The Empty Void: An-All Human Starting Factions AAR

[Kautz]

Prologue: The Race for the Stars and the Road to Civil War
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The 22nd Century seemed like it would be the last that humanity would ever see. The population continued to grow as the ecosystems of Earth buckled under the pressure of humanity’s greed and ravenous hunger for resources. Futile attempts to relieve the overpopulation of Earth by colonizing small asteroid stations, Mars, and the various moons of Jupiter and Saturn with mining colonies failed to significantly lift the burden on mankind’s dying planet, and Earth doomed to suffer a final war between its competing superpowers.

Everything changed with the discovery of hyperlanes in 2189 and the subsequent invention of the hyperdrive in 2199. The great expanses of the Milky Way Galaxy appeared to be finally within reach of humanity, and the seemingly endless abundance of planets throughout the galaxy provided the room needed for Earth’s burden to be eased. Earth’s superpowers wasted no time in preparing their own colonial expeditions across the heavens to find new worlds to settle, where fresh resources could be acquired and excess population settled. Within 20 years humanity had gone from living in a single star system facing its own extinction, to being spread out across a quarter of the galaxy.

Ominously, despite discovering that the galaxy was full of alien life, humanity found no alien civilizations across the stars. There were, however, remnants of ancient civilizations seemingly everywhere, but something had caused every interstellar species to vanish. Despite this foreboding emptiness, humanity was not deterred and the race to colonize the empty worlds continued unabated.

The ability to travel across the vast galaxy caught the eye of more than just Earth’s powerful national governments. Private companies, wealthy entrepreneurs, independent-minded people, and dissident groups all looked to the stars and saw opportunities for new lives, new wealth, and new freedom. By 2080, even the furthest reaches of the Milky Way had been settled. Yet even with a seemingly endless supply of new worlds and new resources, humanity’s great curse of division and conflict had taken its toll. Greed, jealousy, fear, competition, hatred, all conspired to create turmoil, and humanity once again had shed its own blood in what became known as “the Bleeding Years.”

As the supply of unclaimed systems dwindled, multi-stellar governments sprang up from the chaotic anarchy of the frontier. It would not be long before these large governments began to fight among themselves just as the nation-states of Old Earth had for millennia. By 2364, large-scale war was far from unknown in the galaxy.

Pictured: A political map of the galaxy in 2364 with all autonomous governments shown independently.

Pictured: A political map of the galaxy in 2364 showing federal unions, trade pacts, defense pacts, and commerce leagues.

The Federal Civil War

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Pictured: The Near Side of the Galaxy at the outbreak of the Federal Civil War

Pictured: Map of the Near Side of the Galaxy at the start of the Federal Civil War showing hyperlane routes.

The Federal Republic of Systems:

The Central Government

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The lawlessness and anarchy of the initial race for the stars gave rise to pirates and warlords who slaughtered and enslaved those who stood against them. Megacorporations, with no regulating government, carved out mighty empires amongst the stars, recklessly pursuing profit at the expense of the residents they ruled over and the native life on the planets they exploited. Dictators rose and fell on hundreds of worlds, fighting against each other for galactic domination. The Bleeding Years and the rise of galactic empires that vastly overpowered each of them separately, caused the nation-states and federations of Earth to realize the need for unity.

On March 4th, 2251, the countries of Earth and their colonies across the stars signed the Articles of Federation forming the Federal Republic of Systems; a federal democratic union of star systems and planets led by the leadership of mother Earth. Together, they stood a chance against the marauding pirates, bloodthirsty warlords, and tyrannical dictators that now held power across the Milky Way galaxy. Earth now stood as a shining beacon of democracy and humanity in a lawless galaxy of war and slavery.

All was not well within the Federal Republic, however. Piracy still threatened vital trade routes between Earth and her widespread loyal colonies, secessionists called for their planets’ or sectors’ independence, and large empires, some of which were unfriendly and aggressive, looked into the vast expanse of Federal territory and saw an overstretched future adversary.

Despite all this, the FRS managed to stay strong for over one hundred years and beat back those that challenged it in the void. The Federal Navy managed to beat back threats from the Cevasian Directorate, the Fara Liberation Front, the War Clans of Koros, and the Xu-Murdoch Prison Colonies. Despite its victories on the field of battle, the fragile stability of the largest government in the galaxy would come crashing down on December 13th, 2364 with the secession of the Colonial Confederation and the start of the FRS Civil War.

The Valkyrie Security Company

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The Forsmark Nuclear Disaster of 2182 had led to millions of refugees from Scandinavia being left without a home. Though many of them settled in other parts of the world, many more fled to the early space colonies in the Solar System. With the invention of the hyperdrive, a group of relatively wealthy Scandinavian refugees had a chance to once again live in a beautiful pristine land. They founded expeditions to colonize a group of habitable planets near the core of the galaxy. Unfortunately, the native life near the core proved to be extremely hostile and the colonists were constantly preyed upon by the abundant and ferocious predators that inhabited this area of space.

A group of military veterans who had spent years in the Reclamation Sector of their old homeland hunting down the savage mutant creatures that had plagued the lawless Scandinavian Wasteland saw an excellent business opportunity in the core. This group of veterans founded the Valkyrie Security Company and were quickly contracted to help defend the colonists of core against dangerous native life. The success of the VSC led to soaring profits, and by 2035 the VSC was rich enough and powerful enough to have de facto control of the worlds they operated on. With such abundant wealth, the company funded its own colonial expedition to establish a headquarters world for its employees named Valhalla.

The VSC maintained good relations with the governments of Earth and was routinely hired by colony worlds to provide security against civil unrest or wildlife attacks. The union of Earth governments to create the FRS created a business problem for the VSC. The FRS constitution provided favorable terms for businesses within the borders of the FRS, which put pressure on the VSC which relied heavily on business contracts with FRS colony worlds. This problem was resolved when the VSC joined the FRS as an autonomous state on August 18th, 2253. Being an autonomous part of the FRS allowed the VSC to gain a near-monopoly on private security within the Republic until the annexation of the Galactic Banking Alliance in 2270.

The annexation of the GBA put the Valkyrie Security Company in direct competition with the Banking Alliance’s private military forces which it too lent out as mercenaries when they were not protecting or recovering stolen banking assets. Forced to adapt, the VSC put a vigorous effort into lobbying the Federal government, and by 2300, secured contracts with the Federal Army. VSC personnel became a special private branch of the Federal Army that could be called into service during times of war, but serve abroad both independently and at the behest of the Federal government. Valkyrie Security Detachments fought in conflicts throughout the galaxy and gained indispensable military experience that would prove vital in the coming civil war.

The Galactic Banking Alliance

Initially founded as a way to set up tax havens outside of the jurisdiction of the governments of Earth, the need for financial lending to fund the colonization of the galaxy enabled the various banking companies near the core of the galaxy to become very rich and prosperous. It also, however, attracted piracy. The banking companies began to hire defense contractors and even formed some of their own private military units until the Fara Revolution of 2269 led to the banks merging for protection.

Unfortunately for the banks, Faran revolutionaries acquired and published private documents found in Galactic Resource Company headquarters that proved that the banks were funding the future New Roman Emperor Gaetano Auriemma’s controversial brutal war against the Alvanian Pirate Worlds. The Galactic Banking Alliance CEO stepped down and the FRS annexed the GBA as a semi-autonomous state to regulate the banks in an attempt to prevent such funding of war crimes again and tax evasion.


The Banking Alliance wasted no time in influencing Federal politics and allowing it to gain back many of the freedoms it had enjoyed before the annexation. Many within the FRS whispered that it was truly the GBA that ruled the government, instead of the other way around. When war with the colonies appeared imminent, the bankers began to fear a loss of assets in the colonies. They pressured President deCara to take a hardline against Finks, and promised military assistance to the Federal government from their private fleets, as well as their Federal Sector fleets that defended the systems they controlled directly.

The Velutarian Mercantile Guilds

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The dangers of early space travel and the piracy of the Republic of Llibertat led to a collection of Outer Rim merchant guild worlds to band together in a loose confederation. The vast resources of the “Velutarian Stretch,” as the territory came to be known led to immense profits from trade. Still, even united, the Mercantile Guilds suffered from pirate raids on the Outer Rim, cutting off lucrative trade routes with the FRS. The strain it put on both the FRS and the Velutarians led to their annexation as an autonomous state in the FRS in 2305 to end the threat of piracy in the Near Side of the galaxy for the time being. There were, however, other, greater threats on the horizon.

The Secession Crisis in the final months of 2364 sent waves of panic through the Velutarian Stretch. The vast majority of Velutarian trade routes with the central portion of the FRS ran through the Colonial Confederation, and the Confederation immediately halted all trade ships bound for Federal territory. With war clearly on the horizon, the Velutarian Mercantile Guilds voted unanimously to side with the Federal government and mobilized their military to “protect our trade and our Federal system.”

Anti-Federal Forces:

The Colonial Confederation

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When the Federal Republic of Systems was founded in 2251, not every colony of Earth was eager to join a centralized government. Many of the early colonies of Earth’s nations had enjoyed a high level of autonomy during the Bleeding Years, including being able to participate in activities that were illegal back on Earth, and were not eager to give up such rights. Led by the aptly-named colony world Independence, the Colonial Confederation raised militias and prepared for a confrontation with Federal forces. Fortunately, cooler heads prevailed and the Colonial Confederation agreed to remain in the FRS, and the FRS agreed to continue to give the Colonial Confederation high levels of autonomy. Despite this compromise, throughout the years, tensions built up over levels of autonomy, taxes, environmental regulations, human rights, the use of indentured servants, and the Korosi mutant raids.

The victory of the charismatic and fiery secessionist former-Sector Marshal Carmen Finks, a hero of the First Korosi War and leader of the xenophobic Colonial Supremacy Party in the election of 2360 threw fuel onto the fire of rebellion. Her belligerent anti-Federal rhetoric inflamed the passions for complete independence from the FRS in billions living in the Colonial Confederation. To make matters worse, the election of Federal President Val deCara of the imperialist Federalist Party in the same election within the central portion of the FRS put the two opposing forces on a path towards direct conflict. A series of political disputes arose between the two and as the years went by, the two sides seemed perpetually at odds and hopes of unity between the two faded away into the void.

