[Inaius]Sins of the Imperium: Leviathan Resurgence

---

"Captain, we will be exiting hyperspace momentarily," shouts the helmsman. "Good, we will arrive on time. Tell Marco to start prepping the drones, tell the Greys to start prepping their squadrons, and tell my Whites to prep for a final war room before we exit into real space." Several crewmen quickly take off in different directions as the bridge slowly starts coming to life. Up until a few hours ago, the bridge crew were all asleep. I step away from my vantage point above the chaos back to my chair. No matter how much padding they put on these damn things, the chair will never be comfortable. The least they could do is somehow figure out how to stick tiny vents on this thing so as to prevent one from overheating just from bloody sitting. "Give me a sit rep on our force recon."

"Forward scouts conclude several hard-point emplacements set up around the planet," reports the intelligence officer, "The spaceport is only lightly fortified. Local militia forces are composed of a few light frigates in addition to a pair of destroyers."

"They are not expecting us then," I say matter of fact. "No... indeed they are not," says a voice. Through one of the cup holders on the chair, a vine crawls through an opening at the bottom of it. Slowly popping out of the chair, a bud forms on the end of it, bigger and bigger, until it parts in the middle and sprouts what seems to be a mouth with no teeth. Ancient textbook writings called such plants "venus flytraps," supposedly because the red within their mouths made them beautiful. Now, such a plant holds a totally different meaning.

"Are you ready, your Majesty?" I say to the creature. The plant head slowly moves up and down. "We will go over the attack plans one last time then before we exist into real space." The plant head nods again. The vine slowly begins to curl around my arm and into my suit through an opening specifically made for it. "Leviathan organism detected," announces my suit through my earpiece. The Leviathan finds the core at my back, and it detaches its vine at where it entered. Instead of withering though, I can feel it retreat into my suit, and instead enter the pathway up to my shoulder where the vine appears again and sprouts another head. For as long as I've grown up with the Leviathan, I will never get used to how easily we've integrated with it. This strange, almost omnipresent organism which helps to feed and provide for us. Helped us advance our technology beyond our wildest dreams. And helped to found the Principality of Avalon.

"I'm happy that after decades of fighting, your ancestors finally decided to stop burning me..." says the Leviathan. "Not my fault you decided to grow the foliage to epic proportions," I say quietly under my breath. "Cheeky," it says as the mouth nips at my ear. I sometimes can't tell if I'm dealing with one of the most dangerous organisms in known space, or a mutated dog which got transmogrified into a plant that learned to talk. "Dogs are the weird organisms," it begins to say as I get to the tactical display, "They've stayed almost the same for nearly two millennia, having not learned how to speak in anything more than grunts, barks, and growls."

Around the table, several men in sterling white uniforms stand at attention, waiting for me. "At ease," I say looking at them all. "Herfeld, begin." The man on the opposite of me in a cloudy grey uniform nods.

"What force recon reported was as we've already known from refugees fleeing through the system. The only thing new to us are these gun implacements, here, here, and here," he says while highlighting them on the holographic display.

"These destroyers as well were not part of our initial assessments. The frigates are local militia. We're not sure if the destroyers are though."

"How can we not be sure?" I ask of the man in charge of our intel-gathering.

"Because had it just been a single vessel, that would've made sense. A single destroyer supported by the local frigate detail would've been more than enough to dissuade the average gaggle of pirates. Two though, is enough to take down the local militia in addition to potentially boarding and taking control of the spaceport," Herfeld states matter-of-fact.

It made sense. "Are you telling me that there might be a VIP on that planet right now?"

"I can't say for sure," says Herfeld, "maybe it's just a coincidence that they're there."

"There is no such thing as coincidence Herfeld. You of all people should know that," I rebuke.

"I'm only being optimistic," he says while putting his hands up.

"Alright then. Two destroyers doesn't change the fact that we need to disable their orbital defenses. How goes our drone preparation?"

This time a beastman to the left of Herfeld responds, "preparations are almost complete. The swarm has been awakened and are ready to deploy. I made sure to check on our escort drone preparations as well and they are also close to ready. We've waited for this day," says the man with a grunt.

I nod. "And the escort captains?"

A man now to the right responds, "The captains are ready to clear a path for our ship to the surface. Waypoints were checked again to ensure we are all on the same page. D-SCAN (Drone Scanning and Acquisition Network) is currently cycling up and will be ready by the time we exit into real space."

"Good. Give me a sit rep on the NAG's preparation."

This time, a White Captain standing to the right of me responds, "I've liased with Black Captain Ronald of the Tenth Army. Their Charion-class heavy transports are standing by at the gate, waiting for us to deploy the gate on our end. The drop pods are being prepped as we speak."

"Dropping out of hyperspace in T-minus 10!" Calls out the helmsman.

"Alright," I say, "here's the plan. Once we exist hyperspace, all ships will fall in behind the Leviathan and our gateship will begin to deploy. Hecate will move on the station while Nemesis and Ceres move to engage the gun implacements and the local militia. Once the station is disabled and the militia dealt with, the Tenth Army will have already gated in with their escorts and move towards the surface. The Leviathan will take point after any surface defenses are dealt with."

"Orders received Black Captain," says a voice from the tactical display. "Lord-Commander Yaer would approve."

"Kind words from one whom isn't qualified to give them, Grey Captain Doza," I remark. The man laughs.

"May your weapons fire true Black Captain," Grey Captain Doza says, probably saluting despite his image not being transmitted over the holo-feed.

"And yours as well Grey Captain," I say while terminating the translation. "Someone raise Grey Captain Quadrano."

"No need to Black Captain, I heard everything," she says. I nod.

"I take it you asked your Majesty about what was being said?" I inquire, already knowing what the answer will be.

"How can you be sure I heard, everything?" says the Grey Captain.

