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LLSix posted:link please? Completely not self-aggrandizing link I make no promises it will be anything like this one; I'm not much of a writer, just someone who likes playing Aurora, and some people on the Discord were interested in a chance for goon-piloted ships to get blown up.
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Jun 13, 2018 20:36
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Z the IVth posted:Edit - FYI we're playing some unholy proto-fascist space navy funded by capitalists. For now 
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Jun 13, 2018 20:49
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Bremen posted:Completely not self-aggrandizing link It's really good so far 
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Jun 13, 2018 21:04
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I'm a bit disappointed that we won't play until the end, but I fully understand why you're doing this: LPing can be a huge time sink, and sometimes time is what is lacking. I'm grateful you're seeing this to a proper end rather than letting it fall into the archives
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Jun 13, 2018 21:11
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The series should end with the cool and good Dominion of Sol crushing the Fart Krabs & Terrans. Then spreading peace and justice to the stars. Seriously though good LP. RIP and Press F to pay respects.
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Jun 13, 2018 21:28
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Once the LP is wrapped up, will we get to find out who the Mystery Goons were?
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Jun 13, 2018 22:28
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Tactical_Torpedo posted:Once the LP is wrapped up, will we get to find out who the Mystery Goons were? The true fartkrabs were the friends we made along the way.
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Jun 13, 2018 22:42
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As long as we get to see The Last Ride of Triton Fleet during this epilogue I'll be happy. But real talk, the fact that we're at least going to get a proper conclusion to the beautiful mess that is Mars is great. Thanks for that Saros, really.
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Jun 13, 2018 23:57
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Thanks for all the hard work you put into this Saros - been a blast to read and participate
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Jun 14, 2018 15:14
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LLSix posted:The good ending is getting killed by the space crabs before we all go insane and accidentally on purpose summon the jump point gods into our universe to once again wipe out all life. HiHo ChiRho posted:It was fun while it lasted. I can't wait for the good ending of nuclear annihilation.  Mikl posted:I'm a bit disappointed that we won't play until the end, but I fully understand why you're doing this: LPing can be a huge time sink, and sometimes time is what is lacking. I'm grateful you're seeing this to a proper end rather than letting it fall into the archives if it was something other than Aurora I could probably just about manage it but Aurora is a huge timesink by itself (and even worse once you add in running three + factions behind the scenes). Tactical_Torpedo posted:Once the LP is wrapped up, will we get to find out who the Mystery Goons were? Probably. Dr. Snark posted:The Last Ride of Triton Fleet I think you'll enjoy your blaze of glory.  [e] Holy poo poo this LP was started almost exactly a year ago. How time flies. Saros fucked around with this message at 15:39 on Jun 14, 2018 |
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Jun 14, 2018 15:31
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The light that burns twice as bright burns half as long, and this LP definitely burned so very brightly. Thanks for the ride, hope my pixelman sends some c-beams glittering around the Tannhauser gate before all is said and done!
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Jun 14, 2018 15:56
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Triton Fleet will still endure, in our hearts, and in the tales they will tell for years to come.
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Jun 14, 2018 16:10
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It's been a truly wonderful LP Saros, and whilst it sucks that it's ending I'll be keeping an eye out for any LPs you may run in the future as I've enjoyed your writing and world building immensely.
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Jun 14, 2018 17:12
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Amazing LP Saros, I haven't posted very much but I have been along for the whole ride. These things can take over your life and I am glad it is getting a proper send-off. Well done!
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Jun 15, 2018 00:07
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I can't say I'm surprised but I am disappointed. Thanks for a superb LP Saros, definitely the best LP I've read.