The longstanding threat of Colonial secession and civil war would finally come to fruition on November 1st, 2364 when Carmen Finks declared the independence of the Colonial Confederation and named herself President. Not all of the Colonial Confederation desired independence from the FRS however. Between Earth and the Colonial capital world Independence, was the colony Mare. Mare had long been a Federal naval base and the population was loyal and determined to stay within the Republic. The Colonial Tartessos Sector also contained a sizeable portion of Federal loyalists due to its close proximity to Alpha Centauri, and many of the Tartessos Sector military officers had served alongside Alpha Centauri Sector officers.

The existence of many loyal Federal citizens within the Colonial Confederation gave President deCara no choice but to condemn Finks act of treason and declare secession from the FRS illegal. President Finks responded by ordering the Colonial military to seize all Federal military assets within Colonial borders, with force if necessary. One by one Federal military outposts in the Confederation abandoned their positions or defected to the Colonial military. Only Mare remained in Federal hands, and it quickly voted to secede from the Colonial Confederation and join the centralized portion of the FRS as a new sector. President Finks was outraged and swore that the “traitors" of Mare would be punished for betraying their fellow Colonial citizens.

President Val deCara responded by ordering the Alpha Centauri Fleet under the command of Sector Admiral Mahesh Varma, and the Mare Fleet under the command of Sector Admiral Eleonore Giroud to prepare for imminent war, and setting up an inevitable confrontation with Colonial forces. On December 13th, 2364, President Finks responded with a declaration of war against the FRS.

The Cevasian Directorate

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The fall of the Xeno Archeology Institute in 2320 left the Cevasian Directorate as the only remaining organizations in the galaxy dedicated to collecting and researching as many precursor artifacts as it could get its hands on. The Cevasian Directorate had originally been contracted by several Earth governments to find alien artifacts for scientific research on the Outer Rim. The Crypt Disaster of 2320 on the Xeno Archeology capital world known as the Graveyard (due to the numerous alien ruins that dotted the surface) caused the FRS to pass a law severely regulating and restricting research and collection of alien artifacts.

The Cevasian Directorate refused to comply and raised a private army utilizing reverse-engineered alien technology. The FRS and the Cevasian Directorate fought a frontier war from 2349 to 2353 in a dispute over alien ruins discovered in the Grimstead Sector. Despite its advanced technology, the overwhelming numbers of ships and troops from the FRS military broke the Cevasian border defenses and overran two colony worlds rich in ancient ruins. The casualties among the forces of the Federal Navy and Federal Army were shockingly high, however, and the FRS made peace without bringing the Cevasian Directorate in line with its regulations. From that point on, the FRS and the Cevasian Directorate considered each other their archenemy, and the Cevasian Directorate focused its attention on any perceived weakness within the FRS in the hopes of neutralizing such a large threat. The secession of the Colonial Confederacy appeared to be that weakness, and the Cevasian Directorate quietly began moving its naval strike forces into position along the border with the FRS.

The Fara Liberation Front

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Fara was an indentured-servant mining colony owned by the Galactic Resource Company. In 2267, a charismatic Neo-Marxist “Indenty” named Stephanie Taliag organized the Indenties to peacefully strike for better rights and treatment. The Company had no desire to negotiate with its indentured servants and hired the infamous Valerion Mercenary Company to break the strike. On November 9th, 2268, Valerion Mercenaries kidnapped and brutally murdered Stephanie Taliag. It was several weeks before her body was discovered by striking miners at the bottom of a mine shaft.

On December 31st, 2268, a massive demonstration and general strike broke out across the entire planet of Fara. The Valerion Mercenary Company responded by firing on indentured servant residential areas and ruthlessly gunning down protesters. On January 1st, 2269, Fara exploded with violence as furious revolutionaries thirsty for revenge sprang up across the planet and assaulted Valerion positions and the luxurious Shareholder residences. The leader of the revolution was Stephanie Taliag’s younger sister, Melanie Taliag. While her sister had been committed to peaceful reform, Melanie wanted only brutal vengeance upon her sister's killers and all those who supported them. She declared all shareholders and GRC personnel to be enemies of the people and ordered them liquidated. Following the capture of the colony world from the GRC, she gave a speech in the capital, Fara City, calling for a “Revolutionary Crusade” throughout the Galactic Resource Company and began her bloody path to a galactic revolution that would slaughter billions across entire worlds in her quest for vengeance against those she considered to be her enemies.

The Galactic Resource Company nearly collapsed due to the relentless FLF assault until a civil war broke out within the revolution due to the ruthless Machiavellian leadership of Melanie Taliag. The United Front of Proletaria’s schism with the Fara Liberation Front in 2275 greatly weakened the spread of the revolution, and the intervention by the Valkyrie Security Company and elements of the Federal Navy in 2276 prevented the Galactic Resource Company’s capital world Galrescom from being overrun. In 2277 The FLF agreed to an armistice with the GRC so it could focus its fight against the “revolutionary traitors” of the UFP. The brutal infighting between the revolutionaries lasted for five years and saw countless atrocities and war crimes committed by the ferocious FLF.

Finally, after billions of lives lost, the war came to an end with an armistice in 2281 following the death of Melanie Taliag. Though officially she died of cancer caused by her work in the mote mines of Fara, theories that she was poisoned by a rival within the FLF, or by a UFP operative are widely believed throughout the galaxy.

Though peace was made, violent infighting in the FLF led to the rise of a much wiser, but just as brutal leader named John Ortega, who began to rebuild the forces of the FLF for a future when the Fara Revolution would once again spread across the galaxy. The Federal Civil War appeared to be the perfect opportunity for the Revolution to spread to new worlds and as chaos engulfed the FRS, the Fara Liberation Navy began to prepare to once again lay waste to its enemies across the galaxy.

 

[Kautz]

Torn Loyalties
Commodore Manuel Alonso
Independence, the Colonial Confederation

December 13th, 2365​

“The Federal government has infringed upon our rights for the last time,” Planetary General Daphne Gauthier bellowed before the Colonial Assembly. The Assembly burst into applause yet again.

Commodore Manuel Alonso resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes; he had heard hundreds of statements like this over the past four years and it was laughable to hear someone from the Colonial Army acting like they had the power to do anything to the FRS when a single Federal fleet had the capabilities to turn an entire planet to glass, but speeches like this had grown in frequency until they were as common as hellos and goodbyes over the past few months. In normal circumstances, he would have rolled his eyes, but these were far from normal circumstances, and to do so now in the face of everything that had happened over the past three months would put a target on his back. Besides, such statements weren’t worthy of eye-rolls. Not anymore. They were dangerous now and put a deep fear into his heart. Out of nervous habit, he fiddled with the shiny silver buttons on the red stripe that ran down the center of his dark blue naval jacket. It was a bad habit he had picked up during his years in the Naval Academy on Mare years before, yet even now as an experienced Commodore, he felt like a nervous young cadet again.

“I hereby request a vote to authorize emergency war powers for President Finks, and call for a declaration of war against the Federal government, which has illegally annexed the Mare System, violating the principals of sovereignty agreed upon in the Articles of Federation of 2251. This act of war will be met with the full force of the Colonial military,” General Gauthier continued.

Alonso felt a stab of panic shoot through his chest. Authorize war against the Republic, he thought, what chance do these fools think we have against not just the Federal government, but against the Velutarians as well? He looked around at the faces of the others in the Assembly. Most were cheering and applauding, but one pair of dark brown eyes were locked to his. Sector Admiral Grizeldar Ruiz stood there applauding, but her eyes remained fixed on him. She knows what I'm thinking. She knows how I feel about secession, he thought with fear. She always seemed to know what he was thinking. It was a natural side effect of them serving for nearly a decade together defending the Tartessos Sector against Korosi raiders and pirate fleets.

Alonso pursed his lips, sighed, and looked back at Gauthier who was finishing her speech. The entire assembly rose to their feet cheering and applauding. Not wanting to stand out, Alonso stood too, but there were no cheers coming from his lips. He wore only a somber expression on his face, betraying his fear of what the future would bring now that the Colonial government had decided to choose the path of war.

After what felt like an eternity of listening to bellicose speeches, mostly by politicians who never set foot near a battlefield, the Assembly meeting was adjourned and Alonso was finally able to step outside. He took a breath of fresh air and looked out across the planetary capital Newtown with its skyscrapers rising to the sky like a sea of steel grass, and the jagged blue-grey mountain range that ran behind it. Transit aircraft and drones buzzed around the skyline while mag-trains ran along urban tracks carrying millions of the city’s residents to wherever on the planet they wanted to go. The last days of normalcy. He wondered what signs the city would look like when Federal naval shells began to fall from orbit across the planet in a few months. At the bottom of the stairs, a large crowd carrying anti-Federal banners were cheering about the declaration of war. The fools have no idea what war is. They have unleashed hell upon us all, he thought to himself.

He heard footsteps walking behind him as walked down the long marble stairs of the Colonial Assembly. “Commodore,” he heard a female voice say, “we need to talk.”

It was Admiral Ruiz who had an uncomfortable look of shame and pity on her face. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted, and I know you’re conflicted about fighting against the Federal Navy. It makes me uneasy as well. We both swore loyalty to the FRS and I have just as many friends on the other side as you do,” she murmured.

Friends on the other side, he repeated in his head. We should all be on the same side. He wanted to say it but knew it was pointless. “I know,” he replied, “I know, but we are making a fatal mistake here.”

“That may be, but you have to be careful. Someone like you with a long naval career ahead of him… If anyone suspected your loyalties lay with Earth…”

“My loyalties lie with Tartessos of course!” He stressed the word loyalties. He was angry now. It was true that he was against war with the FRS, but he would never betray his home planet. “If war comes, I will not hesitate to do whatever I must to defend Tartessos, even against my old comrades in the Federal Navy.”

“I know you will Manuel. You’re a great officer and I have no doubts you will serve our new government well. I even told President Finks that when she asked about you.”

“You… you talked with Finks about me?” Alonso was shocked and a little nervous to hear that Finks had mentioned him at all.