"Play hooky with someone else Quadrano. The Lord-Commander will be looking over this operation personally. I've got a job to do Captain," I say, trying to keep her focused.

"You ever stop to think about why?" She asks.

"We are the first spearhead of many Grey Captain. Of course he'd like to oversee our operation personally. Whatever that means," I say, trying to finish the subject.

"There's a lot more to the Council than you think, Captain," she says cryptically. I know what she's talking about. No one at my rank would get to where I am without understanding that the lines aren't as finite as one might seem.

"What's your point Captain Quadrano?"

"I'm saying that you should keep your head on straight during these next few hours. I will as well. And so will Dolza," she says.

"Are you sure you should be saying what you are over open comms?" I ask.

"Black Captain Yura," she begins, "the only reason why Captain Doza and I are where we are now is because we've followed you. Think on that thought for a moment will you? Now, I must see to finishing my preparations. May every shot fly true Black Captain," she says while terminating the transition from her end.

"I know Captain..." I say, letting my mind wander for a moment, forgetting my Captains currently at the round table. Picking up the slack however, "All Captains report to your stations. T-minus 2 to exit into real space," dictates the helmsman. Over the speakers, announce, "ALL CREW TO BATTLE STATIONS. ALL CREW TO BATTLE STATIONS. THIS IS NOT A DRILL. ALL CREW TO BATTLE STATIONS. EXIT TO REAL SPACE IMMINENT. CRITICAL PERSONNEL PLEASE REPORT TO YOUR COMMANDING CAPTAIN IMMEDIATELY."

Getting back to my chair, I announce over the intercom, "Alright men, this is it. Today, we make a statement. Not one of hatred or vengeance. But one of definite parity."

"The Syndicate have no idea that we are coming. They have no idea of the force that we're coming with. And until now, we've lived in relative obscurity within their shadow. But now is the time to end our sulking within the opaque mists of our small pocket of space. Now is the time to come into the light; both to the delight and horror to all. They have no expectations ladies and gentlemen. So let's give them a few. Whether or not we all come out of this operation alive is dependent on how well we perform in these next couple of hours. May every shot fly true. And may the gods of the stars watch over us all. That is all."

And with that, the encroaching Avalonian-Leviathan armada drops out of hyperspace.

A fleet with a core of a single Revelation-class supercarrier, supported by three Retribution-class assault carriers. Screening for them are seven Deliverance-class dreadnoughts, a baker's dozen of Avalon-class heavy cruisers, and two dozen Starlight-class cruisers. The main bulk of the Avalonian naval presence was comprised of a several dozen Mako-class and White Sky-class destroyers, Salvation-class fast attack frigates, Praetorian-class heavy frigates, and Sentinel-class corvettes. Within the shadow of the Nyx-class supercarrier were several Charion-class heavy transports and their escorts.

Alas, for as many ships as the Avalonian Navy was committing, their numbers were dwarfed by the creatures accompanying them. A dark-green mass of bio-organisms swarmed around the Seventh Avalonian Expeditionary Fleet.

"Ah," remarks the Leviathan, "the life on this world is ripe for harvesting." Her eyes were an endless sea of black and yellow dots that permeate across the black expanse of space. Her words were the soundless roars of a multitude of mouths keening and screaming into the void. Her fury was her children committed. A swarm of a billion of creatures gathered within and without. Drones of all sizes races between ship and bioship alike. Soldiers hugged up against their motherships both for nourishment and in innate defense. And the largest of spacefaring organisms known as Krakens, slowly but ever so imperceptibly begin to pick up speed, racing towards the planet.

"Grey Haven to Shield of Deliverance," hails Captain Yura.

"Ready to deploy, Captain," says the Knight in charge of the ship.

"Deploy. Deploy."

"Yes Black Captain," confirms the knight.

"All Mako-class destroyers and fast attack frigates, form up on your VIPs. White Captains have impetus until noted otherwise."

Another round of confirmations are said in response.

A civilian freighter immediately swerves to avoid making contact with a Mako-class destroyer, only having to immediately swerve again to avoid nearly being unintentionally eaten by the open jaws of a Leviathan organism.

"What the bloody hell is that thing?!" says the captain of the freighter over open comms.

"All ships do not engage any civilian vessels. We do not harm the defenseless," I say over comms.

"How can you tell that they're civilian ships though?" asks Captain Doza.

"I can't," I say to him while walking back to the tactical display. "Are my drone handlers at their station?"

"Yes Black Captain," says a voice over the tactical display. Marco oversaw all of the drone handlers on the Nyx and would be overseeing all drone operations in the theater.

"Good, start the simulation. Deploy the swarm."

"Yes Black Captain," replies Marco.

Down in the drone hangar below, several individuals sit at consoles arrayed in a half-crescent moon. In groups of three, sat several teams in charge of all of the drones on just the Revelation-class alone.

"Simulation cycling up. The clock as started," says Marco for all to hear.

"Gold division cycling up," begins an operator at one of the consoles.

"Red division cycling up."

"Blue division cycling up."

"Green division cycling up."

"All other drone divisions are confirming ready position," says Marco's lieutenant.

"Confirming all divisions cycling into attack position. Mark," completes Marco.

All across the hangar, drones lift out of their cradles and launch into open space. Many other Avalonian ships also begin to release their drones; the drones themselves coming to form a shimmering silver wave undulating as if part of an ocean.

Back above on the bridge, the helmsman calls out, "We're getting hails from the surface!"

"Put them on the display Captain," I say to the helmsman. There's first static, followed by a cut-off intermission, saying, "-IDENTIFY YOURSELF! ALL UNIDENTIFIED VESSELS IDENTIFY YOURSELVES IMMEDIATELY OR FACE THE CONSEQUENCES OF YOUR ACTIONS! I REPEAT, ALL UFOS PLEASE IDENTIFY YOURSELVES PER THE SYNDICATE SPACE CODE OF CONDUCT!"

