The Black

Admiral Tagarin sank heavily in his seat, his fur reeked from the acrid smoke and chemical residue from his forced desperate evacuation from his former flagship. The assault carrier “Pride of Unity” had been at the vanguard of the initial defense of the Kawmari homeworld. Her fighter squadrons and shuttle crews fought valiantly, and the vast majority of her infantry complement was able to make it to the Planet. Her 150, 000 Troops were part of the over 2.5 million troops dropped to aid in shoring up the 500,000 strong Rawkir Defense Regiments.

Pride of Unity had led an armada of 400 ships into orbit mere hours after the Vorath arrival. That number had quickly dwindled. The Vorath numbered less than 300 vessels but were wielding the reapers scythe with horrifying ease. Over the span of a the next week, the Unity lost over 75 vessels to the Vorath 15. The Unity losses included the Pride, felled in withering capital ship combat and Fighter raids. Tagarin pulled up the data on his screens, grimacing at the further attrition as the Vorath weapons continued to prove devastatingly effective. All across his fleet, ships were hastily enacting modifications based on information sent to him by the Human/Delmar Forces based on their own engagements with the Vorath. Shield generator cooling was augmented, and the Data from Steven’s engagement had finally proven the merit of depressurizing a capital ship before combat. The changes were slowing the attrition, even as another flash heralded the death of yet another Unity cruiser.

Tagarin grimaced, the cruisers death had forced a gap in their defenses, and two many of his surviving vessels were currently recharging their weapons banks to plug it quickly. In a matter of Hours, the enemy had poured their firepower into the weakness, widening the gap until a quarter of the planet’s orbit was now within Vorath Control.

“Admiral,” His new flag captain, a man he had not yet learned the name of yet, spoke quietly, “new report from the breach… They have launched landing craft.”

Tagarin’s heart sank, they were losing this fight. Humanity and Delmar had promised aid, but it was yet to show. “Notify General Ura and focus remaining fighters on thinning what numbers we can.”

“Admiral, Two more Captains reporting critical on their reserves.” Communications called out.

‘It’s too much’ Tagarin forced a calm demeanor, despite the horror’s that threatened one of the founding homworlds of the Unity, “Clear them to Withdraw as soon as we have a replacement” He hoped that the bridge crew missed the quaver that hung about the edges of his Stoic tone. “I need updates as soon as our troops make contact.”

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Deep in the outer reaches of the Rawkir system, three ships ghosted towards the Kawmari homeworld under silent running. The USN Olyvia, accompanied by R’Cari and Sombra slipped just near enough to the carnage to observe the ongoing orbital battle.

“Directional link established.” Jesse reported, “ready for Crybaby.”

Captain Corellus Grarzia keyed his com directly to his two escorts. “R’Cari, Sombra; Link established. We are go for Infiltration.”

*Acknowledged, Departing. Call for help if you need it.* Ivar’s voice crackled through the comms as He and Martina disconnected from Olyvia and throttled up. They broke formation with Olyvia cleanly, quickly vanishing from sensors as they streaked towards the fray. Cory had not signed up for this when he had accepted this captaincy, yet he had not balked. This was a founding homeworld. He and the two Stealth fighters had been the closest vessel capable of providing the advanced intelligence needed for the incoming fleets. Folmuri had returned to Hades to Consolidate with Stevens. The two of them had taken the time to create effective battle groups out of the available ships and were currently enroute at maximum slip velocities.

Over the next several hours, Ivar and Martina skirted about the outer edges of the carnage that was orbital combat. A disturbing picture was slowly developing. Admiral Tagarin was losing. He was being slowly driven from Orbit as hundreds of Vorath drop shuttled began their descent onto the larg continent on Rawkir. The Kawmari homeworld was one of the prides of the Unity. With a gravity that measured 10 percent less than Delmar, Her surface was adorned with “groves” of towering trees that measured over 300 meters tall, separated by vast plains punctuated by marshes. The single large content spanned 60 percent of the planet and was ringed in thousands of Island archipelago clusters and deep bioluminescent oceans. Many of the groves had been turned into the cities that the kawmari species resided in, with the planes and marshes being predominantly converted into Industrial endeavors, farmland, or left as wilderness. It was easy to see why the Kawmari species had developed such a titanic wingspan and light bodily frame. Their ancestors had soared above the plains and marshes in search of small prey, fruits, nuts and roughage, ready to dive into a titanic grove the moment their only natural predator appeared. Known as a Vikrawl, directly translated-“Winged Horror”, by the Kawmari people, it measured three times the size of a Kawmari, and once provided the single biggest airborne threat to the them. Largely ignored in the modern day, directional sonic defenses repelled the giant predator from the cities and farms, but a few being a year still fell to the claws of the airborne apex predator.