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Jun 15, 2018 10:21
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Interlude 20 - Up Arming At ninety million kilometers even the half-megaton explosions of Martian ship-killers were not bright enough to be made out with the naked eye but the new grav-lensing telescopes of Sebmojo’s cruiser picked them out with ease. One by one the three enormous transports of the Terran force bucked and heaved as waves of missiles tore into their thinly armored shells. In his mind's eye he saw the thousands of Terran soldiers spilling into space and winced at the thought. Two more old-model Terran cruisers were targeted by the final salvoes and they fared no better than their thin-skinned brethren, rapidly reduced to tumbling wrecks they took with them the Terrans will to fight. One by one the old-model Terran ships slowed or contacted the Martian fleet to ask for a truce to retrieve casualties from the transports. Their primary objective - to prevent an occupation of Ceres - completed the Martian ships turned away, slowly opening the range between the new-model Terran battleships who forced to decide between been drawn further from Earth and assisting with search and rescue efforts eventually turned about as well. Not long after more pinpricks of nuclear fire began to blossom over Luna. ------------------------------------------ It had been a very long and stuffy day packed into the pod with two dozen Martian Marines. Dr. Lafever didn’t understand the rationale but for whatever reason Facility had been very insistent she accompany them and hold the ‘relay,’ an egg shaped silvery ovoid about the size of her fist. The drat thing had made her hands itch and she had been nursing a headache the whole trip but at least their destination was in sight. Ahead of them Luna loomed as the pod wove between the nuclear explosions and storms of fire laid down from its orbital defences. Taking less than ten seconds to pass inside the range of the anti-ship weaponry the pod quickly closed on a nondescript section of the orbital shipyards and begun to decelerate from its incredible sprint speed. The quiet seeming section suddenly lit up with flashes as concealed defences and hull turrets revealed themselves and began to bounce shells off the hull of the pod, the constant stream of impacts sounded like gentle rain as the incredibly tough Collaboration composites ignored their best efforts. The pod slammed into the station, penetrating the hull with a thundering crash and the front irised open letting the armored Marines storm out to take positions. An astonished looking technician went down to a shock gun and after quickly checking the corridors a brusque “clear” sounded over the comms. “Okay Doctor, time to move!” The Serjeant announced, her armored hand giving her a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder which she could feel even through the flexible navy-issue protective suit she was wearing. “Stay close behind me and we will see you there safely” he continued before striding through the open pod, Dr. Lafever hurrying to stay close behind her. The first few minutes were uneventful as they sprinted towards their objective, a storage bay deep within the top secret Terran Xenoarchaeology section. Unarmed techs and scientists hid or ran to get out of their way but before long the lead Marine was caught by hail of autocannon fire and smashed backwards, his left arm a shattered ruin as a hulking figure in Terran battle armor loomed out of a hatchway. The distraction lasted less than a second as a plasma lance tore the armored figure apart but suddenly there were armored Terrans everywhere as the station security finally reacted to the unexpected threat. Three marines died breaking out of the cordon and another five in a holding action while the rest rushed the Doctor to their destination. The sheer violence of the action shocked her, she had tried to prepare herself for it over the last day but all her imagination was a mere shadow of the real thing. She could feeling a numbness and horror rising up within her as men and women died to carry her to their final destination. She realised she was sobbing and the Sergeant was carrying her ahead of herself as they burst into the storage bay that was their destination. There in the back of the bay were thirty-six huge hexagonally patterned golden/silver orbs. The Serjeant sprinted to the closest orb and deposited the Doctor. “Finish your job Doctor!” she yelled as she turned and dashed for the door. The Doctor turned to contemplate the looming orb before her and almost of it own volition a shaking arm reached out holding the device Facility had entrusted to her. There was a blinding flash and darkness overwhelmed her. ------------------------------------------ She groggily returned to a world lit by eerie blue fire. It sprang from seemingly nowhere around the ovoid and twisted through fractal patterns before disappearing. The ovoid itself was now floating above the deck and had rotated to face her with the single darkened hexagon on its body. After an unknown amount of time she belatedly noticed the words floating in the air before her. As she looked at them they disappeared to be replaced by more. --INTERFACE UNIT [BIOLOGICAL] ACKNOWLEDGED-- --QUERY-- --HIGH VELOCITY KINETIC AND DIRECTED ENERGY DISCHARGES MAY POSE THREAT TO INTERFACE UNIT-- --SUPPRESS?-- “Y-yyess” she croaked out but even as the thought formed the ovoid crackled with energy, the blue fire intensifying before fading slowly to black. Feeling like she was in a dream she stumbled to the hatch into an incredible tableaux. The last of the Marines were frozen, posed like absurd mannequins with hazy blue-white fields playing over their armor suits. Looking down the corridor their Terran opposition seemed to be caught in the same predicament and as she looked on in astonishment she realised the crackling lines in the middle of the corridor were series of autocannon shells caught mid-flight and frozen. The words returned to her vision. --INCOMING COMMUNICATION REQUEST FROM TYPE II FACILITY MIND--
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Jun 15, 2018 15:24
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Jun 15, 2018 15:40
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Nice Moon. It'd be a pity if something happened to it.
