as written by barney_fife and Azrican
The Aschen fleet continued to hold position at various tactical positions around the Hadriatica system. The forward most element of the Aschen strike groups would be the first to meet the drone wave. These largely consisted of Gemenon class cruisers, Sagittaron class Battlecruisers, and an assortment of light cruisers formed around Punisher and Iconoclast battleships.
Aboard the Psalm Every Day, Admiral Nagala was silently considering the replies sent for her transmission, and the Fleet Admiral did not like what she was hearing from the Exogarden.
"Sir, we have enemy ships incoming on Group one, they'll be within weapons range in one cent on." Colonel Conoy reported as the red hologram of the approaching drone ships was highlighted on the large display within the CIC of the Reverence II.
"The nerve of these people." She growled as she grasped the railing of the console.
"Initiate singularity countdown, arm main and auxiliary power buffers and prepare codes for a singularity strike!" Nagala called out.
The Colonel offered a nod, as he turned to the holographic display. "Enemy groupings are most concentrated here; and here." He said, pointing to clumps of red icons between the gas giant and the planet. "We can leverage a singularity strike here, while Athena class cruisers Sarissa and Aegina take flanks and launch their payloads at the planet itself."
Nagala offered a slight nod. "Tricobalt warheads, 25,000 teracochranes." She ordered, plotting missile trajectories along a wide orbital path. "Simultaneous Tricobalt impacts would dislodge the planet from orbit and tear it asunder."
While the Exogarden prepared it's strike, several dozen massive missile batteries running along the flanks of the Reverence II opened up, tricobalt warheads mounted upon long range Thunderbolt and Arrow class Anti-ship and Anti Planetary missiles moved and positioned into their silos, while the shipboard AI Began uploading targeting data into the missile computers.
At that moment, one of the Tactical officers had been going over the Computer systems, noting that several vessels were being infiltrated by electronic attacks from the enemy vessels. Data had been copied, stolen. He turned to Nagala and spoke up.
"Admiral, recommend we proceed to Aiyanna protocols, to prevent our systems from being compromised." The Tactical officer suggested as the Admiral considered her next options.
"We'd be running at a reduced efficiency, on analog and non networked systems." She said, looking back to the display. "Gods damnit. These people think they can just come in here and dictate to us what they're going to do." The Admiral was angry at this point as she watched the display. These aliens seemed to be just as organized as the Imperial fleet that was challenging them.
"Attention Aschen vessels: this is Captain Logan Stark, of the CNS Tyrant. A flagship of Task Force Viking and tactical command of naval operations within the KX-301-BFZ/2 system. Your territorial demarcations are subordinated under the Exogarden's Primus Directive and this system is an observatory installation under the Exogarden's 12th Fleet Protocols of Operations, you are instructed to establish communications with your supreme government authorities or military command and inform them the Exogarden is assuming custodianship of the surrounding space."
Nagala listened to the words and considered them carefully. She was the acting supreme commander of the Aschen Military in this sector. As alarms blared in the background, she pondered her reply.
"Captain Stark, this is Fleet Admiral Sheila Nagala, of the Imperial Aschen Navy's central military command authority. Assigned to the Fleet of Inner Knowledge for the defense of the Empire. On what grounds does the Exogarden derive this supposed authority to seize this world?" She asked as she kept her attention on the console.
"Sir." Colonel Conoy interrupted. "I have Viceroy Randolph on the wireless."
The Admiral breathed a sigh of relief, that the machinations of the Aschen Government were in place to ensure there was a continuity of government in the event that the leading authorities were absent or otherwise preoccupied.
The flickering hologram of the older Gemonese woman flitted to life before the Admiral as she offered a respectful nod. "Stress." She said, inclining her head as the Viceroy spoke up.
"Admiral, I want you to contact the supreme commander of the hostile invaders; I'd like to resolve the situation peacefully as you know the fleet is largely occupied, and I would like to avoid unnecessary bloodshed." She said.
The Admiral offered a nod, and placed the Viceroy on standby, before she opened the channel back to the Captain.