This day, however, Rawkir’s surface was marred by a dozen burning craters visible from orbit as the Vorath began their orbital bombardment in preparation for invasion. The Vorath would normally not take such… care… to invade planet, preferring to simply obliterate troublesome worlds or weak species. The Kawmari, however, had a thriving Industry that revolved around producing the communication and navigation components present in the vast majority of Unity ships. The Vorath advanced force desperately needed these capabilities to maintain their foothold in Unity space until their Grand Armada could reach this arm of the galaxy. Saving that, disrupting the decades long supply lines to the shipyards up spin would severely cripple Unity defensive efforts in the years to come.

*Ivar, new signal* Martina’s “voice” wafted into Ivars mind as a subspace arrival signature flickered through their sensors. *they look like Troop Transports*

*That’s a lot of troops…* Ivar growled back, flicking R’Cari’s nose to the signal to maximize resolution. *Is Cory reading this?*

*Signal is still good.. Hun, we could..* Martina caught herself, She felt Ivar’s desire. It would be nothing for them to slip in behind the lines and eliminate the arriving infantry transports, but theirs were the best and only eyes for the incoming fleet. Folmuri and Stevens needed every moment they could give them to execute their plan.

*Sending the request for weapons free the moment the fleet gets here. We don’t have many troops; we cannot allow the numbers to stack that severely* came the response from the captain of the Olyvia. Cory had seen the same thing they had. Several tense moments passed as they watched the troop transports burn hard for orbit. It would be two days before the transports were close enough to launch shuttles, but if they did… *Approval received, R’Cari and Sombra are cleared to engage the moment the battle groups arrive. Olyvia will act as fire support and Data-Link* the text scrolled through both of their visors. It was not much, but it was enough.

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The first day of the invasion bore some hope for the forces on the ground on Rawkir. They were swatting a large portion of the incoming troop shuttles from the skies. The Vorath had launched orbital strikes, obliterating several of the planetary defense batteries on the surface, but they had left the AAA batteries largely alone. The ground based defenses raged against the incoming shuttles, and were quickly aided by the one thing that Rawkir had that was unique to them inside of the Unity. Rawkir had a thriving AirForce. The Kawmari had maintained their proud heritage of atmospheric based military prowess, to the point they were the preferred tool for an atmospheric operation should the Unity need one. The “Vikrawl-14”, Their Atmospheric fighters, bore long laminar flow variable geometry sweeping wings and light weight structures, unincumbered by the structural requirements of space combat or violent launches and reentries. Hundreds of these fighters descended on the shuttle formations like the winged terrors they were named after, racking the formations with laser, and plasma.

A third of the Shuttle never made it to the surface on the first day, and half of the others bore enough damage to render them unable to return to orbit. The Vorath sent their own fighters and were met with veterans of a race who’s entire evolution had prepared them for moments like these. By this point, the Kawmari fighters numbered almost 400. They met the over 3000 Vorath starfighters head on. The continent spanning dogfight roared, flashed and thundered well into the night on the first day. 2500 Vorath fighters never made it home. The toll, however, was unbearable. The pride of the Kawmari atmospheric fighter corp did not retreat, they did not surrender... they died where they flew. 75 pilots made it home that day, none of them in their own aircraft, having ejected and been hurried back behind friendly lines by fleeing civilians.

By the end of the first day, over 700,000 Vorath troops had landed on the surface of Rawkir, with over two million on the way in the troop transports. General Ura was forced to spread his troops out along a 2500 Kilometer front, only to receive the first attacks even before the last Vorath shuttle landed. Both sides wasted little time, and the ground battle was joined in earnest. Laser and Plasma fire rippled across the front in a continuous light show. Ura’s troops were well dug in, with both planetary and orbital artillery at their disposal. Admiral Tagarin’s fleet still held 65 percent of the skies above, allowing for much needed support during the first waves of Vorath soldiers. These first battles bore their own new surprises. The Vorath Genetic modifications had borne their fruit, with Kawmari soldiers struggling to put down individual Vorath Warriors, even after breaking through their armor’s shielding and reflective surface. Many Vorath would get back up to fall back behind the lines, blood flowing from their bodies, only to be replaced by a fresh warrior. The Vorath were falling to laser fire, eventually, but they were not dying. Modern nanite Technology had allowed for a mortally wounded soldier to be practically reborn anew, so longs enough body mass remained and central nervous system remained. The Kawmari and Unity soldiers were not so fortunate.

