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1

Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / Tide by turn

« on: January 07, 2022, 07:06:03 AM »

Eyes forward, front-facing. Sea dragon approach to the coast of Ixana continent confirmed 19 minutes ago, and I got stuck with the evac team on watch duty. Our group were based on the shore itself where the dragon approach was calculated, our contractor assured us they set up a harmonics route with a seperate mercenary company to lure the dragon this way rather than have it enter the continent via an unmarked cove or something dramatic like that. If our contractor was reliable. The bulk of the second group was rounding up the locals here and getting them out before they were annihilated, it happens often around these parts but this time someone wanted someone else saved. It's how these things usually go, maybe they were the scion of some mining tycoon who found their faith in the wilderness. We don't ask, but it's worth thinking about while we scramble around under the threat of impending doom.

"Gnarly fuckers those things" huffed Garret, a salty veteran of these waters, as he hauled the nth crate of military-grade 'leviathan-class' stun mines off the mouth of the dropship. "If they get close enough to smell ya they'll never forget it," he takes a moment to huff a little for show "you'll be the first to go if they ever catch wind of you again". Wiping his nose and looking for a towel he slings his gauss longshot over his back again as if to emphasise that might be him this time.

Eyes forward, once you see it, you only have a few minutes to scramble the civvie fleet airborne with enough distance before it is close enough to snatch a ship, its' crew, all the people it needs to save. A few measly minutes from a distant sighting, I swallow hard, my watchmate surely notices the weakness, knows as well as I do blanching rookies get us all killed.

"Any word on the orbital support?" Yelled the ops chief from his makeshift watchtower, calling commands in his shitted aftermarket comms unit because it's the one the locals use.

"Negative" Replied the scratchy voice, "Governments' got no official presence here anymore, haven't fixed the targeting relay from the last monsoon" A pause. "And the locals are farken' luddies who don't know how it works." 

"Shiiiit" the ops chief growled with some embellishment, kicking off the top of his rinky dink ladder as if here were trying to kill it. "Then we've got no time, I don't care if you scream or whip them but get them airborne lieutenant, NOW"

So no military support, that dropped our chances dramatically. I suppress the urge to stim my mounting anxiety. Sea dragons are fast, 20 minutes now is an alarmingly long time in the face of one of their approaches and yet no sighting, it could be...

"Sir" yelled a hoarse 'Bacon', he's from the nav team and it looks like from the corner of my eye he ran all the way here from the head of our deployment convoy with a quake detector the size of a washing machine to our amicable ops chief. "We've.." he wheezes "we've got category 5 sir, at the sea bed, it digs sir". Fark, we've already missed the sighting point. Just as he said that too, we see the sea seemingly lift up a mere 10km away from the beach.

Tsunami. Watch is over.


-------



If the whirlwind of cortisol and adrenaline wasn't enough to make you feel alive, it also happens to be standard practice for mercenaries operating in rural Arcadys to shoot up on luciferim derivatives. An illegal combat drug from Rubicon and generally not advised if you want to return from a fight alive moreso than win it. Still, these versions are generally much safer, as safe as a neurological stick of dynamite can be. It better be, because I'm on that stuff right now.

As soon as that wave was visible, we all popped our emergency performance packs in near unison and armed our 'leviathan-class' mines in a visual blur of movement, at this point it is hard to tell if this crap makes you blind or we really are moving that fast. But it seemed quick enough, the op's chief putting away the abusive sergeant persona and organising with ruthless efficiency. Our moves measured and calculated as we hauled our equipment on our dropships, leaving the surprises we hoped would buy us precious seconds as the sand began to shift and roil as the quake and presumably, the dragon causing it, reached us.
 
As luciferim took us further, more intimately, we began to see the natural flow of the world. We were one with it all, each other, the deep rupture that threatened to swallow us under the sands. The ground under our feet seemed to merge with the sensation that indeed we were the ground being mistreated so, resonance drills set up with haste and ripping the earth as they attempted to arrest the quake before it compromised takeoff. I winced, even while knowing it was needed. Boarding the ships, a comforting womb, railcannons cases popped out of the ceilings as the pilots hit the release and unfolded themselves in a second. Gunners in practiced efficiency took post at the base of the dropships, gunships already circling like vultures, having been on standby.

