodied by any other civilization they have met... as far as we know."This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version. I shake my head and set my steaming cup down after burning my mouth for the third time. I offer, "Maybe we are approaching diplomacy wrong here? We could possibly go gather some gifts from the nearby asteroids and offer gold and other shiny things to the guy. Basically grease the deal with a bribe? Make it seem like tribute or just gifts out of goodwill. Other than that all I can see is for us to try and strong-arm them, use the political capital we gained by devastating that rebel army. I don''t know, I''m a naval officer, not a diplomat. The most I was trained in was gunboat diplomacy, so if it comes to that I can try to help with that, but this situation doesn''t seem to be the kind where that would go over well." We sit there silently for a while unsure of our next words or plan of action. I then ask, "Have you shown videos of demonstrations of the technology we may offer as compensation?" Shariah stares at me for a moment with an unreadable expression before violently slamming her head into both of her hands. She yells into her palms, the sound muffled and when she is done she looks up and says in a defeated voice, "I have neglected to do so... I have been avoiding utilizing too much technology around the aliens... I never take any form of video device with me... How could I be so stupid?" I can''t help but laugh at the hopeless woman and she buries her face once more, this time out of embarrassment. I sigh standing up and I walk around the table to pat her on the back. I leave her to her little breakdown, the plan not needing to be explained from there. All she needs to do is bring a video device down to the planet to actually show our technology in action. While I don''t know how effective it will be, I have a feeling the Inquisitor will be far more receptive when shown all the wonders of our technological society, or at the very least entertain him enough to be easier to talk to... After another 24-hour period of talks, I am pulled from a conversation I am having with one of the gunnery officers by a call from Shariah who is planetside at the moment. I answer it after dismissing the other man. Shariah opens the conversation, "Commodore, I have finished a long round of talks and negotiations with the Inquisitor. I have used visual examples of what technology we would trade for access to the cure...or at least the ability to hire people to implement the cure. The Inquisitor seemed quite interested now that showed examples, but he has stated that he will not continue talks unless he speaks with you." I cuss and respond, "Tell him to wait a day or so, I don''t want to do this talk, but I''m going to contact command back home to explain the situation further and request... well, I''m going to ask for an more official declaration from the president or someone more... important than me." Shariah responds quickly, "I will do as you ask. I also agree with your idea, lets finally just get a position set in stone from the government." The call disconnects and I begin drafting a message back home... A message returns within a few hours of me sending mine out. It reads, "Due to unfortunate events, we are requesting that your talk should be nearing finality for your fleet and group. It is recommended that your talk be one of mutual understanding and trying to garner sympathy with extreme compensation being offered for access to their resources. If your talk fails, break off engagement and await the relief fleet, further orders, and actions will be taken from there." I sigh after reading the message and head out to get an EVA suit on. The whole while I am formulating a speech, and unfortunately I let memories and experiences help weave the words I will say... The meeting room is as cozy and ornate as I remember. I sit across from the golden man as he sips on a chalice of something. He then starts our conversation, "Commodore... Hollander... I am glad you have come down to meet with me. I understand your station is not one of diplomacy or statecraft as you are a warrior. While our last meeting... was quite frustrating in some sense I look back on it fondly now as your lack of tact or adherence to any form of proper etiquette made it where I was able to truly understand your intentions. It''s how you warrior types talk and I find it endearing. As for your diplomatic underling, she is quite long-winded and for the longest time, I believed her to be a creative author or playwright with the seemingly impossible...technologies she said your people offer. I now know there was quite a lot of truth in her words, but to really face the truth I feel your tongue will share the real answers... or at least make things properly clear." Wanting to be polite at first since this is a meeting he called I ask, "Please Lord Inquisitor, Ask away. I am happy to clear up any unintentional untruths my subordinate has told you." He thinks for a moment and asks rather bluntly, "Tell me, are the technologies she offered truly real?" I pull up a log of what Shariah had offered and respond, "Yes, she has spoken the truth as I have told her. Unfortunately, she didn''t give visual examples of these technologies because it had slipped her mind that she could do so." The Inquisitor laughs and he interjects, "So it is a lesser''s lack of proper insight? I apologize, please continue." I nod inside my helmet and continue, "Our peoples have gone down different paths when it comes to how our societies progressed. This is due to our differences in... mana... but it has allowed us to reach similar heights. The ability to travel the stars as well as the ability to never be wanting for basic needs. The difference is that we had to progress in different ways in response to the natural worlds we found ourselves placed in. Like how some worlds the avian species create society and in others reptiles. Both of our nations are dominant in our respective parts of the stars. What we offer may have an alternative in your society of course, but due to our different pressures and societal issues we both have different methods and in some places, we each hold an advantage over one another. For example, after researching your people we have found that your agricultural systems are quite advanced, but lack the ability to support truly ludicrous populations. It was explained to us that your people rear meat-bearing animals through processes of accelerated breeding utilizing mana, but this is limited by space for grazing for many of these creatures. We in contrast have a long time ago developed and refined a process of cultivating livestock without constraints of grazing area on worlds, we have developed a method of producing meat without even needing to rear an animal, growing the flesh in specialized facilities. These processes create good high-quality meat at scales impossible to fathom at times even on worlds or moons where there isn''t even a tuft of green grass to eat. Of course the higher in society or just happen to be born on worlds with ample grazing room there are more traditionally reared animals for the purpose of even higher quality of meat, bother perceived and sometimes in actuality. This technology is a boon to you not in the sense of your palate but for that of your common folk." At the last statement, he seems to grimace in disdain but remains interested so I keep going, "While I know it seems strange to develop something where the peasantry or other common roles are able to eat a hearty meal of meat every day, there are advantages. I want you to imagine a society where your poor laborers are all healthy and possibly quite happy. Imagine how much quicker and more efficiently they can do their menial tasks if their muscles are allowed to develop. Our society decided this was worth the effort, if everyone eats well enough it does wonderful things for even those in upper positions. First, the healthier common folk can work longer days, carry heavier objects, and complain less as their bellies are filled with good meals. Second, a population fed properly breeds at a much higher rate. These two things work together to create a large populace of efficient and grateful workers. There is less need for your mages to assist the commoners in their daily tasks allowing for further focus on magical studies." He thinks for a moment before asking me, "I do see the advantages, your explanation was far greater than that of your subordinate. She had explained that technology as one to feed us in higher society and I feared for your honor that you may have eaten nothing but... facility-grown meat." I chuckle and respond, "No, I prefer my meat to be grazed and properly reared. It makes a great difference." He laughs and nods for a moment and says, "That technology would be quite... impressive. A society where the commoners can have a daily meal of meat, what a novel concept but it still makes sense why you would develop it. I definitely would prefer a kingdom where the commoners were able to function at even a fraction of the lowest mage. I tire of stories of missed production quotas in mines and farms." I nod completely ignoring the cultural differences. The Inquisitor is thoughtful for a while before he asks in a serious tone, "Now tell me, Commodore... Your subordinate offered a technology best described as a portable sun. She explained it that your people use it as both a weapon and as a method for powering your society. Is this real?" I think about it for a moment before responding, "Yes. Like I said we have a novel form of mana compared to yours and it has a few limitations that we had to get around in special ways. I believe the captive suns would boost your efficiency if we can find a way to integrate it into your society." He nods and then asks incredibly seriously, "How many times have you used them as a weapon? And how many can you produce?" I say sternly, "We have used them thousands if not millions of times, mostly in space. We can produce them by the millions as the method is quite simple, just requires specialized ingredients. MY flagship alone has 356 of these in weapon form and one large one powering it. The entire fleet is armed in the thousands of these weapons, of various sizes, roles, and delivery methods." He pauses for a while and asks accusingly, "You brought a war fleet... to our home armed with weapons that only the divine should wield?" I shake my head and respond, "While the fleet is composed mainly of warships this fleet is not impressive in the grand scheme of things. Many of the ships are either outdated or modified to be less powerful in exchange for being able to operate far away from home. These captive sun weapons are considered mainline anti-ship weapons, and as for the divine, these are not even the most powerful weapons in our nation''s arsenal." The Inquisitor asks, "What enemy has forced you to make such weapons at a large scale?" I respond quickly, "Ourselves." There is a moment of silence before the Inquisitor sighs and asks, "Now Commodore... what is your people''s request? What is it that is so important that you would trade this important technology just to utilize the expertise of our lowest type of mage?" I ignore the comment about the lowest, and begin my plea, "I don''t know if my subordinate Shariah explained it to you fully like she should have, but here is the problem. My people have a cure for every normal disease we can have so long as we know what it is, and can quickly cure any new disease that rears its ugly head. Yet we still have an affliction that all of our development still cannot combat. We call it a curse, it was a final effort by some evil people to cause pain to all of humanity. It isn''t a plague, no it is an artificially created flaw in our bodies. It is infectious beyond belief for our kind and can be found in all of our animals despite it having a limited effect on them. It is a curse of slowly growing madness, beginning at birth as the flaw slowly eats away at our minds. Naturally, our bodies try to counteract the effects of the curse but eventually, we all fall victim. Some die outright, others become jibbering messes, and others become violent to the point of slaughtering their own kin. It is our greatest current struggle. Because it is a flaw in our bodies our medicine and healers have no effect as to destroy it is to destroy our own flesh entirely. Burning of corpses has been the only way we know to prevent the further spread, but that doesn''t matter because all but less than ten percent of humanity is affected. We believed ourselves doomed until Phillia, the slave granted to me, performed a miracle. She had found a way to isolate, destroy, and then remove the cursed flesh from our bodies and entirely cure multiple of the crew of the curse, including myself. While we are still at risk of once more becoming infected, we are free of it, and even now all those who have been cured have reported greater mental function as their brains no longer are being ravaged. That is why we want access to the capabilities of your healers. We are willing to trade some of our greatest works and technologies for this access. Of course, we would fairly compensate and return them on a scheduled rotation until our entire kind is healed, we simply only need permission to hire your people and allow us to take them from your nation for a short while." I finish my statement and the Inquisitor thinks for a while. He doesn''t even take a sip of his drink. He simply sits there deep in thought. He then folds his hands and then asks calmly, "And why should we allow this? Once more, if your kind were to become part of the kingdom this access would be granted without question, and not only that we would be able to accept the technologies you offer freely." He ends the statement there. I can''t help but feel slightly offended, but I take a long breath and answer, "That is not an option. Entirely and utterly. Our people are not compatible in this way. Our evolution of civilization is so different a merger or subordination would be impossible. Maybe after a long while of equal cooperation, our people may one day be able to become one." The Inquisitor then asks, "Equal? Why do your people constantly seemingly act as if we are equal? " I respond with a little more bite in my tone, "It is a term that we use because we wish to show we do not want to unfairly treat you in any dealings." He asks with a more frustrated tone, "Unfairly treat us? That means you are in the position of power here, and that we are not equals..." I raise a hand interrupting him clearly to his frustration as I slowly become overcome with emotion. My thoughts of all those I knew and lost to the curse come to the surface. I speak with a growl in my tone, "We are not. We are currently in discussions because we, the United States allow it. We have been as accommodating as possible, we have overlooked your kingdom''s backward and utterly savage culture so far. We offer friendship and kindness. We offer a massive boon, advancement. We want to help you from a period of society we once had ourselves, one that failed. " The Inquisitor doesn''t get mad like before. He instead dismissively waves me off and then says, "Be gone from my sight. Your barbarity knows no bounds. A response will be formulated, and how we move forward will be decided in time." I stand up and just leave. I have no more words. Bad thoughts fill my mind as I grow more angry by the second and when I get back to the dropship I slam a fist into the metal wall as memories fill my head. We will see what the future holds, and I pray for the salvation of both of our peoples, but for the damnation of the Inquisitor... Operation Inquisition: The Crack of Thunder Days have passed since my final talk with the Inquisitor. After a short period of heightened security and worry, everything has fallen back into place. I allowed the scientists to return to the planet, but with four more marines than their usual escort, and they generally order a single attack drone hanging around nearby. However, aside from that, nothing seemed to have happened. Any dealings with the people of the Kingdom have been normal, even the few interactions with the Inquisitor. Everything seems calm for now. My report sent back home was seemingly received poorly, but there was complete understanding that we are dealing with an alien power and cultural and political norms are quite different. We have no right to expect them to act in what we call reasonable ways, because to them we may be the