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No sooner had Edea heard the electric sound than did she dive for cover, while two of the Federation's vaulted new "marines", recruited from the Federation police force no doubt, went down like decoy targets. The rest of the collective unit scattered while the Maceo AI loaded in her suit was running firing projection to trace where the lethal shots had come from. "Could have told the bureaucrats that sending some fancy cops to play soldier was a bad idea."
"Cut the chatter, one-ninteen." Markus was in full command mode, using code numbers instead of names. It was how he coped with what they were, and what they did. "Elon, run telemetry on those shots and give me any kind of sweep on the outpost you can. Relay to the other Macros of ARC-Nine and Sergeant MacUspaig once we have data."
"Sensor pulse readied. I must however advise, Chief Bram, that it may reveal our position to hostile forces."
"Two Feddy marines are dead, Elon. Think they know our position already."
"A fair point, Chief Bram. Initiating sensor pulse."
Post by Alasdair MacUspaig on Apr 13, 2021 0:18:08 GMT
Alasdair didn't see where the shot had come from, and had been thoroughly caught off guard by the sudden attack, yet he wasted no time in half-burying himself in the muck for cover before he was made a target himself. Of course it had to be snipers. The ÆSIR was no stranger to long-range shots, himself, of course, but he was quite averse to being the subject of such tactics in turn. He considered checking the status of the marine that had been shot in the chest, but given the weapon likely used, he doubted there was any point.
"Right, ye lot, eyes sharp and stay low. Any of ye had any proper combat experience?" Alasdair questioned, directing the query to the remaining marines. Hopefully there was someone in this band that had the audacity to call themselves marines that actually lived up to the name, but, given the GalFed's general view on real military force, he held strong doubts. With that, he switched back to the Confed channel, though he monitored the GalFed channel for answer, as well. Now, he needed to wait, at the very least, until he had a clue what they were dealing with and how many hostiles.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
The several long moments following the initial volley of sniper shots would be relatively quiet ones as the human task force took cover and reevaluated their approach to the listening post atop the foothill's summit - no movement, no retaliatory shots, but the same could not be said of the snipers on the other end of the scorched and barren expanse. Raspy, low chittering, growling and screeching would fill the air as the Kig-yar perched in the trees of the unburnt jungle called to one another - and more importantly, as one spoke into an encrypted communication device, informing its masters near the summit of what had transpired.
Just as the leader of the sniper group did so, however, a burst of EM would sweep outward from where the encroaching humans had been pinned. While the surge only served to initially confuse the Jackal as static washed through his goggled eyepieces and other electronics none of the Banished present would be aware of what it meant - or the information that would be relayed back to the AI tasked with sorting the intelligence. While the positioning of the individuals and technology detected wasn't perfect and interference from some of the more powerful generators and equipment near the summit would partially jam the sensor pulse, what it did glean was invaluable. The locations of all four Kig-yar snipers, hidden in the trees just beyond the scorched wasteland. The presence of two Wraith mortar tanks hidden behind mobile energy shield barricades up at the gated entrance to the listening post above, with a clear line of sight to the forest and wasteland below. Two to three dozen infantry, be they troops or engineers moving to respond to the disturbances below.
Perhaps more troubling, however, was the presence of a massive circular platform several meters across, dropped to rest in the listening post's courtyard a fair distance behind the mortar tanks - the base pad for a Covenant era gravity lift, the sort typically deployed from sizeable warships supporting ground operations. Inactive, but the implications were obvious.
Not soon after the EM burst the three snipers aside from the leader - who would be querying the listening post for orders - would start taking shots at the source of the disturbance. Two would be obvious misses, the third less so but impossible to determine without exposing their positions in a more obvious sense. Higher up the mountain and behind their fortifications, a low hum would sound as the Wraith tanks would begin to power up.
"I understand."
No sooner had Weavel spoken the words the image upon the viewscreen - that of an old Jiralhanae, fur and beard white with age - would vanish without any more of their own. The presence of the Confederation complicated things as the Banished had no quarrel with them. Nor, for that matter, was the intervention of the Federation. It was somewhat common knowledge even outside their circle that there was something of an internal power struggle brewing between those who wished for a more iron grip over their member worlds and those who wanted the opposite. Centralized authority as opposed to a more direct democracy... as if the latter truly existed when only a select few were actually allowed any say in how matters were conducted. Regardless, it seemed as though the former had won out, and behind closed doors. For them to have a military of their own now, no matter how incompetent or fledgling it might have been would shift the balance of power in dealings going forward.