The evening of the first day bled into the morning of the second. General Ura had been forced to concede ground slowly but steadily, both as orbital control was lost, and as the Vorath army pressed their attack. The enemy had chosen their landing site well, within easy striking distance of the Rawkir Capital and largest industrial facilities. The sunlight marked a ruined wasteland of carnage, the unending sound of weapons fire and orbital strike impact had long ago turned into one deafening roar. General Ura could retreat no longer. By the evening, he would no longer have the cover of his own orbital assets. He had a choice to make. Stand and die, or give up the Capital of the Kawmari homeworld.

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Captain Alex “Dozer” Collins glanced up from his pad as the overhead barked *ALL HAND, ALL HAND. PREPARE FOR DECON. CLOSE ACTION. I REPEAT, PREPARE FOR DECON, CLOSE ACTION. THIS IS NOT A DRILL*

Alex slipped the helmet of his MACE combat suit on, automatically booting up alpha-synce to his helmets hud and sensor feeds. He wore the Mk2 this time, fully kitted with the Command suite for his roll this day. He had a complete data link capability, able to see anything and everything he desired as he managed his troops and the battle space around him. He bared his teeth as the data feed kicked in to his requests, feeding him the ground situation as the battle groups finally achieve a hard link with the Unity around Rawkir. It was not a perfect link, with algorithms managing the data transfer between vastly different systems, but Dozer could see the situation on the ground.

*Captain Collins,* Dozer’s eyes narrowed as he recognized the voice of Admiral Stevens. *I have a mission for you.*

“Go for Collins” Dozer growled, “What can I do for you Admiral.”

*I will be sending your MACE squad in to secure and bolster high-value targets. Your job is to get in, and secure landing sites at the core of the front line.* Stevens stated, *Your mission is the Capital, Captain. Make a hole, and I will be sending a you two platoons directly behind you on shuttles.*

“S.O.A.R.D?” Dozer asked, a massive feral grin spreading across his features.

*S.O.A.R.D.* Steven confirmed, *God Speed, marine.*

Dozer turned toward his squad, “Marines! Time to jump into HELL, MOVE!” He bellowed.

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Admiral Tagarin’s Bridge was a cacophony of barely organized mayhem. The light cruiser that had rescued him was not designed to be the flagship for a fleet this large, and the comms station had started a 40 minute rotation to keep individuals fresh for the massive task saturation of commanding this many ships. Even so, the transmission was almost missed.

“ADMIRAL!! Im receiving a transmission!!! It has DELMAR codes!!” The comms officer shrieked, the poor Lycan female was clearly taxed to her limit.

“On screen!” Barked Tagarin, only to see a split screen appear on the observation monitor of the bridge. Before him stood Admiral Folmuri and a Human he recognized from new feeds. “Admiral Folmuri, a pleasure once again. Admiral Stevens, I presume. Your timing could not be more perfect.”

“Admiral Tagarin, Folmuri speaks highly of you. I will be quick. I will need your ships to make a whole 40 thousand kilometers wide directly in the center of your formation orienting at 118 mark 200. Do so in exactly 4 minutes from now. I will be dropping First Group directly into your line to take the fight to the enemy.” Stevens stated with an absurd calm.

Tagarin openly gawked at the Human before shaking his head. He had seen more than one miracle done by human ships, and he had nothing more to lose since he was soon to lose the planet. “Understood. I must state that our situation is dire on the ground.”

“That will be taken care of. Please tell your ships about the southern pole to prepare to attack. We will be sweeping from south to north. The goal is to completely encircle the planet and secure for clean up on the ground.” Folmuri spoke.

‘Ah they mean to split their fleet. It may work.’ Tagarin nodded, “Done. When will you be arriving.” He glanced up to see a massive gap forming in the center of his formation as 4 minutes quickly arrived.

“Now, Admiral.” Sevens voice accompanied a bright flash of streaming whites and blues, as the USN Houston, USN Hathcock, a freshly repaired USN Wisconsin and USN Furlong dropped directly into the gap created by Tagarin’s ships… and Opened fire. A massive communications spike erupted from his southern pole as USN Tharsis, USN Iowa, USN Simo, USN Galles, and USN Kidd, accompanied by the DDS Bastion and DDS Protectorate thundered out of slipspace, unleashing their own wall of fire.

All the SOL’s immediately appeared to boil from their flanks as each one released its full complement of fighters and attack craft. Moments later troop carriers USTS-10198, USTS-65249 and USTS-20445 flashed into orbit and began their hot drop reentry procedures.