unreasonable ones. I was simply told to wait and hope the next group of diplomats could be of more use, or the infrastructure projects we build are enough to convince them to come to the table. During my lunch break, I sit at a table with the off-duty marines and chow down on today''s tater-tot casserole. Phillia sits next to me, staring at her food and shying away from the gaze of the over 2-meter-tall marines. Their special trays are double the size of mine, and even their food has been extra fortified to feed their barely human bodies. They continually sprinkle what looks like seasonings on their food, but in reality, it''s flavored protein powder meant to go on savory dishes. I shoot the shit with the marine Lieutenant for a while, jokes of Gavy and crayon-eaters getting tossed around at each other in good faith. It doesn''t help the jarheads that part of their meal is colorful sticks of highly condensed nutrients for dessert, looking scarily like the children''s coloring implements made of wax. Suddenly the Lieutenant''s back straightens and he gets a distant look. A dangerous and predatory look. He drops his fork and nods at me which immediately connects me to whatever call is going on in his Neural implants. The deep and booming voice of a marine talking quietly fills my head, "This is First Sargeant Kelly, we are escorting the science team in the designated research zone X-ray. We have alien forces attached today, multiple knights as they call themselves. More have arrived with transports, they have cut us off from the shuttle and have taken a defensive posture, and they''re still acting casual. How to proceed Commodore?" I lock eyes with the Lieutenant and respond, "Do not act yet, keep us informed and prepare for breakthrough action. I will have the eyes in the sky take note of how many potential combatants there are. Act oblivious." They respond, "Aye Sir." Then the line cuts. Shoving the last of my meal down my throat I say to Phillia, "Please return my dishes to the kitchen. I have to work." I then quickly leave the galley and rush to the bridge, barking orders to the officers there and coordinating with the marine transports to prepare for an extraction mission. I also have another attack drone sent to the planet for extra overwatch. I am assuming the best that potentially there is another rebel group working in the area and these knights are just kinda stupid when it comes to creating a perimeter, but I will not take chances with my people. By the time I get to the bridge, I have a nice display full of all important information and the drone is 30 minutes out. On the screens, I see no other potential enemies other than those from the Eternal Kingdom. I look into the fleet sensor network and make note the massive space castle thing is currently on the move, but its vector is only an adjustment to its orbit rather than an intercept. This calms me slightly, but still stay on alert. For an hour there is little in the way of changes in circumstance. No further aggressive or strange actions were taken by the aliens and the science team decided it is time to leave. The main science vessel moves to a closer location to conserve shuttle fuel and still nothing more happens. The scientists pack their gear and finalize their readings and other such science activities. Then without warning, there is a massive pulse of radiation right next to the science vessel and in a blink, the massive city-sized ship appears right next to it. The gravity and sudden displacement of the ship caused the comparatively small science vessel to reel away. The captain of the ship announces his plan of action to evade the big ship, believing it to be a poorly done jump. Then the first brilliant blue beam lances out. Nearly all ships in space are quite sturdy and have some form of armor, even civilian and non-combat ones. This is due to how fast ships move at sublight speed, even with the artificial gravity and magnetic field there are bits of random debris that are not shoved away by the "wake" of a spaceship. This is why ships that are not constantly repaired are incredibly scarred or pocked by impacts from small objects at high speed. Despite the reinforced hull the beam of blue easily shreds through the exterior of the ship, igniting the internal atmosphere as brilliant gouts of flame jet into space before quickly dying as the air is either consumed or the void takes it. Then comes a second, third, and fourth until the beams begin slamming into the ship, sending debris everywhere as flames begin to engulf the smaller, white vessel. The captain screams orders of evacuation before I hear his voice become gargled screams as the local radiation practically melts him before the flames incinerate the entire bridge. Finally, the reactor containment is breached and a small sun rapidly goes supernova, a brilliant spot of light appears for a split second before disappearing in a multiple-megaton explosion. The ship becomes a devastating shrapnel bomb as the bits fly in the dozens of mach in all directions. I watch as in mere seconds the radiation field around the castle lights up like a laser show as the shards of the science vessel impact, and then continue through. Masonry is devastated in incomprehensible ways and multiple defensive structures crumble away. I recover from my shock suddenly and say, "Tubes 1 through 6 fire." A weapons officer confirms my order with the targeting AI as on the side of the Catfish multiple hatches blast open with compressed air and six missiles are launched free with explosive force. Small thrusters lining their sides blast to life, orienting the missiles toward their target. Then a stream of superheated gasses is expelled as they burn forward, accelerating fast enough to liquefy a human if they were riding on it. They each reach hypersonic speeds in less than three seconds without the atmosphere slowing them down and continue to accelerate faster and faster. With the Catfish in a high orbit, the travel time to the large vessel is only a few seconds. The Catfish is hailed and I answer it to hear the voice of the Shipmaster, he demands in an unsure voice, "Lay down your arms and submit to the Eternal Kingdom. Your advanced vanguard vessel was destroyed, now give in." I speak quickly, "That was an unarmed civilian vessel. Three... Two... One..." He asks, "What? Why are you?" The radiation field barely lights up as all six missiles detonate a meter away from spots the targeting systems had designated as most structurally important after weeks of scans and research. The small atmosphere the ship has around it immediately is engulfed in flame as all six 10MT detonate in unison. The radiation field appears to be kept in the atmosphere which seems to keep the expanding fireball trapped filling the entire field with flame as all the air trapped inside through their magical means is burned in nuclear hellfire. The cameras on the Catfish dim the brilliant light of the explosion and the optics are overlayed with other sensors so we can all get a good picture of the city-sized vessel being shattered. Shattered is almost the wrong word, atomized is a better one. The areas directly impacted are immediately turned into atoms not even leaving ash, further in the masonry is turned into ashes, and even further it shatters into microscopic shards, in the center entire sections slough off as all structure is shaken by impossible forces, and finally, the far side of the vessel has much of its broken form sent hurdling into the void as the shockwave finishes making its way through all of the stone. The radiation field breaks and the dust and debris expand out from the remaining shattered bits of the vessel. The smaller vessels contained inside are either burning as their remaining atmosphere cooks off, but two of them limp back toward the planet, the majority of their frames bent, cracked, or even sections missing. The large vessel is only a smoldering debris field as the remaining atmosphere escapes into the void, rapidly cooling the molten stone and other materials. There are large sections still intact, but they slowly spiral off into space, kilometer-large sections taking the screaming ghosts of the crew with them. I have the targeting AI log that the sections struck by the nuclear weapons are the correct locations for the shockwaves to cause the most immediate structural damage. Due to the captive atmosphere the vessel had the cameras were unable to catch every second of the ship being shattered as the dust kicked up by the vaporizing masonry could not be penetrated by any visual sensor, but what was captured is memorized for future engagements, especially since the cat is now out of the bag. The line is still open with the Shipmaster and he asks with a shaky shout, "What in the name of his Eternal Majesty was that?" I respond, "A proportional response. Stand down if you value your life alongside your crew. We have hundreds of those weapons ready and we can strike at a moment''s notice. Be gone now." I turn off our receiver and watch on sensors as his ship turns tail and begins running to a low orbit. I don''t have time to let the situation weigh on me as an emergency communication comes in from the science shuttle. It''s the pilot, "Come in Commodore!" I respond, "I am here, what is the situation?" She responds, "Sir, we have evacuated from the planet, the local forces who surrounded us tried to arrest the entire science team."You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version. I ask, "What is the status of the evacuation?" She answers quickly, "We are on our way to orbit with two-thirds of the science team and all the marines. Where is our mothership?" I respond with a dark tone, "The science vessel has been destroyed by local forces, please dock at the USS Catfish, docking port three..." There is silence for a while and she asks, "Any survivors?" I respond apologetically, "They hit them out of nowhere and their reactor breached containment." That was enough of an answer and the line drops as on sensors the shuttle rises from the planet flanked by the two attack drones... "Tell me what happened out there?" I growl at the line of six marines who are standing in one of the Catfish''s hangars. I pace in front of the monstrous men and women who are still wearing their powered armor aside from their helmets. Each one wearing the gaze only an enlisted getting chewed out by a superior can have. The First Sargeant steps forward and answers, "Permission to speak sir?" I nod and they continue, "Sir, we did what we could but due to the parameters of our mission, focusing on the lives of the science team first and foremost we were unable to guarantee the safety of those captured by the foe. When the parameters of the situation reached hostile levels it was too late and they had seized multiple scientists and we could not justify attempting to fire upon the enemy without severe bodily harm to the civilians. Once the enemy had brought them to their transports we had no idea where the civilians were sitting so we could not justify firing into them, and especially could not risk destroying the transports. We gathered all non-captured and denied the capture of any further civilians before breaking through the remaining forces and then we headed to orbit. It was my failure for not understanding that the situation was going to result in the capture of our own." I nod and respond with a calmer voice, "It''s alright, but not alright. You are not at fault as you did follow mission parameters, none of us could foresee such a sudden act of aggression. You and your men will not face any disciplinary actions of course, but you will all be responsible moving forward in the rescue of our captured countrymen. Understood?" In unison, they respond, "Aye Sir!" I nod and say, "Alright, dismissed, but stay on standby and prepare for my orders." I turn and head back to the bridge as my message back to command starts formulating. I don''t mince words, or try to make the situation seem better than what it is. I say it how it is, "Local forces hostile. Civilian research vessel destroyed, proportional response activated, enemy vessel destroyed. Multiple civilians were captured by local forces. Dr.Mengel, Dr.Kelly, and Diplo-Colonel Jamestown are all in the captured group. How to proceed?" With my message sent I order the fleet to hide behind the moon and we wait for our answer... The answer comes by the end of the 24-hour cycle, enough time for me to run through every emotion of panic and worry for my two friends trapped on the planet. The response is such, " Engage in a rescue mission, you have full operation authority, presidential permission granted. Congress has been briefed, voting has commenced. Local forces and leadership are of no concern, do not concern yourself with sparing any who would stop your mission." My orders now given I send a communication to the marines and to the other captains in the fleet. It orders all of them to join me in a video briefing in one hour as we will decide how this mission will happen. There have been no demands given by the locals, and the vitals for all those captured are still normal with only minor elevations in stress which is expected. I''m just thankful the aliens understand we cannot live without our suits so no one has been melted yet. I stand on the bridge as all the officers sit at their consoles either plugged in or manually manipulating the controls. Every aline ship in the system, military or not has firing solutions created for them as small recon drones zoom all around taking in every single bit of data. We have multiple drones circling the city where the civilians were taken, using cross references with helmet cam footage, penetrating radar, and the location beacons of those captured a picture of the entire interior of the big central palace is being built. There are still many sections unavailable due to them being too far underground. I then remember that the aliens don''t have the same communication equipment as us so I send a text to Shariah and Uriel to upload their helmet footage so we can figure out the layout of the dungeon they are being held. Alongside the data, they also report that they are safe and while the cells are technically illegal for holding captives, they have been treated mostly okay aside from being forced around. It takes a while for the camera footage of all those captured to upload due to all the dirt and stone in between them and the nearest receiver on the drone, but eventually, we have the interior 85% mapped based on the volume and construction of the palace and dungeon. It is assumed the remaining areas are lodging areas and possible armories. With the map done the meeting can happen. I sit in my chair and close my eyes as I enter the video meeting. Every officer is represented by an avatar they chose, which looks mostly like themselves aside from the captain of the USS Snapper who looks to be some sort of bipedal furry creature. With a thought, his avatar is made into a black silhouette because I don''t have time to deal with that. I make a note to correct him for that later. The room renders and it becomes a conference table with a holographic screen in the middle that accommodates everyone''s individual view automatically based on each person''s location. We all sit and I begin, "Listen up. As you all know multiple of our civilians have been captured by local forces. The President has granted me near unlimited authority to rescue those captured. Here is the situation. In the system, we believe there are only three military vessels, one of them being larger than a Kilometer in length, the other two appearing to be wooden sailing ships over 400 meters long. Based on our engagement with the large space city or whatever that was we are capable of destroying their vessels, no secret shields or anything so enemy naval assets in this system have been ruled negligible. On the ground we have estimated enemy forces are in the thousands and based on data are no more powerful than the rebels we decimated at least in the majority. There may be a few heavy hitters among them, but they are rare it appears. You all have gone over the information so all individuals in fancy armor should be avoided. We do not believe there is any heavy armor on the ground, but there is most likely some form of artillery similar to the weapons on their naval assets, but this is speculation. So here is my recommendation for this mission. This will be largely my strategic plan for the mission. Any tactical details will be left up to any of you who are participating. I