But those were concerns for another time. Likely not Weavel's regardless as the intelligence had been passed up the chain to his employers. For now all that mattered was that he had been given orders and a time table to work with. It was highly unlikely that either government was here in response to the Eskradion purge or the frankly laughable distress beacon that the ship in orbit had activated as they met their end - as much as it made bile rise in his throat to consider the irony of them seeking help after the slaughter they'd visited upon his kin wasn't lost on him. But that left few other reasons they could be out here. Surprised as they had been by the presence of ships in orbit and the civilized warning given... the listening post was likely their target. As long ago as it had been abandoned there was a war on again, and it was the only target that made sense for the amount of resources they had committed to the operation.
Hands working against themselves as they clasped behind his lower back, the Qymor glanced over to one of the few Kromus technicians that wasn't in the process of wiping data storage or copying files for transport back home.
"'Natan and his people. They've returned from their clean up operation?" Weavel said, voice steady.
"Yes. They're currently recharging their gear, 'Natan requested permission to ready when perimeter scouts first reported the current incursion."
Weavel remained silent, glancing back over his shoulder towards the door behind him, left open for the sake of expediency, and the gravity pad in the courtyard behind him. Initiative like that was not common within Kromus ranks, and it was going to take some getting used to going forward.
"Give their needs priority, but they're not to leave the compound until ordered to."
There was no nod in response, any sort of direct acknowledgement as was so common among alien species outside the Kromus - but only snap adherence as the communications technician immediately began speaking to relay the orders.
"Then so it shall be done."
Clad in sleek black armor with only the slightest crimson hue to it, visible only in the right reflected light, 'Natan lowered his four fingered hand from his helmet. Completely enclosing his head, there was little else aside from his slightly bulkier build to separate the Sangheili from the other creatures in the room - many just as tall as he was, but with wasp thin waists and bearing different armor, black and silver in coloration. Only a handful in the room were his kin, similarly clad and armored in a manner that made it near impossible to distinguish them from one another. The others were Kromus. Kromus of many kinds, but heavily altered in manners to largely appear as Qymor from a distance - so as to all be capable of using the same gear, same tactics, same thoughts. Much of that gear was currently being rotated through charging stations to circumvent the lengthly recovery periods that their onboard power sources were limited to, having only recently been used to great extent mopping up those who'd dared to attack a Banished protected world. When 'Natan had been put in command of the program, told to make use of those who weren't Sangheili, Jiralhanae or even human... he had not held high expectations.
But now, following their first proving, their first trial by fire?
"Warriors! Fortune smiles, and we've been given another chance to prove ourselves. Those who have finished preparations, muster to the command center! Those who have not, follow when ready!" 'Natan spoke, voice raised and booming through the relatively small space. Traditional roars to acknowledgement would answer him from the Sangheili, many of whom would move to do as ordered - followed shortly by many of the Kromus, slowed only by their relative inexperience with their new gear.
He found no gratification for what he did, killing those mercenaries- He knew not their reasons but he simply figured it was the fear his kind had given. However, it was at Dymas' word that he had to do it. He has bore greater pain and weight than the lives of those.. Supposedly deserving. He had no doubts of what they had done, rather, could only speculate.. A habit he could not afford in battle. Upon finishing the preparations needed to recharge his equipment, the Fro'My'Xin looked to his trainer, the current commander of this group, the air intense, and well, tense. The lighting shone on their armor, revealing each species as what they were.. But as Banished, they were all the same. There was no line, they fought for the glory of Dymas, they fought, still fight, for themselves. Their honor. Their.. Anything. And none, none they call out in their hearts, will deny them that. And upon the end of his speech he joined his brothers in their roars, raising a claw into the sky, before placing his gun to a readied position, following his battle brothers to the command center.
Post by The Huntress on Sept 12, 2021 18:21:13 GMT
GFS HEPHAESTUS, GFS PAL'VOR EST'RATA
The time spent staring across incalculable distance of space between the collective Federation and Confed ships and the Kromus affiliated vessels began to wear on the Federation's own crews. It had been over an hour since last contact from their teams, and while the ConFleet commanders seemed to be handling the wait in stride…
All they were really doing was staring down at their enemy.