"At least he's saying please," remarks the Leviathan.

"Maintain radio silence and continue towards way point Beta Zeta 0-2-4," I order, "no one begins the assault until my mark. Drone handlers, begin target assignment. Give me firing solutions on frigates. Forward batteries only."

"Orders received Black Captain," says Marco. Looking up at his drone handlers, he announces, "begin D-SCAN targeting assignment."

On the tactical display on the bridge, the layout suddenly switches to a simulation of the entire theater of war. A large spherical body lay at the center with two smaller ones orbiting it. Around the closer of the two, a spaceport can clearly be seen in a stationary orbit around the smaller sphere. Around the larger one, several gun emplacements can be seen covering the approaches to the planet. Slowly, targeting specs begin highlighting the spaceport, gun emplacements, and the militia ships, with colors indicating which squadron has locked onto the target with minor details indicating with what that squadron is using to target.

Down below back at the drone handler array, the teams were busy calculating targeting solutions for their drones.

"Knocking on Epsilon-Zeta-2-4-7-3," would call out the first of three.

"Assigning to Box-0-5-2, 0-5-5, and 0-1-9," would say the second.

"Routing via Wilson Lane," would finish the third.

"Confirming assignment 0-4-4-1," Marco would confirm, "D-SCAN is running on all cylinders and is waiting to acquire more targets captain."

"Standby Marco," I say to him while pulling up my Revelation on the tactical overview. The dynamic of the overview shifts to the flotilla with stats coming off of a live feed of all the systems currently active within the fleet while projection indicators begin sighting live firing solutions for the forward batteries.

"Confirm targeting solution lock," I say into the tactical display.

"Confirming," says the White Captain currently overseeing the forward guns.

"All Squadrons hold short at attack positions," I say while looking up from the display, "Grey Captain Herfeld!"

"Yes sir?" replies the helmsman.

"You're back in charge of the squadron. Execute per my orders as you see fit."

"Yes sir!" replies the Grey Captain. Quickly, he gets his lieutenant to captain the wheel and makes his way back up to the tactical display.

"You enjoy being a squadron captain again?" He says to me with a smirk.

"Always a pleasure old friend," I say to him while putting a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Suddenly the intel-captain calls out, "I'm picking up movement from the frigates and the destroyers. All of the frigates are forming a picket line on our approach route with one of the destroyers taking the lead. I'm picking up enemy spacecraft coming from the station. The lead destroyer of the picket line is also releasing craft. The second is currently firing on all six engines in the opposite direction."

Quickly pulling up the drone overview, "Marco! Give me a quick response force immediately and find me a lock-on with the destroyer breaking for the exit!"

"Reassigning Seabass 0-5-2 through 0-5-9 over to you. York street is your calling card," replies Marco.

"Doza, give me the Pyre of Avalon."

"Reassigning the Starlight over to you."

"Starlight 0-6-6 confirm ready for instructions."

"Awaiting your command, Black Captain Yura."

"Target that destroyer's engines and confirm when ready!"

"Yes Captain."

"All squadrons move to final destinations and bypass the way point! All power to shields! Marco, Greenlight! I repeat, the light is green! Engage the enemy craft at will!"

"Orders received," Confirms Marco. On the tactical display, the large swarm of drones begin moving ahead of the fleet. Outside the fleet deck, the view is suddenly filled by tiny silver tiny fish with streams of green in their wake.

"Confirming solution lock Captain," says the Knight in charge of the Pyre of Avalon.

"Fire!"

Just as the pillars of light would touch the barest tips of the engine blocks, the destroyer is engulfed in a flash of light and disappears.

"Damn it!" I say while pounding my fist like a hammer against the tactical display. On it, the destroyer moving away from the planet blinks out of existence as it executes a jump just in the nick of time.

"Grey Haven! Grey Haven! Grey Haven beacons! Begin lane evaluation and shift gears to four. Green all the way through to the park!" Turning back to my own Grey Captain, I tell him, "Begin the transmission on all open channels."

Across the void, all open radio frequencies begin to sound a muffled noisy static. Followed by a moment of clarity. And then a voice of voices; a single prophet among many. Over and over again the message plays without pause or cause for stop. Clear are its words, vague is its message.

And as the invading fleet engages the picket line, the message begins, "The broken have risen from the grave. That which was lost has at last been found. Time is meaningless and the will eternal. The Leviathan Resurgence has begun."

---

21|3|958|95 2-27 / 21st unit of the 3rd cycle, Revolution 958, 95th Epoch, 27th minute of the 2nd term
May 6th, 2951, 0327

(CHANGED TO FIT AURELIAN-YVIIRI REWRITE)
Alarms blared loudly on board the YSC Destiny, the grand supercarrier flagship of the Third Fleet of the Yviiri Syndicate. Tall, four-armed beings clad in armor, the Yviiri, shouted frantically as they ran across the ship competing with the alarms. A deep, guttural voice blared over the intercom, “All hands on deck, prepare for slipspace jump!”. The Third Fleet followed after the Destiny, towards the new threat that loomed over the planet of Iynos, it’s moons, and the Orrav System as a whole. The Leviathan. The full might of the Third Fleet was en route, and undoubtedly their new opponents would see them. If the Destiny alone didn’t scare them off, perhaps showing them what the Galactic Navy of the Syndicate was capable of would.

On the space station orbiting Iynos the Orbital Ranger Cohort of Iynos prepared to deploy to the planet below as the station was being bombarded. Their objective was to support the Colonial Legion of Iynos, and prevent the capture of important objectives including cities and military outposts while waiting for reinforcements from the main forces of the Syndicate. They sat in their drop pods, awaiting the order to drop, before eventually being forced to carry out that order due to an oncoming boarding party. Orbital Rangers guided their drop pods down to the surface of Iynos, landing in swamps, jungles, and savannahs alike. Some had been knocked off course due to the bombardment of the station, but the ones that had landed were ready to defend the planet with their lives- For the Syndicate, for their survival.

