Imperial-class Star Destroyer Noir Soleil, Lorell Space

"I think he's kind of cute," Alia said with a slight giggle. She twisted Akasha's hair and neatly pulled it back. Taking a small brown pin out of her mouth, she carefully pushed it into position in the neatly folded hair and continued the process. "I'm tired of all these pretty-boy aristocrats that spend there time jousting and drinking wine. I want a real man. One that commands respect."

Akasha half-smiled. Her hand maiden Alia had been the perfect confidant to her since they were children in there aunt's Royal House AlGray. "It's funny, isn't it? All of these men fighting there wars. You know Alia, Queen Mother Vessana Dionysus would be rolling over in her grave if she knew that men were gaining so much power in the Cluster."

"Your brother included," Alia spat venomously. Her distaste for him had never been a secret among the women of Akasha's Royal Entourage. "He's been galavanting across the cluster sturing up all kinds of trouble from what I hear." Akasha nodded her head.

"Ooh! Keep your head still! Now I have to start all over!"

"Sorry."

"Don't apologize, just sit still!"

"Okay..."

"Sit. Still!"

"Okay!"

"Akasha!"

"I can't! I've been sitting here for half an hour waiting for you to finish my hair, Alia!"

Alia carefully retracted the brown pin she had so-carefully placed moments earlier and returned it to the shelter of her soft lips. Flicking her own golden-blonde hair back, Alia grasped Akasha's hair and carefully began twisting it into position once again.

"Now, Don't. Move."

Akasha looked down and gently stroked her abdomin with her thumb. Her growing stomach was becoming increasingly harder to hide from her own eyes, yet she wondered how no one else had noticed. The smooth silk cloth of her nightgown tickled the skin of her stomach as she looked back up into the mirror and pursed her lips.

She was pregnant.

A soft chime at the airlocked doors interrupted the two Hapan women. Alia jumped, and the perfectly manipulated twist of hair she had so carefully shaped fell into a long flowing lock of brown once again. "Damn it! I'm never going to get this done!" Tossing aside the hairbrush, she walked to the airlocked door and pushed a small grey button. With a snap-hiss, the double doors opened to reveal the Captain of Akasha's personal honor guard.

"Forgive the intrusion your majesty, but I have urgent news."

"Can't it wait?" Akasha wined as she stood and picked up a hair brush. "I'm in the middle of something, Captain." She started to carefully comb her hair into an acceptable position as Alia plopped down on a small lounge chair. Looking up from her nails, she sneered at Akasha and started to file them as she crossed her legs.

"No your highness. It can't. There has been an attack on the summit at Dreena. The Crown Prince is assumed dead."

Akasha pulled the comb from her hair and clenched it tightly as she slumped down into her chair, looking at him through the mirror. She stared in disbelief for a moment, her mouth hanging wide open. Alia's eyed grew large with anticipation as she leaned forward.

"What of the other Nobles?"

"Dead. All of them."

Akasha's lips shuttered as the Captain's cold words set in. Her body tingled with an emotion she had never felt before and a single tear flowed down her cheek. As the Captain took his hat off and folded his arms infront of him, the viewing port of her window was interrupted by a stream of starfighters moving into position.

So the war has begun....

Her thoughts raced as she stared blankly at the mirror infront of her. The room fell silent for several moments before Akasha spoke.

"Thank you Captain. Leave us."

The Captain bowed his head and strode briskly from her chambers. Alia stood and walked to her side, placing her hand reassuringly on her sholder. "From a woman to a Queen in a matter of seconds...."

Akasha shook her head and wiped a single tear from her cheek.

"I am not a Queen, Alia" she said softly. "Vessana Dionysus was a Queen. I am nothing, and I want nothing to do with this little war between the males. I just want it all to end."

Alia nodded her head.

"You're the boss now. Make it end..."

Alia leaned in and whispered "End it."

It was always the same.

The masses...

Overwhelming in their incessant efforts to simply break them.


It was a the straining of martial courage, the fraying of the strands of inventive hope, the realization that the final leap had been taken and there simply was nothing left...




BOOM!


Dust, dirt, debris and bone scatter as the orange plasma fire strikes the snowy hard ground scattering particles over the remaining defenders.


A soldier sinks to his knees babbling incoherently, his mind fracturing against the stress. Against the inevitable truth the enemy has been pounding into their lines time and again...


That they were all going to die.



The skies were darkening as the snow began to grow heavy falling at a rapid rate. The chanting of the enemy had reached a crescendo set against the symphony of destruction that had been raining down upon them since the morning.


The long range firing had stopped and the ground trembled against the lumbering creatures being repositioned. The defenders knew what was coming next as the shouts of their enemy grew louder.


...as if power were building for the inevitable release.




That release came....


..and the defenders gripped their weapons nervously staring out at the cold snow searching for the shadowy outline of their enemy moving at full charge against their thin line, stretched taut and ready to snap.


He was no different.