Worst case scenario we were loaded with thermokinetic fortress cracker missiles. Which could easily devastate the side of Ixana, revoke our licence and land us a court martial.

A court martial is probably better than death though. As the thought passed over me so did a huge rock, the scaled head beginning to push up from the ground a mere few hundred metres away, erupting sand and dust and sea. In half obscured majesty reaching high enough to block the midday star, the divine beast we must now hold. The barrage of our weapons began their rhythm as we hoped hell or ludd take us from this disaster of an operation.


-------



First the comms went dark from Group A, now I hear the Fleet open fire. "We gotta move NOW or you will be left behind" my voice was beginning to fade from the yelling, it's tough rounding up luddies. Not unlike sheep they tend to wander off in their own little huts and farmsteads instead of being organised, like civilised people. "Come on get in line" I shoved one of the stragglers into the processing queue under the roar of airship engines taking off, not caring about his protests.

31 people unaccounted, 2556 evacs succeeded and 3021 remain. It was already here.

1,322 units of food, 697 units of supplies still need securing or they'll starve in flight. It was already here.

It's here on the shores. Right now.

I suppressed the urge to vomit, backwards or not these people are in my hands now. 

Two mercs from the armoured division trudged past with at least two people in each arm, obviously struggling against this martial law imposed on them to save their lives. I spat the leaf I was chewing and break into a jog with my retinue of five veteran infantry, two I knew personally, to finalise sweeps with the logistics officer and get the fark out of here. Explosions in the distance don't cause me to pause, but highlight my daunting task.
 


-------





Company 4 and 7 presumed KIA , The dragon pushed through the craft carrying those units to get to seemingly Garret's ship. I think he expected to die here. Most of us were airborne now, firing some real heavy ordinance. Railcannons are effective deterrents to the extent that the dragon is not used to pain, bruises usually. Hellfire ground missiles leave a mark though and I've personally gone though half our ordinance. I remember once when I asked how you go about killing one of these things, still a cadet in training at Kyphax, I'll never forget how humiliated I was when my superiors all laughed at me. I get it now. Buzzed by luciferim-lite increasing my neuroplasticity a hundred fold, I was taking in the situation at a speed I felt was dangerous. Because I was quickly learning how hopeless it was.


Our guns no matter how advanced, or by who made them. Could only replicate a fraction of this power.



------

Edit: Happy to answer questions about why or how things are a certain way, I'm writing from an already established world and am not explaining the context behind it. Hence why for example someone might starve to death on a "simple" transcontinental flight, the planet is enormous. Everything in it is just way bigger than us humans, land of giants and all that. Ect, ask away (or don't)


To be cont.

2

Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / A Strangled Star

« on: June 24, 2021, 06:47:12 AM »

A vast but broken world, burned to the ground and its’ ashes conquered by Volondhust invaders in cycle 50. Now the few remaining arcologies house the rest of the enslaved population, a mere fraction of its’ former scale. Pelitritan used to be the capital of a young republic, proud after shaking off the domain and starting fresh with aims of growth and diplomacy to form a glimmering stellar civilisation. The planet was gorgeous, golden and green from space and amicable to all forms of life, it was the closest thing to an ecological utopia in the sector and it was prized for the fact. Many worlds readily allied themselves with this living beacon of prosperity, the people there were fair and hopeful and although arrogant they always proved themselves moral and just in the end. Unfortunately, arrogance was a crucial downfall when they encountered Raphan. Unable to stomach the existence of such a civilisation, Pelitritan and its’ 9 great cosmopolis declared they would liberate the people of Volondhust from the shadowy grip that choked the life out of it. Unfamiliar with indoctrination tactics employed by a highly advanced dystopian nightmare, Pelitritan found war was not fought on fair or reasonable terms. The war broke the heart of the republic, it was so awful entire planets would leave the conflict, the republic and pray that the war had forgotten about them. Viral bombs blasted landscapes leaving tombs where millions once lived, naval warfare deployed scorched earth strategies to ensure no survivors were ever left and worlds that were invaded were not merely conquered, but slaughtered down to the last ready abled body.