"I will prepare my vessel to approach for inspection, while my government considers how to handle this situation. Our Quorum will meet and decide whether or not to allow your operation to continue. For now you will be allowed to remain on the grace of His Majesty's Viceroy, under the conditions you do not deviate from this system, or approach any neighboring worlds. If you do not heed the requests of my government, a state of war will exist. I request permission to approach the planet, where I may meet with your command authority, and we can resolve this peacefully."
____
“This is Captain Stark, Tyrant Actual. I am an officer of the 12th Exogarden Fleet: we are a force operating under the Protocol of Operations. If you continue to advance beyond the drone line we will respond in kind. You may have the numerical majority, but you will comprehend our power.”
The Captain’s message would likely come mere minutes after the events that would transpire had occurred. A drone swarm was composed of several different classes: singleship drones like the Morsman and Shortsword whipped and snarled, their atom turbines and FLARE engines pulsing them at great speeds the likes of which the Aschen could hardly comprehend: technologies lightyears ahead of their own, and these were just drones. Then would be larger systems, like the Aggressor and Lancer. They were essentially ship-killers, equipped with not only cannonry but missiles and, ever more dangerous, electronic suites alike. As the first flanks of the wave fell upon Group One, communication with their command would fall out entirely. The Aschen would be entirely severed from comms with their command. Connection to the Reverence II was hijacked: instead of providing information of the ships at the helm, it was re-purposed for the intrusion systems that wreaked havoc upon the Aschen computers. Klaxons would sound and alarms would blare with no reason to activate, air-sensors would scream that the compartments of Aschen ships were venting, but incorrectly.
As the drone swarm fell upon the first group, anarchy would reign. As much as they responded to the Reverence II, it would only provide more in-routes for the drones to infiltrate their systems with advanced computer viruses and rootkits the Aschen had no possible hope of defending against. It would seem that these compromises came from within the Aschen systems themselves. They weren’t uploaded, they weren’t downloaded, they literally grew from the systems themselves. They were untraceable, save for the fact they only existed when the drones came within reasonable range of the vessels.
Shields faded as intricate programs rendered all systems practically inoperable: they might attempt to operate the functions of the ships under their command, but they were under any command but their own. They forced various ships into a state of lockdown. Generators flared, perhaps going critical and crippling the ships that were subject of the intrusions: mostly the systems targeting were navigation, and targeting. It depended largely on how close a ship was to a packet of drones. With the few ships that hadn’t found themselves unharmed by the drone sweep, they might soon realize in horror what had truly occurred.
On the helms of these ships, all they might see were the flitting images of drone singelships zipping past them. Occasionally, they would be afforded a view of a droneship. Hundreds of meters in length: they appeared as great phantoms on both visual cameras and sensory systems. Everywhere the Aschen managed to track them, they would be easily dozens to hundred of meters beyond where they. As their sensor and electronic systems seemed to fry entirely however, there was something else. Navigation and astro-gation systems were compromised thoroughly: over the course of several minutes, where crews hadn’t locked their systems entirely, the drones would pilfer complete transit logs of where every single ship had travelled from.
Their entire nation would be laid out bare, just by their proximity to this unknown force. Then, as if salt into the wound, the second wave impacted.
A Lancer drone was a large piece of equipment. At nearly twenty meters in length, they were often equipped with considerable weaponry. After a droneship had failed the shields, of course, they were literal weapons of mass destruction. One HCD-2 Lancer swung it’s firm wings left to right, disengaging from it’s flight of 5 as it ducked towards an Aschen ship.
Compiling the image of the vessel in front of it, EW missiles cycled. If there were a human onboard, the soft growl of a missile lock would greet them. Instead, however, in the nanoseconds the systems got a lock the missile fired. It would make all the difference in time.
The ship shields were not entirely compromised. They flickered and malfunctioned: hundreds of drones had impacted them mere seconds before when they should have glided perfectly through the holes which were made by the Exogarden autonomous units.