“Finks was concerned that some elements of our military might not be at ease with the idea of fighting their former comrades, but I assured her that you would not be a problem. I just wanted to make sure that I wasn’t being a fool to put my neck out for you. We need you for the fight to come.”

Alonso sighed again and looked down at his feet. He glanced back up at Ruiz and replied “Don’t worry about me, Admiral. I won’t betray my planet, but declaring war on the FRS is suicide, and even if we win who will protect us against the Korosi raiders, or the Llibertat pirates, or the Directorate? They have and will kill for alien artifacts. If some ruins are discovered on Noricum…”

“You shouldn’t say that. It’s not safe for you. Regardless, I wouldn’t worry about the Directorate. Korosi raiders or Llibertat aren’t anything we can’t handle on our own. The Federal Navy may have helped us last time the Korosi hit Tartessos, but we know how they fight now. They won’t catch us off-guard again. And besides, the Independence Fleet and the Noricum Fleet both have the power to help our fleet wipe any Korosi raiders away,” Ruiz boasted.

“Maybe they can defeat some Korosi savages, but you must know we stand no chance against the Federal Navy. They outnumber us five to one, and that’s not counting the Velutarians, or the VSC, or the Banks. You know as well as I do that Admiral Varma will bring the full force of the Alpha Centauri Fleet down on our heads and crush the Tartessos Sector. You and I both saw him at the Battle of Kebechet."

She nodded. "He's a talented aggressive naval commander. It's going to be a tough fight, but we know how he thinks. Together we can defeat him."

"He knows how you think too! You can't just serve side by side controlling coordinating fleets throughout an entire war and not expect him to know exactly how we fight. And besides, that's far from our only problem. We will be all alone. The Noricum Fleet will have its hands full with three Velutarian fleets, and the Capital Fleet and Mare Fleet will envelop the Independence Fleet and that will be the end of Finks and this ill-conceived rebellion. You always told me that one should never start a war they can’t win.”

Ruiz smirked. “Who says we can't win this war? You know, we aren’t the only ones at odds with the Feds. Just you wait and see. President Finks isn’t an idiot. She has assurances from others who share our interests.”

“What others?”

Ruiz smiled revealing all of her gene-altered perfect white teeth, a common trait among the aristocracy in the Colonial Confederation. “We are in a much stronger position than you think.” With that, she turned and began to walk away. After taking a few steps she paused and looked back over her shoulder. “Commodore Alonso, you’re a good officer and I am glad to have you on our side. Just wait and see. Everything will turn out as President Finks has promised.”

Pictured: The Tartessos Theatre: Tartessos Sector (Named after Tartessos located in AW-597) and the Alpha Centauri Sector

Pictured: The Mare-Independence Theatre: Independence Sector (Named after Independence located in Luzaria) and the Mare Sector (Named after Mare located in Sirius)

Pictured: The Noricum-Velutarian Theatre: Velutaria Sector (named after planet Velutaria in the Velutaria System), the Handlerburg Sector (named after Handlerburg located in KC-338),and the Noricum Sector (named after Noricum located in KE-749).

 

[Kautz]

A War on Two Fronts
President Val deCara
Earth, the Federal Republic of Systems

December 13th, 2364​

“Admiral Giroud and the loyalist Colonial Mare Fleet will hold their ground in the Sirius System unless pressed by overwhelming force. If the rebels decide to retake Mare, Giroud will fall back to Starfort Gibraltar and wait for reinforcements from my Capital Fleet while Federal Guard and local defense forces on Mare repel any orbital assault,” Admiral Terry Kurtz said, highlighting the projected portion of the galaxy. “Meanwhile, Admiral Varma will lead the Alpha Centauri Fleet and advance into the Tartessos Sector to engage and destroy the Tartessos Fleet. We expect this to be a tough battle since rebel Admiral Ruiz is a decorated and experienced commander who knows Admiral Varma and his style. Nevertheless, the Tartessos Fleet should be no match for the Alpha Centauri Fleet. With the Tartessos Shipyard under our control, both Velutarian fleets under Admiral Brant and Admiral Dumak will advance upon the Noricum Sector up these routes,” he pointed to two separate hyperlanes that each bordered an opposite side of the Noricum Sector, “and decisively defeat the Noricum Fleet. With Noricum and Tartessos neutralized, all forces will converge here,” he pointed to Independence, “together, our combined navies will annihilate the Independence Fleet. Naval Intelligence and war simulations estimate that the rebellion’s naval forces will be annihilated within six months.”

President deCara paused and stroked his short grey beard while he pondered the Admiral's war plan. His eyes were sore from being woken up so early in the morning unexpectedly, but the traitors declaring war on the government was something worthy of being woken up at any hour. “And how are we planning on seizing the colony worlds themselves back from these rebels Admiral?”

“The Army’s offensive capabilities are limited at the moment, sir, but Marshal Perez says they are in the process of rearming and retraining thirty-three Federal Guard armies for orbital assault in both the Capital Sector and the Alpha Centauri Sector. That being said, war simulations have shown that we need to raise an additional fifty-five million troops if we are to crush the rebellion quickly and effectively within a year.”

DeCara considered the situation for a moment and stroked his beard again. Finks may be rash and belligerent, but she’s not a lunatic or an idiot, why would she start a war she has no way of winning unless there is something we aren’t seeing. “Admiral, why do you think the rebels would declare war on us if they have no chance of winning? Surely there must be something we aren’t seeing. Is there a danger of someone else intervening in the war? The Llibertat pirates? The Cevasians? Galrescom?” President deCara stared at the borders of the FRS.

“Intelligence hasn’t found any indication of foreign intervention, sir. Our sources in Llibertat have said they are still licking their wounds from their defeat by the Votan Pact, and Galrescom is too worried about another FLF offensive finishing them off to pose any threat to us.” Kurtz paused. “The Cevasian Navy is currently participating in war games in the Cevasia Sector far from our borders, but we are monitoring the situation and it doesn’t appear they pose any threat to the Hyoga Sector. In my opinion sir, Finks knows we lack the capability for repeated planetary invasions and is counting on inflicting heavy casualties against our offensives so that we will be forced to sue for peace and accept their secession.”

DeCara breathed a sigh of relief. “In that case, I’ll contact the Senate party leaders and see if we can get a bill to raise enlistment bonuses and raise taxes to pay for the war. I think in light of the situation almost everyone will agree to that. Except of course the damn Self Rule, not that they have enough support to matter anyways.” He hated the isolationist Safe Rule Party. Idiots think the galaxy would be a utopia if every planet was on its own, as if such anarchy could ever last, he thought. Humanity triumphs with unity, not division.

“Uhhh, yes, sir.” Admiral Kurtz shifted uneasily and tugged at his dark-blue naval jacket’s collar. Politics have always made him uncomfortable, deCara thought to himself. He figured that was probably a good thing for an Admiral anyway, especially in a time of civil war.

DeCara leaned back in his chair and look up towards the Valkyrie Autonomous Zone and the GBA holdings. “VSC has offered to provide us with their private fleet as well, as have the bankers.”

“With all due respect President deCara, the Federal Navy can handle this alone. We have no need for mercenaries to crush this upstart rebellion,” Kurtz objected, “We have the rebels trapped on two fronts. They are utterly outmatched by our navy.”

Suddenly the doors to the war council burst open and a captain in a dark blue uniform with an eye surrounded by five stars on his unit insignia ran in and saluted. DeCara immediately recognized the patch as that of Federal Naval Intelligence. “President deCara, sir!” The captain looked at DeCara with worry in his eyes and snapped to attention.

“What is it, captain?”

“The Cevasians, sir,” the captain stammered, “their wargames were a decoy. The ships… they were modified civilian ships made to look like warships.”

Decara felt his heart sink. I knew it couldn’t be this easy. Those damn Cevasians have been waiting for any sign of weakness from us for ten years now, and now our fleets will be split to fight on two fronts.

“Three Cevasian fleets are advancing on our frontier as we speak, “the captain said, his voice trembling, “We are at war.”

Pictured: The Grinstead-Hyoga Theatre: The Grinstead Sector (named after the Cevasian colony world Grinstead located in GN-384), the Hyoga Sector (named after the FRS colony world Hyoga located in the Erih System), and the Battilo Sector (Named after the FLF colony world Battilo located in HE-132.)

Pictured: The San Fernando Theatre: The San Fernando Sector (named after the FRS colony world San Fernando (located in AW-652.)

 

[Kautz]

Ready for a Fight

Corporal Alex Finley
Alpha Centauri, the Federal Republic of Systems

May 11th, 2365​

“Move to cover,” Sergeant Olivia O’Connor snapped, mud dripping around the red stripe in the center of her green helmet as anti-personnel rockets and small arms fire tore through Alpha Company. Corporal Alex Finley watched two of his squadmates, Fenderson and Schwartz get obliterated by rail gun rounds, and another two, Ustinova and Wang, get blown apart by a rocket blast. Their regiment, the 111th, had been advancing through a dense jungle valley for three hours ahead of the rest of the 25th Light Infantry Division, 5th Alpha Centauri Orbital Assault Corps, after dropping in from high orbit when they had entered a large swamp. The hills and mountains in the area formed a natural bowl around the swamp, but that had not discouraged Colonel Yearley from ordering them to push through into the thick mud and murky water of the jungle swamp. It had not taken long for the enemy who had been waiting on the high ground to spring their trap.

Corporal Finley pushed through waste-high water towards a towering ten-meter-tall swamp root. Its dense blood-red stalk would be thick enough to protect him against most of the incoming fire. All around, water sprayed in the air as incoming enemy fire that was aimed at him impacted its surface. The sound of automatic fire and explosions, though muffled by noise dampeners, rumbled around him.

He threw himself against the stalk, his light-armor exoskeleton absorbing the impact of the collision. Sergeant O’Connor and Private Jack Alwafi dove behind the stalk next to him. He could see that Sergeant O’Connor was yelling something through her visor but he couldn’t hear any of it. The communication system in his helmet must have broken when he dove into cover. Sergeant O’Connor slapped the back of it and her voice began to crackle through the comms.

“Corporal Finley, return fire!”