"Why are we just waiting?" one communications staffer remarked as they would key up the open chatter flying over various frequencies. "We haven't heard from our marines, the Terrans are just sitting over there like this is just another day at work..."
"Kromus plasma bombed two of our outreach worlds to lifeless rocks in the war," came the remark from one of the yonhet who still wore the pilot's uniform of the GalFed Police with all too shiny "fleet" markers magnetically pinned to their left shoulder. "They're the enemy, aren't they? We're at war with them. Why are we not just blowing them out of space and returning the favor on their surface bases?"
A glare came from a human dressed in a more obvious fleet uniform, with a pair of starbursts pips on his collar to denote him as a former member of Confleet; the special advisors that Kea'ton had insisted upon. "We're here on recon and investigation. I would think that is more familiar in police work than trying to carpet bomb a vital installation."
"But aren't we here to kill the enemy? They killed our people, this is a war, isn't it?"
Even the newly assigned commanding officer of the Federation's cruiser was nodding in agreement, something that began to worry the former Confleet specialist. "Yes, but even in war, there is more than just the obvious conflict to consider." He gestured to the planet displayed on the main screens. "We have a Kromus veteran of the war down there, someone we know managed to survive Krom, and there are Sangheili and Jiralhanae in company with Subject Weavel."
"Isn't that enough information? They glassed one of our planets just weeks ago."
"They have not fired back at us, despite that we fired first." The Terran narrowed his eyes as he could sense discontent. His division had warned Holdon about this very thing, that retraining police cadets and recruiting bounty hunters to get a marine and naval force up to readiness would take more time, and that letting Sol handle this situation would have been smarter. But the defense secretary had insisted that they make their own "proper military forces" known. "They also communicated in the clear and have yet to instigate hostilities up here."
Discontent mutters were now being spoken across the bridge. The Terran tensed, having a gut feeling that he was about to run headfirst into a very bad situation, and technically, he didn't have the actual authority to stop the ship's CO if they had already decided to ignore orders and were about to go "gung ho" on the Kromus and others below and across from them in space.
"Pardon the reminder of history, Lieutenant," same the cold and stoic words as the Federation commanding officer, a Divolu, turned his head toward the human. "But such political niceties is exactly how Beacon burned, to my recollection." A pause as the saurian could see anger begin to burn in the Terran's eyes. "And also, I lost kin when Kod'm'ria was attacked by the Kromus pirates."
Another silence, and then the Divolu nodded to the forward stations. "Helm, intercept course. Sound combat stations and all crews to their positions. These pirates are holding a Federation planet, we watched them destroying ships that broadcasted Galactic Federation ID codes when we arrived, and under the authority of Secretary Holdon, we are under orders to eliminate Kromus opposition and retake the outpost. Anyone that associates with them is going to learn why such affiliations are a very foolish idea."
The engine drives growled to life, pushing the forward section of the Federation vessel to come about even as the main weapons batteries slowly began to charge and a glow would build within the firing barrel that resembled an older magnetic accelerator.
It was an action that had the captain of the Hephaestus confused and concerned as there had been no further actions from the opposing ship, and he had specifically ordered no actions until they had a better idea of what was going on planetside. "What the hell are they doing?! Someone get that overzealous cop on the line at tell them to-"
The raging beam of energy firing from the Federation cruiser's main weapons would be enough to make Captain Eriksen drop his jaw at the sheer gall and idiocy of the Federation's new marine fleet. "Four-Four-Seven, put the entire ship on alert and prepare for combat stations! Maximum shield, getting all point defenses ready-"
This was not, Eriksen already could tell, going to end well even if they did make it home alive.
Post by Alasdair MacUspaig on Oct 7, 2021 2:12:35 GMT
Alasdair knelt on the ground, considering their current circumstances as he stared at the opaque muck that clung around his knees, then turned towards Markus.