Calls for ceasefire were simply ignored and diplomats sent to discuss terms were sent to camps where they never left. Pelitritan was facing a quandary, unrest had destabilised public order at home. Fear of their relentless foe had taken the fight out of most of their navy and the leaders of the republic feared their own personal safety from the angry mobs who wanted an end to the sea of bloodshed. But the tides were merely readying another tsunami and the republic consigned itself to a war of survival. It was hard for the people to accept it at first, the fact of it shook the nation with a deep rage, that Pelitritan needed to fight for it’s own survival spat in the face of the sacrifices made to get away from the domain and start something unhindered by the threat of destruction. The very identity of their star spanning republic was built on this, and this was the pyre that burned their worlds across the sector. What was originally known as the war enlightenment became merely known as the Thanan war, Thanan being the home system of Pelitritan. Sick of being forced forever backwards against the savage tactics employed by Raphan, the republic navy did something normally unthinkable for them. They loaded bombs, planet killer devices, AI weapons, anything normally forbidden was now acceptable so long as it removed this threat for good.

Most of the fleet didn’t make it, in fact, slave survivors from their captured territories were loaded up to pilot former republic navy suicide vessels which unbeknownst to them had unstable burn drives and antimatter bombs. Every small distance the fleet tried to take was met with bombardment and death, it was the worst they had ever seen it. Their own ships repurposed into a mockery of what they stood for and sent in the thousands to die. The meagre fleet that managed to enter airspace above Volondhust did indeed bombard a significant portion of the city, but that was all it managed to do. Most of the bombs missed, creating a jaggad landscape around the hellish city that further assisted in preventing its’ people escaping. The return volley snuffed what was left for good, the hope of a republic, damned in order to save itself, nothing more than the easy pickings of scavengers. The fleet it sent in return doomed Pelitritan and the republic worlds still in system, Sund lost millions and its industries ruined, the bombardment of Sund was so extensive the atmosphere was mostly blasted off and the desert planet became volcanic. Hyacion, an archipelago world of tens of millions murdered as chemical weapons evaporated the seas and turned the atmosphere into methane. Pelitritan saw its’ arcologies shattered, the landscape cracked into pieces and the subsequent invasion sacked every remaining city of the republic, leaving only one industrial polity and a quarter of its population.

Pelitritan these days exists as a centre of trade, it still has only one functioning city and most of the population is destined to live and die there, as the generations before them have. It sells valuables collected from the outer rim by scavengers, raiders and small polities who do not wish to be invaded. The vast ruins along the cracked and roiling landscape are left untouched, a clear message to those who would consider the mistakes of Pelitritans’ past. The planet itself is still somewhat yellow, but the skies are muddied and brown where the worst of the bombing took place and much of the native wildlife has perished in the firestorms that preceded it. It is also much hotter than it used to be, due to the megaton explosions trapping immense heat within the atmosphere, it is a miracle that plants still grow on the surface at all. The air is choked with acrid smoke and death comes early for those not under the protection of the hive city Malandi (formely Arandal), that is if they don’t get caught by hunter drones that regularly sweep the landscape for one escaped rebel or another. Unconfirmed reports of massive refugee populations in the huddled ruins of the great cosmopolis’s also circulate Malandi Hive, although never within earshot of a factory lord or compliance drone. It is said these savages are generations old and every now and then when manpower is short, subjugation squads will dispatch to collect them for hard labour. It is unknown who or where these people are after this, if you were to ask an Adraxian representative you will normally get some denial or another, mostly followed by the words “unsubstantiated” and “nonsense”. It is however confirmed that Pelitritan is a huge source of harvested organs of quite varying quality, it is also confirmed these are not collected and sold at the Dagon Resource Market from elsewhere in the south east of the sector. Official conclusions are not drawn except in intelligence divisions who are quite certain of a dark truth.