Finley peered around the side of the swamp root and scanned the jungle line with his sensors. Fifty red targets appeared along the entire line. He raised the right arm of his armored exoskeleton. aimed his 20mm autocannon at the enemy lines, and pulled the trigger. His helmet’s noise dampeners may have muffled the deafening roar, but the rattle of the autocannon shook his entire upper body. Two red dots grew Xs and disappeared. I got two!

“Colonel Yearley sure does love his bowls,” Private Alwafi said into the squad channel, “he never saw a bowl he didn’t want to charge right into.”

“Watch that tone Private,” Sergeant O’Connor barked.

“I’m just saying, Sarge, one of these days Colonel Bowl Master is going to get us all killed in a frontal assault into a bowl just like this.”

Finley agreed with Alwafi, the Colonel’s tactical prowess was severely lacking, but he knew better than to say anything about it in front of the Sergeant.

“The Colonel knows what he is doing Private and that will be the last I hear of it!”

Suddenly a message appeared on his HUD. Regimental Shield Generator Online. A faint blue bubble stretched out over his head and arced down into the swamp forty-three meters ahead of his position according to his HUD. He looked back behind him and saw eight soldiers from the regiment’s support platoon inflating a raft to put under the shield generator they had set up at the edge of the swamp. A voice crackled over the comms. It sounded like Colonel Yearley.


“111th, I said form ranks you low life Flyswatters! Line formation!” It was definitely Colonel Yearley.

Captain James, A Company's commanding officer, barked on the company comms, "You heard the Colonel, Alpha Company, advance to the left of the treeline. Line formation."

Another soldier ran up to the tree. Without his Combat HUD it would have been hard to tell under his helmet, but the HUD identified the soldier as his only other surviving squadmate and his childhood buddy Frank Giovanni. They had joined up together when the treasonous Colonials had first seceded.

“Private you are going the wrong way. We were ordered into formation, not into cover,” Sergeant O’Connor growled.

“Sorry, sir. I got knocked down by a rocket blast and have no idea what is going on. Everything is blurry,” Giovanni gasped.

“Funny how he calls us Flyswatters. He thinks because he wasn’t born on AC doesn’t mean he ain’t one too. He’s as much of a fly swatter as the rest of us in his green and red colors with that centaur patch. I guarantee he has actually gone fly-swatting, unlike the rest of us.” Alwafi interrupted.

Finley wondered what storming centauri wasp nests must have been like for the Colonel. It must have been unpleasant work clearing the dangerous native fauna from around Alpha Centauri settlements. It was some combat experience, but the "wasps" didn’t have guns like the rebels.

“Earthfolk always think they are better than everyone else because they’re ‘from the Homeworld.’ Even when they have lived outside of their home system for decades.” Giovanni trudged out from behind cover and back into the gooey mud. It was true.

Finley hated to move out from behind cover, but the size of regimental shield generators forced infantry regiments to stand in tight formation in order for all of them to fit inside. He waded through a meter of black mud and murky swamp water and stepped into formation, or as best as he could. Not sure how we are supposed to hold formation in this thick viscous mud, he thought to himself. What was left of Alpha Company formed up on the left flank of the first line, each soldier standing three meters away from the others.

Colonel Yearley’s voice again called out, “Regiment, advance!” The two lines began marching towards the edge of the shield. Rockets and small arms impacted the shield, causing ripples to spread out. Dull electronic thuds marked each impact, and the frequency of the thuds made a stab of anxiety grip Finley's chest.

As the line approached the edge of the shield, the shield itself began to advance forward. The raft must be ready. The enemy was holding its fire now. He wondered what that meant. Were they withdrawing? Waiting for an ambush at close range? Finley wished he could hear the high-level comms that Colonel Yearley, or at least Captain James, could hear to get a better picture of what was happening in the fight.

“Being a grunt in the mud isn’t where I belong,” Finley said aloud.

“What you think you should be a general or something, Finley?” Alwafi laughed. “General Finley, from corporal to general, what a story that would make.”

“Shut up Alwafi, just because you have no ambitions doesn’t mean no one else could do it,” he responded.

“I guess you couldn’t be worse than Colonel Bowl Master. You’re not addicted to launching frontal attacks on the enemy no matter what the ground looks like are you? Hell, even I know more than him. Maybe I should try to become a general too!” Alwafi laughed as they stood sinking into the mud.

Colonel Yearley’s voice came in on the regimental comms again. “Incoming friendly artillery support on the woodline. Hold position until the barrage ends or you’ll be bug chow.”

Captain James's voice called out, "Company, halt!"

Out of nowhere artillery rounds began pounding the surrounding hills and the woodline. 1st Battalion, of which Alpha Company was a part, stood at the edge of the woods right on the edge of the swamp, while 2nd Battalion formed up a reserve line behind. Finley could feel the blast of each impact through his light armor as if he had no armor at all. Black mud and fragments of the local Centauri “plant life,” (in reality it was closer to coral, housing millions of microorganisms living symbiotically) flew hundreds of meters into the air. Finley sat and watched as the deafening thunder rolled on and on. After what seemed like an eternity of shelling, the barrage ceased and Colonel Yearley once again ordered an advance.

Much of the plant life had been torn to pieces by the barrage as they advanced into the jungle and began marching up into the hills, the shield flickering in front of them as it moved forward with them. When they were about halfway up the hill a tremendous boom filled the air and his HUD lit up with a notification. Shield Generator Down.

He looked back to see a smoking crater where the shield generator had reached the woodline. They planted a charge, he thought with the sudden realization they had been lured into a trap. Immediately, rounds tore through the wall of light infantry trudging up the hill.

Private Alwafi yelled, “I told you so Sarge! Like I said, the Colonel is a true Bowl Mast...” He was immediately hit in the face by a large round and fell limp to the ground before he could finish his sentence.

Sergeant O’Connor didn’t have time to react before she too was cut down by 20mm autocannon fire. Finley returned fire at the red dots that lit up his HUD. Two of them grew Xs and disappeared. Finley was excited to be doing his part in the fight. He didn’t want to be knocked out of the fight before downing some enemies, downing four was an excellent start so far. It wouldn’t look good in his combat performance stats if he failed to get any kills, which wouldn’t help him get into the Officer Academy after his initial term of service.

Captain James was barking orders about reforming the lines and firing back. Finley's HUD showed his autocannon was empty, so he pulled the empty mag out and replaced it with a fresh one from his belt. He raised it up again and aimed at another red dot up the hill when a rocket flew directly at him. I’m f****d, he realized a second before his screen went white and large red letters saying You have been killed in action appeared before him. He sighed and turned on observation mode.

He lay immobilized on the ground while the “battle” raged around him, and watched via drone cameras as more and more of the 111th was cut down by the Federal Guards they were participating in wargames against, though the 111th was gaining ground. According to the regimental statistics, the unit was down to 42% strength. He searched around for Giovanni but couldn’t find him. Must be KIA like the rest of us, he thought. He turned off the drone camera and took the time to go over his combat performance stats. 73% accuracy. Three enemies killed, one wounded. Not terrible, he thought, but I can do better. He wondered what Sergeant O’Connor would say about his performance when she could communicate with him again.

The sounds of battle began to grow dim as the fighting drifted further and further up the hill that he had been advancing towards before he was shot. The rumble of distance combat was interrupted by a beep and a message that his suit was coming back online. All objectives taken. Mission accomplished. Simulation terminated. His suit unfroze and he pulled himself up. All around the jungle faded away and the holocenter’s dull grey walls surrounded him. A Federal Guard in blue armor with a green striped running down the middle walked up and offered a hand. He took it and pulled himself up.

“You orbital assault troops put up a tough fight today.” The guard lifted her visor and revealed a hygienic smile and a band of freckles across her cheeks. Her neck-length brown hair fell down around her shoulders. She was cute, and Finley could feel himself blushing as he looked into her blue eyes as she helped him up.

“Thanks, so did you Guards. Hopefully next time we get to set up the ambush on you while you’re bogged down in the mud.”

The Guard laughed. “No way, that is why we are the Guard and you are assault troops. Your commander should really try to not get ambushed like that when you fight the rebs.”

"Which Federal Army are you with?" Finley hoped they would face each other in a war simulation again.

"The 8th New Pacifica Guards," she said and pointed to the blue circle patch with a green '8' in the center on her shoulder.

Colonel Yearley’s voice boomed into the comms again.

“111th, into formation!”

Captain James shouted out, "You heard the Colonel! Alpha Company, into line."

“Tell me about it. Anyways, I have to go, the Colonel is calling, but thanks for the super helpful tip,” Finley said with a smirk as the Guard turned to walk away.

“No problem,” she smiled again, “try not to get yourself killed when you ship out.”

“I will definitely keep that in mind. By the way, I didn’t get your name?”

“Laura,” she said, looking back, “and yours?”

“Alex.”

“Nice to meet you Alex, I’ll look for you next time we fight.” she made a shooting gesture with her hand and winked as she closed her visor. He waved, then walked towards his regiment. Her wink made his heart jump.

As the regiment formed into two lines, the Colonel appeared in front of them. Finley pulled his visor back, exposing his face as was expected when standing before an officer at attention.

“I’m proud of you all. We succeeded in whipping those Federal Guards despite them having a terrain advantage and having the element of surprise against us,” the Colonel boasted.

Alwafi looked over at Finley with a smirk on his face and mouthed, “Bowl Master.”

“Obviously we took heavy losses here, but we are still a green unit, and I expect those losses will drop considerably the more experience you have. By the time we ship out to fight the rebs, I am confident that this will be one of the hardest fighting regiments in the entire Federal Army. Regiment, dismissed.”

Finley walked off with the rest of his squad to go get some food. His stomach was growling after all strain of battle, even if it had been virtual.


“What a bunch of b******t,” Private Jack Fenderson complained, “ my battles stats suck because I got my head taken off immediately in the ambush.”

“Whatever, I got wasted too. We will get another chance tomorrow. We can get some revenge on those Federal Guards and ambush them this time,” Private Anne Ustinova responded.

“Unlikely with Colonel Bowl Master in charge,” Alwafi said. “He is going to do what he does best; march us directly into an ambush and have us assault the enemy position head-on. We are going to get torn up again.”

Sergeant O’Connor glared at Alwafi. “Alwafi, you don’t know when to shut up. Besides, the Colonel has three years of combat experience fighting the wasps. He has more experience than the rest of us put together.”