wish to avoid the unnecessary suffering of civilians, both ours and theirs. So this will not be a shock and awe mission. This will be a three-part mission. The first part will be up to the Navy. The Terrapin, all four Teach-Class destroyers, and the Bullfrog. The Terrapin will be the main naval deterrent for the enemy naval assets, focusing on disabling enemy vessels rather than destroying, the same goes for the destroyers. These ships will form a defensive formation around the Bullfrog. From there the Terrapin will fire upon three designated locations with low-yield surface attack missiles. These locations have been observed to be major mustering points for local forces, believed to be armories or barracks. Following this multiple attack drones will perform surgical strikes on defensive towers protecting the palace as well as sweeping the exterior walls of enemy combatants. The final strike will be a single orbital shot from the secondary 5-inch from the Terrapin at a designated location creating an insertion point. The Second part is the insertion and securing of civilians. With a great big new door in the roof of the palace we will send a drop-pod with a vanguard of marines. They will secure an LZ which is designated here on the maps we have made. The only entrance to that area is inside so that''s why the pod will be inside the palace. The LZ is a terrace garden that should be able to hold a dropship on it. We cannot drop the marines there because of size constraints, there simply wouldn''t be enough room for the pilots to land comfortably with a drop pod there. After the LZ is secure a dropship will come down and deploy a full squad of marines who will join the vanguard in securing the civilians and neutralizing any forces sent to intercept. From here the dropship will take off but loiter nearby and join the attack drones in denying any enemy reinforcements from the outside, and where possible putting more holes in the palace to support the interior force. This force will make a direct line to the civilians, blowing through walls and floors if needed to make the escape route easier to navigate. Helmet cameras revealed the cell doors are either metal bars or reinforced wood, both should be easy for a marine to tear off the hinges, if not there will be cutting tools provided. The Last part is extraction, and this is where we can give... well what we call a proportional response. With all civilians secure the Marines will make their way back to the LZ where the dropship will land just as they arrive. This is to deny an easy target for any missed large weapons platforms. With civilians and marines loaded the ship will return to the Bullfrog and from there the civilians will be sent to the Catfish. Before leaving the Terrapin will fire 2 perfectly designated shots from its 12-inch batteries and a singular Configuration class Orbital attack missile. The first shot will be at a nearby mountain peak, the orbital reentry should be enough to take a good tenth off of the top. The second will be at what appears to be a heavily fortified fortress within eyesight of the city which should devastate it beyond repair. The missile will be detonated above the forest to set it alight simply as another sign we can do whatever we wish. With these actions taken, the mission should be complete with a high chance of success. Any concerns?" The officers all mumble and mutter among themselves, clearly pulling up calculators or running personal simulations based on our internal maps and cross-referencing with data gained in the 2 engagements we have had with alien forces. When the sound dies down there are very few questions, mostly asking why I chose the ships I did and the like. The rest of the questions were answered by the officers who I will utilize in the mission as they have more fine details available about their own forces. With the breifing over I announce, "Be ready for action at 0600 tomorrow. We will engage then." A chorus of "Aye Sir" rings out and the virtual world ends. I am once more on my bridge, glaring forward at the video stream of the palace below.... End Operation Inquisition Begin Operation Hellstorm
________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ End of Operation Force Composition 1 Viking Class Large-Cruiser- USS Catfish- Role: Flagship and Fire Support 3 SF-21 Fighters- 6 support wingmen each 2 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration Marine compliment- 100 2 Preist Class Support and Fabrication Vessels- USS Shovelnose, USS Palid- Role: Auxillary Marine Compliment- 50 2 MacArthur Class Heavy Cruisers- USS Terrapin, USS Snapper- Role: Battleline 2 UD-12 Dropship Marine Compliment -100 4 Bowman Class Missile Cruisers- USS Quillback, USS Hognose, USS Redhorse, USS Buffalo-Role: Long Range Combat Marine Compliment- 100 4 Cutter Class Destroyers- USS Bluegill, USS Longear, USS Redear, USS Shellcracker- Role: Escort Marine Compliment- 80 4 Teach Class Destroyers- USS Largemouth, USS Smallmouth, USS Spotted, USS Neosho- Role: Backline Disruption Marine Compliment- 100 2 Hellstorm Class Frigates- USS Eel, USS Lamprey- Role: Naval Raiding Marine Compliment- 50 1 Arsenal Bird Class Drone Carrier- USS Heron- Role: Drone Carrier 400 MQ-25 "Parasite" attack Drones 20 MQ-30 "Plover" Bomber Drones Marine Compliment-25 6 Boohag Class Marine Transports- USS Bullfrog, USS Peeper, USS Daddys Belt, USS Toad, USS Newt, USS Salamander- Role: Marines 8 UD-12 Dropships- Gunship Configuration 1200 Marines 800 Shipbreakers 4 M3A1 "Stonewall" MBT 24 M8A3 "Gavin" IFVs 8 M112 MRTWP (Multi-role Transport Weapons Platform) 12 M8 "Bunny" Fast Attack/Recon Vehicles Total Force: 26 Capital Vessels 12 Dropships 3 Manned Fighters 420 Drone Fighters 2505 Marines (Including Shipbreakers) 48 Ground IFVs (Crews included) _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Operation Firestorm: Beasts in Mens Clothing My boots clack loudly against the metal floor of the Dropship hangar aboard the USS Bullfrog. Before me, the dozen marines to be utilized in the mission stand in attention. Behind me walks the chaplain from the Catfish and the one for the Marines aboard the Bullfrog. It is 0500 hours but the Marines need this, especially since this is most likely the start of a hot conflict. I don''t mind, this is proper, all their gear is ready and they are awake, so it''s the least I can do. I stop in front of them and they all salute with their right hands as their helmets are gripped in their left. Their augmented nearly inhuman gazes all lock onto me and I return the salute under my trifold hat. I drop my hand and they do the same. The chaplains walk forward, the non-augmented one holding a tall pole with a crucified carpenter on the top. All the marines genuflect and remain there as their chaplain walks forward with a bowl in hand. He approaches a marine and digs his thumb into the bowl. He removes it and crosses the face of the marine with the coal black ash. From the top of their forehead to their chin, and just above their eyebrows to their temples. Two lines of black. The Chaplain speaks the same thing to each marine as he does his task, "Go forth with a heavy heart and heavy hand. Serve in hell to bring others to paradise. Be the sword and shield for those who cannot fight, may your burning fury chase away the night." The United States Navy and all military branches are secular and follow strict freedom of religion, much like the US government. The Marines are different. While they have full freedom of religion they are also the marines and near ritualistic traditions are a major part of their identity. Not all of these marines here are Christian, not that I know, but it''s simple statistics, not everyone follows the same faith. This ritual is old and from the original war against the UNCA when religious identity was rather important when fighting against the Anti-Theist UNCA. All marines are spiritual though and this is due to their creation. The biological and mechanical modifications done to their bodies are a long process and quite agonizing, and it leaves them barely human anymore and it will leave permanent changes to their bodies for the rest of their lives. It is a sacrifice and only the special few who are willing to not only lay down their lives for their country to become marines, but those who are willing to sacrifice their very humanity at times. This ritual, despite its religious roots, is really just a reaffirmation of their vow and sacrifice to their country and the people within. The ritual is not common, it is only done prior to large operations or at the beginning of conflicts, it is not done at any other point. I''ve been told the Marines enjoy it as it helps calm their nerves, and the ash and words remind them of their resolve. With the ritual out of the way, the marines stand as the Chaplains move behind me. I fold my hands behind my back and stare down the now-crossed marines. I shout, "What are you?" They respond in thunderous response, "Marines!" "What do you do?" "Kill!" "What is your skin?" "Steel!" "What is your breath?" "Fire!" "Where do you serve?" "Hell!" "In your eyes what do your enemies see?" "Death!" "And what is your motto?" "KILL! FIGHT! DIE! OORAH!" I smile at the monsters clad in powered armor before me and speak while pacing in front of them, "My God, you lot are the most savage pack of rabid animals I''ve ever seen. Big, ugly, and crazed beyond belief. I wouldn''t have it any other way. I am beyond proud to call you lot of shit sacks my marines. Now I want you to go down there and show those magical fairytale fucks what the United States Marine Corps is all about! You are the worst equipped, barely trained, and most blindly savage men and women humanity has ever produced, and you have fought, won, and slaughtered time and time again. You all are nothing more than death row inmates that we chopped up and put back together, and if you weren''t on death row well that means the judge missed ya during sentencing. Now you are going to go down there, grab some fancy science boys, and get back here for grub. That is all you are worth to me... Now go my Devil Dogs, your leash has been cut." I turn on my heel to walk away as the Marine Captain gets in front of his men. I see the look on their faces as I turn away, wide toothy grins and eyes burning with insatiable lust and hunger. What a proper Marine should look like. The Captain bellows orders in the way only a Marine can and all of them put their helmets on their heads, each one hissing as they are sealed from the outside world. The Pigface Bascinet-styled helmets show no emotion, the only feature on them being the thin slits of dull red that make up the eternal optics of their helmets where eyeholes would be in the medieval helm they are modeled after. I board my shuttle and head back to the Catfish as I prepare to oversee the operation... I sit in my command seat and pull off my dress uniform coat. Underneath I am wearing the naval officer jumpsuit. all I need is my torso and neck exposed like this. I lean in the chair and the sockets lining my back and neck connect to internal cables that push into me and connect to my nervous system and all my implants. With a single thought, my vision disappears before I find myself in a state known as the battlespace. It''s a 3D environment created through every camera and sensor in the fleet. This basically allows me to have a birds-eye view of all aspects of the battle. Its like an RTS game, but with real people and major stakes. In this state, I don''t have to mentally observe information I just know it as it happens. My senses are all the sensors and cameras of the fleet, from the smallest camera drone to the biggest warship. I can send commands with just a thought. The only downside is the migraine I will have afterward, but I can deal with it... At 0600 hours the USS Terrapin, Bullfrog, 4 Teach-Class Destroyers, and 8 Attack drones equipped for anti-infantry all pull away from the main body of their fleet. They perform short burns just to increase their orbital position around the local lunar body by another KM. All ships then do a synchronized acceleration burn until their trajectory flings them from the orbit of the dead, white orb for a direct impact course with the planet being targeted, designated for this mission as "Alpha-1". At 0623 all ships have passed the horizon of the lunar body and have a direct line of sight with Alpha-1. All ships begin accelerating for 10 minutes before all propulsion is cut and they begin silently speeding toward the planet. All manned ships begin combat procedures at this time. All crew equip EVA suits and the atmosphere is drained from all internal compartments as a fire prevention action. Then the Artificial gravity is shut off, reducing the displacement profile of the ships both for reasons of detection and boarding deterrence. At 0920 all ships begin a retro burn, rotating 180 degrees and reducing their velocity rapidly, eventually reaching low enough velocity that Alpha-1 is able to capture them in its orbit. At 0930 all ships finish their burns and begin orbital corrections to reach a geostationary orbit over the target city designated "Alpha-2". Once geostationary orbit is achieved USS Bullfrog deploys its dropship which holds with the fleet. The USS Terrapin fires its designated orbital attack missiles which begin burning in retrograde until they are able to enter the atmosphere before slowing down utilizing drag. Once within the atmosphere and slow enough all missiles orient towards targets and begin atmospheric burns reaching Mach 3. At 0931 USS Bullfrog fires a drop pod, it is magnetically accelerated so it requires no retrograde burn. It begins entering the atmosphere preforming minor course corrections. The dropship alongside attack drones begins their retrograde burns. At 0935 all missiles strike their targets. A hardened tip allows all missiles to easily penetrate the masonry of the targets, dropping inside until a more sturdy structure is hit. Once the harder structure is struck, believed to be the foundation of targeted buildings the 3000lbs TNT equivalent warheads detonate. Pillars of dust climb into the sky in miniature mushroom clouds as the entirety of each targeted building is devastated. Chunks of masonry go flying everywhere destroying buildings and all windows for hundreds of meters are destroyed and there are confirmed dozens if not hundreds of fatalities, no system can tell if they are civilian or military in nature due to all bodies being mangled beyond belief. The narrative has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the infringement. At 0940 USS Terrapin fires an anti-fortification round from one of its secondary 5-inch batteries. The gunnery officer, Ensign Brown, is logged stating, "Knock Knock" Upon firing the round. In less than 45 seconds the shell makes contact with the roof of the target building designated "Beta-1". The shell penetrates the roof and after traveling 1 meter inside it detonates creating a 15 meter across hole in the roof, larger than projections but greatly appreciated by the marines in the drop pod. At 0942 the drop pod sails through the hole in the ceiling and crashes through 2 floors before reaching ground level of Beta-1. All marines disembark... Master Sargeant Ezekiel Marrion leaps from the drop pod as the doors are explosively ejected. He and the 3 other members of his fire team disembark with dancers'' grace despite their extreme weight. He had expected a hot drop but found only the broken bodies of those crushed by falling debris when the pod came through the ceiling. He notes for his future report that none are armed and appear to be servants or something. Out of habit, he checks the chamber of what at one point was an M2 Heavy Machine gun but now has been reborn as a heavy auto-rifle for the Marines. He had already chambered a round, but habits like this keep marines alive. Satisfied with his status he barks orders inside his helmet for the squad to move to the LZ as the dropship is coming. Distantly bells can be heard clanging, possibly warning bells, meaning the mission must continue quickly before this becomes an unsalvageable slaughter... for the enemy. Heavy armored footsteps can be heard thundering through the halls as the local forces start attempting to muster around the falling object. Master Sargeant Marrion waits around a corner as three enemies come rushing toward the drop pod with swords drawn. When they cross the threshold he and another marine send giant armored fists into the skulls of the soldiers. Their metal helmets