First Contact

The system was another heavily defended system, full of Executor and Military Council ships, factories, resource storage, training facilities, and shipyards. Two gas giants, an asteroid belt, two planets in the Unified Council Green Zone, four in the Terran Green Zone, five in the Confederate Green Zone. There were five other planets, two closer to the star, close enough that one had lost its atmosphere and the other was a boiling hellscape planet (Red Zone for the Unified Council, Amber Zone for the Confederacy).

It was also on the edge of what Executor Intelligence Services was calling "Imperial Space", a zone of rapidly expanding Terran influence.

Most High Dramo'op looked again at the Executor Intelligence and Mlitary Intelligence summary for "Imperial Space" and "Imperial Forces."

It chilled him.

The massive wedge shaped ships were not only tougher than they had any right to be, they were multi-role vessels. They carried enough armaments to destroy even an entire fleet. They carried swarms of the light fighter vessels. Their shielding was tough enough to shrug virtually any weapon that the Executor Council could field. Even with the shields the amount of point defense and anti-ship systems were daunting.

And that was just the biggest problem.

Those swarms of fighter craft were seemingly endless. There were the little multi-role ones with the hexagonal wings, then three others. One dedicated bomber, a dedicated interceptor class, and an FTL capable scout. All of them were just as agile and adept at combat in atmosphere or out.

Then there was the landing craft. Four legged, two legged, hover-cycle, ground vehicles. Multi-role and dedicated systems both. A dropship was used as a fire support vessel, close air support unit, and in some cases, a tank.

The troops were just as annoying to Dramo'op. White armor that looked flimsy but was well put together. Fully environmental, onboard medical systems and combat computer systems, communication systems, enhanced visual systems.

To Dramo'op it spoke of an armor that had gone through generations of upgrades and improvements.

The soldiers wearing it, to Dramo'op, were the final annoyance. Highly trained, extremely disciplined, skilled in many different aspects. There were more than just infantry, the soldiers filled a myriad of roles that the Lanaktallan military forces had long ago turned over to corporations, robots, and VI's.

Their weapons used a compressed, focused, magnetically aligned particle beam in a 'bolt' rather than a long beam. Accurate and destructive. That was just the infantry weapons, not counting crew served weaponry, shoulder fired weaponry, and vehicle weaponry.

Most of their vehicles mounted battle-screens.

Dramo'op closed the file and clopped around to look out his window. The parade ground was full of Lanaktallan troops, dressed in their blue armor, doing rifle drills. They shone with precision and meticulous attention to detail.

Dramo'op had to admit... he didn't know if that was going to be enough.

Terrans fought like they were insane. An injury that should kill from sheer wound shock alone didn't seem to bother them. He had reviewed files where Terrans had lost a limb and kept fighting until their hearts pumped all their blood from their bodies and they collapsed.

The 'victory' over the Terran infiltration team that had been broadcast through GalNet to all of Council Space was something he had reviewed over and over.

He knew it wasn't skilled infiltration soldiers that the LawSec were bragging about killing. He had enough data to know all those bungling idiots had done was kill a group of children and their two adult guardians. Children who could take a hit from a vehicle mounted laser weapon, able to shoot through civilian grade plasalloy, and keep right on coming, just screaming through the pain. He had managed to look up "Galaxy Scouts" and seen it was little more than a learning group intended for immature humans.

He snorted to himself. Those idiots had killed children on a field trip that the Council had issued permission for before that Mantid was hauled out of the Council Chambers spitting curses.

"Most High, what is wrong?" The Corporate Most High asked.

Dramo'op hated Tu'ulmo'o with a burning passion. While he only had contempt for the other Most High in the room, Bumpho'o, the Military Most High, Dramo'op considered both of the other stallions to be little more than petty time servers.

Dramo'op had clattered his way to his position by starting out on the Neo-Sapient's Systems. He had learned to view things from beyond the Intelligence briefings.

He had studied Terrans from the moment the exploration vessel had encountered the Digital Sentience who's body was a space station. He'd even scanned their GalNet for the brief year and a half it was connected to the Council's.

"The Terrans are coming. This 'Empire' will, through military strategic necessity and logistics importance, target this system for elimination and/or occupation," Dramo'op said.

Bumpho'o snorted in disbelief. "We have hundreds of thousands of ship, tens of millions of troops. They would have no chance."

"We also have no, what they would term to be, non-combatants for them to worry about," Dramo'op said. "There's nothing to restrict their warfare."