Admiral Tagarin could only sink heavily in his chair as the full might of Human and Delmar firepower slammed into the enemy fleet. 40 Vorath capital ships evaporated under the bombardment in the first few seconds. The Vorath survivors quickly spread their formation, trying to prevent effective concentration of fire as the Human vessels wielded their hatred with Brutal efficiency. For the first time in the history of the galaxy, the greater Unity bore witness to the full fury of an enraged Human/Delmar Alliance.

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Dozer was not paying attention to the thunderous shaking of his confines, or the roar of superheated atmosphere. He was focused on their approach. His MACE squad had set another milestone, if they survived that is. Each man was in a Data linked S.O.A.R.D. (Sub Orbital Assault Reentry Drop) Pod. Born of the insane minds of the Brothers Gremm. The SOARD was only capable of being survived, if the occupant was inside of a MACE Mk2. The suits internal impact dampeners were augmented by the pods own dampeners and computers to allow for the management of the G- forces exerted on the Human occupant inside the equipment. The final stage rockets fired at 10000 meters from the ground ensuring the safe-ish landing of the Pod on the LZ. Dozer tapped on the controls, ensuring that his men’s pod’s explosively detaching doors were facing friendly lines as he guided them into a point 50 meters in front of the front line.

Dozer’s emotionless face glared at the timer as it counted down to their arrival. It was GO TIME.

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General Ura was inside one of the forward emplacements. He knew he shouldn’t be there, but he felt he needed to bear witness to the deaths of the Humans who were apparently willing to land, he presumed, their shuttle in front of his line and take the Vorath center head on. He knew some of what humanity was supposed to be. He knew they fought with primitive kinetics. He knew they were a high gravity species. He knew they had repelled a Vorath attack on the Delmar homeworld. All these things had missed one crucial element. He knew the Vorath… on the ground. He knew these monsters from history, and from the carnage they had already wrought upon his own forces. These Humans had never faced these monsters on the open fields of battle. They would be slaughtered just like the res….

A series of thunderclaps that threatened to shatter his eardrums detonated over his head, could not see up from inside the bunker, but he did not have to... The ground before him was set ablaze as retro rockets incinerated an entire squad of Vorath who had been engaging his men. The impacts knocked him from his feet as the strange bullet shaped pods impacted the ground, burring a quarter of themselves into the soft earth. Ura’s eyes widened at the utterly impossible sight as the sides of the pods facing him exploded away revealing Titanic monsters of metallic vengeance. Each armored figure stepped out, a few carrying absurdly large weapons, they each turned, using their own arriving contraptions as cover. A deafening barking roar overshadowed the high-pitched whine of laser and plasma fire as great tongues of flame bellowed forth from the muzzles of these monstrous weapons. His men completely stopped firing, unable to comprehend the scene before them as this squad of monsters.. human monsters… filled the air with hatred.

Dozer had chosen a different weapon for this day. He had joined Briggs in his selection and was wielding a M640 alongside his second as they applied a base of fire to the fortifications in front of them. His men had survived the drop, and the energy weapons had proven ineffective against the SOAR pods armor’d hull. His Grenadier, William “Bruce” Xavier had chosen to go with a Mark 89, the great grandson of the Mark19. It had been fitted with a stock and a box for the grenade belt. The monstrosity would have been completely useless without the MACE assistance, but Bruce wielded it like a rifle as he saturated the enemy fortifications with a fully automatic fusillade of HE and Fragmentation Grenades. The Vorath died quickly. Their armor was designed to deflect and absorb energy fire. The magnetically accelerated kinetic projectiles began to brutally disassemble their targets, often removing large portions of anatomy as it passed through the target to continue into the terrain, or another Soldier. a small hovering armored vehicle began to advance on them. Dozer guessed it was some sort of tank designed to be the vangard for larger vehicles. It never got a shot off, as one of Dozers Rifleman had reached into his pod to produce a disposable missile launcher. The shaped charge turned to vehicle inside out killing the occupants. 5 Vorath soldiers were eviscerated from the explosion of shrapnel and concussion.

*Reinforcements, ETA 10 minutes* came the call from one of the Troop transports, and Dozer smiled as a smattering of laser fire began to finally begin as the Kawmari and Unity defense forces shook themselves from their stupor and began to engage the enemy once again.

Dozer stepped out from behind his pod, throwing a frag grenade into a group of enemies that tried to take advantage of Bruce’s reload, “Squad, forward left 150meters. Xavier, smoke out. All units… advance.” Dozer Growled, smiling fiercely. His men redoubled their weight of fire as they stormed the enemy position.

50 meters behind the charging humans, General Ura sat heavily in his chair, unable to comprehend the events unfolding in front of his eyes. Eventually, one of his unit captains, he did not know which, recognized the situation.

“All units, Advance! Cover the Humans!” The officer called, looking back at the General with an apology.