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Jun 16, 2018 06:18
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Oh Auntie, it was nice knowing you, even if you were terrifying during our brief acquaintance.
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Jun 16, 2018 06:57
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March 2054 A month has passed and Mars has watched aghast as their destabilisation project succeeded beyond their wildest dreams and the Earthside situation rapidly degenerated. With the facade of Terran unity shattered a seeming madness gripped the entire planet. All over Europe and Africa poorly armed dissidents were rising up and whole military units defecting to the banner of Earth First while the North American Union solidified its hold on it’s own territory. South America and the majority of Asia degenerated into bloody chaos as myriad groups vied to fill the power vacuum. Quite simply, nobody was in charge anymore and it seemed like that would remain the case for some time. In space Luna was quick to assert its own independence and secure its massive orbital shipyards followed quickly by the many colonies of the asteroid belt. The outposts on Mercury and Venus sided with Luna due to the fundamentally unsustainable nature of their environments rendering them unable to survive alone. Unwelcome nearly everywhere the space bound Hardliner faction departed with nearly two thirds of Terras navy, bound for a rendezvous with the remnants of the Corporate fleet. A formidable force still they seemed to have at least temporarily lost the stomach to fight and retreated to Jupiter to lick their wounds. And in the Pit the Kasag stayed clustered around the third planet, their massive ship and it’s attendants seemingly content to bide their time. ------------------------------ Without any fanfare or celebration the Waʻa kaulua cast off from Nova Sol’s orbital transfer station. Loaded with the final hundred thousand settlers her departure marked the end of human settlement in Nova Sol. Lt-Gen HannibalBarca watched her go from the bridge of the newly refit heavy cruiser [/i]Tharsis.[/i] Faced with two fronts and insufficient forces Mars had chosen to dig in in Ranginui and evacuate the compromised Nova Sol. Massive forces were assembling to blockade the Nova Sol - Sol jump point but it was hoped that a little deception could lead the Kasag away from Earth and give humanity time to truly prepare and in this HanibalBarca and his all-volunteer crew had their part to play. Refit with massive new fusion engines to be even faster than the Kasag as well as an old jump drive the obsolete ships of the 9th Cruiser division had been ambushing Kasag survey vessels in the pit and withdrawing in full view towards the Nova Sol jump point. It seemed that finally they had drawn enough attention to warrant a reprisal. “Here they come sir, twelve transits, fourteen thousand tons each” his tactical officer reported. “Six Rakshasa, three Rakshesha and three Yakshas acquired, mine pods going active.” At the distant jump point waves of explosions washed over the Kasag ships as the Terran built missile pods dumped their contents in a huge wave of missiles. “Two Crab ships destroyed, another two retreating through the jump point with severe engine damage” came the report. “Very well, maneuver plan beta please helm. We need to distract them before they can close with the inner system enough to ID the transport.” 9th Cruiser division sped outwards to meet the eight remaining Kasag ships. Even at the eight thousand kilometers per second their new engines allowed it would still be twelve hours before they drew within sensor range of the enemy and outmassed twenty to one they had no real chance to engage them. This however, was not the plan. For nearly a month the system beyond Nova Sol’s third jump point had been swarming with survey craft. Two jump points had been located and the vessels were still out there accompanied by ultra-long range tankers and support ships, searching deeper and deeper into the jump network with no destination in sight other than as far from Sol as possible. The Kasag were to be lead like hounds in a chase into the depths of space and it was up to the brave volunteers of 9 CruDiv to be the rabbit. Saros fucked around with this message at 10:32 on Jun 21, 2018 |
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Jun 18, 2018 13:18
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Our plan to lure the fart krabs into a giant pot for cooking out in the depths of space is finally coming to fruition. Let's hope that the 9th cru div brought enough butter for everyone!
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Jun 18, 2018 19:13
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Right, that should buy enough time to get everyone in the Sun Can.
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Jun 18, 2018 19:19
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Goodbye, 9th, enjoy your inevitable descent into Space Madness.
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Jun 19, 2018 00:06
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Godspeed, space goons. Hope you packed a lunch...
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Jun 19, 2018 04:05
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Volmarias posted:Goodbye, 9th, enjoy your inevitable descent into Space Madness. After twenty jumps, 9thCruDiv leads the pursuing Krab fleet into the maw of Azathoth.