“Yeah fly-swatting,” Alwafi smirked. “Last time I checked a bunch of giant bugs don’t have guns and don’t set ambushes. Meeting them head-on makes sense. The rebs will tear us to pieces if we try that against them. The rebs have more combat experience than the Colonel, and the Korosi actually had guns when the Colonial Militia drove them back.”

Finley nodded but stopped when he saw Sergeant O’Connor glaring at him.

“It’s not good for morale and unit cohesion when you badmouth the Colonel, Alwafi,” she said, “you need to show some respect for his command. I told you back in the sim that I didn’t want to hear it again, and now you are going to be cleaning latrines till we ship out.”

“Aww come on Sarge.” Alwafi grimaced. “It’s all in good fun. Besides, when we all get slaughtered I’m going to get the last laugh in heaven.”

“What if there is no heaven Alwafi,” Giovanni asked. Finley nodded. He didn’t want to be rude and insult Alwafi’s faith, but he figured the likelihood of an afterlife to be pretty slim and didn’t understand believers.

“Well, then I will have thrown away my life with you miserable heathens for nothing. I could be enjoying the good life on Shangri-la or Olympia or one of those other Gaia world paradises instead of dying in a war, but I’ll make sure my ghost haunts any of you that survive,” Alwafi muttered. “I’ll also say I told you so when I get to heaven and you nonbelievers can’t join me.”

“Hey Sarge, I would like to talk to you about my combat stats.” Finley interrupted their philosophical debate. “Do you think we could go over them together and I could figure out what I need to do to improve?”

“Sure Corporal, we can talk about it during lunch.” She removed her helmet and let her long red hair flow down around her light armor. Finley followed her lead and removed his helmet as well. The fresh air felt good on his itchy scalp, and he rubbed his hands over his short blond hair.

The entire squad lined up in the cafeteria and began picking food. Finley grabbed a Tartessos-style sweet grass salad, a bowl of rice, and Centauri schnitzel (fried breaded pork with a local sweet and spicy red sauce on top.) He walked over to the juice dispenser and poured himself a glass of fresh moonfruit juice. The gray foamy liquid filled the cup and almost overflowed the edge, forcing him to take a sip. The fizzy sweet and sour liquid felt incredible on his parched throat.

“Nothing like fresh moonfruit juice huh?” He took another swig. He was going to miss the wide selection of fresh food they had on Alpha Centauri. It definitely paid to be from one of the breadbaskets of the FRS, but he knew when they shipped out they would be eating dried space rations for months. Possibly years. The thought made him shudder.

“I’d prefer some centauri ale to be honest,” Corporal Zack Schwartz said, “I hate the no-alcohol rule on base.”

“Can you imagine what a s**t show it would be if we were allowed to get drunk before combat training though?” Alwafi laughed and taunted, “your combat stats would be even worse Schwartz.”

“Hey man f**k you,” Schwartz responded, his tone wavering between humor and anger, “ next time when you get wasted at the opening of an ambush we'll see who is joking about combat stats.”

“Speaking of combat stats, Corporal Finley, you wanted to talk?” Sergeant O’Connor walked over to a mess table and sat down.

“Yes sir, Sergeant.”

“Let me pull up the data.” She glanced at her wrist terminal and pressed a few buttons accessing the squad’s combat data on the screen. “Looks like you shot five enemy combatants and killed three of them. That puts you in the top eighty percentile of the company, but you were a little slow-firing when the shooting started as I witnessed firsthand.”

“Yes sir, sorry about that, sir. The ambush caught me off guard.”

“It caught all of us off guard including the Colonel,” she responded. “You need to be able to respond to surprises like that immediately if you want to survive. You said you wanted to go to the Academy right? What would you have done differently than him in that ambush if you'd been in charge?”

“I would have had forward recon units moving in front of the main force and on the flanks in a skirmish line to watch for ambushes before we even got to the swamp sir, and I wouldn’t have walked us into that swamp. The mud and water slowed us down and there was limited cover. If we hadn’t had a shield generator we would have been annihilated immediately.” He felt confident in his answer.

“I don’t want to hear about what you wouldn’t have done, I want to hear about what you would have done Corporal.” O’Connor furrowed her eyebrows. "You say you wouldn't have walked into the swamp, then tell me where you would've moved?"

“I would've moved the regiment to the left side of the swamp and tried to secure some of the surrounding hills first. It would've kept us out of the bowl… Uhhh… swamp sir.”

O’Connor let a smile slip for a second then it vanished. She glanced over at Alwafi who had wandered back in line and was piling chicken and rice on his plate. “Well don’t let Alwafi hear you say that or tell him that I agree, it will encourage his undisciplined behavior, but it sounds like you have a good head on your shoulders. If you had gone to a military school for secondary you’d likely be in the Academy now.”

"I never planned on joining the army 'til the Colonials betrayed us."

O'Connor nodded.

An ear-piercing alarm tore through the mess hall. Colonel Yearley marched into the hall in his crisp Alpha Centauri green-and-red dress uniform.

“Looks like we will have to finish this talk later,” O’Connor said, rising from her seat. The entire mess hall jumped up and snapped to attention.

“111th Light Infantry, I have just received excellent news. We have received our orders to ship out and prepare for combat operations in the Tartessos Sector.”

An audible gasp echoed through the mess hall.

“Finish eating, then head back to the barracks and pack your bags. All leave is canceled, and all troops are confined to base. We ship out tomorrow morning at 0400. I have no doubt that you will make me proud when we meet the rebel forces on the field of battle. Regiment dismissed.”

Finley felt like he had a rock in his stomach despite not having eaten yet. He had joined the Federal Army the moment the rebels had declared war on the FRS without hesitation, but he had become complacent in the five months of training since he enlisted and was now finally realizing that he was being sent off to war to kill or to die to save the Republic.

Pictured: Alpha Centauri War Plan in the Tartessos Theatre.

 

[Kautz]

For the Directorate

Naval Director Fernanda Torres

CDS Antonia Vinicci, the Cevasian Directorate

July 2nd, 2365

​

Naval Director of Strike Force Titan, Fernanda Torres, stood surrounded by dark metal walls illuminated with purple panels and buttons on the bridge of her flagship, the Battleship CDS Antonia Vinicci, named for the brave woman who had defied the Federal Republic of Systems despite overwhelming odds a decade before. Director of Research Vinicci had refused to halt analysis of the ancient species that had built vast empires across the Milky Way Galaxy millions of years before humans had evolved from rodent-like creatures and it had nearly led to a major war. The Directorate hadn’t been prepared for war then, but they were more than ready now.

Torres’s glowing cybernetic eyes flickered back and forth, going over pages of classified data and reports that only she could see in her internal subspace-linked HUD.

Status of Current Military Operations:

Federal Capital Fleet detected moving towards the Ice System. Strike Force Titan under Naval Director Fernanda Torres dispatched to engage. Status of Operation: In progress.

Federal Hyoga Fleet detected moving towards the Tartarus System. Strike Force Gorgan under Naval Director Herbert Cook dispatched to engage. Status of Operation: In progress.

Federal Velutaria Fleet and Al-Karak Fleet detected moving towards Noricum Sector. Colonial Confederation Navy deemed insufficient to repel invasion. Strike Force Basilisk under Naval Director Francisco Ortega dispatched to prevent the collapse of Colonial Confederation forces on Velutarian Front. Status of Operation: Preparing for deployment.

Current Orders for Naval Director Fernanda Torres: Capture Starfort Osaka. Annihilate Federal Capital Fleet. Seize Ice System and await further instructions.

Fernanda Torres paused and considered the situation for a moment. She wondered if relying on the rebels to start the war had been a good idea. They seemed weak and disorganized, yet the leader of the Directorate, Director of Research Walter Terrell, had insisted that dismembering the FRS from within was the best and only way to avenge the losses of the Grimstead Crisis that had nearly led to a major war with the FRS over ten years before. Torres’s close friend, Naval Director Cook, was certain that Star Watch, Cevasian Intelligence, had groomed Colonial President Carmen Finks and turned her into a Cevasian asset years ago, but such rumors were unproven, and no doubt highly classified if true, inaccessible even for Naval Directors. Walter Terrell had done a remarkable job filling the shoes of his famous predecessor Antonia Vinicci, and had rebuilt the Cevasian Navy from a fragile collection of local anti-pirate fleets into powerful armadas carrying state-of-the-art AI and reverse-engineered alien technology. Under his strong yet ruthless dictatorship, the Directorate had morphed from a peaceful collection of research institutes into a powerful military machine, still committed to a search for knowledge, but now focused on the military application of its research in the place of peaceful scientific understanding of the universe.

He had reorganized nearly all aspects of the Directorate and had condemned those that stood in his way to be used as test subjects for weapons and cybernetic enhancement experiments. Torres shuttered at the thought of being a test subject. The tested mandatory cybernetic implants were bad enough, she thought, how terrible must the experimental ones be for the condemned?

Torres closed the Military Operations menu in her IHUD and opened up the Galactic News tab marked by the blue and yellow planet-hologram-projector symbol of the Interstellar Media Conglomerate.

Espinosa Mining Enterprise scientists say they have unlocked the secrets of the ancient gateways and can now travel between ones they have restored to power.

Torres’s eyes widened. If the gateways can be brought back online we will no longer be hemmed in by the FRS, she thought. This was a huge breakthrough. The economic, military, and political ramifications of such an achievement seemed endless. She continued to look down the feed.

Most of the other news was unimportant. The death of the King of Lismonde and the succession of his older daughter, the New Roman Empire bombarding the headquarters of the Athena Defense Company from orbit in a bid to end the nine-year-long war between the two, the Galactic Commerce League winning a critical naval battle against the Interstellar Shipping Pact in the Zelos System, the Children of the Shroud butchering the population of yet another world they had taken from the Sutharian Cartel except for the chosen few who they forcibly converted to their twisted faith… All of it was irrelevant to the fight at hand. She scrolled down near to the bottom of the list. A breaking news bulletin popped up on the IMC tab.


SWAIS begins large-scale offensive operations against the Xu-Murdoch Prison Colonies. Initial human casualties estimated at 256,865,000. All Xu-Murdoch naval forces on the frontier routed or destroyed.