"Chief, I may have a recommendation fer ye tae try," he started. "Enemy snipers have our position right now, so countersnipin's nae th' best shot right now. Everyone's armor is vacuum rated, though. We can crawl beneath th' surface tae that copse of trees and take up better positions. Come up quiet, drop them in a quick volley, then cover our greenhorns here across th' mudflats, boundin' up after. And pray tae fuckin' God those tanks arna manned.." he muttered grimly. "Might need tae cover our muzzles tae keep th' muck out. though."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Dead silence would hang in orbit over the planet as both pairs of ships remained in place relative to one another - the Kromus destroyer and its partner ship both positioned to block the Federation affiliated vessels from approaching the world beneath them. Ever since the initial open broadcast to the interlopers no unencrypted messages had left either vessel, although hints of of tightbeamed and heavily encoded transmissions could be detected to and from the planet. The damage sustained during the previous space battle, while still visible, seemed to be contained. Atmosphere had ceased to leak, readings of energy bleed had subsided and the ship had even managed to restore its shielding several minutes into the stalemate as a silver blue shimmer popped into existence before fading from visuals. On its own the destroyer might have been a challenge for either of the two Federation affiliated vessels, albeit outmatched by the pair in tandem.
Were it not for the second ship.
While the two smaller "frigates" had long since departed into slipspace the remaining ship dwarfed the remaining ones easily by a factor of two, approaching four times the length of the Kromus built destroyer. Unlike the smaller ship the heavy corvette resisted any attempts to scan the ship, the passive sensor shroud built into what had been designed as a reconnaissance vessel allowing only the most basic of information to make itself readily available. The same could not be said of its opponents - thus it should not have come as a surprise when it began to move even before the Confederation ship became away of his ally's poor tactical choices, interposing itself between the smaller destroyer as the plasma lance splashed against its flank... only for the kilometer long SDV's shields to flare a bright blue before fading, completely intact.
Engines flaring bright and gaining speed as it began turning towards the Federation vessel with all the menace of a much larger predator, red and silver Seraph fighters and vacuum rated Banshees would begin pouring from the SDV's hanger bays - quickly joined by Kromus fighters from the destroyer behind it as the smaller ship fell in line with its larger cousin, red plasma beginning to coalesce in a swirling vortex between its forward prongs as it began to target the ship that had fired upon them.
Even as all of this occurred a single transmission would broadcast, this time from the larger vessel and distinctly not Kromus.
"This is Shipmaster 'Taman of the Exuberant Emissary. You were given your warning and chose not to heed it. This will be your last. Stand down and prepare for boarding. Those cooperative will be taken into custody and remain unharmed and aboard their vessels under guard pending negotiations with your governments. Those who resist will be considered hostile combatants and regarded as threats, as will failure to respond to this broadcast. You have thirty seconds to respond."
The fact that the energy projector had not simply cleaved through its target did not go unnoticed. But then, the demands made of them, and only them, it had been verified, had the divolu commander staring in horror with his mouth gaping at just how badly the situation had gone.
That had been a Sangheili. That meant they were dealing with far more than just Kromus or simple pirates.
"Sir...we have fifteen seconds."
The divolu was silent. It struck him only then just how out of his experience he really had just gone. His mind had expected the energy beam fired from their ship to slice through their adversary and leave them in a superior position. Instead, he had just laid them low and vulnerable.
"I warned you, you damned idiot, that attacking was a bad idea. Now we've been given a surrender or die ultimatum!"
"Commander, ten seconds on their demands."
The divolu was frozen with fear. His mind could not reach back to the crash course of retraining he had received after accepting the transfer from the police force to the Federation's newly formed naval fleet. As a peacekeeper officer, this was unlike any situation he had dealt with before. He had no idea how to proceed. Could they retreat, could they weather a blow if they had to?
"Commander, we have three seconds to reply, what do we -"
"Open the Goddamn channel, I'm assuming command!"
The human fleet lieutenant all but pushed his divolu charge out of the captain's seat while directing nearby crew to take the blubbering former police officer off the main bridge deck. "Shipmaster, this is Fleet Lieutenant Arbrook of the Confederation Special Advisory Sector adjacent to Galactic Federation Fleet Operations, now acting commander for the GFS Pal'vor Est'rata. Advise that the former commanding officer has been relieved of duty, and he will be facing repercussions for firing on your vessel without provocation and against my advice. We are here on reports of a Kromus incursion and build, please stand down for cease-fire."
Now...the wait.