The refineries here are Pelitritan’s core (legal) industry. Many blocks long, the immense factories processing ore and isotopes gathered in the markets provide entire empires with the material needed to make warships and build cities. Currently, Pelitritan holds the largest market share of processed metals. Mostly due to the numerous, simultaneous wars that bog down Hegemony logistics which could be used for trade. Primarily however it is due to it being the main industrial output of the population, with little other native economic activity a monumental effort is placed in production of these goods. Lives and fortunes are decided on the crushing output of these refining factories, breaking the indentured population under its’ weight and replacing them with the next generation. Sometimes clones of good workers are used whenever there is a setback in manpower, clones do not last long and are mentally unstable but they bridge the gap when the population needs time to reconstitute. Pelitritan has not recovered from its devastation even 150 cycles later, the current population is leagues smaller than the largest planets in the sector, a far cry from its’ earlier glory. It is predicted that the razing of Pelitritan killed roughly 95% of the entire population, it has grown since then, but not quickly.

The current rulers of Pelitritan are not eager to see it prosper, the planet certainly makes an enormous income in trade especially with Tri-Tachyon getting involved in the riotous interstellar market. But its’ people must be kept small and beat down until the ashes of the republic are completely forgotten and only the fear remains. There are still incidents, people who would take small revenge for the crimes committed against their fore-bearers and there is an ever-present fear that the hordes of unclean beyond the city would band together in unchecked numbers and rally the people of Malandi to overthrow their masters.
A tension exists, hidden, that if Pelitritan was allowed to prosper it would fracture under Adraxia control.

3

Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / The New Eclipse

« on: June 24, 2021, 06:25:59 AM »

Habitable, but devoid of native life. The surface of Raphan is made up of soil and water with little else to break up the monotony of the landscape. From orbit it could easily be mistaken for a barren world, the only visible tones being grey-brown and blue or the brown-grey and black of the single hive city sprawled across the largest continent, Volondhust. Despite the natural lack of colour, Raphan is flush with resources, further complimented by domain era equipment brought to its surface by its overlords. In the limited plantations under strict government control, life blooms. Much of the workforce on Raphan is dedicated to tending these factory-farms, producing obscene amounts of foodstock and debt trapping other colonies on the outer rim who struggle to get enough food anywhere else. It also forces the entire population of Raphan within the confines of the enormous hive city, as nothing grows on the rest of the surface and hunter killer drones burn the forbidden settlements of anyone who tries. Not that they would, the natural temperatures of Raphan on the surface are like an oven and exiles usually die from heat exhaustion before long. This is attributed to the twin suns, Utopia and Valefar and the harsh conditions the radiation of two suns create, although Utopia is indeed several degrees smaller than Valefar and acts more like a moon. Raphan is much further away from the stars than the Terran standard, allowing some comfortable normalcy in the seasonal change which is mostly created when Valefar completely blocks Utopia, dropping temperatures to nearly freezing. Comfortable normalcy, of course, is relative to the sector standard.

The city of Volondhust however, is subject to almost none of these natural conditions, as it is large enough have its own weather systems that it’s considered to be another habitat altogether. It is a dark and moody city, clouds of ash and smog blot out the oppressive sun and beat down upon the even more oppressed peoples. The city spires of the black citadel at its centre collect most of the natural rain, although without access to the processing equipment to remove the contamination from the atmosphere the people below quench no thirst from the radioactive water. Instead, cured water and food is given to those who slave in the numerous factory arcologies, producing riches of goods on a scale that could stretch as far as the eye can see. Naturally the city’s pollution stems from the inevitable waste these huge factories create with no heed to the environment, chemical runoff being a major concern as the Thanan war saw cascading spillage from some of the larger chemical baths. After the Thanan war and the resulting environmental disaster whose effects are mostly still being covered up, many factory lords are undergone inspections from the Adraxia citadel without warning. If the produce is found contaminated, the lord and workers are expelled or enslaved and the factory torn apart and rebuilt. If the sector at large finds out about the conditions of Volondhust nobody would buy their food or goods again, they are already on thin ice with the treatment of the populace.