Still irrelevant to the fight at hand, although that is very interesting to hear about the combat potential of autonomous systems, she thought. Torres imagined what it would be like to face the merciless steel legions of SWAIS in battle. The thought made her shiver. Cevasian combat AI was incredibly advanced due to their long-term refusal to follow Federal anti-AI protocol, yet it was infantile compared to the systems utilized by SWAIS. Her fleet, Strike Force Titan, was composed of seventy-one ships; thirty-six corvettes, eighteen destroyers, twelve cruisers, and five battleships. Despite its size, it was manned by only three-hundred-thirty-four operators thanks to its automated systems. A Federal Fleet of the same size and ship composition would have twenty-two-thousand-nine-hundred-fifty sailors and marines aboard. The combat AI onboard Cevasian ships more than made up for this large disparity in numbers, and war games had repeatedly shown that combat AI outperformed human counterparts 92% of the time. Some military scientists had advocated for the total automation of the Cevasian Navy, but Director Terrell had vetoed the idea, fearing the creation of another genocidal AI like SWAIS.

She wondered how Cevasian naval systems would compare if SWAIS ever reached the Directorate’s frontier. Perhaps we will see after we drive the Feds out of the Hyoga Sector and take back the precious alien ruins and the research which was taken from us. It was probable that SWAIS would continue its unstoppable advance across the galaxy. SWAIS had already taken around a quarter of the galaxy, and was unlikely to slow its expansion any time soon.

Torres closed the IMC tab and prepared to close her IHUD when an intelligence alert popped up.

Intelligence Report for all Naval Directors: FLF terrorist naval forces are amassing on the FRS frontier in the Battilo Sector.

Torres paused. Now this was interesting. The FLF were radicals. Brutal merciless radicals who had a blood-thirsty grudge against the entire galaxy. Their fleets building up on the outskirts of Tartarus could be very good for Cevasia, or it could be very bad. Torres didn’t trust the FLF. No one trusted the FLF. They were uncompromising and believed the ends always justified the means. They must be waiting to see who gets the upper edge when the fighting breaks out. If Naval Director Cook defeats the Hyoga Fleet they’ll probably pour into the Hyoga Sector and claim it for themselves. If the Feds drive us back, they will no doubt take the chance to seize the Grinstead Sector from us.

“Naval Director Torres,” a voice interrupted her thoughts. She quickly closed her IHUD and adjusted her cybernetic eyes. It was James Lundi, the Navigator and acting First Mate of the Antonia Vinicci. He stood there with his hair cut short and his face shaven in his sleek purple and black naval uniform adorned with advanced vacuum survival systems and rank identifiers.

“What is it, Navigator?” Torres looked into his eyes, which were cybernetic like hers and glowed with a faint yet distinct red light.

“The Antonia Vinicci’s navigating system estimates we will arrive in the Ice System in four months. We are on track to beat the Capital Fleet there by approximately twenty-six days.”

“Damn it, that is pushing it too close. We might not have enough time to seize Starfort Osaka. I was hoping we would have the starfort in our possession before the Federal Navy arrived.” Torres clenched her teeth in frustration.

“I’m sorry,” Lundi replied, “Robotics Engineer Wujian is currently reconfiguring our strike force’s seven-hundred naval CQB droids and Commander Albushi is training our battalion of Directorate Marines for insertion into Starfort Osaka. I can show you his attack plan and the defenses of the target that he gave me if you’d like.”

“He thinks storming the fortress will expedite the process of seizing it? Why would boarding teams be superior to our plasma cannons, ARC emitters, and proton torpedoes?” Torres raised her eyebrow expressing her doubt.

“Starfort Osaka has been designed to withstand prolonged naval bombardment.” Lundi held his palm out and opened up a holographic display of the starfort. Torres looked at the display and analyzed the layout of Osaka, bristling with weaponry and orbited by twelve defense stations of various class. “The gun batteries surrounding Osaka are capable of punching through the armor of our battleships and pose a threat,” Lundi said, highlighted the stations on the display. “We will also be exposed to strike craft attack from long range before even our ARC emitters are in range.”

“And you expect our boarding craft to penetrate their defenses better than our energy weapons?” Torres let out a small laugh in disbelief.

“Perhaps, Wujian certainly thinks so, and it could make the job of taking the starfort much faster,” Lundi replied. “Nearly all of Osaka’s weapon systems are designed to engage large ships from a distance with the exception of six squadrons of strike craft. Two are housed in the starfort itself and the other four are stationed in these two defense stations located here and here.” Lundi illuminated the two stations. “As you are aware, that gives us a numerical advantage of four to three on strike craft.”

Torres nodded. James Lundi had a good head on his shoulders. He might even make Naval Director one day if he continued to perform well and show a grasp of naval strategy like this.

“We can further increase those odds Navigator,” Torres replied. “Our proton torpedoes and ARC emitters should have the power to destroy the two hangars. That will give us a four to one advantage in strike craft if we can neutralize them before they launch if we can surprise them.”

“The station has limited point defense. If we can defeat or distract their remaining squadrons, our boarding craft should be able to dock without much trouble. Star Watch estimates that Osaka has a garrison of five-hundred Federal marines, and nearly fifteen-hundred naval personnel. It will be a tough fight, but every Cevasian droid and marine has the capabilities of three Federal marines.” Lundi shifted the display in his palm to show unit statistics and troop strength of the marine battalion and naval CQB droid companies attached to Strike Force Titan.

“What if we were to bypass the docking bays on Osaka, and instead attempt to breach the armor near the top of the station above the CIC?” Torres stroked her chin as she imagined the troops and droids breaching in above unsuspecting Federal officers.

“It might be possible, I’ll have to check with Wujian, but frankly, I doubt it,” Lundi paused, “Osaka’s armor is made of three separate layers of durasteel, and I’m afraid any blast strong enough to pierce it, like our ARC emitters will be deadly to our landing force, and the stations three shield-projectors are strong enough to stop any long-range fire, outside of the ARC emitter, from piercing the hull that early in the fight.”

“And you think our boarding teams will be able to take the station within twenty-six days?”
“It is possible, though it will be close. I’d definitely recommend that we focus on knocking out Osaka’s communications relay right away to prevent any coordination between the starfort and the Capital Fleet,” Lundi advised.

“Very well Navigator Lundi,” Torres responded, “thank you for your report. I look forward to serving beside you in the coming fight.”

“Thank you Director Torres. I look forward to serving you as well.” Lundi crossed his arms in a Cevasian salute. “For the Directorate!”

Torres smiled and returned the salute. “For the Directorate!”

Pictured: Cevasian War Plan in the Grinstead Theatre

Pictured: Cevasian War Plan in the San Fernando Theatre

 

[Kautz]

The First Drop

Corporal Alex Finley

Agartha, the Colonial Confederation

September 20th, 2365​

“Ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two, one, drop!”

Corporal Finley felt his stomach rise up in his chest as the clamps on his drop pod were released and he began hurling down towards the secessionist world of Agartha at over thirteen-hundred kilometers per hour. The feeling of being weightless combined with his anxiety about his first combat drop nearly sent him into a panic attack, but his controlled breathing kept him from losing his cool.

“So who all is excited to kill their first reb, “Alwafi yelled out across the pod.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Private Fenderson yelled back. “My cousins live on Mare. Have you seen the news about the rebs bombing it from orbit?”

“Yeah I saw it on IMC’s feed last night,” Frank Giovanni interjected. “Made my blood boil watching the bombs fall.”

Finley was angry too. He had been angry enough when they had voted to secede and had rounded up and imprisoned Federal loyalists across their systems, and even more furious when they had declared war on the FRS, but now they had attacked a Federal shipyard and were bombing a planet that had formerly been apart of their autonomous state but had chosen to stay loyal to the FRS. The rebels claimed to be fighting for their freedom against the FRS, but their general population couldn’t even vote in their “elections,” leaving political decisions to the old first colonial families’ aristocracy. To make matters worse, they used indentured servants to do strenuous and dangerous labor and forced them to pay for their own accommodations, effectively making it impossible for the servants to ever earn their freedom. There were rumors on darker parts of the subspace network that they even bought slaves from the Sildoria Crime Syndicate on the black market, and it was a known fact that they had used the Korosi they had captured during the war as forced labor in ways that were even more brutal than anything seen in the Xu-Murdoch Prison Colonies or the Galrescom Mining Company. They had somehow managed to convince the general population that lived in their systems that the problems in their society were the cause of the Federal government, even though they had lived with near-total autonomy since 2251. Just another example of some rich a******s starting a war to protect their greed and lying to get the poor to do the dying for them, he supposed.

Finley knew it was nothing new. He had always had a fascination with history and had studied it intensively in school and his free time growing up. From the ancient wars of Mesopotamia to the Bleeding Years and beyond, the story had almost always been the same. Rich people getting into fights with each other for money and power, while the poor fought for them and gave their lives for some lofty, often imaginary, goal. He wondered if he was being used just the same as the rebs on the other side but cast that thought aside. No, it's not the same, he considered. It’s a mistake to make a false equivalency. They are absolutely the villains here. They broke the peace and picked a fight where there was none, and have a sick, twisted, authoritarian ideology. They deserve everything that we are going to unleash upon them.

“We are about to enter the atmosphere,” Sergeant O’Connor yelled out.

Finley leaned his head back into his seat and turned on the dropcam feed on his HUD. The view from the bottom of the pod was incredible. Agartha’s endless rolling gold and green fields lay spread out before his eyes, dotted with lakes and small seas as far as he could see. Directly below him, a pulsing green circle highlighted the landing zone of the 5th Alpha Centauri Orbital Assault Corps. Across the horizon of the planet, he could see other ships firing off thousands of drop pods to take part in the massive invasion of Agartha. He looked back down at the planet’s surface as a faint orange light appeared in the center of the screen and the drop pod began to rattle. Finley could tell it was the heat of friction from entering the atmosphere. It grew larger and larger until he was no longer able to see the planet’s surface at all. He closed the dropcam and looked around. The rest of his squad had also leaned back in their seats, preparing for the atmospheric thrusters to kick in.

A warning appeared on his HUD.