He gripped his rather large, multibarreled weapon his knuckles turning white.


By Clannus Prime, if he was going to die he wou--...



"It's a shame the sun isn't out.." came a voice behind him startling the defender, nearly causing him to cry out in alarm.


"It's a shame we are all going to die!" he snarled back, embarrassed at his fright.

The man behind him had a sandy colored hair dressed in the lighter version of the familiar body armour they all were wearing. Where his own armour was pitted, dented and scratched the newcomer's seemed to shine.

"Sounds like you're defeated before they," he motioned toward the sound of the approaching shouts, "have even arrived."

The old soldier gritted his teeth wondering if he could spare the power from the energy cell of his weapon to put two holes through this annoyance. Why couldn't he just die in peace? Was that too much to ask?


"I am NOT defeated!" he growled out, turning menacingly towards the other.


The other man put up his hands in a surrender gesture as if warding off the soldier's invisible intent to do harm. "Hey! I am not the one you have to convince! They are!" He motioned towards the enemy.


"And how," snarled the old soldier, "do you expect me to do THAT!?"


Before he could react, the younger man stepped up snatching the heavy weapon from the old soldier's hands and hefted it over his soldier, pointing it into the fog of wind, sleet and snow. Turning to look at the angry soldier, the newcomer fired the weapon sending it's charge through the snow.


A shouting enemy's voice went high pitched and was suddenly silent.

The young man grinned, tossing the weapon back to the old soldier. "If you can convince one, you can convince others..."

The old soldier looked at the younger man through narrowed eyes. "You're a base-born bastard son of a whore!" he barked, checking the recharge rate of his weapon by rote.


The young man grinned. "Ahh... but am I a wrong base-born bastard son of a whore?"


The old soldier could not help but feel his lips stretch into a grin of his own.

"PROVIDENCE DEFENDERS!"

The young man had taken a station next to the old soldier and the soldier nodded approvingly before saying that which would tempt fate.


"FIRE!!"










Lorell


The Stellar Explorer, the first in a series of exploratory and science vessels had been diverted from their return trip from Elrood to Lorell, inside the Hapes Cluster, had seemed odd to Mathias. Even after the Captain, Herridian Wye, had given the reasons, which (truth be told) simply served to convince everyone aboard, especially the 1st Providence soldiers, that Dakkon Darksword was a shrewd sonofabitch and would probably steal their clean socks if they turned away, the old Caprician soldier could still not understand why the Stellar Explorer was called upon.

The Caprician science vessels, while not warships, were tough, fast little buggers that ran from edge of the Domain to Wild Space and had, in one swift swoop, increased the Caprician and Commonwealth's scientific knowledge of the space around them exponentially.

So, when they were told that Dakkon had requested the Hapan Battleship, Sword of .. no... Dagger of the Crown.. err..no. the Crown's Blade... be sent off as a lightning rod to all the yahoo's and inferior hicks such isolated cultures bred enmasse, Mathias had to ask why it should have affected their shore leave on Homeworld?


"Because," Herridian had explained cheerfully, "Not only can we test our hypothesis regarding the Transitory Mists, but we can also help Hapans come to an understanding about our own culture."



Mathias could have kicked the former leader of Herridian Clan, in hindsight, but he had too much on his mind as the Hapan giant circled around him, his glistening, well oiled body reflected the light of Lorell's primary.


His company had gone planetside and at once, he was struck by just how good everyone seemed to look. Upon second glance however, and when his company poked around more of the native city (away from famous touristy traps), the look of the people became more common.

There were Hapans of all shapes and sizes though they still tended to favor the "good looking" shapes and sizes but every once in a while you saw a fat Hapan ambling by.

The people of Lorell were not exactly surprised at their presence for Lorell, as the rest of the Consortium, had spent the last year debating and finally reaching a decision supporting their Crown Prince to associate itself with the Commonwealth.

Lorell had the distinction to be one of the first to have their representatives return to Hapes with their decision.

The web back to the Queen Mother was indeed growing strong as Consortium interests were becoming much more sophisticated than the racial hatred a few country bumpkins espoused as their rallying cry under the banner of independence.

Lorell had no desire to revoke their allegiance to the Queen Mother or the Crown Prince and so, as was the tradition of one testing something new, a Hapan soldier had come up to Mathias near the central market and challenged the old man to a fight.

The man was pretty but also well muscled.

Mathias had accepted after a quick look-over of the youth and soon a crowd surrounded them. Colonel Vinda was orchestrating friendly wagers (in the name of diplomacy of course) as Mathias provided the sweat.

The Hapan had taken off his shirt revealing a pack of muscles that looked like they belonged to a mule and as the two men grappled, Mathias knew the the other man was stronger.

But it was a strength that the other man did not capitalize on as his attacks were off. It seemed to Mathias as he bounced back and dodged several strikes, that the Hapan was not used to frontal attacks but preferred the slithering strike of dancing around trying to wear the Caprician out before the cutting, slicing attack .... almost sneaky underhanded attack that the stronger Hapan seemed to want to make.