"Non-military personnel would hinder us more than the Terrans," Tu'ulmo'o said. "Although it would be a financial gain if we used neo-sapients in the factories and shipyards."

"What about our fellow Lanaktallan workers?" Bumpho'o asked.

Dramo'op curled his tendrils in irritation and closed his rear and mid-facing eyes to give himself a moment to calm himself.

"The workers may make a difference, but..." Dramo'op started.

"Bah, we'll arm the workers, make the Terrans take each street by force," Bumpho'o proclaimed. "That will slow them down, allow my soldiers to pick their battles."

Dramo'op inflated and deflated his crests in annoyance as the other Lanaktallan kept speaking.

"We'll wear them down with battle-fatigue. Our men have trained extensively for long term combat operations. A Terran isn't going to have the same ability to withstand constant pressure that our species does," Bumpho'o looked smug, his crests inflated and tendrils curled. "Once they start making mistakes after our fodder has exhausted them, that's when we'll bring in our trained troops to put them down. We'll crush this 'Empire' right here."

Dramo'op briefly thought of boarding a vessel and leaving.

"Do you understand the capacity for Terran military troops to withstand combat?" Dramo'op asked.

Tu'ulmo'o signaled pleasure. "Very well. I have reviewed all of the Corporate Intelligence appraisals," he fluffed his crests a few times. "I am privy to information that you are not, Executor Most High, and you would do good to remember exactly who is..."

Tu'ulmo'o trailed off as he realized he was staring into the barrel of the neural pistol that Dramo'op had withdrawn from his satchel.

"BANG!" Dramo'op yelled.

Tu'ulmo'o let go of his bowels with a splat.

"Despite your corporation's claims over the last six centuries, this system is Executor Council property, and you would be well advised to remember that fact," Dramo'op said.

Tu'ulmo'o staggered backwards, his knees shaking as his hooves clattered on the polished tile floor. He nearly stepped on the cleaning robot that had just picked up his patty.

Dramo'op replaced the neural pistol back into the satchel.

"If you are privy to so much information, then tell me, what is the significance of the fact that the seized systems are being renamed as part of the Harmony Empire and the capital planet is named Melody?" Dramo'op asked.

Both Lanaktallan made motions signifying a negative.

Dramo'op brought up a star-map. It had the Great Gulf borders delineated on both rimward and coreward sides. He made a few motions and various lines started moving from Council Space to the Great Gulf then into the "Presumed Confederate Territory" with starbursts showing up as each planet was attacked.

With a few motions Dramo'op brought up close system statuses and information.

"This section of space here the First and Second Waves were almost completely unopposed. Even then, resistance was sporadic and uncoordinated and in a lot of systems the locals would turn in to authorities those who undertook violent action," Dramo'op stated. He pointed out other systems. "These systems wiped out the Second Wave forces without exception."

"What does this have to do with the Empire?" Bumpho'o asked.

"Simple. According to Harmony Empire broadcasts by Darth Harmonus, he is doing this to protect non-combatants after the death of his sister by our forces," Dramo'op said. "Terran pack and family bonding is nearly off the scale for an intelligent species. If the forces of the First or Second Wave killed his sister, then we need to look at something that every other Most High has overlooked."

"Pfft, what is that?" Tu'ulmo'o asked, trying to regain his composure.

"Somehow a single Terran was able to gather the resources to build this fleet, hire this many soldiers, all in the name of his sister. This is not a Terran military force. This is a single Terran and his companions," Dramo'op said.

"Impossible. His fleet would be difficult for even a stellar corporation conglomeration treaty to accomplish," Tu'ulmo'o said, shaking his head. "Those ships had to have taken years, decades to build."

"When compared to some of the reports coming out, I doubt those ships are top of the line military vessels to the Confederate military. I propose they are decommissioned vessels the Terran military offers to wealthy civilians ," Dramo'op said.

Bumpho'o stared at the holotank displaying the different types of Imperial machines.

"Military Intelligence has suggested that these are military vehicles just based on the conformity of design. This came from one research and development system," Bumpho'o mused. "It takes tens of thousands of years for new designs to become available in our culture and society. There could have been a radical departure in design or even materials that made this entire fleet obsolete to the Terrans."

"Then we can defeat them!" Tu'ulmo'o said. "The idea that the might of our combined fleets can't withstand outdated technology from a primitive species like the Terrans is ludicrous."

"You mean the outdated primitive technology that has defeated all three of our military forces in nearly twenty systems already? The same primitive technology that stopped the Precursor Autonomous War Machines for the first time in recorded history?" Bumpho'o asked, staring at the holotank. "The same primitive species that we now have reports of stopping the world eaters in multiple systems?"