crumple like paper and gore goes flying as their gray matter is splattered against the wall. The remaining soldier attempts to mount some form of counter but a PFC leaps onto them smashing in their chest and killing them instantly. With the first wave taken care of they follow the map in their helmets to the LZ. They meet no more enemies as they seem more occupied with guarding specific locations and the small courtyard is not one of those locations. There is a noble-looking alien there who isn''t paying attention, a quick chop from the side of a marines hand severs their spine with little pain. Distantly the great roar of the dropships engines can be heard. Behind them, there are wet smacking noises followed by distant thunder as the ground attack drones begin sniping enemies guarding the exterior of Beta-1, the 25mm rounds practically exploding those they hit. Marrion then communicates to the dropship, "LZ secure, proceed as you wish." The large armored bulk of the craft roars overhead as it lowers close to the ground. To deploy the marines it has no need to land all the way, and it is quicker. The eight marines leap down, cracking the stone underneath them. The fireteam and new squadron share silent nods as they begin their respective tasks as the dropship pulls up to the clouds in order to provide some heavy overwatch. Master Sargeant Marrion and his fire team remain at the LZ. Two of his marines climb onto the nearby walls and the two on the ground find positions to fortify... "I want a big fucking hole in this wall!" Chief Warrant Officer Amanda Littoro shouts at her demo marines who immediately begin the process of blasting a hole. It was decided by her superiors it will be easier to create a straight line to the captured civilians rather than expecting non-augmented people to keep up with the marines through the winding halls. Unfortunately, there are too many for the Marines to just carry. The wall blows in with a thunderous bang and a cloud of dust is kicked up. The other side is a large corridor the size of some aircraft hangars. Moaning of those caught in the blast can be heard. The remaining armored soldiers on the other side are less fortunate, in the time it takes for them to realize that there are enemies in front of them the Marines have already picked targets and sent a 50 caliber round through their chosen. The integral muffler reduces the thunder but does not do too much overall within the walls of Beta-1. The marines enter the large room and breachers seal the other two entrances at either end explosively. Then they continue the work of blasting through walls, easily dispatching any who just so happen to be on the other side. They make it to the dungeon entrance of Beta-1 but they find 20 guards stationed around it, and some of them have fancy armor. The combat AI within their helmets reminds them that fancy armor usually means danger based on reports, but there is a large 2 story window looking into the room. CWO Littorro speaks into her comms, "We have 20 hostiles and a big window, I am requesting a janitor to sweep them up." The dropships pilot responds, "Aye Ma''am, moving into position, keep your heads down..." The roar of atmospheric engines is barely muffled by the walls of the building and a shadow looms over the huge window. The guards face the window confused before the glass shatters inward as the armored front of the dropship shatters the window. The chin mounted 25mm rotary cannon buzzes to life as hundreds of rounds are spewed out in a matter of seconds. Hunks of meat and metal go flying as the weapon shreds all those below, one of the mages manages to cause the stone floor to expand up as a sheild as those in front of him are turned into salsa. The 50mm cannon barks a single time from its location in the center of the 6 barrels of the 25mm cannon and the anti-concrete punches through the stone before exploding violently on the other side shattering the armor and liquefying the being inside. With all targets eliminated the dropship pulls back and returns to a higher altitude to continue its overwatch. With the guards gone the marines push forward and rip the dungeon entrance door off of its hinges with a single mighty hand. Half of the marines remain behind as the corridor they are in is not capable of being collapsed to block enemy reinforcements. The ones left behind break down the remminants of he magically created wall to create defensive barricades and set up defensive positions. As an afterthought an attack drone positions itself in a way so that it can see through the broken window providing extra overwatch. The remaining led by CWO Littoro descend the stairs into the dimly lit dungeon below... The interior is best described as a cave with cells carved into it. The halls are winding and have all kinds of switchbacks and akward bends. The marines follow their training, peeking corners, using drones and cameras to get a feel for a situation before any corner is turned. Only one contact is made with a sleeping guard who somehow slept through all of the sound upstairs, they will never wake up thanks to a mighty hand crushing their neck. All civilians are located in individual cells, their air reserves are quite low so the marines top them off. Everyone is accounted for and they follow all orders given by the marines. Diplo-Colonel Jamestown attempts to take operational command only to be silenced by Commodore Hollander who announces in this situation she is a civilian and the CWO is the one in command on the field. The Diplo-Colonel does not respond. On the surface enemy reinforcements attempt a seige on the dungeon entrance. The marines held there take the heads off of anything that peers around the corner. The attack drone did have to utilize and anti-tank missile due to the approach of a strange humanoid made entire of stone described as a "Golem" by the marine that first spotted it. After a few minutes of holding position the figure designated at the Inquisitor appears. While orders do state nothing should stand in the way of the rescue, Commodore Hollander did designate this figure to not be killed if possible. 50 caliber rounds were seemingly useless against an invisible sheild of some unknown manner surrounding the golden figure who began winding up some manner of attack. A 50mm grenade is fired from an underbarrel launcher, the specific ordinance being a flash or stun grenade. This staggered the Inquisitor as the grenade detonated on impact, this cause the attack to follow through and shoot wide, this reached the threshold for the combat AI on the attack drone to declare the target as too dangerous and began firing its main cannon rapidly at the Inquisitor. All rounds splash or shatter on the shield, so the drone fired a 75mm light anti-tank missile. The HEAT shell was largely absorbed by the shield, but a 2mm wide jet of the chemically formed penetrator does go through and strikes the Inquisitor in the lower abdomen. This causes the figure to fall over. The Marines allow other soldiers to drag the Inquisitor away as he screams in agony due to being nearly disemboweled by the HEAT stream. The dungeon group emerges from the dark and smoke is popped covering the civilians as the marines lay down suppressive fire. This continues until all civilians have made it across the corridor and then all marines pull down their explosively formed path to the LZ. The dropship begins landing after sweeping multiple battlements of enemies and destroying multiple exits. All board the dropship without incident or coming across another enemy. Once loaded the dropship takes off immediately only to come under fire from the injured Inquisitor who exited onto the exterior defensive structure. This is ignored as the dropship accelerates away much faster than the streams of flame the inquisitor produced.... At 1020 the dropship has evacuated to a safe distance from Alpha-2 and Beta-1 for the rest of the operation to commence... Multiple soldiers attempt to restrain the Inquisitor as he howls in a mix of agony and rage at the insolent humans. A healer attempts to heal his still-leaking gut wound while he continues to scream at the sky. He eventually gets tired and slumps into a chair a servant had brought over so the healer can do their work. In the distance, a grand fortress can be seen, the grandest fortification of the frontier and a testament to the Eternal Kingdom''s glory and authority over the nobles and commoners of the city. Inside of it is a single contingent of royal knights, only to be utilized as enforcers for the king, or at the whims of the Inquisitor. Then there is a flash. Just before the flash, through the divine eyes of the Inquisitor, he saw a pillar of flame, unbeknownst to him it was a 12-inch kinetic slug accelerated to just shy of relativistic speeds fired directly at the center of the fortress. The pillar of flame is the immediate interaction of the shell igniting the oxygen-rich air it touched as it practically appeared within the fortress, then there is a flash as a horrifying impact happens. Later this explosion would be rated at 1.85 MT. The flash is over in an instant and reveals what appears to be a volcanic explosion as a dust cloud races into the air and the fortress is reduced to rubble in a mere instant. A wave of invisible sound crashes over the city a few moments later, shattering the last of the glass and rupturing the ears of those closest to the fortress. The Inquisitor stands to stare in horror until there is another flash, identical but more distant as the top of a mountain is removed, this explosion was later rated at 2.012 MT. (my math for the explosion in after chapter comment) There are no words shared among those watching the apocalyptic strikes as there are none to say, but the message is clear, "Don''t fuck with us again..." Thinking it is over the Inquisitor begins thinking of ways to move forward from this situation when a flaming object streaks over the city and toward the forest. The object flashes for a moment, the explosion is very quiet compared to the others, but when the initial flash is over a cascade of white-hot embers come raining over the forest, each one hot enough to melt through steel if they landed on it, this causes the green forest to catch fire.... and with that the humans are done for now.... and what''s next... who knows? Operation Firestorm: Gunboat Diplomacy Shariahs POV Shariah marches through the halls of the Catfish heading for the briefing room. Her EVA suit boots clack against the metal floor as she makes her way to her superior. She isn''t angry at the man; she is just greatly disturbed by how the entire situation is playing out. She hadn''t predicted anything like this and was very shocked at the "proportional response" the Commodore had done. She is grateful, but the political situation is now quite insane. She opens the door, steps into the dimly lit room, and pauses. The only sound inside is the sound of a glass being set down on the wooden table, she can only make out the vaguest outline of Commodore Hollander but his eyes. Those damned reflective eyes like a predator stare at her and this time it isn''t a look of slight annoyance, his eyes are harsh and predatory. He speaks calmly and with an authoritative tone, clearly showing his emotions are not positive, "Shariah, come inside and close the door behind you..." She does as commanded and she finds the lightswitch doesn''t work, most likely something to do with the Commodore''s complete control of his vessel. She enters the dark room and sits across from him. A dim console on the wall was the only light in the dark room, enough to reflect his blue eyes. He then speaks again, "I apologize about the light in the room. I have a chainsaw migraine right now." Shariah nods and asks, "Sir, with all due respect, was the response you gave necessary? It is now functionally impossible to recover diplomatic efforts. There were over 100,000 people on the ship you destroyed in both crew and support staff." For a moment it looks like his reflective eyes flicker with a backlight of some sort, a flicker of thinly veiled anger. The Commodore responds, "With all due respect, there were 200 civilians on the science vessel that was destroyed including the entire legal team and their leader. That vessel was unarmed and was destroyed without warning. I understand things are different now from when I was your age but when I was coming up as a naval officer the motto was, A drop of our blood is equal to a gallon of theirs, especially when it came to civilians. I believe I showed restraint, only targeting military targets, and avoiding unnecessary killing where possible, and the shows of force targeted a single military target and two locations void of civilians. Policy forty years ago would''ve meant we would occupy the offending planet and entirely remove the enemy chain of command but I decided in the nature of good faith relations I chose to have us get our people, including you, and sitting behind the moon here until the relief fleet arrives. Due to the loss of the majority of the civilian effort I have taken full command of both diplomatic and military relations, effective immediately. This comes down from the president. I still respect your skill and capabilities so I ask that you return to my side and offer advice when needed. " Shariah frowns and responds, "Sir, what means are you pursuing forward." He smiles widely with a predatory grin and answers, "The best diplomacy the US Nacy has ever utilized, Gunboat Diplomacy..." Back to Commodore Hollander''s POV I rub my aching eyes as Shariah leaves the darkened briefing room with a curt salute. I take a long sip of the Marines''s homemade hooch and grimace at the taste of rot, but the burn going down tells me it''s strong. Beside me Major Mosoma of the USS Bullfrog sits, shrouded in the darkness of the room. I ask the white-haired man, "What''s your opinion on local enemy forces? Do you think the Marines can help secure us better bargaining positions?" He thinks for a moment and responds, "I think we can secure any single objective on the planet without issue sir, but we don''t have enough dogs to hold the entire world. Ask us to take a city, a castle, or even capture an enemy leader, but don''t request we hold. We are marines, we are shock troops, we arrive quickly and with incomprehensible violence. We may outclass our average foe, but their leadership does have some surprising capabilities. That attack the golden fuck shot at the dropship was more than capable of taking it down if thermal readings are to be believed, luckily it was rather short-ranged and moved below mach." I nod and say to no one, "So we''d have roasted devil-dog in that event?" He nods in the darkness and I sigh. I then order him, "Get all the marines ready, I''m not certain what our alien friends are going to do, but I doubt it will be peaceful. Most likely I''ll have an assassination team deployed, start piecing one together for me, and have them ready to deploy at a moment''s notice. I think the Inquisitor is going to be the problem, the Shipmaster that we spoke to before made no moves against us despite the enemy being fully aware of our presence in low orbit." I stand from my chair and try to ignore the dark spots in my vision. I checked the time and found it was time for me to cycle off rotation. I bid the marine a goodnight and head right to bed taking a few commercial-grade painkillers. Waking up later my head feels fine, just as expected. After all the migraines are caused by the sudden shift in perspective and information flow into my head. While there is a limit on how long someone can be completely plugged in like that, anytime within that window results in a migraine that can be slept off in only a few hours, just have to give yourself time to reset. A cup of coffee in hand I enter the bridge to find nothing amiss. I check the locations of local vessels in the system and only find that the smaller wooden ship has been moving. The orbit of the vessel changes by 100km every time it orbits the planet. I swear and quickly scold the sensory technician in charge, not harshly, but enough for them to understand. The ship is doing an optical search pattern. It is slowly changing orbital altitude so it can scan all space near the planet since it is clear they do not possess as sophisticated sensory suites as we do... if at all. I begin barking orders, "I want USS Terrapin and Snapper both to intercept with 100km to spare, I want all guns trained on that piece of shit. I want USS Hognose to have 4 tubes open at all time