The planetary battle had began, but the naval battle had yet to truly kick off. Only small frigates and fighters that were in orbit - militia vessels, were putting up resistance to the Leviathan right now sacrificing themselves before the cavalry of the Third Fleet arrived. The slipspace jump wouldn’t take long at all. The Colonial Legion's magnetic accelerator cannons and other smaller arms thundered on the planet’s surface, arc weapons and plasma lighting up the skies, towards the ships of the Symbiote, but they would never be enough to hold them on their own.

The Leviathan had woken a sleeping giant, and it was coming to punish those who had disturbed it's slumber.

As the the Leviathan swarm spread out across space, the lead squadron led by the Revelation-class supercarrier maneuvers towards the planet. Across the void flash streaks of white, green, red, and yellow; almost like the sky at a light festival on held at an Avalonian town on Founding Day. The only difference is that these streams of light signify different things. Whereas on Avalon, the lights are simple lasers flashing for a moment into the star-lit night sky, these lights are deadly. Soldiering ahead of the Revelation is a Mako-class destroyer; a ship with the prow like the shell of a stag beetle elongated ending in a set of four engines. Across its haul, tachyon laser batteries expel streams of light at the now embattled Syndicate defense frigates. Following the stream of light making contact with the hull of the frigate, there's an explosion as the energy from the laser super-heats its hull and damages the systems within it. Swarms of silver engulf the space with miniature rays of light directed at various targets.

Alas however, the targets themselves are not defenseless. Despite near overwhelming odds, the frigates bring to bear their... and fire a volley towards the encroaching invaders. The... slam into the leading Leviathan bioship drones, killing some and injuring others. The bigger ones they were screening for quickly move to eat their fallen brethren as even large ones behind them roar their defiance into the cold empty void. Alas however, the Leviathan only continues to encroach, screening for the Avalonian fleet, not giving into the rage of losing part of its psyche... because there were two other casualties among those hit.

The Mako-class destroyer leading the command squadron took glancing shots to the bow while its Acolyte-class frigate escort was slammed with multiple shots to its hull.

"Herrfeld to Yaerhammer, status report."

"Them Syndicate bastards tried to nail me Herrfeld! But it'll take a lot more than that to put this Mako out of the fight!"

Herrfeld chuckles to himself. The Gold Knight of this particular vessel was an interesting one to deal with.

"An' before ya bloody ask, the Narvik is fine, the Knight's just ah bit shakin' is all."

"Aye," chimes in the Silver Knight of the Narvik, "she'll live."

"Captain Herrfeld," I say as I turn to him, "the Syndicate has just attacked your vessels. How will you respond?"

He looks at me for just a moment before hailing the captain of the Yaerhammer, "Knight! I was just attacked by Syndicate militia. How should I respond?"

Over the com-link, everyone near the tactical display could almost see the man grimace, "way ahead of you Herrfeld."

Suddenly over the com-link comes another voice, "Manta arrays fully-charged."

"Light 'em up!" Orders the captain of the Yaerhammer.

Despite the picket line's barrage, the Mako-class' second escort remained relatively untouched; a Manta-class heavy assault frigate. Ray arrays primed, it unleashes a world of hurt upon the nearest militia frigate, rocking it hard to port. Multiple fires start, with certain holes here and there leaking various types of gases and unknown liquids.

"Finish them!" I say almost forcefully into the tactical display. Another barrage of light lances out from the Avalonian ships and make contact with the picket line. Some frigates begin to list haphazardly, critical gyro-stabilizing systems damaged or destroyed with other various critical systems flashing red. Others disintegrate under the sheer force of energy input, and explode as engine blocks are breached, ammunition is ignited, or safeguards are forcefully overloaded.

All except one.

"The destroyer has been heavily damaged, but is still putting up a fight," says Herrfeld. "You've had your fun," begins the Leviathan, "This one is mine."

Across empty space, the bioships which had accompanied the Avalonian fleet begin to move. "Overlord to all vessels," I say watching a behemoth appear across the bridge's view-port, "watch your fire. Her Majesty is on the move."

Swarms of smaller organisms chase rapidly around the broken wreckage of the picket line, picking at choice pieces of the broken frigates, or at the dead or dying carcasses of their crews. Disabled frigates suddenly find themselves besieged by bioships of all sizes. Tentacles wrap in and out and through openings in the hull while beaks like that of an octopus or jaws like that of a shark begin to break pieces of the ships off both to devour and to rummage through for the soft fleshy thingies cowering inside. A few attempt to launch drop pods to little avail. The swarms around the ship were thick and blocked many from escaping. Very few manage to escape towards the planet.

As for the destroyer, its fate one could argue was worse. Large armored Kraken begin to snake their tentacles around its hull, slowly constricting so as to break it's keel. The gun arrays of the destroyer give way to a barrage befitting of it. A few Kraken are forced to relinquish their grips as their tentacles are frayed from the barrage. Other smaller organisms unfortunate enough to be caught in the destroyer's death throes either begin to float listlessly through space, or begin to make towards the surface of the planet.

For even in death, they might seed the world with life.

More Kraken join together with those who managed to survive the barrage and finally manage to crack the destroyer's spine. If sound were to travel through space, there would've been a jaw-jarring crack heard, as, like a man devouring a crab leg, it splits open at its center, spilling its precious live-giving gases and liquids into the freezing vacuum of space. Dead crew members and unsecured supplies also begin to float out from the wreckage, only to be greedily devoured by the Leviathan. An unlucky drone decides to swallow what seems to be a canister full of liquid hydrogen. However, as its strong stomach acids begin to eat at it, the liquid combusts and the drone explodes, much to the dismay of another drone nearby. It pokes tentatively at its dead colleague before the Leviathan directs it to eat the dead carcass. If it could shrug, it would've, as the drone rolls its two beady eyes and munches on its given meal.