Food production is largely genetically altered cellular material, made for quantity above all else. Domain era machinery has been purposed to that effect, none of the export grade food is made in a vat and as long as these ancient machines function it never will need to be. This however does mean the risk of contamination is ever-present in the factory farms, sometimes the food cultures mutate to be toxic, but also, sometimes it mutates to have hallucinogenic properties. Despite how harshly failure to decontaminate produce is treated, the risk is tolerated due to how successful it makes the produce on interstellar markets. Known as a process of being “sladed”, some lords weigh their odds of discovery in such a large city against how powerful sladed food growth will make them. Indeed, much of the chemical material produced on Volondhust are also ingredients in illicit substances sector-wide even if it’s not their primary purpose. This does not stop drug factories springing up all over the city, even as one is brutally crushed two more take their place. The working population that can afford it is hopelessly addicted and thus this cycle is likely never to stop in the near future. The chemical material itself is mostly used in medicine and heavy industries elsewhere in the sector, if it were not for the lack of options in this area, the oppression of Raphan or its rampant substance production would not be tolerated by the other powers at large.

Raphan’s military mostly consists of drones and the minor nobility in a sort of stylised knighthood, with conscription normally targeting those who fail to meet their targets on a regular enough basis. However it is the factory lords who nominate workers for conscription at the recommendation of the factory prefects. Obviously this power imbalance is unfairly used and often those who have slighted or fallen out of favour with the powers in their ecosystem are sent to war, this can be for reasons as little as being better looking or more intelligent. Raphan doctrine does not train conscripts, rather the knights who command them and thus most military operations result in utter bloodbaths. If the conscripts are not slaughtered, then they will slaughter their foes as the only way they know to make them submit. Those who survive their indentured service are known as Murdered Men (this includes women, it’s actually a gender neutral term), they normally stay on as special operations or defect to become mercenaries and pirates. Stories are told about Murdered Men as if they were servants of Moloch from Ludd’s own hell, their existence keeps children behaved and the people wary. For Murdered Men who return to Volondhust or indeed civilisation as we know it, return with their acquired propensity for bloodthirst, traumatised and ready to flip on whatever subliminal trigger tortured into them by their commander. Some eccentric lords like to employ successful Murdered Men as personal guard pets, brainwashing away their more savage impulses leaving behind their competence and history of service without question. 

Raphan also acts as the capital of what is colloquially known as the "Rad Rats" across the sector, it considers itself an empire and yet is seen as being little better than organised pirates by the free sector, more as an insult than truth of the matter. Although it is true that pirate gangs view them favourably as they ferry much of their goods that most traders would not, with many pirates ceding their colonies to them for stability and security in return for their relative autonomy and exploitation of resources the pirates themselves were plundering. The pirates still get to be pirates, but as they see it, they’re now part of a bigger gang. And as long as they pay their dues, Adraxia does not bother them much, knowing well that piracy was borne from mismanaged poverty and oppression. Other planets under Adraxian control have been conquered, devastated by the blood of Volondhust conscripts. Their industries seized and their people enslaved, oftentimes the underworld population will actually rise to the top in this bloody chaos and cut a deal with the Adraxia government. Ensuring cooperation of the surviving populace, criminals will claim the planet almost as their own, defacto leaders on behalf of Adraxia. Despite what seems to be an amicable relationship, Volondhust legions will be sent to ensure compliance at all times. This is preferable to the threat of Murdered Men, who if sent will probably cause another castigation like the example of the ruined Pelitritan.

Raphan represents a great fear of the sector, whereby if tyranny is not checked than the homes of the people living in the Persean sector could be overturned by a horrific entity hellbent on enslaving them as is the case in the south eastern outer rim. Nearly every large player is paranoid at the intentions of this mercurial and despicable entity, wondering if they too will see their colonies razed to the ground and the remains ransacked in exploitation. But war would be too costly, Volondhust is enormous, while people mostly can’t keep count of the population it is indeed considered a significant amount larger than Chicomoztoc. While Raphan would not win total war and indeed probably perish, it would certainly devastate much of the sector in the process. A tense cold war is settled on instead, convoys are raided by third parties, brave or suicidal agents attempt to subvert the economy and infrastructure on Volondhust, legislation is drawn up every week to find ways of imposing levies on Volondhust produce without explicitly targeting them and often Raphan traders and dignitaries are kidnapped by major factions and never seen again. Raphan responds well in kind, releasing chemical agents on strategically vital installations, accidentally introducing foul drugs in foodstock trade to unfriendly colonies and sponsoring pirates from within their realm of control to besiege large systems.