and to be on a close approach, but keep at least 1000km between it and the enemy. I want drones on that thing like stink on shit. Hopefully, they are here to talk, but if not, eradicate all of them." In my head, multiple voices affirm my orders and immediately the ships in question are maneuvering before burning away from the formation. I wait patiently as blips move on a screen in front of me. After a few moments, I get confirmation of proper intercepts being made. Three seconds later, USS Snapper confirms communication from the local vessel. The captain of USS Snapper connects the call to me. She says before dropping the call herself, "They''re here to talk. The vessel is supposedly unarmed, and it''s that inquisitor guy." I groan and connect to the call, and the haughty voice of the Inquisitor comes through, "Lord conquerer Commodore Hollander, I have come to negotiate." I dismissively reply, "Speak." I hear a huff before the golden creature speaks again, "My lord, the reason I have come is because I believe there to be a cultural misunderstanding on both of our parts." I say with sarcasm, "Oh, you don''t think? Explain in what way." I hear another annoyed huff before he explains, "Disregarding the actions leading up to the current situation, it is clear your people have very different rules when they conquer a planet." I ask carefully, while being surprised at this revelation, "Conquer? We have done no such thing." There is a long pause before the inquisitor continues, This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there. "You have effectively removed all military presence on the world below. Would your kind not consider that conquered?" I am stunned for a moment before I quickly answer, "No, we have no boots on the ground, and I was also unaware of the total lack of military presence on the planet. We had assumed you would have many more garrisons across the wide world." There is once more a pause, and then the Inquisitor explains, "We defend our capitals of worlds, the rest are expected to defend themselves as there is rarely a reason to attack those outlying villages and towns except on maybe the most central of worlds to the royal capitol." I sigh and explain, "We as humans, across the board regardless of creed or nationality, tend to be quite... stingy when it comes to our worlds, and we would fully commit a defense of a planet under our rule even if it''s a barren rock. For your context, what happened below was what we consider a major political incident of course, but we also do not consider it outright conquest or war. It definitely was something that can lead to war of course. We call this action a proportional response." I hear the alien man laugh, and he responds, "You killed thousands in response to the loss of a civilian vessel? Your... Ambassador explained there were less than 200 on the ship! " I cough and flatly state, "We''ve turned worlds to uninhabitable wastelands for less." His laughing stops, and he questions carefully, "Why not this time?" I give him the only answer I can, "Because we wish to pursue friendly relations with the first non-human political entity." This causes a bout of very dry laughter, and he responds, "And how do you plan to be friendly with us after such an exchange of violence?" I quickly respond, "Friendly to us. That''s all that matters. Due to your actions, we have begun a new avenue of diplomacy with you and your kingdom. It is called Gunboat diplomacy. This is a method of doing political negotiations while having a superior military force in order to force someone to actually come to the negotiation table. Do not misunderstand we do not wish to subjugate your people or yourself, nor do we wish to force unreasonable demands. We want proper relations with you and yours, but it has been decided for now to negotiate with a sword in our hand rather than an olive branch." I hope the last part is translated with a similar word or phrase that the Inquisitor would have cultural context for. There is a long pause before he asks, "So... what are your current requests as we are now... negotiating." I smile to myself and give him a few requests, "None of these requests are being made without some form of cultural or situational context, and I will also will be giving these demands as transactions with a proper reimbursement for anything we take. First is the simplest, an end to all hostilities between our people. That is all on that front, I do not want violence. Second, we wish for full rights to mining and harvesting the asteroids in the belt outside of the 3rd planet in this system. This is in order to develop proper infrastructure for our continued operations and friendly relations with your people. Lastly, this is the only demand, but we wish to be exempt from all trade taxes and tariffs. This one can be negotiated, but we may wish to acquire materials from the planet below for research purposes as we will no longer be sending any civilians planetside even if hostilities have been ceased." The Inquisitor ponders this for a long moment before he responds, "Before I give my answer, I must ask if I am a free man or if this is done holding me captive as a negotiating chip?" I respond quickly, "You are free to go as you please; thank our republican tradition(as in republic, not the party) for this mercy as we no longer utilize prisoners as bargaining chips for political matters." He seemingly formulates a response for a moment before eloquently stating, "I, Lord High Inquisitor of the glorious royal faith, his majesty, above all else, Flavian Ontos, humbly accept the mercy granted by your... republican tradition... and with my authority grant all your requests." I thank him, and before the call disconnects, he suddenly says quite angrily, "We will meet again, Commodore, but first, I will report to his Majesty." Then the call cuts. I immediately start laughing to myself at the circus that those negotiations were and at the last statement. Little does he know, the relief fleet is incoming in about 2 weeks. 4 Months prior, the planet of Yggdrysil "Leftside flankers incoming, give em hell, boys." The squad of screaming insurgents come rushing out of a patch of trees before a spray of gunfire rips them to bits. Their bright red uniforms become stained dark by the gore produced by the dozens of .338 caliber rifle rounds slamming into their bodies. The group of army soldiers then moves together and returns to formation with bounding leaps. The planet of Yggdrysil was once under the control of the Confederacy of European Peoples, but during the last war, it had been handed over to the USA during the peace talks. Unfortunately, in recent months, a violent communist uprising had begun due to a mixture of extreme nationalism and foreign meddling. The insurgents are not the freedom fighter type, instead, they are the kill, torture, and pillage everyone else that isn''t with them on the planet, civilians and military alike. This has resulted in a situation of total chaos forming, and military intervention had to be done. Luckily, the planet is still considered a territory due to its new status as part of the USA, meaning the Army and Navy could be deployed to help solve the situation. The army, composed of the men and women of the USA who aren''t modified from their state prior to them joining, forms the main backbone of all terrestrial military action. They utilize lightweight powered armor that is nothing compared to the armored hulks the Marines wear, but it reduces recoil to nothing, makes them no longer feel any combat load they wear, and allows them to sprint at a maximum of 30mph but hold a prolonged speed of 20mph. This allows them to keep good speed when marching alongside the armored forces that compose the central spine of all military operations. The ten soldiers reach the main column that is spearheaded by a massive 300-ton behemoth of a tank that flattens everything in its path, creating a trail of compacted earth as it is followed by the much longer column of IFVs, regular MBT tanks, and logistic vehicles. The great vehicle known as the M13A3 Kansas class Superheavy Terrestrial Supreamacy vehicle, a wall of armor and guns powered by a small fusion reactor allowing it to utilize Navy-grade defensive lasers and other forms of electronic warfare systems, grants the entire formation of vehicles and infantry defense from missiles and drones. As it rumbles along the marching infantrymen jump onto the back and take seats as it continues toward the mountain base that the insurgents have been using, remaining safe due to the navy being not allowed to smoke it from orbit, until now. Lieutenant Colonel Malakai Hollander removes his helmet against standard protocol and inspects the Galea shaped object and fluffs the dark brown plume running along its length, a sign of his rank as the CO of this entire formation. He puts the protective device back on, and with a slight hiss, it seals up once more. He inspects his M8A6 rifle, the large .338 ETC gun feels comedically light in his hands thanks to his powered suit, internally he grumbles about the new armor and how it makes the new soldiers not respect the large piece of death dealing equipment in their hands. The behemoth he is riding on suddenly stops and over comms, the tank commander states, "Sir, we are in range and position. The drones are picking up a huge formation of insurgents on their way here. " With a laugh, Malakai leaps to his feet and climbs onto the large turret of the vehicle. He looks forward at the mountain ahead as mortar shells begin landing around the formation. Most likely coming from hidden tunnels nearby. With a single wave of his hand, the rest of the armored vehicles fan out and line up next to the titanic Kansas tank. In the distance, he can hear the sound of the screaming communists on their way. Swallowing his plug of chewing tobacco, he then starts giving orders, "All forces dismount and prepare to attack. We are gonna let our hot and heavies soften ''em up before we move and and squish ''em. This big tub of lard I''m standing on is gonna put a really big hole in the mountain for us, and after that, we will make sure there isn''t anything left alive in there." These orders are replied to by various hoots and hollers, then the normal-sized MBTs begin firing their 5-inch cannons. The airbursting rounds sail through the trees in front of them, expertly fired to avoid the massive trees that the planet gets its name from. Utilizing the drones to designate range, the shells detonate 2 meters above the charging insurgents at the optimal time to cause the most casualties. The Kansas tank fires a battery of a 20-barrel 50 mm mortar system(see iron storm mortar system), causing more damage to the rushing men. All this is done over 2 miles away. The slaughter continues in this way as the drones above are finally able to utilize ground-penetrating radar to find the main chambers of the mountain base. With that done, the order is given, and the great 7-inch railgun of the Kansas tank tracks to the optimal firing angle and arc. Lightning arcs and small metal objects levitate nearby as the railgun prepares to fire. There is a tunderous crack as the massive slug is let free, then another and another as the 6-shot cylinder feeding the large gun is drained. Once all six are fired, the distant reverberating sounds of massive explosions fill the air as the autoloader feeds more shots into the cylinder. Following the blasts is the sound of a massive landslide as the side of the mountain crumbles. The insurgent mortars are silenced by counter-battery fire from the Kansas tanks'' 50mm mortars. Watching the feed showing the slaughter and deciding the enemy force has been decimated enough, he gives the order, "Tanks! Forward!" The big vehicles continue crawling forward through the trees, followed close by the IFVs and behind them the dismounted infantry. The fire from their cannons continues, and as they get close, the roof-mounted autocannons begin barking with their drumroll beat. The massive tank fires its railgun once more, which it will continue to do until the friendly forces make it to the mountain. As the advance continues, the infantry don''t get a chance to fire their rifles as the machine guns, autocannons, and main guns of the armored vehicles make short work of the unsupported insurgents, causing a rout, and the horde of red-clad insurgents begin running away. Being terrorists, they are not spared as they are fired upon as they run away. Lt.Colonel Hollander sits on the massive vehicle, enjoying the feel of recoil every time a huge shell is sent into the mountain before him. A smile creeps across his face, hidden by the matte and one-way opaque glass of his helmet. As the tanks and IFVs begin engaging the remaining defensive positions at the foot of the mountain, the following infantry begin clearing the tunnels scattered through the woods, not sending anyone in. Instead, they fill them with fire from flamethrowers and then seal the tunnel exit, letting the smoke and toxic gasses finish off the insurgents inside if the heat didn''t get them. When an airvent is found due to billowing smoke, the same thing happens, making sure there is no place for refuge. Eventually, the tanks and other vehicles have to stop at the foot of the mountain as terrain becomes impossible thanks to the shelling from the Kansas. It stops its own bombardment, and the infantry moves forward. Breaching teams and flame teams move forward and begin exterminating the insurgents still left alive inside the shattered mountainside. Proud of his boys Lt.Colonel Hollander begins to take his helmet off to put another lip in but is stopped by a message. He answers the call and cusses, then laughs, and ends with a report that the insurgents have been eradicated... Later that night, once the battalion returns to their transport ship, Lt.Colonel Hollander addresses his men, "Good news fuckboys and whores. We have a new duty. My beloved older brother has gotten into some slight trouble with some aliens! Apparently those fancy jarheads ain''t enough. We will be joined by the 46th engineers and the 8th artillery. Looks like they need some muscle and that''s gonna be us! Pack your bags because we are going on a trip!" Operation Firestorm: High High He in The Field Artillery! I sit in the observation deck once more, staring at the darkening edge of an alien moon. The scarred exterior forms a sort of beautiful abstract art. Due to orbital positioning, the blue orb that is a vibrant and beautiful alien world cannot be seen from behind the pale gray and black of the moon. I can relax like this because there are no threats in the system. We deployed drones and probes in strategic spots all throughout the system and found not a single alien vessel, military or otherwise. They simply blinked out of the system after my discussion with the inquisitor ended. It has been a couple of weeks since the "fight," so we checked on the civilians below to see if they are being starved since the ships have stopped coming, but it appears the world below is quite self-sufficient. We also found that the capital is the only fortified settlement, with the rest of the world''s settlements being villages right out of fantasy novels and movies. The estimated population of the world is measured as under 2 million in total. This has led to the theory that this planet is still a colony or frontier. I finish with my stargazing and head to the bridge, adjusting my dress-uniform''s trifold hat. The relief fleet is arriving sometime today or sometime within the 24-hour period since days are kinda hard to determine in space. I make sure the entire bridge crew is in their best blues for this. I am already embarrassed that I need relief; I don''t want to be found for lack of discipline, even if I don''t run the strictest of ships when there are no military threats. Thus begins the worst part of military service, waiting around for something to happen. Luckily, I''m not waiting to see if a tungsten slug is on its way to vaporize me this time, but this is close. My leg bounces as I sit in my chair, so I stand, but I''m doing a little jig as I do. I hate anticipation... Hours later, we get a report from one of the probes that there is a gravity disruption matching the profile of an event horizon being opened and quickly expanded. Then, in a sudden moment, there are reports of multiple large vessels entering the system about 30 light minutes away, then disappearing again, leaving a trail of collapsing warped space that only shows through the interaction of spacedust