Atmospheric Thrusters engaging in five, four, three, two, one.

The drop pod shuddered and an enormous roar filled his ears. His body felt like a Centauri fur dragon was sitting on top of it as the forces of gravity pressed on him from above.

Frank Giovanni’s face was turning a slight shade of green as the pod shook.

“Hey Giovanni, you aren’t going to puke again are you,” Alwafi gritted through his teeth, “No one here wants to get bathed in your vomit like last time we did a practice drop.”

Finley wanted to laugh at it, but the force of gravity from the deceleration made everything difficult. He opened the dropcam again to see how far they were from landing. Agartha once more appeared on the screen. There was enough detail now he could see various lakes and rivers flowing across its surface, and could make out some of the larger cities and towns now as well. Just off the center of his screen, he could see a medium-sized city. Most likely where our objectives will be, he considered.

“Anyone think it’s odd that we aren’t taking any AA fire,” asked Private Jacob Freger.

“Maybe the planet didn’t want to secede,” Giovanni responded through the nauseous grimace on his face, “like Mare. Maybe they will welcome us with open arms.”

“The Tartessos Sector had divided loyalties when it came to secession, but the government of Agartha was staunchly pro-Finks,” O’Connor interrupted. “The reason we aren’t taking AA fire is most likely because Naval Intelligence picked our LZ away from rebel defensive positions. This is a sparsely-inhabited planet with a small population of only seven billion people on it. The rebs can’t afford to defend the entire surface and have most likely gathered their forces to defend strategic objectives like major cities, industrial sights, and fortifications. The rebs of the Tartessos Sector have a lot more experience dealing with planetary invasions than we do. They faced off against the Korosi War Clans a few years ago and learned a lot about how to properly defend against orbital invasions.”

“Well it’s their loss not trying to stop us from landing,” Alwafi replied. “It’s smooth sailing for us now.”

“Let’s see if you still feel that way when we meet those gathered forces Alwafi,” joked Ustinova.

Finley continued watching as the surface got closer and closer. The altimeter read that they were only five kilometers up now and that their descent was beginning to slow. One pod sped past them, its thrusters flickering. That can’t be good, he realized.

All of a sudden the speeding pod’s thrusters blew out. Finley watched in horror as the pod began to spin violently around and accelerated towards the surface.

“Holy s**t,” Alwafi cried out, “anybody watching the dropcam? One of our pods just went into freefall!”

Finley turned off his cam and felt a sickening lurch of fear in his chest. The last thing I need right now is to watch another one of our pods smash into the surface.

“Poor bastards,” Private Hiro Toyama replied.

“Anyone know which squad that was,” Corporal Schwartz asked, his voice quivering.

“It’s… it’s Alpha Company’s command p-pod,” Sergeant O’Connor stuttered.

Captain James’s pod, Finley realized in fear.

“S**t, what are we going to do O’Connor? We need Captain James,” Schwartz said, his voice panicked with concern.

Sergeant O’Connor regained her composure and barked out “There’s nothing we can do for them now. We have a chain of command for events like this. Prepare for landing in thirty seconds.”

The deceleration became strong and stronger until a sudden thump and a release from the crushing gravity of deceleration as the altimeter reached ground level told Finley that they had landed. A hatch on each side of the pod sprung open with a hiss.

“Go, go, go,” O’Connor barked. “Form a parameter around the pod.”

Finley stood up, the mechanical clanking of his exoskeleton and the shriek of atmospheric strike craft soaring overhead filled his ears as he lumbered out of the pod into position and raised his autocannon. The pod had landed in a sea of one-and-a-half-meter-tall golden grass-like organisms that had flattened around the landing site. The air was filled with the roar of other landing craft and pods coming out of orbit, and a few hundred meters away smoke was rising from the crash site of Alpha Company’s ill-fated command pod.

“Who’s in charge now,” Giovanni asked, his voice wavering with concern.

“Doesn’t matter,” Alwafi quipped, “the Colonel is going to send us into a head-on assault regardless of who our Company CO is.”

“I think it’s First Lieutenant Kowalski,” Fenderson called out.

“I can’t believe our luck. Our first drop and our CO gets killed before we even enter combat,” Ustinova muttered.

The company comms crackled open.

“This is Lieutenant Kowalski,” a voice said, “our planetary landing craft are thirty seconds out with our transportation. Form up on my mark for boarding.” A flashing beacon appeared on Finley’s HUD twenty meters away.

“You heard the Lieutenant,” O’Connor boomed, “move out.”

The ninety surviving members gathered around the beacon and watched as scores of large Manta-class landing craft move down through the sky to bring heavy equipment to the initial forces that had landed in drop pods. One came down near their position and released eight Ram APCs and four Jack Rabbit light recon vehicles before taking off and heading into orbit once again. Finley’s HUD marked the closest Ram as the vehicle they were supposed to board. As they began to climb in, Colonel Yearley’s voice came in on the regimental comms.

“111th, our objective today, as part of the 25th Light Infantry Division, is to act as a reconnaissance screen for the 5th Shock Division and the 2nd Light Armored Division as we move to seize a strategic gas extraction operation located here.” A map of Agartha opened up on Finley’s HUD as he sat down in a seat inside the APC. He could see the pulsing green ring that showed where the 5th Alpha Centauri Orbital Assault Corps had landed and a solid green line stretched out around it like a flower blossoming, showing the 5th’s area of operation on the planet. The map zoomed in, magnifying the green ring and showing the 25th Light Infantry Division’s landing zone on the northern edge of it, as well as a hundred-kilometer-wide red area to the north of that, marked gas extraction wells.

“I requested that we may have the honor of leading the vanguard into the fight.”

“Great,” Alwafi sassed out loud in the APC, “of course he did.”

“Shut the f**k up Alwafi,” O’Connor growled.

“Our regiment has orders to find and report any rebel activity en route or in the target area. If we encounter any rebels we are to dig in and engage while waiting for backup. Intelligence reports that we outnumber the rebs by a large margin. There are two rebel army groups numbering around two million troops on this planet compared to our fourteen orbital assault corps, meaning we outnumber them seven to one. Their forces are made up of mostly local Agartha militia units, but there are several Colonial Guard divisions in the northern army group. We have a good chance of encountering them at gas extraction wells. I’m confident that the 111th will prove more than a match for Colonial Guards, and I’m eager to meet them on the field of battle.” Colonel Yearley chucked over the comms.

The map zoomed in once again to show the route the 111th was taking from the landing zone to the gas wells.

“We will move up along these routes to the wells. They move along sparsely inhabited agricultural lands worked by indentured servants. We have orders from Earth to liberate any indentured servants we find along the way. Their populations will be happy to see us and might be able to provide us with additional intelligence about rebel movements and positions. The gas wells are dangerous places and will most likely be manned by Korosi slaves. We also have orders from Earth to free them. I for one am not happy about freeing those savages and I am sure that many of you feel the same way, but orders are orders. Earth wants this war to be as clear cut as possible to show that Colonial claims that they are fighting for freedom are without merit.”

Finley had mixed feelings about the order, but he grew uncomfortable at the way the Colonel talked about the Korosi. They had been brutal savages during the Korosi War, eating people and harvesting their organs to replace their own genetically-damaged ones, but deep down, they were humans too. Humans corrupted by a tragedy, not of their making. The greed of the EME and its failure to take precautions when dealing with ancient alien ruins had ruined Koros and mutated those living there. They are a product of their environment which we created, he considered. Perhaps if they are not left to their ruined homeworld they will regain their human spirit and become civilized.

“Go forth and make the Federal Systems and Alpha Centauri proud,” Colonel Yearley boomed before closing the regimental comms.

They drove along through what seemed like endless prairie across the surface of Agartha for two hours without seeing a single structure. The planet felt empty but the rolling hills and fields of grass-like lifeforms filled with two-meter-high, six-legged grazing mammalian creatures that stretched to the horizon were beautiful to Finley as he looked through the APCs holocam network. He was glad they were in the Northern hemisphere where it was summer though. He had seen the snow-covered Southern hemisphere from orbit before they dropped and wanted no part of the freezing cold weather other Assault Corps were no doubt dealing with while securing that portion of the planet.

“Can you imagine how boring it would be to live on a world like Agartha where the entire planet has pretty much the same biome,” Alwafi asked the squad. “Nothing but endless rolling plains with no major oceans. No wonder the rebs here were pissed off and decided to leave the FRS. If I had to live on a boring world like this I would be pretty pissed off too.”

“I don’t know Alwafi,” responded Schwartz, “I kind of like it. It seems peaceful enough. Looks like they don’t have any Centauri wasps here, which is better than we can say about AC.”

“Ehh, I will take a few bugs for an incredible ocean view any day of the week,” Alwafi replied with a sneer.

An alert popped up on Finley’s helmet. Unidentified armed personnel detected ahead. Prepare for combat.

“Alright Flyswatters, we are approaching a small village. Looks like there are a few score of indentured servants there as well as some armed men and women,” Colonel Yearley boomed through the regimental channel, “they appear to be Agarthan militia, so let’s show them what you Alpha Centaurians are made of. Prepare for your baptism by fire.”

The APC stopped moving and the rear door opened up.

“Alpha Company, line formation on the left flank,” Lieutenant Kowalski yelled out, his voice wavering under the burden of his new command.

“You heard the Lieutenant,” Sergeant O’Connor yelled out, “everyone out and into line formation!”

Finley gripped his Martian Arms 20 millimeter, triple-barreled, rotating autocannon as he lumbered out of the APC and into line at the far left of the regiment. The low hum of the regimental shield generator, mounted on top of one of the APCs, buzzed as his exoskeleton clanked along through the fields. Up ahead about five-hundred meters away he could see a town of hundreds of buildings separated from them by an ad-hoc barricade made up of farming vehicles, scrap metal, piled earth, and various pieces of furniture. He magnified his vision ten times until he could clearly see the armed troops dug in behind the barricade. It was clear they were militia now. Finley’s targeting system had identified one-hundred-ninety-seven of them, but the numerous red target reticles were distracting so he switched the auto-target computer off. Only a handful of them were in exoskeletons, while the rest were wearing outdated traditional combat armor which would make them slow in the coming fight. Half of them weren’t even wearing the yellow-with-a-green-stripe-down-the-middle uniforms of the Tartessos Sector and were instead dressed in assorted civilian garb underneath their armor. In the center of the barricade, they had a Tartessos Armory Model 2338 coil gun mounted on a stand overlooking the field which the 111th now stood, while the rest of their infantry seemed to be armed with obsolete small arms such as conventional rifles and light machine guns.