Ura just nodded, it was the right call. He struggled to his feet just as a Delmar in only slightly less terrifying Human armor stepped into the control tower, “Maj. Ja’luran Partrilus, 1st combined Infantry Division at your service sir, we will be deploying to your center.” The Delmar snapped off professionally.

A dumbfounded Ura turned to watch as squads of Delmar, and Humans vaulted off of the open ramps of hovering shuttles, charging into the fray.

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*Centarus, we have an urgent message from Rawkir* The disembodied voice of his flag captain echo’d in his chambers as Centarus stood from his bed. It was early in first shift, and his reinforcement fleet was less than 12 hours out from assisting the vanguard force assaulting the Kawmari homeworld. His fleet would be bringing to bear another 50 ships, and 2 million more troops of those who had chosen to live this life of solitude away from their new homeworld. Over 100,000 outposts, scattered about the void between the unity and Vorath space had been maintained almost since the Cataclysm, and now the era of vengeance was upon them.

The righteous fury in Centarus’ soul flared almost uncontrollably as he opened the urgent data packet. His vanguard had faltered, these… humans… seemingly impossibly…. had joined the fray, and their ships wielded weapons that would have been considered barbarically obsolete. The problem was, these humans were winning. Centarus had been forced to understand this firsthand, and his fleet had taken his change in strategy to heart. His vanguard was holding its own, but their orbital foothold was shrinking ever so steadily, risking any withdrawal of ground troops. These human’s had unleashed another surprise upon their arrival, a massive electromagnetic wave of randomized signals had overpowered all but the closest-range communications. He frowned as he realized that he had absolutely no idea what was transpiring upon the surface. Luckily, his ships were fast, and they had preformed a maximum velocity jump into subspace. Soon enough, Centarus would be coming to grips with this new enemy for himself.

“Thank you, captain. Have all vessels begin their charging procedures and have navigation coordinate for as close to an orbital insertion subspace drop as possible. We will be engaging with all haste.” Centarus’ orders came crisply, despite his only just being awakened.

*With pleasure, Centarus* came the response before the channel closed. And the Vorath fleet commander settled back into his bunk. The die had been cast, and joining battle with sleep depravation would only be to his detriment.

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“Gerignari, we will be within launching distance in 4 hours” Gerignari stretched from his chair on the bridge of the nameless troop transport currently burning for Rawkir to aid his kin on the ground.

He nodded his thanks to the vessel’s captain before turning to his second, “Notify the men, and prepare the boarding procedures. I want us launching the mome….”

“Contact directly in front! Where the void did that come from!!” The sensor station bellowed. Both men turned to find a single ship of unknown classification appearing on sensors. They were entirely to close for comfort. “I’m getting extreme power spikes coming from the vessel, it looks like it about to…”

A bright flash raged through the forward observation window as the lead ship in the Troop convoy evaporated in a glittering fireball full of gruesome metal, polymer, and organic matter laden confetti accented by burning atmosphere. Whatever had erased the lead ship had passed through, invisibly shattering the hulls of two more vessels with relatively mundane results. USN Olyvia had fired her first shots in anger, Eviscerating the lead ship with a single 1005 round, The round had fragmented upon impact, ripping burning gashes in two following vessels. The two disabled troop transports fell from formation under the asymmetric thrust created by the superheated burning atmosphere being spewed from their flanks. Olyvia executed a pre-planned maneuver, side stepping the on coming convoy as she swung her nose ‘round to larboard. Her PAC cannon unleashed its fury in a long constant burn, filling the weapons thermal capacity with the long continual firing as she passed. Captain Correllus Grarzia had put Olyvia into a hard burn the moment the Terran/Delmar combined battle groups had arrived, and his closure rate was a combined 3 thousand Kilometers a minute. The 15 second burn of his PAC emitter, combined with the truly mind bending speed of his strafing pass gored 4 more transports as The Olyvia reversed her orientation and began a maximum performance deceleration burn.

Personal glory was not Cory’s goal with such an insane maneuver many would consider “reckless”. His upgraded sensor suite had logged and memorized every engine signature of every remaining troop transport.

Cory grunted heavily as he was pressed into his seat, “Transmit target data” He gritted through his teeth.

*received, Oly. Good shooting.* Came Martina’s voice over his helmet com’s. *Engaging*

“Good hunting” Cory breathed, even as his ship’s engines reduced in power as their velocity quickly bled off, and her vector began its planned arc around for a return burn back towards Rawkir.