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Jun 19, 2018 20:49
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Saros posted:March 2054 Speak for yourself 
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Jun 19, 2018 23:17
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2nd April 2054; Unknown system - Six jumps from Nova Sol Seven Jumps thought HanibalBarca, seven jumps. That will take them forever to search through and perhaps we will have a chance. The survey ships and tankers were peeling off, fuel reserves all but exhausted after topping up the tanks of the Tharsis one final time. They could go no further and this system was a cloudy nebula the perfect spot for hiding from the Kasag. The other ships of the distraction force would lie low here praying that someone followed the trail of microsats they had dispersed along their course and saved them before their supplies ran out. No such luck for Tharsis and her skeleton crew. The final unexplored jump point loomed as they hurtled towards it, active sensor blaring their position and the implacable Kasag ships trailing behind. As the point loomed closer and closer HanibalBarca drummed his fingers nervously on the command couch. With each jump the sickness and the confusion became worse, that sensation of something clawing at the edge of perception and some nameless, formless horror nibbling away at the edges of his sanity. They were almost on the point when he felt it, there, right there! Somehow, impossibly, he knew where the jump point was even without the computer painting the location on the forward display. He also knew what it was, a thing so terrible, the devourer, a mouth of hell and he was bringing his crew straight towards it! Desperately, blind with terror he scrabbled at the suddenly alien controls trying to turn the ship away but to no avail. As the thrumm of the jump drive reached its crescendo and the universe fell away he screamed until his throat was raw and bloody, cries mingling with those of his few remaining crew. Ranginui V - Low orbit The three light carriers containing the Collaboartion drones hung outside the Poole of Grains in full view from the open assault shuttle bay. Autoshades nervously eyed the open doors, still not used to this newfangled field technology that allowed a projector to hold in the air while permitting more solid objects to transit. He shook his head, things were changing so rapidly as Mars desperately tried to prepare for it’s first interstellar war nobody had a chance to keep up with every advance. It worked and that's all he needed to know. He unconsciously smoothed the sleeves of his uniform as the small shuttle approached, one of those weird Collaboration orbs floating silently alongside. Col. Serpentis of the Vedette was stood beside him and rolled his eyes slightly before whispering “Relax,” scuttlebutt had clearly given up to the rest of the officers why Autoshades was included in the greeting party. It had been nearly eight months since he saw her and he wondered if things would be the same. Small stolen moments on the long deployment on Pluto adding to perhaps more than the sum of their parts. An unlikely partnership, the soldier and the pacifist somehow proving the old refrain that opposites attract. They had had only sporadic communication as his deployment to Ranginui dragged on. Then one final message from her saying a tearful goodbye as the Solar system degenerated into a chaotic mess which only Mars would emerge from intact. He wouldn’t know anymore if it wasn't for a favor owed by one Fleet Comms Officer Hiho Chi who had (drunkenly from the spelling) snuck him a top secret report regarding the incident over Luna. Autoshades didn’t pretend to understand all the technical details of the report (it sounded to him like the boffins didn't really either) but phrases like ‘unknown nanotechnological implants’ ‘direct neural interface’ and the incredible threat assessment of the thirty six Collaboration fighter-drones now seemingly eager to jump at her every whim were clear enough. The irony of it quietly appealed to him and he thought he understood enough of Facility’s thought processes to understand the reasons why it would appeal to her as well. It seemed they had convinced her of the need to take the offensive and secure the Pit system as a choke point against the Kasag but he couldn't imagine she was happy about it. The machines now appeared to be able to sense her emotional states and thoughts with a clarity that confounded the scientists. Even the Kasag, nearly mindless creatures they appeared to be were life and there was some worry about how the drones would react to her revulsion at their destruction. It all happened so fast after that. The shuttle landed its hatch hissing open and there she was. Smiling back at him like no time had passed at all. Serpentis was still there beside him, eyes cold and hard. Stepping back, one hand reaching into his jacket to produce a compact flechette pistol. Autoshades caught the movement in his peripheral vision and reacted without thinking. Even as Serpentis roared “FOR MARS!” he was moving, hurling himself at Serpentis as the pistol cracked and spat fire and some enormous impact kicked him in the chest sending him tumbling backwards. He lay on the deck, darkness nibbling at his vision as blue lighting snapped overhead. Screams and shouts echoed around and the Doctor appeared in his vision, tears streaking her face. He tried to raise his hand to touch her face but nothing happened, his hand would not obey him. All he could do was stare at her as slowly everything faded away. Saros fucked around with this message at 13:50 on Jun 21, 2018 |
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Jun 21, 2018 13:46
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Autoshades noooooooo
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Jun 21, 2018 16:26
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Serpentis yessss!