Raphan is indeed a miasma of darkness that has settled over the sector.

4

Lore, Fan Media & Fiction / The Poverty of Sindria

« on: June 10, 2021, 01:19:10 AM »

Something I thought of

The poverty of Sindria,

Truly this rock offers little in the way of anything, the planet is hard to dig through and hydroponics cannot be grown as moisture never makes it below the surface unless shipped by the ruling Diktat government. To make the planet so dependant on trade and in such a potent position to facilitate heavy industries such as refining and fuel production has given Andrada’s regime an enjoyable monopoly on social mobility over the destitute populace, the Lion of Sindria and it’s ruling dictator. Unsurprisingly, Sindria despite being merely one planet fields a navy that nearly rivals the Persean league and their 20 worlds, posing a significant threat to those who would consider deposing the hostile and uncooperative government. Sindria is not a poor planet due to the technology and industry unique to its position essentially adjacent to it’s red giant, able to synthesise industrial components on a hellish scale without much regard for the wellbeing of the workers there. It is however resource poor, the only independent trade is the black market using goods smuggled in off world as nobody is capable of creating anything for themselves. It is also discouraged, strict living conditions forbid displays of wealth from those not in favour of the Lion himself or upper members of his party and money is tightly controlled where acceptable trade must be passed through the Diktat tithe ministry. To work is to work for the government and those hopeful to enter the few positions available due to the elimination of the previous tenants undergo zealous campaigns to uproot traitors and dissidents from the population at large, real or imagined. In some sense of irony, poverty is illegal too, it is seen to be unpatriotic for only the criminal and lazy are poor while under the protection of Andrada.

Even if someone wanted to leave, how could they? The only way to be elevated is to prove yourself in one of the most toxic militaries in the sector, many are killed to galvanise the remaining navy and to prove loyalty to the Lion if anyone is seen getting particularly close to each other. Many in Sindria understand a fundamental truth, like the antimatter fuel facilities, complex military base, extensive refining and orbital works, so too are people a resource to be exploited by the government. Sindria is not a poor planet, but it’s people are poor. Yet their numbers are rich, Sindria has one of the largest populations in the sector due to the utter destruction of the most densely habitable planet in the Askonia system, leading to a great exodus towards the surviving colonies. The people on Sindria now are several generations older from then, but no less trapped from when they were first refugees to the former industrial base. And yet there is a deluded hope, the people of Sindria are not merely downtrodden, none would allow themselves to feel the boot of the Diktat. Andrada is a hero, twice renowned, and saviour of the Askonia system. Knowing little better, many Sindrians take their service with genuine pride and are fanatical in their desire to spread the grip of the Diktat over the rest of the system.

And perhaps, the sector at large too.

5

Bug Reports & Support (modded) / So I've hit the credit cap at 2 billion, but now I'm in debt.

« on: May 26, 2021, 02:51:45 AM »

So I earn 5 million credits a month, I use beyond the sector to get cool rare *** to trade in bulk. I've given every cryo world I could find an orbital lamp while making sure I am the largest producer in volatiles.

I make money like crazy. Eventually my earnings outstrip my spendings and I just leave it alone, it's been that way for a long enough time that eventually... While at 2.1 billion my next 5 million credits rolled me into the negative. I am so screwed.

I request that the limit be something so obnoxiously big that this can't realistically happen. Since my colonies earn a diminished income and now I can't even use their earnings to pay it off.



P.S the file size limit is really, really small. I had to retake that screenshot 3 times to get it within parameters.

I wrote a fanfic about the stupid situation and the consequences in my game, at least for some entertainment out of it.

Spoiler

The pig pen of Gindraum: circa 227.9.1

Taking a similar approach to the Avionics reprisal, Ahland Treth sent their core fleet with 20,000 men to take Gindraum. Their orders were simple, take the planet with no damage to its defences, there would be no backup in time for the inevitable Hegemony counterattack. Even with cataphract support the reinforcement of Gindraum’s ground forces with heavy batteries and a star fortress would prove suicidal in a frontal engagement. High Archon Roman Elysium taking personal command of the operation decided instead they would raid it for munitions and weapons, making their support ineffective.