That would matter all the more, as the Lancer joined a flight of its cousins in assaulting one Aschen ship in particular. The flare of ships bursting on the shields filled it’s vision, no less than fifty had been consumed trying to find patches in the shield. There were hundreds more waiting however.
There, the drone found it, somewhere between amidships and the bow, the drone slipped through. In the emptiness of space, the drone would have screamed if there were an atmosphere to permit it. It came in at easily Mach 8 or above. All it needed was that split second of time as it came zipping by the Aschen vessel.
It unleashed not a conventional warhead, but a quantum one. The cylindrical bomb it unleashed teetered and spun in the bleakness of space, a secondary engine guiding it towards its destination as the drone pulled off and struggled to find a way back through the patchwork shield that tried to protect the vessel.
It didn’t.
By the time the first drone wave had struggled on through the group, there were still seven thousand left. Seven thousand, nine hundred and six to be exact. The swarm had lost barely a percentage of their overall strength in the initial assault. Along with electronic attacks, the Aschen ships had been subjected to conventional weapons as well. 41 kilogram warhead Gladius anti-ship missiles would rock the vessels that had been targeted. Dozens of ships found themselves subjected to a cursory pass, ten or twenty warheads deposited against their hull in a passing strike. Explosions would rip against the hulls and perforate the ships that had found themselves subject of the first assault.
Behind that, after the initial wave, the drones seemed to merely observe. They were subject to a full investigation: Lancers and Morsman drones, the tinier cousins of the Lancers, scanned hulls and hulks alike. They observed the bodies of Aschen jettisoned into the depths by the ferocious explosions that dotted numerous ships. It was like they were surgeons, cutting into the body and measuring what sort of blood flowed from it.
Then, as if an unsightly predator that threatened them wasn’t satisfied, they regained their composure. They organized. Several thousand drones began moving on from the sites of their first kills: leaving both wounded and dead behind. A phalanx of droneships was at their front, marked and scarred with whatever sort of defense their primary line had managed to do upon it but still operating. The drones continued unabated, no remorse upon the devastation they had inflicted -- most of the Aschen ships had been simply strafed, but others, others were scenes of horror.
“This is Captain Stark, again. I am assuming we have made our point clear. You hold the fate of your civilization in your hands know: I would implore you to negotiate with us. Beyond that, you should prepare for a war. A war you will not win. If you must hear it now, I am a member of the Exogarden: the magistrate of your civilization. We will judge you, and if you resist us, we will destroy all of you.”
____
The sheer chaos that unfolded through the primary group was beyond words for the seasoned Fleet Admiral. The garbled radio chatter, ship commanders struggling to hold order at the drone onslaught.
Warheads impacted armor, the older cruisers, battle-cruisers, and escort ships suffered the worst damage, but the thick duralthene armor of the Iconoclast, Punisher, and newer Reverence I class ships fared better. They unleashed the most against the incoming drones by throwing up thick firing solutions that perforated the assaulting drones, taking them out. The ECW attacks were short lived as each vessel entered the Aiyanna protocol, but it was obvious that their crews were strained without computer assistance. Physically marking targets with their eyes, and firing weapons on visual cues rather than with targeting systems.
Nagala's words echoed through the CIC over the chaos of radio messages.
"Aiyanna protocol; pull the main bus."
Hundreds of years of computer engineering and development would be overidden in an instant, the Exogarden's quantum intrusions rendered worthless as every single computer system aboard the Reverence II was shut down by the throw of a single switch. The Main bus override that physically broke the connection to all computer systems aboard the massive assault carrier.
The crews of the Psalm Every Day trained for this, the instant the main bus was pulled, the lights shut off, all power had been cut to the computer systems. Deck crews in auxiliary power flipped several large breakers, and simple analog systems came to life.
Mechanical regulators kept the massive Deuterium-Fusion reactors alight in the absence of digital regulation. Physical solenoids and valves actuated to provide maneuvering thrust where computer controlled Gravitic RCS systems could not.
Each individual gun turret was crewed with a gun captain, and weapons crew to manually cycle the weapons batteries, efficiency was sacrificed for complete immunity to electronic warfare.