and how it forms a spiral pattern when it is disrupted in this way. 30 Minutes later, a fleet composed of not many but massive ships appears from nowhere. All sensors are filled with static for a moment as the effects of warped space send an echo out of nowhere. I immediately open the channel and greet the newcomers, "Welcome all to alien space. Today''s weather is nice, and there are currently no threats! I hope we can be gracious hosts!" A female voice replies, and it makes my blood run cold, "Good afternoon, Commodore Hollander. I am Commodore Aria Le''blanc, but we already know one another." I laugh and respond, "Ah, Commodore Le''blanc, welcome. Glad to have you around again." She responds, "I''m sure you are, but we are not in a state for personal conversations right now. You are still operational command; tell us where to park." Without words, I send information about our formation and tell them where they can sit in orbit so as not to crash. I am then hit with another comms request. I answer and a gruff voice asks, "Sir, this is the captain of the USS Schokolate. We were wondering if we are allowed to begin our task?" I respond, "What task is that?" He responds, "I am the head of the merchant marine infrastructure crew hired to come along and build some space infrastructure for ya. Also, tell us what we can and can''t touch and where to put things." I respond, "The asteroid belt is all ours, no issue there. I think the moons of the nearby gas giant are fair game, too, but I don''t care either way. I''ll leave the location up to you, but I will say these guys might be hostile, so put it somewhere a little bit far from the inhabited planet." He acknowledges, "Sir, yes, Sir! We are on our way!" The four 5 km long freigher/construction ships peel away from the formation before disappearing in a spiral of displaced dust. That''s nice to hear. They will just do their job without much direction. I now have to turn my attention to the remaining five ships, three of which are gargantuan army transports, each one over 3 KM long, containing what is best described as a military base in space with all the facilities the army could ever need. I feel my heart rate increase with joy when I see a yellow shield with a horse''s head on it painted on the side of one of the army ships. The "Patton" Class Army transport vessels are huge ships built off the designs of bulk freighters. At 3 km in length and a max width of 250 Meters, they are gargantuan hulks. They have an odd shape too which makes them almost pear shaped with a really wide "butt" that contains a large indoor track and field-like area for PT and other fun army activities. The rest of the vessel is nothing but cargo containing all their vehicles and other supplies as all the barracks are lined across the walls of the ass-end track and field. As for external armament, they are nothing special, utilizing nothing but CWIS batteries, a few dozen 5-inch guns, and many short-range defensive missile tubes. Their most striking ability is that fairly large portions of the ship can "break" off, but they are really massive landing craft meant to ferry troops and equipment onto a planet. It is impressive how seamlessly those dropships are docked into the large frame, considering you can''t tell they''re there unless you already know how the ships are designed. The last 2 ships are a newer design of battleship designated as the New Mexico Class light or fast battleship depending on which naval training facility you were trained on, both words can be used interchangeably. Despite being called fast or light, that doesn''t mean they are small- quick maybe, but not small, petite things at a gargantuan 1.5 km long. They are quite skinny, though as technology has progressed, it has allowed for all internals to be shrunk considerably. The hull is triangular bayonet-shaped, with 3 edges ending in what looks to be a very sharp point on the end. The design is not necessarily for stealth as a 1.5 km ship, regardless of size, sticks out like a sore thumb based on its thermal output just from moving alone. The shape is especially not for ramming because that''s a desperate last-ditch effort. The reason is entirely for the angling of armor, and due to the shape, there are very few angles from which you can fire upon it and face a 90-degree bit of armor. Due to modern technologies these ships also run on skeleton crews without marine compliments, the huge ship only having 35 crew with room for an extra 20 auxullaries, the rest of the ship is dedicated to weapons, ammo, cooling, and power systems, not to mention the multiple meters of composite armor composed of tungsten, uranium, some fancy alloys, some osmium, and a form of carbon mesh. Despite all this armor and other survivability features, the ship is still built around fairly speedy maneuvers for its size, as the survivability onion doubly applies when battleships fight, considering the firepower being unleashed. As for weapons, these ships are definitely not lacking. They are considered "fencer" vessels or battleship hunters. While they can work in standard battleship roles as direct heavy fire support and in fleets as heavy elements, they are generally meant to work alone or in pairs, hunting down large enemy targets, usually being enemy battleships or defensive stations. High speeds and maneuverability grant them tactical advantages over the other normally lumbering brutes of the void, so they show up, unleash apocalyptic firepower, and then run away before an enemy fleet can pop in and support their vaporized behmoth. Their other role is to duel with enemy battleships or other large vessels in crazy displays of firepower and speed, keeping the heavy hitters away from more squishy vessels in a formation. I guess my description of large alien vessels meant the navy decided to send us some extra punching power just in case these large ships require a more heavy-handed approach. Each ship is armed with 12 16-inch triple-mounted realatavistic railguns. Despite the vessels being large enough to mount more standard 16-inch weapons, the internals of each turret include a circular track for each shell to be put through to increase the velocity to these extreme speeds. Although each relative shot takes 10 seconds to charge, the charge can be held due to the shells being in a vacuum while being magnetically levitated on their track, meaning very little loss in energy for prolonged times. The weapons can also be fired in a standard manner for a maximum velocity of .02 C, which can be fired at nearly 50RPM. Due to the large power draw of these weapons, there is little room for secondary railgun batteries so the rest of the area of the ship is filled with hundreds, of nuclear-tipped missiles ranging from devastating 10 MT area of effect ones, to smaller 1MT cassaba howitzers for those targets that really don''t want to die. There are of course, hundreds of conventional explosive missiles, too, for things that require less collateral damage. Any space after this is filled with CWIS batteries composed of the standard many-barreled and gunned 25mm arrays, defensive missiles, 50mm autocannons, and short-range defensive lasers. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. Overall, these ships are definitely overkill based on what we know of the Eternal Kingdom as of now, but you never know, so something like this may be needed for some reason. The two ships sent are the USS Pueblo and the USS Navajo. This screws up my fleets naming convention, but I can''t complain about having their extra firepower around. I walk into the HQ room of the lead army transport to find a person I can''t stand being with and a person I can''t stand being without. My younger brother of 10 years stands up with a big smile on his face and we half-run toward one another and share a big bear hug. Shariah squeaks in suprise after she bumps into my back only for Malakai to reach his arms further and grab ahold of her as well, joining her in the brotherly hug for no reason. He looks behind him and says, " Le''Blanc, get over here and join in!" The white haired woman replies, "I''ll pass, I''d rather not." He shrugs, and we eventually let go. I apologize to Shariah. Malakai says to her, "Sorry, Diplo-Colonel, I just got overwhelmed by seeing Barnabas and thought you wanted to join in." She waves it off, and we all head to the table while I quietly scold the 54-year-old man trapped in a 20-year-old''s body. I sit at the table and ask, "Alright, where do you want to start?" Commodore Le''Blanc starts by saying, "Well, as much as it pains me, I''ve been tasked by naval high command to give you this." Her dainty hands pass me a letter, and I notice a golden band on her left hand. I say, "Congrats." She nods and quietly says, "This time, he isn''t actually double my age." I snigger and open the letter, and my eyes go wide as I look at the contents. Commodore Le''Blanc then says unenthusiastically, "Congratulations, Rear Admiral Hollander." I am surprised and elated that I am finally considered an admiral. She then scoots a box across the floor to me, and I open it to find the accompanying uniform modifications to show my rank. I immediately change out my commodore insignias for the single silver stars showing my rank, I''ll do the rest later. With that done, I continue, "I''ll take that as the Navy saying I am still in charge of this operation. So here is the deal: the aliens engaged us by destroying a civilian vessel and capturing our science boys. We responded properly and rescued all those captured. There are apparently no enemy forces left in the system, so it is considered safe for now. Since I want a mustering area, this system is good enough for now. I designated 2 fallback points, one being the outer part of this system near a gas giant, where I told the builder boys to build whatever they are tasked with building. I also have designated a final point in the system nearest, which is a single gas giant system. If they follow us there and they are putting on pressure, I''ll call off the entire operation, and we will most likely come back with an actual invasion fleet, or we decide to just ignore them for a while. Any questions?" There is silence for a while before the other naval officer, Captain Lock, states, "I have none, sir. just tell me what needs a really big hole." I nod and then say, "If there are no questions, then I''ll dismiss y''all. I do want to inspect and see what I''m working with, so I''ll be around. Mostly the Army stuff because there''s still that glitch in the integration systems that just tells me AFV and troop numbers. " I shake my head with a sigh as all the officers begin to leave, aside from my brother and Shariah. As the door closes behind us Shariah asks, "So... what''s between you and the commodore, admiral?" I sigh, and Malakai chuckles. I respond, "Not right now." Malakai, in all his younger brother dickheadedness, tells her, "They were a thing for a while, and our lovely Barnabas here neglected to tell her he was older than her father." I immediately grab the Lt.Colonel, put him in a one armed headlock and through gritted teeth say, "Does someone need to remind you who is big brother again you little shit?" He punches me in the side, and I involuntarily jerk away, letting him go with a yelp of pain. He responds, "Do I need to remind you who actually works for his living, Gayvy boy?" (Pronounced Gay-Vee) Before we can continue, I take a long breath and hold my hands up and say to Shariah, "Yes, we sorta had an on-off sort of thing during a Naval campaign until she found out I am quite old. That was enough of a turnoff, and she is quite mad. In my defense, I forget that I am this old, especially since she looks older than me." Shariah just shakes her head in disappointment before asking, "Can we just go take inventory of what the Army brought?" I nod, and our merry band heads to the massive transportation bays that double as a motor pool and mechanic. As we move through the big open field inside the massive ship a group of soldiers come jogging by for PT as a Sargeant bellows a running cadence. I watch the faces of the men and women run past, they can''t help but rubberneck at the Navy man standing there in their PT area. They pass, and we continue into the transport bay. We approach a group of mechanics who are reading technical manuals and inspecting what appears to be a brand-new vehicle. Calling it a vehicle seems incorrect, as I''ve seen 2 story houses much smaller than this thing. I approach the men, and upon seeing me and their Lt.Colonel, they stand and salute, one smacking his head on an overhanging piece of armor. Malakai gives them the "as they were" order and I ask the NCO of the group, "Tell me, sarge, what''s this beauty you have here called?" He smiles and responds, "This is the M25A1 ''Shoggoth'' super heavy terrestrial supremacy vehicle. It''s a nearly 500-ton behemoth of armor and guns. It comes with armor measured in meters and a nuclear powerplant in the center, giving it some great power features. It has 4 point defense lasers to stop incoming munitions, 4 25mm autocannons mounted in unmanned turrets, an 8-inch railgun that doesn''t arc lightning anymore when firing, and multiple many-barreled 50mm mortar systems. It''s beautiful Co- I mean Rear Admiral, it''s absolutely beautiful." I nod, and Malakai begins grumbling, "It''s got too much fancy tech on it, probably useless in the field. The lightning from the Kansas wasn''t even that bad; no one got hurt, plus it built character..." He continues on his old man rant for a while as I am handed the technical manual and go over some of the specs. I find them quite good despite Malakai''s grumbling. Despite being the older man, I am somehow far more open to tech changes, probably because I''m navy and half metal already. I finish my round by inspecting all of the vehicles. The rest are less interesting, mostly the standard "Stonewall" MBT tanks and IFV''s which have nothing new or cool about them aside from being tanks which by nature are cool as fuck. With that inspection done, I am confident the 12th mechanized calvalry is more than capable of handling anything the aliens have to offer. Back on the Catfish, I lounge in my room for a while, seemingly staring into nothing, but I am working hard on coordinating with the other Army groups sent, mostly for organization in the event a ground war is needed. I above all else do not want to be an occupying force here as I still beleive in the current mission to seek peaceful cooperation even when there have been some major screw ups, but there is nothing wrong with organizing for a terrible situation if it has to come. The problem is though that a diplomatic ship was supposed to arrive with this extra fleet as well as some freighters. I can''t seem to get a straight answer on that aspect; all I know is that they were part of the fleet and are safe, but no one will tell me where they are. Commodore Le''Blanc gave me the most information, and I quickly learned my brother had no idea what was going on with the ships. Le''Blanc hinted that someone really high up and secret gave them an extra set of orders, and when I asked why, all she was able to say was, "Glowies on board." That is not a good sign when spooks are around; that means something really shady is going on. While my mind is on this thought, Shariah enters my room unannounced once again. I turn on the lights for her as not to scare her again and rotate on my chair. I mentally note I''ll have to talk to her about intruding on my private quarters. I sigh and ask, "What''s up, Shariah?" She salutes, which immediately tells me something important is going on, so I salute her back, and she speaks almost like a robot, clearly reading a script, "Rear Admiral Hollander, as the representative of the US Armed Forces Diplomatic Corps, I have come to pass along orders from on high and by those who cannot be named at this time. You are to advance the USS Catfish and no more than two other vessels to the next inhabited system of the Eternal Kingdom. From there, we will be expected to interact with their local government and begin demands of retribution for our lost vessel as well as... there will be another ship joining us, and they will perform actions that are classified to either of us." I frown and respond, "I''ll do it, of course, but I want more context because this will result in war." She shuffles uncomfortably and says in a weak and almost scared voice, "The Eternal Kingdom has been declared a hostile non-peer nation. While not yet at war, our... intelligence