While a prudent idea, both the batteries and fortress were architectured to head off hostile intrusions. And the operation proved just so, the opening shots to sabotage the planet’s defences cost a thousand Ahland Treth lives. In the servicing hangers and munition rooms defenders piled hallways and offices high with the raider’s corpses, a grim tactical advantage for the remaining forces who were able to use their friends as cover. However in some areas there were so many corpses the offensive prong had to be abandoned entirely, for the dead made passage impossible. Their success was limited, though they did succeed.

Yet still the task of taking the planet loomed before them, which despite being short of ammunition had time to prepare for the inevitable planetfall. Gindraum was still a major industrial centre, it had plenty enough to fire their guns. Roman knew this and set up 4 waves of about 5 thousand to land and make progress, each wave, using the stepping stones of the one before to push further in. Sending them all in would allow the remaining batteries to be too effective, they needed to bleed themselves upon this bed of knives to blunt them for the one who would finally rest upon it. Deploying extensive cataphract compliments to engage the heavier guns, unaided marines took bloody ground wave after wave. Without money Ahland Treth paid for this invasion in blood, for the sections of the Gindraum polity were laid waste in the fighting as the fumes of blood and pulsar carbines broke down the air filters for entire districts.

The first wave made it past the spaceport but were stopped at the mining shuttles, the defenders had hauled mining rigs off the planet surface and established firing lines from their shuttle bays. Every marine was killed, but there was no respite. The second wave secured the spaceport and burned the dead to crash the air filtration in the trader’s district, it was then they pushed into the mining bays through the suffocated trading post, outflanking the lethal mining blasters. A pyrrhic victory for the miners and security forces, the defensive equipment used to counter luddic sabotage and workers’ routs were put to great effect against the rushing forces, yet much of their preparation was flanked and what followed was utter chaos. Both sides were completely slaughtered and the few Hegemony auxiliaries left fled to the mines upon the planet’s surface.

The third wave was aided by cataphract forces and even some garregat heavy ASM’s, having secured the guns in 7 ruthless deployments. The third wave landed directly on the salvage gantries, ignoring the scrambling defenders and the pressure they were putting from the open floor. Taking air the garregats and their dreaded mutilator autocannons slaughtered the yard defenders that were exposed from low cover and the deployed ground forces opted for a cqc engagement using blancher shields and scatter beams to take the survivors at their weak points. This crushing sweep however was open to a counter attack from the supply warehouses, where the Hegemony main force was waiting. Loading hepheastus assault guns attached to junker ships, the Hegemony Reborn destroyed the gantry and killed nearly everyone inside the yard. Viscera, smouldering cataphract chassis’ and awful moans were all that was left of the enormous-sector supplying salvage yards.

Ahland Treth expected to suffer losses but at this point of the operation Elgard high command was shocked to hear it had costed 15 thousand lives of their finest and demanded to know the reason this invasion had become such a slaughter. Roman cited the Hegemony’s newfound love of scorched earth tactics and mused that perhaps their sponsoring of the luddic path 150 cycles ago rubbed off on them now. Roman neglected to mention his sabotage of civilian infrastructure caused immense destruction and mutual casualties in it’s own right, the Hegemony Reborn was clearly hiding auxiliary forces among the populace and as much as he disliked it he did not have the resources to allow unknown factors. Switching tactics to prevent an uproar at home, Roman ordered the remaining 5,000 to merely secure the batteries and remaining infrastructure to prevent harassment of his fleet. He ordered the Coeurl, a one of a kind scathach-class custom dreadnought to engage the storage warehouses of the salvage yards. He ordered a missile ordinance so thick the propulsion thrusters drowned out com chatter of half the polity. If this new Hegemony was going to use capital class weapons to slaughter ground forces, he would simply even the odds.

Roman Elysium took the rest of the complex with 5000 and the air support of enormous plasma batteries, although it cost him another 2,100. Gindraum was his. He ordered the public historians to not record this victory, normally vicious fights like this one are glossed over and relations experts are not taken along, if they had the money to coordinate proper fleets that was.

The pig pen operation was over, although the battle still not done. With remaining special forces being scrambled to defend against the Hegemony Reborn's counter invasion.

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