"Communications, message the Hephaestus on tight band encryption, update Captain Eriksen and advise we are trying to defuse the situation."
"Custody?! What the hell kind of authority do pirates and Kromus think-"
Erikson was not having this drama now, not when it had been D-MODA's precious "new fleet" officers who had just screwed up any stall they had gotten previously. "Non-audio response. Advise the Shipmaster that we are not surrendering to an unrecognized authority, but we are maintaining ceasefire and will be more than happy to deal with the idiots who fired against better advisement."
"Sir, encrypt from Fleet Lieutenant Arbrook. He's relieved Commander Dal'n of duties and is attempting to defuse the mess as well."
At least someone over on the Pal'vor Est'rata was attempting to use some intelligence. "Respond that we are not surrendering to whoever these Sangheili are, but maintain ceasefire until we at least find out what the hell is going on here." He paused a moment. "And get those ÆSIRs on the line, maintain cover and do not engage unless fired upon first."
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
Seconds would crawl on as communications were exchanged between both sets of vessels - and while the Kromus destroyer would notably not fire upon the Federation frigate neither would the ship release the building charge of boiling red plasma between its tri pronged bow. The fighters released from both of the crimson and silver vessels would break formation as two Phantom dropships launched from the heavy corvette - each modified, port and starboard hatches refitted with cylindrical docking clamps. All of them splitting into two groups to begin approaching the separate frigates.
A moment later after receiving the transmissions from the two frigates the audio channel came alive once again.
"Your objections have been noted. You, however, are not in a position to negotiate. You have fired upon Banished vessels and armed infantry have been encountered on the planet's surface approaching our outpost. Multiple warnings have already been issued. Given recent events the forces under my command have been more patient and generous than many others might have been... and that is approaching its limit. This is your final warning. You will stand down and prepare for boarding or be fired upon - along with your troops on the ground. Any further communications or actions besides acknowledgement will be seen as hostile."
Captain Eriksen paled as he heard those words. They called to memory lessons in history back in his time in the naval officer school, 'urban' legends of ships that vanished into slipspace...ghosts of a forgone era when the Covenant had been but only a few years dismantled, remnants and warlords scattered about the Orion Spur, the days before the Kilrathi, before the Machines...
The Banished were still alive. And active. And now pieces of this puzzle were starting to make far more sense and fit into place.
"Sir...Lieutenant Arbrook on tight band encrypt...requesting advisement in the situation."
There was no need in hiding the fear in the air. The Banished had been all but a ghost story for nearly four hundred years. That they were still a real factor in the Spur was terrifying. The fact of who their last known leader had been prior to their numbers just vanishing from history...was even more horrific.
"Advise Lieutenant Arbrook to comply and stand down the Pal'vor Est'rata. Relay to ground units that they are to hole in cover and await further orders. If they are fired on, defensive return-fire only." The captain breathed as he felt his spine shudder with worry. "Open transmission to the Exuberant Emissary. Inform Shipmaster 'Taman that we will comply with stand down and negotiations regarding this apparent misunderstanding, but if even one unprovoked shot is fired further on us or our recon teams, we will retaliate."
"The hell do they mean 'stand down and defensive return fire only'?!"
Now was not the time. "Situation has changed, Eedee." With a worn sigh, Markus turned his gaze toward their 'senior advisor' before returning attention to the text transmission that had been decrypted by his onboarding Macro. "Elon, tight-band back to Faala, non-audio. Maintain cover and active cloak, will advise further as soon as we have more information on the situation."
Post by Alasdair MacUspaig on Nov 28, 2021 4:01:12 GMT
Alasdair was, for once, distinctly thankful for the polarization of his visor, hiding the deeply concerned expression on his face. He, like many others, had heard the myths of the Banished, a horror story from ages long past. If these were Banished warriors they were facing, then he very much doubted they were equipped for that fight, not for what had been intended to be a recon mission. On the plus side, it seemed as though they were not being overtly hostile so much as particularly protective about the area. With little else to do, the ÆSIR knelt in the muck, ready to make himself as comfortable as one could while remaining alert for snipers.