Martina smirked at Cory’s last transmission. The Olyvia’s “Drive by” had taken 7 transports out of the fight, most still spewing burning plasma and charred remains of men and machine. 1 had exploded moments after being disabled as the flames reached something more volatile. *Cory did good* Ivar’s thoughts whispered into her consciousness as they began their attack run. They had split up from the Olyivia and were now approaching at a maximum burn from the opposite side of the Vorath convoy from Cory’s pass.

*He’s been spending to much time around BigMac, I swear that brand of crazy is contagious* Martina mused back, smirking at the burble of amusement her comment elicited from Ivar. *I’ve my locks*

*As do I. In 3….. Fire* their minds chanted as one. Loosing 20 missiles total at the remaining 10 Troop transports.

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Garignari slowly rose from his uncomfortable resting place on the floor of the bridge. The vessel he was aboard had been spared the surprise attack of the lone vessel with the insane commander. However, the evasive maneuvers had not been enough, and the impacts of large chunks of dead ships had depleted the shields of his transport, and sent massive impacts throughout the bones of the ship.

“Report!” Growled the vessel’s captain as the commander crawled back into his own chair.

“We’ve lost 7 vessels. Two more report moderate damage from the debris impa…. Contact! 096 by 002. Oh dear void! Lots of contact!! Signatures match the…” The Sensor station crewmen never finished the statement. The horde of missiles loosed from a pair of unseen predators found their marks, ripping through the Troop transports with contemptuous ease.

Only 2 vessels remained intact enough to make their distress calls.

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Admiral Tagarin pinched the bridge of his snout in between his claws. The Lycan admiral was watching the very nature of warfare be revolutionized in front of his eyes. The two battle groups, bearing both Hunan and Delmar might were unlike anything he had seen to date. He watched as small nimble capital ships frolicked amongst the fighters giving impossibly detailed targeting and vector information to any capital ship capable of making the shot with weapons capable of simply ignoring anything but the largest capital ship deflectors. He watched Human single seat craft emotionlessly eviscerate their Vorath counterparts with almost mechanical ease, pulling maneuvers that would turn lesser species to gelatinous organic slag inside the cockpit. He watched as, what he had learned were only 2 man craft, unleash hordes of weapons capable of both chasing down Vorath fighters, but cracking all but the largest targets with ease. He watched the sensor recording of an entire armored troop transport convoy simply erased from existence from a completely unknown assailant, at least not one his sensors were capable of registering.

Then There was the ground battle. The front stabilized overnight. His own reports from the ground were filled with absurdly tall tales of Humans shrugging off multiple direct impacts from small arms fire, giant metal titans falling from the skies in armored coffins. These monsters not only seemed to survive a semi free fall from the heavens but arrive only to unleash a withering hail of death incarnate that seemed to be more interested in bodily disassembling its enemies rather than merely killing them. Vorath troops were no longer simply getting injured, being patched up, and returning to the fight. The front had advanced 3 kilometers in the opposite direction before nightfall on the second day. The dismembered, and disfigured bodies of the Vorath invasionary force littered the battlefield as the Rakir defense forces repurposed the fortifications for their own uses.

Tagarins thoughts were interrupted by the hiss of the sliding conference room doors, as Admirals Folmuri and Stevens stepped into the room. Folmuri appeared the typical Delmar naval officer, and he carried himself in the typical rail-straight posture of decades of discipline. The difference came in the eyes, as the Delmar officer quickly scanned the room as he entered. One could be forgiven for recoiling under the withering gaze, but Tagarin’s nearly 40 years of service recognized the look of a veteran's calculated aggression. Tagarin’s gaze fell to the second being who entered the room, Human Admiral Clint Stevens. Stevens was considerably shorter than his Delmar counterpart, but Tagarin’s eyes narrowed as the temperature of the room seemed to plummet several degrees under the humans gaze. The Human admiral seemed to radiate a cold brutality despite the calm mask he wore on his features.

Tagarin rose to greet them, “Admirals, it is good to finally meet you.” he nodded to the Delmar officer before tilting his head as the human extended his hand. He tentatively reached for the appendage with his paw only to have it clamped in a vice-like grip and violently shaken exactly once. Tagarin resisted the urge to massage his paw as the three of them sat.

“Likewise, Admiral. Folmuri has spoken quite highly of you from your first meeting. From what I have seen of your defense here, I can see that his praise was well founded.” It was the Human that spoke first.

“I’m afraid I was well on the way to failure before your arrival. It appears that the Unity has fallen woefully behind in the race for technology. Your aid has been greatly appreciated. I would like to know the situation on the ground. Your ‘jamming’ signals have been of great use in orbit, but I am afraid that our communications are still somewhat affected despite the provided secure frequencies. I know the basics, but outside of that…” Tagarin gave his species version of a shrug.

