PART 1: Defiance
A/N: So I woke up yesterday morning to find that in less than ten hours I had no less than seventy fav/follow/review alerts in my inbox, by far the biggest response I have ever had to a story on the site. Since you guys are so great, could I pretty please ask you to check out some of my other stories, in particular Sins of the Reapers? Also to note, Seu'Seun is actually pronounced like Sho Shown, and their new home planet Seu'Neue is pronounced Sho Noway.
###
General Simon Williams read the communiqué for what had to be the twentieth time.
Unknown hostiles attacking scientific detachment. Tamerov and escorts engaging. Likely hostiles will target Shanxi. Mobilise all ground forces. - Capt. Leon Voraznev, SSV Serevsky
"Status report."
"All ground forces standing by st maximum readiness, sir. The Serevsky just departed the system to bring word to the Kremlin. There will be a full battlegroup here in a week, maximum."
"So we have to hold out for a week. I want all our stealth fighters ready by the time the enemy gets here. I should imagine they could do quite a bit of damage to any landing force."
"What if they bombard us from orbit?"
"Then we go to our God with honour."
###
"Spirits. I ... I can't quite believe it. One dreadnought and three cruisers, and they took out one of our dreadnoughts, seven cruisers and nearly thirty frigates! We only managed to win by one of our cruisers ramming the damned thing!"
Cadmus Vakarian nodded slowly, sipping his cup of scalding hot apha, the Turian equivalent of coffee, as the gunner's mate rambled on.
"Well, rumour has it the captain is picking up escape pods from the hostile dreadnought. We might finally get some answers."
###
"Ensign Boe Aylu, 2388-7165-4992."
The two aliens exchanged a confused glance. Then one of them said something in its own language again, the words coming out in a kind of garbled roar.
"Ensign Boe Aylu, 2388-7165-4992."
The alien bent down and looked her in the eye. Then it pointed to itself.
"Mikos."
She frowned, then decided to play along. She pointed at the alien, then spoke.
"Mikos."
She pointed at herself.
"Boe."
The alien pointed at her.
"Boe."
She nodded. The alien waved its hands, indicating it and its companion.
"Turian."
So the species were Turian. Or maybe that was the surname. And the one with red markings was called Mikos. She pointed at both aliens.
"Turian."
Then at herself.
"Shar Atavira."
The alien bared his teeth and flared those weird things on the side of his face, which she assumed was their equivalent of a smile. Progress. She leaned back in her seat.
"Mel, you there?"
The AI avatar popped up in her field of vision, directly projected onto her retina.
"Can you run a translator ... Where are you, anyway?"
"This ship's computer. You know their AI isn't even sentient?"
"You're shitting me."
"Nope."
"So translator?"
"I'm uploading the program to your neural net now."
The Turian conversation suddenly snapped into focus.
"... clearly isn't a member of the same species as the rest of the crew, yet wears the same uniform."
"Could be a member of a client race. Medical confirms it's dextro."
"Any idea the gender?"
"Ah, it's got those chest lumps like the Asari, the Batarians, the Drell and the suit rats. I guess that means female."
"Okay. So. Her name is Boe, she's a member of a species called Shar Atavira, she isn't the same species as the rest of the crew yet served on the ship. That's all we know for now."
"You want to keep playing First Contact?"
"Nah, let someone else deal with the squishies. I need some apha."
"Second that."
The two Turians left the room and Boe subvocalised a question to Mel.
-Where is this ship headed?-
-Right for Shanxi. It seems they believe the Tamerov squadron comprised the bulk of our naval force.-
-Oh, they're in for a nasty surprise.-
###
The Turian troopship 'Chariot of Armiger' was one of six such troopships in the battlegroup. Five dreadnoughts, thirty cruisers and near one hundred frigates were accompanying the troopships. It was an invasion fleet, no doubt about that. An upstart species had challenged the Turian Hierarchy, and now they were going to pay for their impertinence. The Turians did not do things by halves. They understood only one kind of war, the kind where at the end of it only one party remained. And that party would be the Hierarchy.
Councillor Ikksi frowned at the data presented to her by the STG lieutenant.
"They mobilised two entire legions?"
"Yes, Councillor. Best we can tell, they're en route to Relay 314."