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Jun 21, 2018 16:33
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Oh no! He was one of my favorite characters! Curse you JarJar Martin!
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Jun 21, 2018 17:56
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LLSix posted:Serpentis yessss! Looks like the Mars cult was in the tentacle of Azathoth all along. Also, called it with HannibalBarca leading the Krab fleet to aforementioned Elder God.
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Jun 21, 2018 20:26
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Aboard the Poole of Grains; 10:16 AM “It only takes seconds to kill a man.” One of the first combat lessons at the Martian Academy, that. Well, they’d have to add something to the tenets once the Cult ascended, Colonel Serpentis thought in a flash as his body twisted with unnatural speed after gunning down Autoshades; something like “It only takes seconds to create something beautiful.” She was saying something; a question, perhaps? It only took a few seconds to say that aloud, his heart pumping and his sides burning as the blessing quickened his speed, as he trained his gun on her head. Time to perform his final rite. Previously... For such a decisive strike that would hand the Cult the holy planet on an altar, the plan was surprisingly simple, once the High Patriarch explained it to him in a truly blessed face-to-face meeting when the Vedette ‘happened’ to stop on Mars. In a rare moment of doubt, the Colonel had originally balked at it; striking down any one of the three targets the Patriarchs had planned was truly a cause for celebration and zeal, but all three at once? In the middle of combat operations against the Terran separatists and the Kasag? It was … well, decisive was one word for it, but it was also highly dangerous. Fortunately, the High Patriarch observed that, while their enemies were fierce, they were not invulnerable, nor without flaws. And she and the Cult had all the weapons they needed to end them. After all, the Patriarch made a rare confession to the Colonel; the events on Luna (one of the marines in the assault team had been one of the flock and fed back all the information the Patriarchs needed) had forced the Cult’s hand, and this was the course they had decided on after days of rumination. First, the Illuminati. Yes, it was perhaps an awfully cliché name, the Patriarch admitted, but if it fitted, it would do. Their failed attempt to lock down humanity, and later activity against the Cult’s chosen path, had constantly been a pain in the Cult’s side ever since the beginning of events, as far back as that war with the IC. Fortunately, here the Cult had been piecing together information, plans and structures of power for a long time and had worked out their hiding place; ostensibly and on public (and indeed most private) records a venerated banking establishment inside one of Mars’ oldest hab-domes. Now, with the outbreak of the rioting by Mars First, this was one of the many domes heavily guarded by civil police; a police force that was guaranteed to be bent to their will. Seismic investigations and the usual inquisitions had at least confirmed that the bank’s defences were more reputational than physical, and that their leaders were in their own emergency sessions to fuel their own foul plans; but still, a direct approach could hardly succeed. No doubt the Illuminati’s leaders would be ready to bolt at a second’s notice and there would be no hope of reaching the bank if the enemy had a literal city’s worth of defenders unwittingly working for it. Stealth would be in order; as the Patriarchs had decreed. Then, the Senator. The destruction of the Illuminati might remove any hidden threats to the Cult’s power, but there needed to be a rallying cause and moment for the Patriarchs to seize. Yes, their influence reached from farmers to Admirals, but their authority lacked legitimacy. Currently. And even the Colonel could see that something was needed. The death of a Senator, however, would be a beautiful spur to not only prove the current Senate useless, but also lend the air of urgency that the Patriarchs needed. The Colonel couldn’t quite work out which one she was referring to but could understand the difficulties she outlined – a hidden villa, deep in Mars’ deserts, off the maps, covered in the craven’s automated defences and mercenaries craving only the Senator’s funds. Here, stealth would be useless; the defences were too keenly tuned, the location too remote for any attempt at persuasion to succeed, and the guards too devoted to their thrice-damned rapacious politician for any attempt at persuasion or bribery. Here, perhaps, a more brutal solution would suffice. Not to mention, Mars First. Serpentis had been nearly unable to contain his glee once the bountiful High Patriarch explained she shared his contempt for them; and after this, there would be no need for such a blunt, crude, savage tool. The only real problem, she noted, had been how to dispose of them cleanly, and in a manner that made no associations with the Cult known. And with the other two plans in motion, the Patriarch of the Void – “in his usual put-on Mediterranean manner”, the High Patriarch sniffed – had observed a really rather clean removal operation. And finally, someone needed to deal with that damnable AI-pathic Doctor – perhaps her death would cripple the Facility now it had bonded to her, or at least distract the automaton long enough for the Cult to rally Mars’ forces against it in full and blast the mechanical clap-trap