“I will endeavor to work on a solution to help you with the jamming; it has become standard procedure since we combined our forces and training with Sol. Until then, I can have one of our cruisers stay closer to your command ship to provide a better data link.” Stevens offered. “As for the situation on the ground. We have pushed the Vorath back as our orbital bombardment capabilities have recovered. We now have a 10-kilometer buffer from the capital. We could continue around-the-clock operations; however, the majority of the forces on the ground do not have night vision capabilities. Outside of the MACE, we have been restricted in our full-scale operations.”

“I’m sorry, MACE?” Tagarin tilted his head slightly, “I’ve heard scattered reports of a small group with that name.” In truth, Tagarin had almost universally discarded those reports of giant bipedal armored horrors as the frantic ravings of traumatized officers. The new armor of the Human and Delmar regular troops seemed to be terrifying enough to account for the reports.

“Yes, the MACE, under captain Collins were the reaction force we dropped directly at the capital in front of the troop ships.” Folmuri began, “They are an experimental squad, but they have proven invaluable a number of times.” The Delmar Admiral inserted a data stick into the conference desk, pulling up a combat recording. Tagarin’s expression went completely blank as the playback began.

The helmet cam began as the Human soldier raced across the field towards the enemy emplacements, only to be overtaken by the thundering bipedal steps of a metal monster wielding a strange bellowing weapon of almost comical size with impossible ease. Tagarin’s brain struggled to grasp what he was watching. These new troops, even the less terrifying ones, did not wield laser or plasma. Their weapons barked and chattered, spewing invisible fury into enemy positions. The enemy, unaccustomed to not seeing incoming fire, stood to return in kind. Tagarin’s eyes widened as a wall of invisible destruction impacted the Vorath soldiers. Chunks seemed to evaporate from the Vorath invaders as they stood up directly into their death. Where a Laser weapon tended to cauterize the wound it created, these weapons simply removed body parts from their victims, leaving what remained to quickly bleed out from the massive wounds created. Incoming laser fire splashed harmlessly off of the chests of these new style troops, but they were not invulnerable.

A few began to fall as the withering return fire found chinks in their armor. Soldiers fell clutching injured appendages only to be grabbed and drug bodily into cover by their fellows. They were clearly alive, if out of the fight. One of the metal monstrosities stepped out of the open, and unlike the other humans, it appeared completely impervious to incoming fire as a dull thumping sound resounded from his weapon. The camera panned toward the front line as massive bubbles of fire and shrapnel erupted from the enemy’s position. The incoming fire almost completely ceased as the chattering of the new weapons barked and raged once more before the video was cut off.

Tagarin took a moment to mentally remind himself to recover those reports before speaking finally, “I see, what is the status of the defense forces from Rawkir.”

“Sadly, most of their airborne forces have been destroyed. There are a few reserve fighters still operational, and we will be sending our own ships down to assist. Our goal is an encirclement, but we will need to completely retake the orbit before that can happen.” Folmuri stated, “It appears that they have learned from our previous engagements with them. We are pushing them, but it is a slow process as they are focusing on preserving their vessels.”

“They are stalling, like I did.” Tagarin realized, “We lost our long-range sensor capabilities the first day…”

“We have an advanced warning force in the outer system, you are correct. They have spotted an additional subspace signature, big enough to be at least a battle group, headed for this sector. We cannot tell their numbers, but we are preparing for their arrival.” Stevens stated, “The good news, is that the troop convoy was successfully neutralized, the enemy has been denied its reinforcements for now.”

“I see, I would like to spread your ‘destroyers’ out among our formations” Tagarin began, “Your firepower, and more importantly your targeting sensors, are far superior to ours. I fear they will press a weak point the moment this new task force appears, and I would like to be able to maximize the performance of my remaining forces. Your ships are strong, but they are still few.” He finished.

“Done,” Clint stated almost instantly, “I will relay the request. I can have our destroyers act as a floating response force, and I’ll send over a set of temporary fire control codes to allow you access to our data link.”

“I would be grateful.” Tagarin gave a small bow. “Now, about our orbital operations…”

The meeting of the minds changed gears as the refreshments arrived, and Tagarin began to allow himself a modicum of optimism.

______________________________________________________________________________

Barellus sat in his hole, his weapon leaned against his shoulder, its butt against the moist ground as he glared at the other side of his meager emplacement. His commander was dead, half of his unit was either dead or gruesomely injured. The first days of their glorious invasion had seen the devoted advance with rapturous abandon. All but the most powerful weapons had been able to slow his fellow warriors. They were within a breath of taking the capital and the largest of their objectives when the metal barbarians fell from the sky. Barellus watched as his commander was cut in half by thunderous weapons that seemed to ignore armor and explode soft tissue. His entire life he had been taught that the Vorath had molded their bodies to be above all but the most energetic of weapons. He had watched on as the warriors beside him were torn bodily asunder, and his armor still bore the stains of more than one friend.