"314? There's nothing out there."
"Nothing out there that we know of, Councillor. The Veshok-12 is standing by to covertly observe the Turian movements with your permission, Councillor."
"Very well. I think I need to have a chat with Councillor Luceius."
###
General Williams frowned at the telemetry data.
"And you're certain this is accurate?"
Ash, his AI, nodded her assent.
"Yes, General. I've analysed the ship designs. They match the hostiles encountered by the Serevsky."
"So what do you make of the fleet?"
The AI considered the question, holograms of alien ships flashing around her as she analysed them, then a hologram of the fleet's disposition popped up in front of her.
"The six cruisers are of two classes I can detect. Four of them are just slightly above a Kiev-class line cruiser like the Tamerov, the other two I presume are a different class. Larger, with a stronger emission signature. In terms of tonnage they're about equal to a Moscow-class grand cruiser. Their frigates are of various classes, I count thirty five, most of them somewhere around the mass of a Vladivostok class line frigate, a few smaller, something like a Warsaw class destroyer. And then about one hundred of those little patrol boats."
"What about those six blocky ones at the back of the formation?"
She pulled up the hologram. The ship shared some design similarities to the other alien ships but was far less elegant, seeming squat and ugly next to the sleek cruisers and frigates.
"Mass wise, somewhere between the frigates and the cruisers. Best guess, it's a transport of some support."
"Carrying supplies for the fleet?"
"Or an invasion force."
A sensor tech burst into the command bunker, panting.
"General Williams! General Williams! The hostiles have set course right for us!"
The General rested his hands on the table and let out a long breath.
"How soon before they're on top of us?"
"They'll hit orbit in fourteen hours."
"Thank you, Simmons."
He sat down behind his desk as Simmons scurried off.
"What's General Corsev up to?"
Ash brought up a map of the planet, then panned around to the Soviet colony on the other continent.
"Looks like he's got all his forces prepared for an extended siege and his stealth fighters warmed up."
Williams nodded in approval of the defence set up by his Russian counterpart and old drinking buddy.
"The Raachok colony have evacuated their civilians underground and their warriors have linked up to General Corsev's forces. As for the Atavira ... God help any aliens who set foot in one of their biodomes."
"Certainly got that right."
###
Admiral Kerensky was not a happy carbon based life form.
"Bloody wonderful. It's the Seu'Seun all over again."
He looked over the reports, one from the Serevsky detailing the hostile's weapons, defences and combat doctrine, then one from a fast courier ship from the Haeli biodome on Shanxi, forwarded to him from the Atavira consulate, giving the disposition of the alien invasion fleet.
"I want these reports forwarded to Washington and Tencton as soon as possible."
The USA and the Union both had substantial interests on Shanxi. They needed to know.
"In the meantime assemble Rear Admiral Fang's battlegroup. I believe she'll be able to roll over these invaders."
Rear Admiral Ai Zho Fang was a savagely brilliant tactician, capable of using her fleet's firepower in ever more creative ways to overcome superior enemies. In this case her battlegroup would easily overwhelm these invaders. The fact that her name translated as 'precious fragrant child' made her no less terrifying. He checked the disposition of the battlegroup. The flagship was a Beijing-class battlecruiser, 1700 metres of pure destruction, accompanied by two Moscow class grand cruisers, six Kiev-class line cruisers, forty eight Vladivostok-class line frigates, twenty Warsaw-class destroyers and a single enormous Tokyo-class auxiliary, a mobile repair and resupply yard capable of supporting fleets deep in enemy controlled territory. Yes, Fang's battlegroup would get the job done. If the hostiles tried to bring in reinforcements he could have two additional battlegroups in reserve. Should do nicely. In theory.
Kerensky leaned back and scratched his chin thoughtfully. The USA were sure to send forces as well, but he wasn't too sure about the Union and the Atavira nations. In his opinion they had become complacent hiding behind Human fleets. As for the Seu'Seun - those damn bugs could take a hike down a black hole for all he cared.