agencies wish to begin preperations for conflict." I somehow frown deeper, not saying anything else as an image comes to mind. A still frame from the video taken from a marine''s helmet cam. A map of the observable galaxy made into a tapestry on one of the walls of the palace building. A gorgeous piece of work that belonged in a museum rather than being annihilated by breaching charges because the wall behind it was designated for destruction. The part that makes me remember is what looked to be the newest section, sewn only recently. The part of space that we came from had a vague image of one of us in a spacesuit. Then there were words nearby that once read, "Void of no intelligence and no light of divinity." But it had been sewn over with the image of some terrible beast. The new additions included more monsters added to our section of space and sewn in bright red, a warning, "Here Be Monsters..." And unfortunately for the Eternal Kingdom, now they are correct... Operation Firestorm: Spooks in the Closet At 0900 hours the next day, we meet with one of the large logistic ships promised. It spends the whole day resupplying everything from fresh food to luxury items. During this time, one of the shuttles left a few people behind on the USS Catfish. It''s a group of men, and only one of them shows his face, revealing that he is hauntingly handsome. He never shares his name, just wants us to refer to him as "Head Agent". The only job description I''ve been given is that he is our only contact to his team. He kept eye contact with me the entire time, even when talking with Shariah. This is because we personally know one another; I knew him when he was a normal human. These men are part of some black operations team, and I don''t know any of the team names. Shariah quickly picks up that these men are not a political espionage team; these men are going to go planetside to try and destabilize the Eternal Kingdom in any way they can. I don''t know what they understood from the limited information we could send back home, but they seemed confident they could easily do this task. I will leave them to it, and I made sure they knew in this situation their salvation from me would come in the form of multiple megatons dropped on their positions. The Head agent only smiled and let me know that''s what he was going to tell me to do anyway. While I do not know their exact team name, which means I don''t know their standard mission parameters, I am fully aware that the ones still covering their faces are most likely nearly inhuman in visage. Marines, as inhuman as they are after all their augments, can still be identified as human with a single glance. Special forces or the intelligence agency''s black operations groups usually look completely unrecognizable as humans in some cases. While it is entirely voluntary, their lives are impossible to return to afterward, but until the information we learned recently, a ripe age of 50 is quite normal to pass away at, so there really isn''t retirement. All special operations guys and gals are perfectly designed to work in their intended role. SEALS, for the navy as an example, have their internals reworked to be like deep ocean cetaceans from Earth''s oceans. Externally, they have extra thick insulating skin, black eyes that can see in near-perfect darkness with little difficulty, some kind of biological sonar, and in one batch, they literally had gills. These black ops guys most likely look like vampires or something, but considering they want to run a guerilla recruitment campaign, I assume their looks aren''t that important. I bet they have all kinds of internal mods, making them very good at their jobs. I do my best to ignore the monsters around me as I explain how this deployment will be done. Rather than bring the Catfish, the three ships sent to the next inhabited system will be the 2 heavy cruisers and 1 of the battleships. The aliens respect size and power, so why not show them real power? In less than a single day, the 3 ships popped into the next inhabited system after 3 were found uninhabited. This next system is quite a bit different than the one we have interacted in so far. This one is loaded with ships. There are dozens of different sizes from the smallest 250-meter-long wooden vessels to 5-kilometer-long ships like that of the Shipmasters. Our sensors pick up 30 total ships in this system, and if past information is to be believed this is a sizeable fleet for the Eternal Kingdom and very clearly one set to attack our newly... occupied system. It also seems we surprised them quite badly as well because our optics began tracking hundreds of individuals scrambling all around the top decks of their ships like aquatic vessels from back in the day. There are no shots fired but I can only imagine the chain of command nightmare going on right now especially if their main commander is asleep somewhere or otherwise busy. A large enemy vessel popping in without warning always results in chaos, I just hope no one gets too gung-ho... Agonizing minutes pass as I have all weapons come online and have targeting solutions made for each target hopefully set to cover our retreat in hellfire. Luckily a stream of mana radiation reaches the battleship I am on and we link up with the alien message, "Good evening unknown human vessels... what can we do for you?" It''s the distinct booming voice of the Shipmaster, but it''s clearly filled with apprehension as he probably knows these three ships can do a lot of damage to the assembled fleet. I give him an impossibly painful pause of silence as I am given notification that the spooks have deployed from the USS Terrapin. No enemy ship notices the two tiny ships as they zip around the moon of the planet below and hide in its shadow. It is smart to wait until the ships before us disperse so they can find a window to head down to the planet to do whatever it is they are going to do. This whole secret black operation makes no sense to me because these are aliens, not humans, so how the hell can our guys recruit partisans or otherwise create sympathetic combatants within their society? I''m sure it will work out, especially since they all probably don''t exist officially so when they die for whatever reason, no one will ever know or truly care. Kind of a sad thought if you ask me. I then respond to the Shipmaster, "Good evening Shipmaster, this is the Commodore, or I guess I am now a Rear Admiral. We have come to try and make peaceful coexistence a reality between our two people as we appear to have started off... rather unfortunately. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author. Are you available to make any diplomatic decisions or is there anyone available to make these decisions on behalf of the Eternal Kingdom?" There is a pause for a while and then the Shipmaster responds with a tone of voice I know all too well. The tone of voice junior officer use with their men after the higher brass has given what is generally referred to as "a dumb fucking order that''s going to get us all killed." He seemingly parrots, "Well... I apologize Rear Admiral... There is nothing you or I can do at this time. I understand you may not know the full inner workings of our society but the Inquisitor you injured... well he just so happened to be the 30th prince of the King himself, so this means at the very least we are supposed to perform a retaliatory strike in retribution before any diplomacy can be done... or so I have been told we haven''t needed to do something like this in over six-thousand years." Before I can respond with disappointment he asks nervously, "So... That longer ship you have... is it stronger than your others?" I quickly respond, "Many times stronger. If conflict is what your kingdom requires then the United States shall respond in kind. We will be waiting." I check my notes on what I was told to do for this diplomatic pony show and feel satisfied I''ve done all I set out to do as the only note reads, "Either delay any military response or piss them off." I have the three ships sit in place for a moment, giving the Shipmaster enough time to crap himself before he asks meekly, "Can we... I mean can we just recapture the system you took? It would most likely sate the rage of his Majesty." I think about it for a moment before looking back at my note and saying, "No. We are using that solar system as a staging ground and more reinforcements are on the way." Now I break the communication line and send a text note to the Black Ops guys wishing them luck as all three of our capital ships turn around and zip out of the system back to the safety of our staging area... POV Change, Black Opos Field Officer "Dracula" The Rear Admiral did his job wonderfully. He distracted the enemy long enough for me and my men to get into a safe position behind the moon. The two ships are cramped with all the extra supplies we have brought with us but they are needed so that we can survive in this hostile part of the galaxy. Our mission may seem stupid to most, attempting to create partisans out of an alien population but that''s the kicker, we won''t be the ones speaking with them. Part of our supplies are two small mobile manufactories utilizing the highest end of miniaturized self-replicating manufacturing. The only downside is how slow they are compared to the bigger ones. Using these devices we will create synthetic replicas of the locals and from there at first attempt to sow chaos, but if just creating inside people isn''t enough we will then begin running a terror campaign with them as a destabilization event. During our long journey here, we trained with these replicas and found them naturally lifelike in how they talk and act, but they still feel strange to the touch. The fake flesh is quite spongy, and if you press hard enough, the lightweight composite skeletons just feel wrong. It''s not perfect but we don''t plan on replacing people, but instead act as separate individuals to avoid any nosy wives or family members. This operation will take months or years, but I feel we can disperse enough replicas to really get the ball rolling... Three days after we hid behind the moon we got our first openings in the patrols of the enemy vessels. Our two ships depart rarely burning, mostly coasting through the void. From intelligence gained through the Rear Admirals operations against the aliens we know their only way of detecting our ships is visual, so these two tiny shuttles will be difficult to see, regardless we take no chances by hitting gaps in their orbital patrols. Each ship heads to a different part of the planet, mine heads to a more secluded part focusing on the rural villages while the other ship focuses on the outlying settlements near the planetary capital, which we assume is the only major city on the planet considering what the Inquisitor told the Rear-Admiral. We slip into the atmosphere perfectly, avoiding as much of a trail as possible by breaking hard before even hitting the upper part. There still is a trail, but at least it''s not a brilliant light that fills the sky, just a high-altitude trail for a few seconds, a very normal shooting star. My ship puts down in a secluded forest clearing and immediately we get to work in the darkness of the night, our modified eyes making it bright as day for us. Hours later we have a small tunnel dug to work as our home for the entire time we are planetside. Using special foam designed for radiation shielding we line the hole giving us a small pocket where EVA suits are not required, especially after setting up the intricate air system that both recycles the air we breathe as well as slowly filtering and storing radiation-free air. The only real issue is food, but we were designed for a long-term lack of nutrition, it will take ten weeks before we have a new supply of food, thanks to a small hydroponic farm that was sent with us. Using nearby foliage we hide the ship and the manufactory and begin scouting. We first focus on a small village nearest to us. It''s a small agrarian community we gage to have limited access to metal of any kind. After days of observation, we have a detailed idea of what species make up the population of the village and find there are no mages there. We pick a species that appears to be quite populous and begin the process of making a replica. Based on observations we create what we believe to be a very attractive female of a fuzzy bear-like creature. The bots get to work and burrow into the ground and with a hissing sound begin tearing the dirt and stone into their molecules. Using these molecules slowly a replicant is built as the bots self-replicate and expand their network of tunnels, following chemical trails in the stone below in order to snake toward deposits of specific minerals. Because of the research done by the science team, our bots are able to utilize the matter found only in this part of the galaxy which makes our replicant highly radioactive, but apparently appears normal to the aliens as they can sense the radiation or whatever. It takes a week, but the replicant is created. We loaded it with all the local dialects we managed to pick up through observation and clothe it. Proud of our new "daughter" we send her out to start the most effective operation we know of to this day, our replicant heads out and begins honeypotting all the young men, the best way to create an army of extremists... Operation Firestorm: Shattered Silence It has been a few months since our last little chat with the people of the Eternal Kingdom, and everything has been quiet; even from the spooks we dropped off, there hasn''t been a word. The biggest thing to happen is that the construction crews created a refueling station next to the gas giant within the system. Lucky for us, the spinning ball of gas is largely composed of elemental hydrogen, meaning very little refining or work is needed to feed our fusion reactors. I guess calling it just a refueling station is incorrect, as it is a ring of metal and composite surrounding one of the smallest moons orbiting the gas giant. This station also contains ammo manufactories and other production facilities with drone ships dedicated to feeding it materials harvested from the other moons, nearby asteroids, and the upper atmosphere of the gas giant. It also contains within it multiple farming facilities growing fruits, vegetables, and large aquaculture facilities, letting us have nice seafood dinners in a few months. All of the scientists were transferred to this facility, and apparently the ships that held back a system away dropped off extra diplomatic and scientific personnel. Supposedly, everything is nice and new there, but I haven''t found time to go and visit. The construction vessels also left this system to the fallback one that has been renamed The Fantastico system, because of our alien friends being rather fantastical. I have yet to be told exactly what''s being built there to my great frustration, but based on it requiring two extra construction vessels that put a ring around a moon, no matter how small it is, means it is an absolute gigastructure. Most likely being a Dyson plate and something for the Dyson construct to power or interact with. It also grants us a better foothold in this part of space, too. I am doing my normal rounds in the bridge of the Catfish when a sensor officer gets my attention, notifying me, "Sir! We have dozens of contacts. They just popped into the system, definitely Eternal Kingdom ships due to the burst of radiation we picked up." I purse my lips and order, "All hands to battle stations. I want everyone ready to rock." With a single thought, the order is sent to the entire fleet, and a warning alarm sounds throughout the Catfish, warning everyone to get inside an EVA suit just in case we have to vent atmosphere for combat. I slip into my suit and stand above my workstation, watching the preparations for possible combat. I order multiple observation drones to be deployed along the path the alien ships are travelling, and the recon probes that warned us of this appearance spin their cameras onto the incoming vessels, which reveals them to absolutely not be a peaceful fleet. Dozens of the huge masonry ships, lined with hundreds of those beam weapons and supporting them, are an equal if not greater number of those wooden-looking vessels. They move in a battle-line formation towards their planet. I assume this is just a show of power, them letting us know that this planet belongs to them, since it does, as we haven''t annexed it. This was expected, but we also won''t let