The visible lights flickered aboard the Reverence II, and it shook control from the Exogarden's systems.
The remainder followed suit, allowing them to fare better against the initial assault than they would have they not switched protocols so suddenly. A handful of cruisers were lost, but their sacrifice enabled the remaining ships to switch their protocols, and engage point defense weaponry. The Casualties were high though, and confusion continued to reign aboard the other two task groups.
The attack had come suddenly, that they managed to take some of the drones with them; but they were that. Drones, people gave their lives in the face of robotic machinations. The Fleet Admiral was to make a choice.
"Open a channel to Captain Stark." Nagala ordered, and several switches were flipped on a console, and the short-wave radio was engaged. A very simple short-wave radio independant from the now offline computer systems. At these distances there was a noticeable lag. It was time to buy time, stall these alien hostiles until an assessment of the attack could be made, and the Imperial Fleet could regroup, take their dead and retaliate.
"This is Imperial Actual; what exactly are we supposed to negotiate?" She asked, her garbled voice on shortwave carrying into the void of the cosmos. Sweat beaded on her brow as the harsh red lights reflected off her face.
"You do not invade another civilization, and then attack their ships when they've come to ascertain who you are and your intent, simply to 'negotiate'" Nagala replied. "I think you've made your intentions quite clear, Captain." The Admiral said, disconnecting the shortwave wireless.
"Ready a raptor for me in five minutes, I will need to jump back to Langara. When Admiral Hanley arrives she will be in command. I will need to meet with the Minister of Defense personally." She said, turning to her CIC Crew.
"I suggest you make peace with the gods." She said, knowing what she was planning to do next.
As Nagala turned to leave, additional contacts appeared on DRADIS, with two audible beeps, A strike group from the Imperial Defense force, commanded by the Reverence II Esteem jumped roughly half an AU from Nagala's group.
The entire formation of Hanley's strike group ground to a halt as data began to pour into their systems as to what lay before them. A Dozen of Nagala's ships had been hit hard, the Reverence II was operating in Aiyanna protocol, as was the rest of the fleet. The young redhead watched her own display with a look of trepidation. The Shortwave messages from Nagala's ship had just reached the Esteem, and Hanley frowned even more.
One by one Hanley's fleet began to enter Aiyanna protocol, shutting down everything but the most basic computer systems. Gun Captains moved into weapon emplacements to manually aim and fire weapon batteries. Simple analog systems were activated in place of the sophisticated computer systems.
Five Hundred vessels with the Imperial defense force spread out into a rough frigate-line formation, with older BP-15 Starfighters, and W-112 Interceptors, all fighters that were flown entirely without computer assistance. They took up a fighter screen formation along the frigate line, but did not advance on the Exogarden positions or Nagala's forces.
Hanley's vessel was serving a different purpose, relaying telemetry through Astrometrics; and linking a bitstream codec to the Tal'dor Strategic Missile Command.
Nagala had reached her raptor by then, which disembarked from the Psalm Every Day in a brilliant streak, jumping out just moments later as Admiral Hanley called up on the shortwave.
"All Imperial units hold position; let's not make this worse than it already is." The Admiral hailed, before switching channels to Captain Stark.
"Tyrant Actual, this is Admiral Claire Hanley, with the Imperial Defense Force flagship Esteem I will be speaking on behalf of my government, make your demands to me, and I will relay them to my government for consideration."
Hanley awaited a reply as she turned to her XO.
"Time to buy time until we can get the Quorum to deliberate on how to proceed."
____
As the Aschen vessels cocooned themselves in the rudimentary defenses against electronic attack, not only reducing their efficiency but also any rational hope of withstanding a dreaded second wave, the drone fleet seemed to linger upon the battlefield like merciless mosquitoes or carrions. As evidenced, they were content to study the damage they had caused and oversee their capabilities of dealing with the damage: what was found impressed the digital entities, and left them wanting at other times. The smaller drones, like the Lancer’s and Aggressor’s, peeled off from their escort duties along the sleek Monitor class destroyers and Argentavis class exocruisers to ring and circle about Aschen vessels and the jettisoned compartments alike.