“You getting a load of these rebs,” Alwafi asked in the squad comms, “someone forgot to tell them to prepare for modern combat.”

“I almost feel bad for the poor b******s. They barely even have exoskeletons,” Giovanni chimed in, “can you imagine how heavy that armor must be without them?”

“And they don’t even have a shield generator. We are gonna kick the s**t out of them,” quipped Schwartz.

“Quiet,” barked O’Connor, “never underestimate your enemy. We may outmatch them in numbers and equipment but they are fighting in their own backyard.”

“Sorry Sergeant,” Schwartz grumbled.

“Let’s just worry about doing our jobs. Keep your weapons at the ready,” O’Connor commanded.

Finley raised his autocannon and pointed it at a rebel wearing an exoskeleton who appeared to be armed with an older single-barreled 20-millimeter autocannon. I guess having the exoskeletons might not pay off for them after all. It makes them priority targets, he considered.

The 111th Light Infantry Regiment was now deployed into two lines, with five companies including Alpha Company deployed in the front line, and three companies deployed in the backline. The Rams and Jack Rabbits were deployed behind the backline to fire over the heads of the infantry while the regiment’s artillery support company was deployed with two mortar batteries on each flank of the line of vehicles. The logistics and medical platoons were stationed in the rear, out of the enemy’s line of fire. It was the standard offensive combat formation for Federal infantry regiments in open field battles. Finley wondered how intimidated the rebels must have been to see Federal assault troops arrayed in battle formation in front of their meager town.

A Ram command variant bristling with optics and antennae circled around the line of troops and stopped between the 111th and the town. A voice began to boom out from speakers on top of the vehicle.

“Rebel forces of Agartha, this is Colonel Yearley of the Federal Army. Lay down your weapons and come out with your hands up and you will not be harmed. If you refuse, we will unleash hell upon you and your town.”

A moment later the entire barricade erupted in a barrage of fire that caused Finley to jump inside his exoskeleton. The rounds impacted the shield in front of him causing blue ripples to spread out like raindrops on a pond. The rebel coil gun fired towards Yearley’s APC, but being outdated, it failed to penetrate and instead made a large bright blue flare where it came into contact with the shield.

“Guess that’s a no,” Alwafi snickered.

Colonel Yearley’s Ram drove back around behind the line leaving a thin cloud of dust in its wake. When it was safely back behind the lines, Yearley opened the regimental comms again.

“The enemy has refused our generous offer of surrender. Advance to the edge of the shields and prepare to engage.”

The entire front line began to march to the edge of the shield which came down into the field about fifteen meters in front of them. When they reached the edge they came to an abrupt halt and stuck the ends of their weapons outside of the shield bubble.

“All units open fire,” Yearley shouted.

Finley squeezed the trigger at the same time as the rest of the front line. His exoskeleton rattled as his autocannon’s barrels rotated and spit round after round downrange into his target. Finley thought he saw the rebel he was aiming at lose his entire upper right side before he fell over, but it happened so quickly it was hard to tell. He adjusted to select another target but they were dropping or taking cover too fast so it was impossible to find one to shoot at. Explosions from the 111th’s mortar batteries burst in and around the barricade. One landed directly on top of the rebel coil gun which blew to pieces; its gunner’s torso and head blown high into the air in a cloud of viscera, machinery, and dust.

“Finley,” O’Connor’s voice appeared in his squad comms, “fire into the barricade. Even if you can’t see the targets you can penetrate their barricade and have a good chance at hitting them behind cover.”

“Yes sir, Sergeant,” Finley replied.

He lowered his autocannon and fired along the line in front of him, punching holes through the scrap metal and farming vehicles that he could see clearly with his magnified view.

“111th, fire and advance,” Colonel Yearley bellowed. “Tear the rebel scum to pieces!”
Finley trudged forward through the smoke and dust clouds that were drifting over from the town, firing his autocannon in short bursts in the direction of the barricade. As he got within a hundred meters of the town he saw a tattered white banner raised on the end of a steel beam waving over the barricade.

“Hey guys, there’s… there’s a white flag by the barricade,” Finley stuttered into the squad comms.

“Good spot Finley, I’ll relay the message to command,” O’Connor replied.

Within seconds Colonel Yearley’s voice came on the regimental comms.

“111th, ceasefire, ceasefire.”

The staccato of shooting faded away and there was silence across the battle-scarred field.

Behind the barricade, between twenty and thirty tattered militia members, some of whom appeared to be wounded, stood up and walked out with their hands raised. Finley kept his autocannon trained on them just in case, but there appeared to be no fight left in them. As they approached the line Finley could see the terrified or shocked expressions on their faces and felt sympathy for them. They had been woefully unprepared for this fight, and traitors or not, they had only been defending their homes.

As they approached closer some of the other members of the regiment began to call out to them, mocking them.

“You traitors learn your lesson yet?”

“Don’t f**k with Alpha Centauri, rebs!”

“Next time try not bringing your grandfather’s gun to the fight!”

The jeering was interrupted by Lieutenant Kowalski’s voice on the company comms.

“Alpha Company, we have been ordered to move up over the barricade to secure the town with Bravo Company. We won’t have the shield generator with us so stay alert and in loose formation.”

Alpha and Bravo companies fanned out and approached the shattered barricade. One of the farming vehicles had caught fire and black smoke hung over them as they advanced. When Finley reached the barricade he raised his autocannon and pointed it over the other side to clear it of possible enemy holdouts. He could see the shattered body of the first rebel in the exoskeleton that he had killed. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. His helmet had been cracked in half exposing his brown hair and glazed-over blue eyes, as well as the large hole that had torn half of his jaw off. His right arm had been blown off at the shoulder and his torso had been ripped open by autocannon fire, spilling what was left of his lung and liver into a pool of dark blood and red gore that surrounded him. Finley looked away and felt a wave of guilt come over him. It wasn’t even a fair fight, he thought. They never even had a chance.

All around were other torn up rebel bodies; there yellow and green uniforms or civilian outfits stained dark brown by their blood. Some of them were still alive, and the moaning they made filled the air. It was the most horrible thing Finley had ever seen.

“My God,” Giovanni shuddered, “we tore them apart.”

“Looks like you owe Schwartz an apology Sergeant,” Alwafi mused.

“Just because we whipped this militia rabble here doesn’t mean what I said wasn’t valid Alwafi,” O’Connor responded, “Never underestimate your opponent. I doubt they will give up the gas wells so easily.”

As they entered the town Finley saw civilians peering in terror out of the windows of the buildings. He kept his autocannon pointed up in case there were any militiamen hidden inside who were planning an ambush, but he saw nothing but fearful and shocked townsfolk as they advanced down the road towards the center of the town.

Up ahead was an opening that must have been the town square. In the center of it, in front of what was clearly the town hall, the red and blue-striped flag of the Colonial Confederation was flying from a flagpole flickering gently in the wind. Lieutenant Kowalski motioned to two soldiers from another squad, and they walked over and began to pull it down. Kowalski reached into his combat bag and pulled out a folded Federal flag. He handed it to the two soldiers and they began to hoist it up over the town square.

“We got contacts coming down the street,” Ustinova called out, surprising Finley and giving him a stab of worry in his stomach.

Finley dropped to his knee and raised his autocannon. The rest of the companies formed a half-circle around the flag and aimed their weapons. Down the street, a crowd of haggard-looking people were approaching. They stopped for a moment when they saw the Federal troops, then began cheering and racing towards the square. Finley’s jaw dropped.

“I… I didn’t expect any locals to cheer for us,” Fenderson muttered.

“Neither did I,” Finley admitted.

“They’re indentured servants,” Kowalski exclaimed, “lower your weapons.”

Finley lowered his weapons and the ragged mob rushed over.

They looked dirty and tired. Most of them appeared to be sunburned and underweight, and their clothing was faded and cheap-looking, but their faces were full of tears of joy. Several of them ran up to Finley and began to touch his armor.

“Thank you! Thank you,” they cried out, “thank you for liberating us.”

One of them, a woman who looked young but sun-damaged for her age, kissed his visor and handed him a flower.

“Uhhh, thank you for the gift,” he stammered.

“No,” she said, “thank you.”

“Were they mistreating you here,” he asked.

“We have had to work for eighteen hours a day and they don’t give us enough to eat. We work in the sweetgrass fields on the north edge of the town, and if we stop to rest they take away our meager rations or confine us to the justice hall for reconditioning.”

The guilt that Finley had felt about killing the rebel earlier dissipated.

“Well I am glad we could stop that,” he said with anger in his voice. “You should talk to the Lieutenant over there and tell him what you told me.” He gestured towards Lieutenant Kowalski. The woman walked over to Kowalski and Finley turned to look up at the town hall with fire in his eyes. Inside he could see a man with grey hair standing in the window watching.

As the crowd cheered, a column of Ram APCs began rolling into the square, with Colonel Yearley’s command APC leading the way. When they reached the square, the hatch on top of Yearley’s Ram opened up and he poked his head out of the top.

“I’ve been told that you poor citizens have had your rights abused by the filthy traitors here,” he roared.

The crowd roared back in affirmation.

“Then the wealth of this town is in the wrong hands. Soldiers of the 111th, loyal citizens of Agartha, you have my permission to take what you want. The town is yours.”
Finley grasped his autocannon and turned towards the town hall. It probably had more than a few valuables, and the condition of the indentured servants had evaporated what sympathy he had felt for the free residents here. The figure in the window had disappeared and he was eager to find him and have a chat.

“Come on guys,” Finley gestured towards the town hall to the rest of his squad, “we should see what we can find up there.”

“I like the way you think Finley,” O’Connor smirked. “I bet there are plenty of credits in there for all of us, and probably some good intel as well.

“Maybe you’ll make general one day yet Finley,” Alwafi snickered as they walked over to the building's front doors.