It was a philosophy alien to the older soldier for if a problem was presented to him, he did not need to dance around it poking.. but, rather, strike bluntly smashing your big problem into smaller more manageable ones.

And so, despite the groaning in his ribs as the Hapan's sharp hand seemed to strike against at times, the old soldier used his endurance to simply 'take it'. After a while, feigning weariness and pain, his motions began to become exaggerated.

The Hapan smelled blood and danced a little more nimbler.

At least until, during one of his attacking darts, Mathias didn't turn as expected and simply released a strike of his own that he'd been holding.

The grizzled soldier's fist smashed into the face of the Hapan dropping the larger man instantly.

The crowd had grown quiet while soldiers from his Company were shouting praises.


As Mathias wiped the blood from his lips he noted that the Hapans did not think he would win.


It was all he could do to keep from breaking out into a grin.


Tyscio Korban's words on Providence during the Conquest suddenly being called to mind as he bent over to help the large Hapan up who still couldn't believe he had been beaten, "If you can convince one, you can convince others..."


While Herridian had met with the leadership of Lorell, a matter of courtesy to the reinvigorated Consortium, allies of the Commonwealth, he was doing a little diplomacy of his own.

The diplomacy of the common man.

Too much diplomacy will put you in the hospital, Mathias, my boy!

He wondered how Dakkon's lightning rod was doing, parading all over the Cluster while real men did all the work....

The first flight of BoPs glided with a deadly grace toward the Crown's Blade.

The intervening space was alive with activity as hapan pilots engaged their My'til fighters in a deadly waltz with the swarm of Scarabs that had descended upon them. Missile trails, laserfire, and debris from both sides provided a backdrop against which the dueling snubfighters twisted and turned, jinxed and juked, filling the void with an eerily beautiful display of color and light. Through the chaos the Black Hand vessels sped, their shields flashing as they absorbed some of the errant crossfire.

The heavy batteries of the Crown's Blade were soon in range, and they added to the maelstrom, sending volley's of turbolaser and ion fire streaking in the direction of the aggressor's vessels. At extreme range the shots were wildly inaccurate, and most flew harmlessly by, though some found their home on the bow of the leading BoP splashing harmlessly against the vessel's energy shields.

Then in an instant the BoPs were clear of the fighter screen and in open space. Hurtling toward their target the four vessels began engaging in a dance of their own, the lead BoP shooting upwards while the trail craft moved in a parallel direction. The two wing craft barrel rolled and traded positions, nearly crossing paths but sliding by at an uncomfortable close distance. The strange evasive maneuvers continued, the four BoP's weaving around each other, but maintaining a semblance of formation as the fire from the mammoth Hapan vessel intensified.

Fire poured from the Crown's Blade, crimson and blue, and much of it slammed into the BoP's, but an equally large portion whisked by harmlessly. The Royal Hapan gunners were among the galaxy’s finest, but their precision and cohesion was matched by the pilots of the Black Hand and their impact lessened by the speed and maneuverability of the BoPs.

As they finally reached their target the BoPs came to a halt, holding a formation similar to their original shape but more spread out. The retractable ion and turbolaser batteries spat fire, raking the vast expanse of metal that lay in front then below them, absorbed easily by the shields. However, the primary payload was yet to be unloaded.

As the range of the BoPs to the Crown's Blade was at it smallest the BoP's fired their warhead launchers and a series of oversized projectiles fired forward then quickly (and it appeared prematurely) exploded. The BoP's shot upward, over the bow of the Hapan giant, and tried to put space between them and the guns that pounded at them relentlessly.

As they flew toward freedom, the second flight of BoP's mimic began their attack run, mimicking the tactic and moving in for absolute minimum range before unleashing their warheads...




"Incoming transmission from Necropolis, sir."

Ferus Lollen turned his head from the holographic projection of the battle and toward the direction of his communications officer.

"I'm listening."

"Orders. Avarice, Anarchy, Amoral and Antithesis are to be released to Necropolis command and engage the enemy."

Ferus frowned. He had been under the impression that he would retain tactical authority over his contingent of vessels, and that his mission would not be compromised. Apparently he was mistaken.

"What about us?"

"The transmission states we are to hold position and protect the Nevas Pas."

Ferus nodded. At least his superior wasn't being a total fool and ordering the Interdictor into the fray.

"Confirm the orders."

It wasn't as if Ferus had much of an option.

Activity in what had been the holding contingent happened quickly. The four Majestic cruisers broke off, and moved toward the Hapan forces. They began firing a long range, and Ferus noted their shots appeared to be aimed at the Blade's two escorts.

Ferus looked back at the holographic projection, noting the fighter melee was still raging and the Black Hand vessels turning back for a second pass.

He sighed.

The battle was still very much in doubt... but at the moment there was very little he could do to influence it.