them drive us off unless they give a good reason. I watch as the ships form a ring around the planet at the equator as equally spaced as they can be, and just hold that orbit. To me, it looks like a defensive ring, so I guess I was correct in my assumption. So it is a waiting game to see what they say and.... All of the Eternal Kingdom ships commit a full broadside against the planet. Brilliant beams of light streak through the atmosphere and set fire to the world below. Forests begin to cook and small bodies of water boil off as the intense beams devastate the world below. The ships continue this bombardment of their own world for over an hour as it is noted that the capital city is entirely spared by the relentless terror from the skies. I stare in horror as scenes from my life long ago pass before me. Orbital devastation of a biosphere, something I am very familiar with, but their technique is quite poor. Their weapons are beams, and while they can produce an impressive force of energy, they are not very good for orbital bombardment. If I were them I would utilize parts of the big stone ships or a nearby asteroid to slam into the planet, as this is just inefficient, especially as I can tell the shots are just random sweeping beams, very locally destructive but not planetary at all unless they keep this up for a few years. I shake my head and flush that train of thought. Now is not the time to critique and improve upon their methods of planetary slaughter. I order multiple observation drones to be deployed into the planet''s atmosphere at locations of interest to see what is going on. In the minutes that feel like hours, the bombardment continues with no change. Everyone on the bridge is staring with their mouths agape in horror, and I stand with a stoic expression. I send a binary message to command asking what should be done, but we have hours of waiting before the message can be received by someone who is actually important enough to make this decision. The drones arrive and find multiple population centers, which can be best described as large villages that have been eradicated by sweeping beams. Movement is spotted within, but it''s mostly shell-shocked civilians digging through rubble for their loved ones. The capital is left alone for the most part, but most surrounding villages are swept by the brilliant beams of light. Many villages are spared by what appears to be an accuracy issue, probably something to do with how the atmosphere interacts with their targeting systems or the very nature of the beams themselves. I try to rack my brain for any reason they would do this. It''s entirely illogical to happen. If they wanted their world back, they could just ask we don''t want it. The wooden-looking ships begin moving into the atmosphere of the planet and move toward the ground as the bigger ships stop glassing the world below. The huge wooden vessels land and streams of men wearing armor and carrying hearaldry banners come pouring out of these ships and move toward various villages and the main city itself. For only a moment, I hold the hope that they will realize their mistake and see that we aren''t occupying the planet, but this thought vanishes as soon as the first civilian approaches the rushing knights and they are cleaved in half without mercy. In all my years, I have seen many cases of soldiers going a little berserk after notably terrible battles and taking out all their trauma on civilian populations, and I''ve seen just rampant looting due to poor leadership on the ground. In all of these cases, be they friend or foe, someone''s head rolled for it, and it was an unorganized mob. What happens on my screen is what I''d call cruelty perfected. Their rush toward the cities while mad and chaotic also has some clear deliberation behind it. They move in squads and separate down side streets in measured groups. Men are unceremoniously killed or brutalized, the women are treated as I expected them to be, but at least the Eternal Kingdom warriors are decent enough to take them inside, unlike some scenarios I''ve read on human behaviors before. People are tortured, executed via impalement and burning, and everything evil that is written about the medieval era of mankind all happens to the entire populace of the world below. In my head, I don''t know if I should consider this a genocide due to the multi-species nature of the planet below. It''s a horrific crime and brutalization and has the clear intention of removing an entire population, which is illegal in human space. The problem is the Eternal Kingdom is not signed on any document that would legally give me justification to intervene, but if it''s genocide, then I am allowed to do what is needed based on my vows as a member of the US military. I then notice something horrifying about myself in this situation, why I haven''t done a knee-jerk reaction to get involved. I find I don''t really care, and it''s an odd feeling. I am horrified by the brutality below, absolutely, but somehow my mind doesn''t see what is happening on the planet as bad as it could be, as if it were humans being butchered down there. It feels like watching a really poor attempt at a grimdark fantasy movie, and this is the scene that is thrown in just to show how dark and awful the whole setting is. My only feeling is disgust at the whole situation, not the horror I should be feeling, not the rage or the sadness that I''ve felt before watching a sacking like this. I ring up Shariah and I ask, "Are you seeing this? You aren''t on the bridge." She responds immediately in near hysterics, The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. "Yeah, I''m seeing it! Why aren''t you sending hell their way? Sir, we need to open fire!" I respond in a low voice, "I sent a request to command. We no longer have a legal team, and we cannot interact unless we can clearly state this is genocide. I want you to begin writing a report on this situation. I can fill in all of the worst actions taken by these assholes, you dress it up to be a report of absolute, and non-negotiable genocide. Unfortunately, due to the laws and rules we are forced to follow, everything is retroactive. We cannot engage unless we are either in a state of war, they put our people in danger, or they are undisputably committing or have committed genocide." I then end with practically a growl, "People have to die before anything can ever happen..." The USS Catfish is set in eerie silence. A few members of the bridge crew have watery eyes, and most have their screens shut off or are watching something else, anything else. I don''t even get on to any of them because I get it. I watch the entire thing, the agonizing three hours of horror, and I log everything. When the Eternal Kingdom ships start to leave the system, leaving behind a garrison of a few thousand soldiers, I finish my report, and alongside Shariah''s long argument, I think we can justify a response. Unfortunately too late for the recently depopulated planet. I call for Phillia, who arrives after a few long minutes, longer than it should take for her to actually get here. She looks awkward in the spacesuit we gave her, and I bark at her like I''ve never done before to the poor alien girl, "When I call, you sprint in situations of potential military action. Understood?" She nods, a look of fear crossing her face as the speakers in her helmet probably hurt her long ears. I speak more level now and ask, "The Eternal Kingdom just depopulated an entire planet. Why did they do this?" She shakes her head and responds shakily, "I don''t know m''lord, even worlds us in the rebellion captured never received that treatment... the only time in history when this happened last was during the War of the Divines 3000 years ago." I sharply respond, "Do I look like a lord to you? Explain this War of the Divines." She shakes her head and quickly responds, "No, sir... but the War of the Divines is when one of the King''s siblings tried to take the throne. Both of them are divine in nature so he easily formed a new and false faith around himself, and entire populations had to be... made an example of, according to the stories." I grunt in approval and tell the alien woman, "Understand this. We are going to war in order to seek justice for those slaughtered below. I believe the Eternal Kingdom to have committed genocide against the people of the planet below. You have just given me my justification to declare my next actions are preventative measures against genocide and to bring those responsible to justice. You have stated now, on record, that the Eternal Kingdom only commits actions like these when it comes to matters of theology. By definition, genocide is the deliberate mass killing of civilians based on religion, ethnicity, race, or nationality." She looks at me confusedly and with fear, but I made my point known and have the entire recording of our conversation transcribed and sent to command, giving me my justification based on all current information for my actions that I will now be taking. A single Eternal Kingdom wooden vessel remains in the system. It follows a patrol given to it by his most holy Inquisitor and continuously plays the message that the people of this world were slaughtered due to following the false religion that has formed due to contact with humanity. This was done after a group of humans was discovered in a nearby system where a false faith had been created. None were captured, but proof was found that they were able to create homoculi that spread the words of an anti-theology against all the kingdom''s beliefs. The crew of the ship relaxes and counts the gold they looted from the heretics and a few trade and compare slaves they took from the women of the world. It''s a scene of depraved merriment, but it shatters when their ships'' shield flashes, and instantly the top deck splinters and explodes upward as something moving at incredible speed nearly splits the entire ship in half. The captain of the ship tries to maneuver, but the magical core dedicated to propulsion was vaporized by the fast object. The crew begins running around trying to keep the ship together as magical power is rerouted to the propulsion systems, as weapons are brought to full power when a second object slams into the side of the ship, running straight through it, and all weapons immediately shut off. The weapons core was destroyed, leaving only the shield core, which is the only thing keeping air around the ship. Panic quickly fills the ship, and then it is replaced by dread as a large and bulky gray object appears in front of them. It''s only a third of the length of the wooden vessel, but it somehow looks much larger as it is far more bulky and ugly. If they could read the letters printed on the side, it would say USS Salamander. Doors slam open on the side of the marine vessel, and dozens of figures come pouring out, propelled by RCS thrusters hooked up to their backs. The shipbreakers flood from their ship and begin burning toward the enemy vessel. Their orders are to capture the vessel and bring the officers to the Rear Admiral. The modified humans sail through the void, and when they hit the shield of the ship, they move through easily, but the problem is the atmosphere inside. This throws off their trajectories, but using grappling lines and impressive maneuvers, the monsters board the ship. To the crew, what they see are hulking black monsters with reflective orbs in the place of heads. The M112 Space Combat Powered Armor makes the already massive Marines all the more monstrous. The huge packs on their backs, which both work as their powerpack and maneuvering thrusters, give them an almost hunched back look. The protective padding on the outside of the powered armor was made to absorb the shock of slamming against the hulls of vessels, adding significant bulk to the arms, legs, and body. Instead of the medieval-styled helmets of the standard powered armor instead they have bubble-shaped helmets that are made of a dark and slightly reflective composite that looks like glass but is actually opaque, instead the marines see through a series of omni-directional cameras, which allows them to keep their necks braced and heads protected from the impacts they are designed to take. Towering above the crewmen, a shipbreaker marine raises his 50-caliber machine gun and begins spraying into the crowd. Limbs go flying as the half-inch rounds liquefy flesh and shatter bones. Others begin utilizing their cutting and breaching tools to burrow into the hull of the vessel to hunt the crew inside and to devastate any remaining systems. Due to the wooden nature of the ship, the normal plasma torches cannot be used without the risk of a fire, so instead they use their powered limbs and chainsaw-like devices to tear through the hull and bulkheads. Quickly, the ship is turned just as depopulated as the planet below, aside from the civilian slaves that were smart enough to lie on their bellies during the crossfire and the few officers on the ship who are now sporting broken limbs and a nice pair of fastcuffs on their wrists and ankles as they are carried like misbehaving children by the marines. They are picked up by a dropship as one of the Army vessels can be seen splitting apart and deploying down to the planet... The multitude of knights, levied soldiers, and mercenaries of the Eternal Kingdom all sit around in the ruined city they themselves sacked. Just like the ship, they are enjoying the spoils of good food, wine, and women in the central palace and any of the still-standing taverns all through the ruins. They don''t notice the giant ships descending from the sky, but in the next thirty minutes, they notice the earthquake as great steel tracks churn the earth and crush stone. As a few of the drunks peer over the city walls, there is a clap like thunder and the towers of the city are turned to masonry dust. Having woken completely up, the Eternal Kingdom warriors stare in horror as giant beasts of metal approach over the horizon, a dust storm forming behind them as they thunder forward faster than any carriage ever made. They form ranks the best they can, and the mages prepare their spell when the mighty guns of the Army begin singing. Massive shells burst midair, clearing swathes of warriors with a single burst of black smoke, causing thousands of tungsten balls to rain down on top of the gathered warriors, armor made useless, even the armor of the richer knights. A few spells are cast but fall terribly short as the approaching tanks halt and continue their onslaught. Masonry is turned to powder, entire squads of knights and mages vaporized, and when the dust settles and the ear-shattering roar of cannon fire ends, the Army moves in. The men in powered armor bound into the city with IFVs supporting them as they hunt down those responsible for the slaughter, and when resistance is too tough, a precision artillery shell removes that entire city block. As the remainders of the enemy forces are removed, the Army begins digging through the rubble for any surviving civilians, and aid is rendered to those who are alive but suffered severe mistreatment. All over the planet, the same thing happens on a smaller scale as every warrior responsible for the sacking of this entire world is shown what it really means to be killers... On board the USS Catfish, Shipmaster Giggun al''Herrad moans in agony as his broken limbs throb with pain. He can feel blood trickle down his face when one of these... abominations sprays the wound with something incredibly painful, but the bleeding stops immediately. He feels weak as his mana was removed from him through some sort of... machine that he cannot comprehend, so he cannot resist as the giant monsters in impenetrable armor carry him through the bleak halls of this cold and soulless ship. He is thrown into a room in near darkness, the only light being some sort of lamp that produces a dull white-glow. He screams in fear when a glass is placed on the metal table that the lamp is sitting on. The bulky armored thing that carried him in, forces him to sit in a hard, metal chair. As his eyes adjust, he can make out the shape of a human... no, a demon... The blackness of the silhouette is broken up by a pair of blue eyes staring at him, glowing in the darkness like two blue embers. The glass is picked up again, and he can hear the thing swallow loudly; its breathing is calm, and it sets the glass down gently. All of these point at a calm and collected individual is sitting across from Giggun, but those two eyes show only one emotion, Hate...