from orbit now that it had become more menace than resource. And here at last was the Colonel’s role… Hab Block Watney-101, Financial Circle, 10:05 AM It’s truly surprising how many things can be achieved in a few seconds. The insertion of a Marine kill-team, the Cult’s finest veterans readied for holy war with discipline, zeal and the powers the Sand and Void had granted their bodies, inside the sewer system of a nearby business after the civilians and local Illuminati patsies had been concussed; the small window needed to find the true ‘back-door’ with guards desperately trying to get away from hectic meetings and duped by their quarter’s supposed ‘perfect’ hiding place failing to account for security needs; the installation of a looped feed inside security systems with the enemy’s own codes and severed parts allowing for intimidate physical access; and finally, how quickly the magazine of a highly-modified (and utterly illegal) flechette rifle spitting out darts coated with a variety of toxins and poisons barely known to the authorities could empty. Particularly when you have a squad full of them; after all, how a room full of bloated, close-minded seniors wishing only for the galaxy to be closed to enlightenment could be put to bed. And, as it happens, how quickly even a small series of micro-explosives could smash open a vault door and a few moneybags could be torn open, making one of the finest political power-grabs humanity would never know of seem to be nothing more than a … paltry payday. In the Wilds of Mars, 10:06 AM Sometimes, when you have an immensely intelligent and sophisticated opposition who sourced its defences on a sharp defence, the Patriarch of the Seekers had observed, the ‘incredibly large hammer to the face’ option sufficed. After all, he explained, it wasn’t as if this Senator was in any hab district or using official assets. So as long as the Cult told the first truth – and told it well enough – people would have no reason to investigate or ask questions. And, as it so often was, if a brutal, uncouth strike to the head stunned your opponent hard enough where you could break his neck before he could voice a command, then your job was simple. And would the Cult recall, the Patriarch continued, that they had an immensely brutal, uncouth hammer at their beck and call. One that could easily, if armoured in contempt and armed with sufficient firepower the Cult could easily source, in an unmarked dropship ‘crashing’ in an unmarked area of the deserts, smash into a compound with enough speed (and a little subtle orbital support by Navy ships smashing vital generators under the guise of “disposing of toxic waste from a reactor dump”) to overwhelm a very numerically disadvantaged foe and cut off the Senator’s escape. It was brutal; it was simple; it was exactly what the Senator wouldn’t expect. And when the blow landed, it was divinely struck; the bombardment shattered the generators as swarms of Firster buggies broke the rise of the dunes and rode over – often literally – the defenders. With no tunnels to sneak out from, and only a small villa to hide in, the end would be quick… In the Wilds of Mars, 10:08 AM The Patriarch of the Void had then spoken, albeit with far more Italian exclamations than the others would have liked. If, after all, naval assets loyal to the Cult were in orbit – heavy enough to lend fire support to fit the myth they were creating – how hard would it be to switch from support to scourge? As the Firsters howled victory and realised all too late the jammers now blocked their communications, the battleship hanging above fired again. This time, on an unshielded target, the ‘finest’ of Mars First – with most of its front-liners and leadership, conned by the Cult into being a part of the assault as a show of force – were obliterated. In less than a minute, the Firsters were taken away from the Cult’s left hand and thrown into the sands; pockets survived, of course – a quick removal of tainted compost such as this would not catch every weed – but with the Cult to be in control afterwards, the following days and weeks would see the end of it, the Patriarchs were sure. Particularly as the remnant would be too busy scratching their own heads working out who they worked for now. The approach to the Inner Chambers of the Senate, 10:15 AM The Patriarchs had needed a few minutes to make the appearance look serendipitous. After all, an Admiral, two Senators, an investor-based success story that made some IC goons look askance and a media darling don’t all walk into the Senate like a bar, despite the joke. And while the plan had been given some measure of urgency, it was considered wise to wait until the Firsters were annihilated and the falsified reports started to feed out. Better to make sure, after all, that no rumours could be spread from the action seeming too planned. Honour guards were formed; the five marched down the approach to the chamber doors; the High Patriarch cleared her throat and knocked, as all was ordained and prepared for. All that was needed now was for the door to swing open, and the speech would be … The door wasn’t opening. The High Patriarch paused, and prepared to knock again before the sounds of movement behind her turned her head. She froze; Senate guards, guns loaded and shouting for their surrender. Even now, the honour guard with her locked their guns on the marks coming in; she couldn’t fault their devotion, she realized. But then, the doors on the street burst open and even civil police charged the building behind the loyalists. Something had gone wrong. Something dire. Something