Bumpho'o stared at the holotank.

Tu'ulmo'o jerked. "There is no reliable reports of the world eaters returning."

Dramo'op turned and stared. "No Corporate reports, no," he stepped toward the Corporate Military Most High. "Did you think you could keep it secret forever? That neither I nor Bumpho'o would ever find out what you did?"

"That we wouldn't find out what caused the Mantid to be dragged out of Council Chambers," Bumpho'o stated.

Tu'ulmo'o looked slightly nervous as the other two Lanaktallan clopped up to him.

"How long ago did you send the signal to summon the world eaters?" Bumpho'o asked.

Tu'ulmo'o backed up.

"World eaters require a Resource Sustainment Council Vote to activate, yet in every system that your major corporations have been forced to, what would have been temporarily, cede possession of the system while the Terrans fought the Autonomous War Machines, the world eaters have been summoned," Dramo'op stated. "How long ago?"

"What makes you think that anyone summoned a world eater?" Tu'ulmo'o asked.

Bumpho'o waved his hand, bringing up an image of the star at the center of the stellar system. The massive gravity focus on the star was obvious in the several of the images.

"That," Bumpho'o stated.

Tu'ulmo'o backed up, looking around.

"The battle has not even been joined and you have summoned the system's world eater?" Dramo'op asked, his voice low and deadly.

Tu'ulmo'o reached down, thumbing a comlink on his sash.

Bumpho'o drew his neural pistol.

Dramo'op reached for his.

The doors to the command center opened, reveal CorpSec troops, already in armor.

Bumpho'o got off three shots, all them dispersed by the armor, before the neural bolts hit him across the chest, one bolt hitting him between the eyes.

Dramo'op got his neural pistol free as he thumbed his comlink.

"Tu'ulmo'o is a traitor!" he managed to shout into the comlink.

The CorpSec shot him repeatedly.

His single shot hit Tu'ulmo'o in the face, killing the other one instantly.

Dramo'op's personal guard stormed into the council chamber, came under immediate fire from the CorpSec strike team, and fell back. The Bumpho'o's security detail his the CorpSec troops from behind, pushing them forward, and the Executor troops ground them into mincemeat.

Across the system the Corporate Security/Military forces attacked Council Military Fleet units and Executor Military Fleets. Space blossomed with explosions as the surprise attack caught over two thirds of the Military and Executor forces flat footed.

The battle raged for newly three days and was only gaining in intensity when it happened.

Thirty of those massive wedge shaped craft appeared, immediately releasing swarms of the parasite fighter.

None of the combatants wondered where the other twenty were, but instead redoubled their efforts against their opponents even as they sent ships against the massive wedge shaped ones, which immediately started moving in on the habitable planets, ignoring the shipyards and the massive battles going on.

Several thousand Corporate ships were holding the high orbits of the three inhabited planets when the massive ships split into three different battle groups of ten ships each, still ignoring the battles out by the gas giant and in the asteroid ring.

The Corporate ships were blown out of the sky within hours.

Dropships began landing in the cities, near the military bases, all the while a message was being broadcast to the surface.

"Surrender OR Die"

Three days of ground combat had left most of the ground forces in the cities and on the military bases in no mood to try taking on the Terrans once the images were transmitted of the initial landings.

Those who dropped their weapons were taken prisoner and marched to temporary camps where they were fed, housed, given medical treatment.

Anyone who fought, was slaughtered unless they threw down their weapons and surrendered.

The fighting in the system became more intense. Four different factions going at it.

On the fifteenth day the balance shifted when twenty more of the wedge shaped ships suddenly streaked into existence. They were battered, two were leaking atmosphere and vaporized metal.

The biggest one arrived last with the words that transmitted from every speaker, every Tri-Vid, every flat surface.

"I HAVE ARRIVED!" came the wheezing, rasping voice.

The might of the Empire had arrived in the system.

The problem was, there were no more leaders to surrender. Nobody in charge to commit to a steady and complete change of power. Nobody to order the surrender of the troops, who were fighting because they had been attacked. No leadership, no government officials, no Most High with any authority to force into surrender or kill to take over the system from.

Darth Harmonus stared at the datascreens around him.

He snarled as he realized he'd hit what every modern military leader feared.

The system was lost for at least twenty years unless he was willing to devote hundreds of millions of troops to decades of peacekeeping and occupation.

Harmonus turned away from the screen with a swirl of his cape.

It was a good thing he'd bought that many licenses.