Somewhere, nearly one hundred and eight thousand kilometers from one crippled Aschen cruiser, a Shortsword fighter drone let it’s mechanical eye wash over a melted bulkhead struck by a powerful stand-off missile. From its spectral analysis it detailed the usual debris: molten metal flash-frozen in the bleak grip of space, dying electrical systems divorced from their central hubs and then the cold, soft signature of organic life. Pulse engines throbbed, they would be emitting a quiet, autonomous hum if sound were able to travel across the frigid expanses, as the drone slowly closed upon the first body.
Analyzers and sensors cycled to observe the corpse in every possible manner: x-rays mapped neuro-vascular pathways and, rudimentarily, attempted to scan the brain through the centimeters of rugged stone and ice that had become the being’s form. The information was quickly sub-loaded through a myriad of secondaries, reaching the central command at Hadria island somewhere between twenty and thirty minutes later.
The droneships, however, continued under full power to the designated rendezvous zone as the Ascen acquiesced to the Exogarden’s protocol. By the time whatever ship they had chosen to facilitate a brief exchange of handshakes were to arrive, they would be escorted by a pack of droneships: two destroyers, an exocruiser and two Starhunters.
Meanwhile, onboard the CNS Tyrant, Captain Logan Stark sat in his command chair with the receiver lazily held by his mouth: studying constant upstreams from both the drones and deep-space satellites aimed at the bulk of the Aschen fleet. As he gained return from an Aschen fleet officer, one Admiral Nagala, he calmly planted the commo-phone back into it’s receptacle beside his chair. “I believe we may have spurned the proclivities of our guests,” He replied solemnly, staring holes into the airscreen in front of him as he monitored the drone fleet.
“Are we to prepare a launch strike, Captain?” The Lieutenant Commander inquired, her eyes turning from a combat analyzer on the wing of the crow’s nest. She held one delicate hand over the ‘INITIATE’ button of a hub-control, the holographic iconography and symbols flickering in and out every once in awhile.
“No, we will maintain formation. I believe they will agree to the rendezvous. Prepare a request to the High Commodore however, in good faith we should assign a Fleet Tender to undertake search and rescue operations.” Captain Stark replied. He straightened his officer’s coat in his seat, then rose as a klaxon sounded from down below: in the comm’s pit, an express signal from central command had arrived. Stark shouted out for the airscreen to re-purposes.
High Commodore Perry occupied the large plate window of the crow’s nest, great coat seeming to cloak his stern form and eyes hardening as he jumped between an analyzer screen and the communique with Captain Stark.
“Morning Captain, looks like we’ve found the explanation behind those Starhunters.”
“Yessir it seems so, we’re receiving some partial information from the first drone strike -- “ Stark was stopped there by the dismissive wave of a hand from the High Commodore, his features stitched into an apprehensive scowl and his eyes narrowed.
“Have they made any further advances beyond the initial drone strike?”
“No sir, not outside of vocal misgivings. They are preparing to rendezvous with a drone team as we speak.” He informed, quickly loading a detailed plan of the escort route and docking procedures for the lone star elevator dominating the orbit of the planet.
“Very well. I will be on station to communicate and debrief these … Aschen within the next four hours. You, Captain Stark, will oversee the observation of the fleet and adherence to our protocols -- if any vessels deviate, Captain, you are instructed to prosecute a secondary strike and full combat operations under the strictest authority, understood? If there is to be further conflict, STRATFOR Gilgamesh will be closing the trap soon.”
High Commodore Perry saluted as the airscreen shut off, folding his arms behind his back once more as he turned to a Lieutenant Commander and gave him the all clear to assume tactical command of Hadria island. The Commodore’s detail would be much less savory for a Star Fleet officer, discussion with Terrans. It would be several hours before he was even able to leave the planet though, with the strict protocols in place for the nominal protection of states beyond the Veil. He would first have to undergo a prompt and full health diagnostic: the Fleet corpsman were often sticklers for bureaucracy and SOP and he was not looking forward to that hour-long detail.