That was not the source of his anger. No, to die in glory was the fate longed for by all Devoted; and his greatest wish was to meet his fellows in the after. No, His broiling rage was directed at the order to retreat, given by his supposed betters in the bedlam of this new enemy. He now sat in a muddy hole, clawed from the dirt with his own two hands, awaiting the dawn that promised more carnage from his foe’s and more cowardice from his betters.

A rustle to his left saw Barellus whip his weapon to his shoulder just as one of his few surviving comrades slid hastily into the hole beside him. The soldier, Erilaris maybe, only glanced at the weapon before speaking, “We go at dawn, The counterattack will be fully backed with our remaining armor. We will hit the center. For the glory.”

“For the glory.” Barellus grunted, replacing his weapon in its resting place. His anger had a direction, it was not much, but it tempered him against the last few hours of waiting as this world’s star rose behind him. The low crackle of breaking twigs alerted him to the approaching armor at his back just as his comms stuttered to life. Radio silence was broken as instructions rang out. His squad, for it was now his squad, was to close with the enemy emplacements as quietly as possible as the predawn sun blinded them, and he whispered out his commands as his warriors emerged from their own holes. They worked as a whisper between the woodland between the lines. The ghosted along, bounding past each other until they were within but 75 meters of their enemy.

The bird’s vain attempts of camouflage somehow made them even more obvious, with the Lycan among them only marginally less so, as Barellus keen eyes searched the entrenchments before him for a weakness. Soon enough, he found what he was looking for, two birds in animated conversation with one another. Barellus released a humorless smile as he clicked his comms in a specific sequence, alerting the rest of the attack that he was in position. His warriors surrounded him in a loose formation as they concealed themselves from their enemy. Soon a low howl of familiar engines screamed overhead as plasma and laser scored the enemy positions in front of him.

Barellus Com crackled with the signal, and his men responded to his command opening with a heavy volley of laser and plasma fire that had the intended affect. The dumbfounded defenders began to fall or duck behind their manufactured cover. Opening fully exploited, His men rose from their positions at a full sprint. Gone were the war cry’s of earlier bravado, and his men quickly threw a series of plasma grenades ahead of them. A fusillade of handheld plasma explosives harolded their arrival as Barellus and his men stormed the trenchwork.

The enemy returned what fire they could, but the initial volley of laser and grenade had created a carnage ridden foothold to work from. His men spread out quickly, making swift work of the defending soldiers in their immediate area before pressing forward toward the second line of trenches. Barellus began to hear the Vorath starfighters begin returning for a second pass as the Hover tanks began to make their move. Barellus took a moment to take a look above as friendly airborne assets began to pound the second line of defenses. He smiled as the laser and plasma began cratering the earthworks that were to be his next target. It was time, he would begin to take those new emplacements just as soon as the tanks were in posi….

5 Vorath starfighters began wildly gyrating overhead just as a series of white streaks appeared in the air. 3 of the fighters disintegrated in balls of flame and shrapnel, and Barellus snapped his head around as a new sound made itself undeniably present. Over the treetops, came a piercing howling scream as angular craft like he had never seen flashed overhead quickly followed by the ear-splitting echo of sonic concussions. Small panels opened as these newcomers loosed more of those small white streaks that seemed to actively chase the Vorath pilots in the air. Barellus felt a weight drop in his stomach as he watched the airborne mayhem unfold, only to have his attention ripped away as the leading hover tank took its first hit.

“Down!” Barellus screamed as his men hit the ground, many rolling back into the trenches they had just cleared as the horrifying chatter of strange weapons began barking from his forward right. Three of his men were just that much slower than the rest, and Barellus could only watch as one warriors head evaporated. Brain and bone fragments showered the other two even as the holes appeared in the second. The warrior died where he stood with the pass through taking the arm of the last victim at the elbow. He lived long enough to fall into the captured emplacements to be tended to by their field healer.

Barellus took a moment to look to his left. Three more tanks were dead, burning with black smoke mixed with vibrant plasma, and his vision was semi-occluded by the carnage of burning armor. He lifted his weapon to view the scene through his optic and his breath caught in his chest. Standing in the tree line was a being out of horror and nightmares, his foliage-colored armor given away by the smoking tube over his shoulder. The helmet slowly turned until its visor was looking directly at him pausing for a long moment before turning and stomping back into the trench.