sinful. How could they have been caught? Exposed? Theirs was the plan! Theirs was the way! As other Patriarchs began to try and flash credentials, calm the situation, she drew her hidden pistol and yelled out a prayer as she opened fire. The killing began moments later, and the enemy within was crushed. Just not the enemy the High Patriarch, devout heart and cold mind behind that starlet glamour, both now ripped out of her by high-velocity ammunition and scattered across the chamber doors, had expected. Soon after, ships that harboured Cult cells were – somehow – marked and ordered to stand down, seen as traitors and renegades by their comrades who had been somehow informed of their plans. The plan rotted away, as quickly as it had been conceived. And none in power in the Cult would ever know how. In the Wilds of Mars, 10:07 AM Unbeknownst to everyone on Mars, even the Illuminati, Cult and the dead Senator, the Patriarch of the Seekers’ plan was also fatally flawed. What the Patriarchs had not stopped to consider in their sudden rapture was that while incredibly large hammers are devastating when swung correctly, not only does it sometimes take more than one blow to finish the job; and even an overwhelming force can be mishandled if held by an idiot. And as it so happens, the ex-ganger who hit the Senator square in the shoulder with his sidearm should have finished the job before gloating. Not after; not after he had voiced one last command that fired all the information he had gleaned about Illuminati, Firsters and the Cult alike into data-streams the Cult’s hurried work had missed, flinging one last torch into the darkness as the ganger realised his mistake and shot the Senator in the head, again before and not after stopping the download. By the time the stream was stopped, more than enough detail, plans, schema and suspicion had been sent to the Martian loyalists to scupper any attempt at the Patriarchs seeming benevolent. For all his sins, Senator Harris had truly been a Martian patriot, right to the bitter end. Of course, the situation had been so dire that he had warned one other. The approach to the Inner Chambers of the Senate, 10:17 AM And so, from triumph to tragedy, in less time than it had taken to brief the Colonel just a few days before. As for his part…? Aboard the Poole of Grains; 10:16 AM The order had been given just before; one mark was down, now her turn. It only takes seconds to kill a woman. It also only takes seconds spent for pride to come and give you a nasty assisted fall; seconds spent saying something deep or witty for his attention to be so distracted as to not see the blur of metal charging at his waist and knocking him against the wall. The drone must have launched itself from inside the pod, he thought as he picked himself up; its metal screeches as its probes shot out in some kind of spread, perhaps designed to intimidate him, or shield the Doctor. Which was unfortunate for it, because if you decide you absolutely have to send all of your (admittedly many) arm-equivalents out in all directions, you’re not covering your face. The gun jumped in his hands again with another inhuman reflex and the ‘head’ – face? case? Never mind! – shattered as a flechette dug into an unarmoured lens into whatever counted for its brain, the Colonel dashing past the wreck as it burbled and fell, a flash of the Doctor’s coat visible running around a corner. Thank Mars he’d had his cell lock down the corridors near the air lock as a safety to prevent interruption. He muttered something obscene under his breath as he quickened around the corner, getting to an arm’s length from the Doctor, ignoring her wails … and realised, almost idly as his focus hazed slightly as he reached out to grab her coat and sweet victory sang hymns in his ear with its hissing sibilance, that there were no life-sign readings on the cell’s HUD on his arm display. The impact was worse this time; and this time the drone went down with him, a heavier, armoured model with weapons in its probes and wasn’t wasting time. Serpentis thrashed for a moment, its grip too strong, before kicking off the wall to squirm free, a horrific blade slamming into the deck where his head had been. The gun had landed near him, he could kill this bastard drone if he had a window … In a split-second, he reached … and his sacred duty overtook his common sense, as he rolled onto his front to draw a bead on the doctor, staring at the drone and shouting something, something he couldn’t hear over the blood pounding in his head. He couldn’t even get out the “For” before the drone got an arm-manipulator around him, and this time it squeezed hard. Hard enough for his vision to blur and his focus to slip; he heard a rib break over his scream, and the gun fell out of his hand, and then It all faded away. By the time he woke again, it was all over. Just not how he expected. Days passed before he would find out the depths of his, and the Cult’s failure. Witnesses would say that evidently, what little was humanity left in him died that day with the scream that haunted people’s thoughts; honestly? In one of his few lucid moments afterwards, before he was found one day in his cell having almost decayed way from the inside, he wasn’t even sure it hadn’t been gone before his actions on the Poole of Grains. It only takes a few seconds for a horrid blossom to wither and die, after all. Serpentis fucked around with this message at 21:38 on Jun 21, 2018 |
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Jun 21, 2018 20:57
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((doh, quote, edit, etc.))