"Dolza, mission report."

"The station has been commandeered Captain Yura."

"Begin phase two of your mission."

"Yes sir."

"Captain Quadrano-" I begin to say before being rudely interrupted.

"The gun emplacements have been disabled or destroyed. Your lane is clear."

"Thank you Captain Quadrano."

"Beginning phase two of my mission Captain Yura."

"That's what I thought," I say while turning back to the view-port.

Yura turns to his holographic command display and raises the last of his Captains.

"Grey Haven to

[Erased post because of thread canon revision in relation to how the invasion proceeds]

---

21|3|958|95 2-32 / 21st unit of the 3rd cycle, Revolution 958, 95th Epoch, 32nd minute of the 2nd term
May 6th, 2951, 0332

While the Leviathan had been successful in warping into the space surrounding Iynos and nearly as successful in subduing the Iynosian Legion of the Syndicate, and subsequently in commandeering the station orbiting Iynos, Installation #11245D (otherwise known as Drajan Installation) there was one thing that they hadn't been planning for- The arrival of the entirety of the Third Fleet of the Syndicate, with their flagship, the supercarrier YSC Destiny in tow. They jumped into the nearby space of Iynos, close enough to be very clearly seen and detected by the Leviathan. With them they brought at least 6 battleships, 4 smaller carriers, 4 pairs of battlecruisers, and multitudes of light/heavy cruisers, destroyers, frigates, and corvettes, and plenty of fighters. More than enough to match the Leviathan's fleet. As the Third Fleet spread out they quickly identified the targets by the path of destruction they had left.

Nayvarkkos Adranos stared out from the bridge of the YSC Destiny into the cosmos beyond- well, to the astonishingly quickly passing slipspace rather, distracted for but a moment. He snapped back to attention when they exited the slipspace jump just milliseconds later. The alarms were deactivated a minute later. How he hated those wretched alarms. The blaring noises were far too intrusive on his thoughts.

"Nayvarkkos Adranos, my shar?"

"Kasa, Lieytarkkos Zakiir?"

"Nayvarkkos, the fleet is spreading out from their jump points as you ordered earlier. Shall we carry on with this?"

"No, Lieytarkkos, if we spread out anymore than they'd be able to pick us off one by one. They have orders to fire at will on identified and confirmed targets or any nearby vessel that may be a threat, but don't they aren't to waste their ammo before we even get into the battle."

"Of course, Nayvarkkos-"

"Oh but Lieytarkkos, I'd like Carrier Task Forces 4 and 5 to engage the enemy group at the moon, Malasa, and Installation #11245D, Drajan. Carrier Task Force 1 is to follow us to engage their orbital group near Iynos and defend Carrier Task Force 2, and Carrier Task Force 2 is to provide ground support to any planetary forces they can and land marines and orbital rangers. They are allowed to form and command their raiding squadrons as needed."

"Kasa, understood, my shar. Draqaz, Nayvarkkos."

"Draqaz, Lieytarkkos."

With a standard salute of his two left arms, which was returned by Adranos, Zakiir set off to relay his orders. In a way, Adranos was excited for an event such as this. It had been years since they had encountered anything other than pirates or mercenaries- years since they had been able to unleash their firepower on something that wasn't a waste of ammo. With an odd alien smile beneath his helmet, Adranos barked out an order to nearby officers in the bridge who listened in closely.

"Activate tertiary thrusters, and get all of our men to their battlestations, we'll be engaging the enemy group in orbit of Iynos, ETA 10-15 minutes. Open hangar bays in 5 minutes, get our pilots ready to engage enemy fighters or drones. Initiate a last minute weapon inspection, and be quick about it! You all have your orders, now carry them out! Draqaz!"

A chorus of men and women, humans and androids, responded with a jubilant and obedient "Draqaz, Nayvarkkos!" and set to work making last minute preparations. They had no idea what this first battle would set in motion, but they were determined to make their people, their home, and their leaders proud- and the Leviathan wouldn't stand in their way.

---

Stardate 628342.885
May 6th, 2951, 0341 YST

The sound was deafening as the atmosphere ripped past the drop pods, surging through the skies like man-made meteors. Within each one was an an Orbital Ranger of Iynos, in their full combat armor, weapons ready in their stowage for whatever threat may appear outside of their pods when they make landfall.

The orbital drop-pod rattled and rumbled as it smashed through the jungle and into the dirt. There was a moment of silence and then another one landed nearby, and another one after that, and so on until there were near 30 of them in one area. They had been fortunate enough to remain on course with their targets, but other Orbital Ranger raiding squadrons hadn't been as lucky. The pod doors hissed and slid off, crashing down to the wet rainforest floor. Raindrops pattered quietly on the pale amber visors and pale grey armor of the rangers who had reorganized themselves since touchdown.

"My shar, we're only missing Ezoras and Vythrisk."

Ykranos Zeltriks frowned under his many eyed helmet.

"You checked their pods, didn't you naz?"

"M-My shar, of course I did."

"Well check again. If they've really gone off on their own then we'll have to hope they're still alive out there. If they're trying to desert they're doing a poor job of it. 5 more minutes, then we're moving out with or without them. Draqaz, naz."

"Kasa, shar. Draqaz, Ykranos."

5 minutes later, no sign of either of them. No more time to wait. They were in the lower class anyways so according to the Council they hardly mattered. Zeltriks didn't agree with them on that but he couldn't wait around forever. The ranger squadron moved out towards their first objective, their regimental rally point in the southern city of Mavrakk. Once there they'd establish communications with the other regiments- including those that had the same rally point as them, and would work out the battle plan as discretely as they could in a warzone. On the way to Mavrakk they would need to secure various points for the Navy to use as supply landing zones later on but that was a side objective as of right now.