For the sake of the Aschen, they would be relegated to a particularly well-controlled section of the station when they arrived. A locality where not only all outside influence could be monitored and contained, but also where the threat of Charybdian pathogens infecting these untouched humans could be controlled. For their sake again, they ought to consider themselves lucky the extent of which they earned the ire of the Exogarden was just a cursory drone strike: entire civilizations had disappeared over the course of only one or two generations after coming into contact with the Scatterran wildmen to the north of the Veil.
As he departed Control, he was ushered to a Konkurs patrol car and was driven to the star lift with all these thoughts running through his head. On the way he made contact with his ground officers, two Generals and one Major General that commanded the marine garrison force on the planet. Theory abounded over the men, whom thought it would be best to err on the side of caution and simply force the enemy fleet out before agreeing to any sort of real dialogue: that was, of course, typical of a marine erring on the side of caution.
When he reached the star lift he was brought to Traffic Control, and made ready for a transmission to the Aschen fleet at large. Captain Stark had received a communique from another Aschen fleet officer, Admiral Hanley, and had returned that a High Commodore of the Star Fleet would be assuming operation control of their negotiation. As he received the transmission, he adjusted the uniform that was covering his large frame: the Azric was a perfect example of the Scatterran form, warm yet imposing.
“Admiral Hanley, this is High Commodore Matthew Perry of the Hadriatica Authority. I am in command of the Exogarden forces on this planet. We have assumed custodianship of the world and surrounding space, and by extension have delineated the new border between the expanse of your space and that of an area known as the Local Region. This sector of space is now under full control and occupation of the Exogarden. You have been instructed to bring one ship under escort to the star elevator, located at the following coordinates. Here, you will be allowed to speak on behalf of your government and military. I anticipate you may be attempting to bide time on deciding whether or not to continue but I will warn you now, we are more than capable of evicting you from this system and many others. I will be joining you after procedures have been taken to ensure that your kind will be protected from any possible contamination from a Charybdian race. I would implore you to follow all instructions given to you exactly, or we will not hesitate to re-engage and destroy your forces. Is this understood?”
____
Admiral Claire Hanley straightened her duty uniform as she listened carefully to the responses put fourth on the CIC Speaker systems. Bridge crews were running various diagnostics on the Fleet of Inner Knowledge before them.
"I have casualty reports. One hundred and seventy lost in the attack, we have multiple ships reporting full computer shutdowns and damage control teams working to mitigate the damage from the attack." The Lieutenant reported as he passed Hanley a folder with the requisite information. Damage control reports, casualty lists, and names of those lost in the attack.
"We're dangerously close to the furthest reaches of the red line." She said, as the Esteem's computer systems were brought back online. The massive strategic holographic projection laid out before her as she zoomed out on the console. The highlighted regions of the Diamond Shoals cleaved in two by the Red Line. Their position put them less than a thousand or so light years from the outer most fringes of the Red Line.
Hanley knew this put the Imperial Border Authority in a precarious position; with a Military stronghold poised to invade them at any time, Hanley knew this would make the think tanks back on Langara uneasy, it made them very uneasy.
She brought her attention upward at the projection as the Commodore's words echoed in the CIC.
"Colonel, get a full crew to the Battlestar Columbia in hangar three, see if we have a Commander on staff to provide command." She said, turning away from the console and sighing.
"Open a channel to the alien hostiles." She ordered, and the communications systems crackled.
"This is Admiral Hanley, I understand your instructions and am preparing a vessel to dock with your station; please allow some time for preparations to be complete. I will also be launching search and rescue operations to recover the vessels your fleet has damaged. Please do not interfere with their operation." The Admiral replied, before she turned to her XO.
"You're in charge." She said, offering a crisp salute.
Turing to exit the CIC, she looked up to several holographic signs, making her way through the large winding corridors of the Reverence II towards the primary tramway that ran the dorsal structure of the ship.