"Been brilliant if th' blokes up aways had waited half a moment tae let us get that detail," he remarked dryly. "Damned good shots, though.." he added before letting out a groan as he idly glanced over the entry wounds of the two dead GalFed Marines. "Of course it'd be them. This is a right bloody cock up, aye? I hope they're up tae allowin' us tae be on our way after this, though I'm a bit curious why they'd be so fussed wi those Skiddy blokes. Some sort of feud, ye reckon?" he remarked to Markus after he'd finished issuing orders.
the things that you might like don't grow inside of me
"Then I suggest you inform them that they'll be collected. To avoid further unpleasantries."
Despite the return message from Erikson's ship there would be no further communication following the initial reply from the Exuberant Emissary. Instead only several tense minutes as the two launcher Phantoms and their fighter escorts approached the joint naval force, breaking formation as each Phantom made for a frigate. Docking clamps would extend, metal banging and clanging from inside both hulls as the landing craft were presumably allowed access to the larger ships... and docking hatches opening to discharge their occupants, mixed parties of Jiralhanae, Sangheili and Kromus moving to take control of each respective ship's bridge. No shots would be fired unless they were fired upon, the only rough treatment being of individuals that blocked or hindered their advance as such crewmen would simply be pinned in place as the pathways were secure.
The situation on the ground would be largely similar, with Phantoms visible from the mixed Confed/GalFed ground teams' position lifting off from the listening post at the mountain peak... and turning to begin approaching their position, although the dropships' weapons would be visibly stowed.
The troops from the Federation's own 'marines' would raise their hands as Banished troops landed and encircled them to encourage compliance. ARC-Nine, while stowing their weapons away on armor mounted mag-plates, showed no such submission.
"Sir, why are we surrendering like this?"
Markus raised a brow as one of the Sangheili Banished motioned for them to board the awaiting Phantoms. "This is a ceasefire and negotiations, PO DeSand." The young man merely nodded his intent of cooperation to the Sangheili before glancing into the message text screen in his visor. "Looks like we have a nasty bit of misunderstanding and some confusion to clear up, and it's better not to be murdering each other while we let the big boys up top handle this."
Something that seemed odd to Edea was that their CO was being specifically quite audible with those words. Unless he had other directives that the rest of them were not receiving, which was entirely possible, he didn't have reason to speak so overtly. "And any word from upstairs, sir?"
His head tilted toward the shorter ÆSIR armored supersoldier. "Patience and wait, petty officer." The tone in his voice indicated that something was going on. Messages being relayed by direct text communication was the only answer her mind could come up with. But what, exactly, was the new plan? "For now, we're going to get a ride with them, and we will sort this out."
Post by Alasdair MacUspaig on Feb 6, 2022 0:23:51 GMT
As the Sangheili approached, Alasdair stood, stowing his weapons as ARC-Nine had done, though he remained silent as he watched the Banished, then made his way onto the Phantom as instructed. Though he was mildly concerned that negotiations might turn sour, he saw no reason to dwell on it, as there was nothing the ÆSIR could do about it other than to not cause any trouble on his end. As a result, the older supersoldier found himself growing idly curious about the aliens that, for the time being at least, were their wardens. Even so, he didn't break his silence, determining that it was hardly the time to make idle chatter.
"Loki, what all do ye hae on th' Banished?" he asked quietly, keeping his mic and external speakers off for the time being.
"Nothing recent, and archives are regrettably sparce regarding the Banished," the AI replied. "Evidently, though, they at least began as pirates and mercenaries, not so different from the Kromus outside of their organized military forces. Founded by the Jiralhanae warlord, Atriox, they vanished from known space sometime around the time of the Kilrathi War. Clearly, they've done well enough for themselves, but where they have been during the intervening years remains unknown."
"Hmm..well, they donnae seem tae be outright hostile, so there's that," he mused.
"If you discount two dead GalFed Marines, certainly," Loki replied.
"Aye, though apparently, there's been some kind o' mixup. Local brass will hae it sorted soon enough, like as nae. Fact that they're nae tossin' us in cells or some shite's good news."
"You do realize that might simply be because they are fully aware of the overwhelming advantage they hold over us, and see no reason to bother in the event we do not comply with their wishes?"
"Loki, hae I told ye how much a git ye can be at times?"
"Yes. 428 times to date, in fact," Loki answered with a tone of amusement.
"Make it 429, then, ye fuckin' git.." Alasdair sighed. "I jist hope they donnae take too long wi this. Standin' about's some bullshite."