To Mavrakk they moved. Their landing zone had been rather close to the coastal city so the hope was that they'd be able to meet up with the rest of the regiment and the other regiments in the area before the enemy- whatever sort of enemy they were, got to the city first. If they could get all the regiments in communication they'd have a fully functioning legion which would be at least enough to hold off the invaders until the Galactic Navy could land reinforcements... Hopefully.

Along the way to Mavrakk they encountered what seemed to be a few scouting forces with drones of some kind in them. The drones were quick and maneuverable but they didn't have much armor. They occasionally saw a heavy gun or two which required a bit of a heavier weapon to deal with, but they didn't seem particularly detrimental despite having caused some occasional heavier injuries- They were easily dispatched by the Yviiri arc and plasma weapons.

As they moved forward Zeltriks was near dead silent other than the responses he needed to give via comms occasionally. These eela raz picked the wrong fight, Zeltriks thought to himself. They knew not the might of the Yviiri Syndicate. They would be crushed beneath their feet like the pathetic worms they were.

---

21|3|958|95 2-57 / 21st unit of the 3rd cycle, Revolution 958, 95th Epoch, 57th minute of the 2nd term
May 6th, 2951, 0401

Wiregun (railgun) rounds ripped through space like bolts of lightning through the sky, en route to the Avalonian vessel that the wiregun had been aimed towards. It struck the ship at an astonishing speed, going through it's armor like a hot knife through butter. A barrage of similar rounds bombarded various other ships in the orbit of Iynos as they awaited the arrival of transport ships- They were in the thick of it now. On the moon, Malasa, they didn't experience nearly as much resistance as they had expected. They were even able to land men on the surface of the moon, to engage whatever forces the Leviathan had landed there, or whatever drones they had scouting around. Near Installation Drajan, Syndicate ships moved in to surround the station where possible.

Adranos pondered to himself. As his ship was actually part of the rear guard of the "Destiny Group" it was yet to join directly into the fray, although it was bombarding enemy vessels from afar and releasing plenty of fighters into the space around them. Regardless of who won or lost this battle the Syndicate was about to be thrown into a war. He hadn't been in a war for quite some time now as the Syndicate had been experiencing an odd peace in the few decades prior. Even when they were at war earlier in the century, it was only against primitive species that resisted the steady march of progress and civilization that was brought upon them by the Syndicate. Adranos thought them stupid to resist- Surely they wanted to better themselves? The filthy xenos should have been honored to join the Syndicate even if it was by force. He returned his attention to his original thought. How would this play out? Surely they weren't ready for a war, would their former enemies not take this advantage to stab the Syndicate in the back? Only time would tell. Time and diplomacy. In Adranos's mind, diplomacy was but a fool's game, but it was a necessary evil.

"Zakiir? Zakiir, you bastard, get over here."

"What do you want?" Zakiir spat out his sentence with a bit of attitude.

"Don't take that disrespectful tongue with me, worm. I'll have no dissent, verbal or otherwise, on this vessel. You'll address me properly from now on."

"Apologies... Nayvarkkos. What do you require, Admiral?"

"Keer fara, Lieytarkkos. I need to know why they have yet to fire any of the Magnetic Accelerator Cannons."

"Understood, Nayvarkkos. I'll return with reasons right away- Draqaz."

"Draqaz, Lieytarkkos."

This momentary pause gave him a few minutes to think once more as he crossed his top set of arms, his lower set resting on the arms of his seat. Adranos found it unlikely, even in thought, that the Syndicate would be the only one fighting the Leviathan. Of all the nearby nations they imagine the Ithorian Dominion would be the first to jump at an opportunity to "convert heretics", at least that's what he imagined their justification would be. They truly were religious fools in his head, and that was a common idea across the High Command of the Syndicate as a whole, but if they were fighting this new enemy alongside the Syndicate then they'd have to make sure not to mention that around any of their soldiers or officers.

Aside from the Dominion... The Alanician Alliance? No, they wouldn't join, they were xenophiles of course. In fact, Adranos believed they'd probably offer these repugnant fools a place in their little alliance. So, not the Alliance, and certainly not the Grohl who seemed rather neutral in many cases. The Siezons were an obvious choice, being ambitious, imperialist, warhawks, but they'd have to traverse through neutral space as Adranos didn't think the Kalorians would be joining this conflict either.

Before he could carry on with these thoughts Zakiir returned.

"Nayvarkkos Adranos, my Shar- I've returned with information from the other battle groups."

"Well, spit it out Zakiir, we don't have all day."

"Yes Nayvarkkos, right away my shar. It appears that most of the MAC equipped vessels had not prepared to use them, as they did not initially believe it would be necessary, however they are now loading and charging them."

"I see. They have orders to fire at will with their Magnetic Accelerator Cannons, Zakiir. How many fighters have we lost so far?"

"Not many, Nayvarkkos. It appears that they're mostly sending out drones for us to fight. The Malasa group didn't meet much resistance and Installation Drajan is in the process of being surrounded by Drajan Group."

"Excellent. Have them carry on as they were, I'll call upon you if I need you once more. Dismissed, Lieytarkkos. Draqaz."

"Draqaz, Nayvarkkos."

And off Zakiir went, all four arms folded behind him as he moved out. Adranos went about his business, attempting to simply focus on the battle instead of his thoughts. In the meantime, the Destiny Group in the orbit of Iynos was hopefully a good enough distraction to allow the marines of the Syndicate to land on Iynos and support the Orbital Rangers at their various hotspots, including Mavrakk.