---
Aboard the Battlestar Columbia.
Crewman from the Esteem were making their way in an orderly fashion aboard the Columbia. Commander Yulee Milner, a fairly young commander and a fresh transfer from the Sagittaron Class Battlecruiser Valfarre.
She settled into the CIC as the lights came on one by one, LEDs flashed on the analog computer panels to indicate the ship's status as green, the DRADIS Screens also cracked on one by one.
The CIC was starting to come to life, as the various CIC staff officers settled into their positions. Milner looked down as a clear plastic film overlay of the star system was thrown over the CIC table. Plastic discs representing the Exogarden and Aschen positions were also placed on the table, while calculations were made and the Commander gave a nod of approval, followed by a salute as Hanley stepped onto the CIC.
"Admiral on Deck!"
Everyone in the room gave a crisp salute as Hanley instructed them to be at ease, settling into her position at the command console, she turned to Commander Milner.
"Initiate launch systems." Hanley ordered, and Milner nodded.
"Columbia Actual to Esteem LSO, we have Admiral Hanley on board and are green for primary launch sequences."
The echoes of the CIC Crew followed as Hanley listened closely to their words.
"Disconnecting from Esteem power supply, reactors are started and hot, main power is green across the board."
"Magazines are full and we are go for launch! Initiating primary docking separation. LSO Signal is green, beacons are online."
"Hangar doors retracted, all hatches sealed."
The Columbia bucked slightly, as the docking systems of the Esteem released it through it's underside bay doors into the void of space; two Sagittaron class Battlecruisers formed up alongside the Columbia, it's grey armored form coming to bear from beneath the gargantuan bay doors of the Esteem.
"Set course for the star elevator, Airlock seven." Hanley ordered and the Battlestar began it's short journey from the Esteem to the star elevator over the planet.
"Exogarden Command this is Battlestar Columbia, we have Admiral Hanley on board and are requesting approach vectors, how copy.."
Slowly the Columbia began it's approach vector, and would follow all docking commands.
Hanley waited in the airlock with a team of Marines, all of them equipped with heavy CUIRASSE Armor systems and PDW Disruptor weapons, a single Adeptus Ares was waiting behind them, checking his armor systems as they waited for the Airlock to cycle.
"Alright boys." Hanley said. "Let's do this by the books. I'll do the talking, and you'll get me out of there in one piece if it comes to that." She said, checking her transponder.
____
The Aschen vessel was escorted over the battle lines by a pair of Atea class frigates. They passed by the aegis installation with the CNS Tyrant off their bow, and were then further escorted by a flight of Neptune naval bombers. The star dock hanging over Hadriatica was large, though the farther sectors had been cleared to provide adequate docking space for the Aschen vessel. As they neared, the defense buoys swivelled: lasbor and stanchion cannons unpowered but still keeping a stern eye on the procession.
Provided with docking instructions, the Aschen ship would find itself locked and contained with extending pairs of magnetic clamps, fully armored umbilicals and various drones that oversaw proper docking. When the final airlock began to cycle open, the doors would slowly open to reveal a fireteam of automatons waiting for the Aschen on the other side.
One of the GI-90 Bellator modules carried a MAR-909 laser rifle in a three-pronged hand, the other coming up to offer a short wave to the Aschen detachment. “Stand by for initial tricoder scan.” The drone ordered with an autonomous tinge in it’s synthetic voice.
The small docking section the Aschen had been allowed into darkened just barely, though the light from transparent plating that overlooked the gentle curve of the planet lit the room with a gentle glow. Then, bright blue lasers criss-crossed the room until they had scanned every narrow inch of the interior. The ABE cautiously brought the hand back down, the two miniature eyes on it’s oblong head pulsing softly.
“Initial scans within adequate parameters. Follow me.” He commanded, and the other automatons lowered their weapons before ushering the Aschen through a cycling door and a large, blank room with an empty airscreen mounted above a large door.
“Authority personnel are on their way to this installation, pending a thorough sanitization.”