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Jun 21, 2018 21:37
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 3rd April, 2054 Ranginui System  With Martian central command momentarily thrown into chaos by an unexpected and shocking spasm of violence on the homeworld the three senior officers of Ranginui, Crazycryo, Tythas and Yellerbill meet to decide how to proceed. Putting aside the events of yesterday for a moment they all agree the fleet needs a task to distract itself from recriminations and witch hunts.  In the Pit, the massive six hundred kiloton vessel has been revealed to be likely no more than an enormous mobile shipyard. The two Rakshasa class badly damaged by Terran mines and missile pods in Nova Sol have retreated to its spot over the third planet in the Pit and promptly disappeared inside the construction leaving only six ships orbiting the planet. With the dozen battleship sized ships off chasing the Tharsis and her companions the shipyard represents an incredible target of opportunity and if the Pit system could be secured Mars could deploy to defend a single jump point instead of being split between Ranginui and Nova Sol. In light of this they agree that the only course of action is to take every ship at their disposal as well as the Doctor's Collaboration fighter-drones and sweep the pit clear of alien presence. Aethernet also puts forward a plan to use the Marine units they have on hand to seize the Kasag shipyard should the opportunity arise. The massive force of the combined Ranginui fleet forms up and without any fanfare they are off. ----THE RANGINUI FLEET---- 1st Dreadnought Division  The spearpoint of Mars. 1st and 2nd Cruiser Squadrons  Recently reinforced with the good ships Don't fire they may be friendly, I see you and Satellite of Love. 1st and 2nd Destroyer Squadrons  All ships are back in fighting trim after the damage sustained in the Pit. 3rd and 4th Cruiser Squadrons  3rd & 4th Destroyer squadrons  Fresh from the skirmish in Sol, Sebmojo commands the second half of the Martian Newfleet. 3rd Fleet  Third fleet is Eager to prove themselves despite their outdated ships. Triton Fleet  Heroes of the Corporate war, Triton fleet needs no introduction. Triton Fleet Marine Skirmishers  Small but overly violent. 1st Exploration support  Ready to provide for all your needs. -------------------------------------------- Unknown system, Unknown time The pounding never stopped. In his head, inside his skull, on the walls, ALL AROUND HIM. He had a name once but he no longer remembered it. All his world had collapsed to three simple things. The Duty. He must guide his vessel, his tomb. He no longer kneW hoW, pure instinct governed his hands. The Fear. AlWaYs folloWing , alWaYs chasing. He feared those red dots but he did not remember WhY. TheY must be kept AWaY! The Path. The WaY. He felt it noW, clearer and clearer. Those places Where he Was closer to something, the places he felt the.. the.. pathWaY? On the wall in front of him, daubed in blood were fourteen streaks. As he reached another WaY and instinctively began the sequence he reached out with shaking hands to draw another. 
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Jun 22, 2018 12:23
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Saros posted:Awesome Serpentis posted:Madness Really loving this epilogue! Saros and Serpentis both of you write really well!
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Jun 22, 2018 20:57
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YEEESSS Death and/or Glory for Triton Fleet, one last time! 
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Jun 22, 2018 21:33
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A glorious battle for humanity, and much like the Formic Wars, the end result is going to be thousands of dead humans and, if we're lucky, one giant crazy tree.
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Jun 22, 2018 22:20
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Saros posted:
Isn't it about time for Tango to make a comeback?
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Jun 22, 2018 23:36
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distant fluttering
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Jun 22, 2018 23:51
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I chose to believe Commander Veloxyll Jr went with the running madness. he would 100% volunteer for that gig.
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Jun 23, 2018 02:04
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