A response was to be expected by the Syndicate. This is the purpose of the an initial spearhead. To gauge the response of an enemy. However, with the arrival of the ASV Destiny and the rest of the Third Fleet, the magnitude of such a response was not lost to Black Captain Yura. Over the intercom, the intel officer for the Grey Haven repeated:

"I REPEAT! CONFIRMING ARRIVAL OF THE SYNDICATE'S THIRD FLEET! I REPEAT! THE THIRD FLEET OF THE AURELIAN NAVY HAS ENTERED LOCAL SPACE! ALL TEAM LEADERS PREPARE FOR NEW ORDERS!"

Black Captain Yura was not prepared for such a critical response. With his fleet scattered across local space, the Syndicate response will take its toll before he could consolidate his forces. And even then, the firepower brought to bear by the Syndicate's much larger flotilla would be more than a match for even the most stalwart of defense.

He knew that there was only one thing he needed to do before preparing his fleet to blunt the assault already beginning.

Switching to a private high-security channel, he begins to say, "Grey Haven to Godfreed. Godfreed do you copy?"

There's a pause over the channel as the system begins mitigation measures in response to lag caused by distance.

"Godfreed copies. Status report."

"Cut the crap," snaps Black Captain Yura, "You're watching the jet stream (intel-feed), aren't you?"

"Godfreed confirms jet stream. Confirm your status."

Yura takes a deep breath. Like a diver preparing to jump off the diving board.

He then says, "Godfreed, I'm confirming Dear John."

There's another pause.

"Godfreed confirms status Dear John. Starting jet stream sync. Hold the line. Two suns (it will take 2 days for reinforcements to arrive). QRF dropping in thirty."

Yura nods. "Grey Haven confirms two suns and that QRF is dropping in thirty. Grey Haven out."

Switching channels back to local space, he begins to issue new orders to his squadrons.

"Grey Haven to Hecate (Grey Captain Dolza). Casualty report."

"Her Majesty has managed to shield us from the worst of it, Grey Haven," Dolza begins, "but I've lost several frigates to the heavy barrage coming from the Syndicate fleet. Drone fighter losses are as projected high but steadily decreasing. A Mako has reported severe damage to its hull. Overall, it's a losing fight. And to top it all off, the project is a failure. The gate won't start. Certain critical components are incompatible with the Syndicate infrastructure despite most of our engineering being Syndicate in nature."

Well, so much for good news.

"Hecate, abandon your mission. Destroy the starport if you can but at all costs, ensure the total failure of the project. Retreat to the planet."

"Nemesis (Captain Quadrano), report in."

"Nemesis standing by for new orders," Captain Quadrano confirms, "My forward elements have engaged their Aurelian counterparts. Jet stream should show the flash-points across the planet's orbit. Drone casualties mounting."

"Nemesis, I need you to break your engagement with enemy forward elements," Yura says, "make sure that Hecate makes it back to the planet. Two suns until we get a response to Dear John."

"Didn't I tell you that something like this would happen?" Quadrano questions.

"You didn't," Yura responds, "you didn't tell me that the entire Third Fleet would be responding to our incursion."

"I was trying to tell you that-" Quadrano catches herself. Over the channel, Yura could hear her taking a deep breath, trying to steady herself. After a precious moment, she starts again, "Orders received. Hecate will get an escort back to the planet. I'll split off a couple elements from my reserves. Her Majesty will be screening for them."

"I agree with your choice of actions," Yura says.

"Captain Miria Quadrano."

"Yes Captain Yura."

"Do you trust me to get us all through this, beaten to a pulp, but alive?" Yura questions calmly.

"On my honor as a Guardian of Avalon, I trust you wholly with my life," she says.

"So keep your nerve and steel them for the battle that is about to commence. And we'll pull through, just as we always do," Captain Yura says, trying to belay her fears.

"... Yes Captain Yura. I trust you," she says.

"Good," he says as he walks over to Herfeld.

"Captain Herfeld. I have a big ask of you as of right now," Captain Yura begins.

Captain Herfeld chuckles and says, "Since when is anything you've asked of me ever small?"

"I need you to prepare to engage the enemy," Yura says, matter-of-fact, straight-to-the-point.

"You mean the Aurelian Syndicate's fabled Third Fleet? Or just the ASV Destiny?"

Captain Yura shakes his head. "Tell Black Captain Ronald that he's going to get one request for support and one only. I need all-hands on grid if we're going to pull through this."

To which, Captain Herfeld responds, "I'm pulling the plug on the Beacon of Brilliance (Enforcer-class heavy frigate under the personal command of Herfeld) and the Pius Steward (Mako-class destroyer variant C) and sending both down to Ronald."

"Or you can do just that," Yura resigns.

"All hands on deck right?" Herfeld winks.

"Just enough support for Ronald," Yura sighs with relief. "Marco," Yura says into the ship's local intercom.

"Standing by for new orders," Marco confirms.

"You are hands-free (he is free to select and engage targets). I repeat, you are hands-free."

"Confirming hands-free," says Marco. "I'm going to need to put in a request for several more guppies (light carriers) however."

"I'm going to need to deny that request," replies Yura. Marco sighs and replies, "I figured. I'll do what I can from my end."

"Is now a good time to tell you what I'm going to do?" interjects the Queen. Yura shrugs and thinks, "Do what you do best, my Queen. Just please do think of us no matter what you do." Yura shudders, causing Captain Herfeld to put a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"All things are well, yes Captain?" He questions.

"Yes... yes they are," Yura reassures him. His shudder however, was not at the situation at hand.

Turning back to the holographic display, Black Captain Yura can only watch as the true opening volleys are fired between the Aurelian Navy and the Avalonian-Leviathan Symbiote. He tries to get absorbed into the now extremely active report feed. But at the back of his mind, he knew that the true threat to the Aurelians were not his fleet. The threat would come from the view outside the bridge.

Tachyon lances burn searing pillars of light through the darkness of space. Sterling silver drone fighters chase and dogfight across plateaus of MAC guns, laser-cannons, and burning wreckage with their storied and veteran counterparts. A Retribution-class dreadnought takes aim and unleashes a barrage of fire at an Aurelian cruiser attempting to break through an even worse threat orbiting the planet of Ionia.

The Leviathan's true colors only show through the carnage of war. The Kraken-kin, stoic and bulwark screens for the Avalonian ships of the line, suddenly break rank at jaw-dropping speed. Their destroyer and frigate escorts, caught off guard by their sudden acceleration, begin to speed up after them. In their place, even larger organisms move to take their place. Monsters bred specifically to protect their mother's beloved subjects. The Kraken are not alone however. Drones, the workhorse of the Hive, number in the hundreds. Armed with sharp teeth and a veracious appetite, the drones encountered by the forward elements of the Aurelian onslaught, find themselves all-too-easy prey.

A Kraken near Ionia's orbit moves in for the kill as nearby drones swarm an Aurelian frigate. Smaller, more agile drones, called Seedlings, hungrily chase after a squad of Aurelian fighters, much to the horror of their pilots. A Brute, a large, unwieldy organism created solely to act like a space truck on steroids, smashes through the hulls of an Aurelian element that got to close to its charge, an Avalon-class heavy cruiser.

Nothing in the live-action simulations could prepare the knights or the captains of the Seventh Fleet to deal with the dragon facing them down right now. Nothing in the simulations could prepare them for the gut-wrenching feeling of knowing that any moment between now and the morrow could become their last.

All surety is lost in the pyres of war. And the only thing certain is that blood will be spilled into the cold hard vacuum of space, much to the greed of the gods whom watch from above.

[Rear Admiral's Log #167]
Rear Admiral Yura
AGN Grey Haven
Revelation-class Supercarrier
FDSA - Fastidious Devotion (Fleet Docking & Staging Area)
New Hope Gravity Well
0600 - NwHST (New Hope Standard Time)
Personal Quarters
-----------------------------
So it's official. The Insignia Imperia has just been voted to be overhauled by a supposedly more simplified and equal format. Those zealots have been gaining more and more strength within the High Council, so I imagine this is but a small symptom of what is to come. I shall take on the new rank of Black Captain, whatever that means, while my direct subordinates Miira Quadrano, Kor Dolza, and Xander Herfeld, all take up the rank of Grey. Whether we agree with this change or not, and many of us do not, this change is happening. And we would be suicidal if we were to not adapt to it. So what if the skin of armor is made anew? So what if our purpose changes? All I know is that the men and women whom follow me, depend on me, to ensure their success as much as they do mine.

However, I imagine that with Vice Admiral Kirn, now Lord-Commander Yaer, she had some choice words to say. With these new set of changes, came a new set of orders. Under the direction of the new Lord-Commander, the Seventh Expeditionary Fleet is deploying to New Kathar, along with the Fifth and Third. Here at New Hope, we come together once again. The entirety of Vice Admiral Kirn's strength gathered in one place.

Last night, at a dinner held at her personal residence, the Vice Admiral wanted to thank us for all that we had done. In attendance, were the Rear Admirals, their Captains, and select few but distinguished staff. All of us were present at the Battle for New Kathar. We were all brothers and sisters, bound to one another, through fire and blood. We were directly responsible for the Vice Admiral's promotion, which bothered me.

We had, at the time, a dinner like this. It was to commemorate the coronation of the newly minted Third, Fifth, and Seventh Expeditionary Fleets. Why now? What was she not telling us? The Vice Admiral, she seemed genuinely joyful and celebratory at the dinner. But Miira thought that in passing, she caught the Vice Admiral with a sad gleam to her mannerisms. A look of longing here, an extra sip of the glass there, an unnatural proclivity to embrace or shake the hands of those whom she spoke to. She lingered, although she tried very hard not to. Managing to pull her to the side, I asked her if anything was the matter, and she simply said to me, "I am thinking of our daughters and our sons and the sacrifices we've had to make for them."

It was just a bit too profound for my taste, especially at such an event. The Vice Admiral was hiding something. But either for her sake or ours or both, she would not tell us. And we could not ask either. Because we trust her, implicitly, with our lives. How can we not? After all that we have done? And so, we heeded the call to muster. Put into place our plans in case the worst would happen, as is standard, and we braced for the onset of the coming sun. None of us are under the delusion of living forever. Not even with the plant at our backs saying it can be so. But what we do worry, is if when we do die, we died righteously, in service to those whom we love. Let us not die in vain, but with conviction and strength in our hearts.

When they first deigned to call this place New Hope, it was to be the pinnacle of a dream. No longer under the prejudice eyes of the Dominion or Syndicate, we have founded and thrived in a place we can call our home. But as I sit here, in my quarters, watching the new sun rise, I have to come to terms again with this idea of as the times change, so too do our enemies. Where we stand now, we have the Dominion to the west, the Alliance to the north, and the Syndicate to the east. The Grohl, despite their aggressive neutrality, should also be handled with care.

All in all, despite my misgivings about the new developments taking place, my faith in the Vice Admiral and her intentions to do us no harm remain the same. Miira, in private, may have voiced her opinions. So have Kor and Xander. But I must remain resolute in my belief in my superior. It is not a blind belief, nor is it an ignorant one. I understand that one day, the Vice Admiral and I will part ways and we will continue to live on as separate individuals. However, until such a time comes, I will continue to believe in her to do what's best for us, just as she believes in all of us to have her best interests in mind.

I pray this is not the last log I am able to be so frank. But I imagine that it will, despite my optimism. Truth has a way of distorting under new guidance. And all we can do then is pray that it stays mostly the same. But truth, like love, hate, anger, or sadness, are abstract and opaque ideas which conform to the mind which entertains such thoughts. So maybe, all we can ask is that the universal truth stay the same, even if the message becomes entirely different from what it once was.

This thread has been made null-canon in accordance with the new Leviathan canon.