###
Rear Admiral Steven Hackett listened to his orders with a mixture of excitement and trepidation. Excited that this would be his first operation as the commander of a battlegroup, trepidation in that for the second time in human history, first contact with an alien species resulted in all out war. He had always put his money on the next first contact scenario being the Kepp, a race of intelligent aquatic mammals that had been under observation for a while now. But no, it was an unknown hostile race, with unknown capabilities, unknown motivations and unknown thought processes.
Rear Admiral Steven Hackett hated unknowns.
He glanced out of the window of his apartment on the Washington orbital docks, admiring his ships as they lazily orbited the docks. His flagship was the Lincoln-class line carrier USS Yorktown, the main body of the ship slung between the two enormous launch bay sections, each one comprising nearly forty per cent of the ship's volume, solid flat cuboid that contained the hangars, the sublight engines, the proton shield generators and the hypervelocity cannons, the wings extending on past the launch bays to split into two verticals at the end, each one holding one of the four HR motors. She reminded Hackett of the ancient racing catamaran his father owned. Flanking her were two Roosevelt-class assault carriers, each one massing 40% less than the Yorktown and much narrower too, each one only consisting of a single launch bay with the bridge module offset to the side, making the carriers seem lopsided as one wing extended further than the other to accommodate the bridge and the HR engines. The Roosevelt class pushed the minimum safe distance between the inhabited portions of the ship and the HR motors to the limit, making Hackett distinctly glad his flagship was a Lincoln. Along with these three capital ships were eight Reagan-class escort carriers, the kilometre long single launch bays dwarfed by their larger cousins. At least they were symmetrical, the bridge on a short conning tower extending upwards from the rear section of the launch bay. As well as these ships, Hackett's battlegroup contained two Truman-class monitors, the cousins of the Reagan class but with their hangar bay doors replaced by a solid wall of heavy duty torpedo tubes. A handful of Nixon-class light carriers and Obama-class defence frigates made up the remainder of his battlegroup. He was very much looking forward to finding out exactly how his fighter squadrons measured up to the legendary Rear Admiral Fang's fleet. And of course, he was looking forward to putting down the aliens who dared attack Shanxi.
###
The aliens were barely an hour away when an AI avatar flickered to life in General Williams's command bunker. Ash popped up beside him and smiled broadly at the other AI.
"Mel! Where have you been? I thought you were a goner for sure."
Mel shrugged. Now that General Williams took a good look at her, the red hair and pale skin definitely marked her out as a Soviet AI when compared to Ash's Hispanic looks.
"The Tamerov was taken out but I managed to upload myself to the computer systems of one of their cruisers. Their firewalls are too good for me to get up to much but I have managed to access their communication channels and security cameras. It's not much, but I'll be able to relay every order given by their captain straight to you and the other planetside forces commanders."
"So who are they?"
She rubbed her neck, one of the most basic human behaviour emulation subroutines used by the Soviet AIs.
"A race of aliens called the Turians. Aggressive, militaristic, highly disciplined, they're basically an organised version of the Seu'Seun."
"Anything else?"
"Mm, yes. They seem to be labouring under the impression that this is our homeworld and the Tamerov's squadron was the bulk of our fleet. It may be wise to remove this assumption. I have uploaded a translation matrix to your neural uplink. Feel free to try and put the wind up them."
"An excellent idea. I'll record a message, then Ash, ram it through every single one of those ships."
###
"This is General Simon Williams of the United States Army addressing the commander of the Turian squadron approaching Shanxi. If you wish to negotiate, send no more than three representatives to the following co-ordinates and I give you my word they will be unharmed. Any other Turian who sets foot on Shanxi will be executed. Williams out."
"Greetings to the Turian people from the United Soviet Socialist Republics. I am General Mikhail Corsev, commander of the Red Army detachment on Shanxi. Should you wish to discuss peace, please send representatives as per General Williams's message. If you come for war, make peace with your gods. You shall be seeing them soon enough."
"Turians. I represent the Raachok Union. Any hostile action against us or our allies will be met with maximum resistance. You have been warned."
"I am Mae Farlu, representative of the nation of Emaris. I respectfully discourage any action against our world. You will be destroyed."
"The nation of Maraliu sends a warning. Your transgression will not go unpunished. Leave while you still can and perhaps your lives will be preserved."
Captain Noridon watched the five messages over and over again, taking in the alien images somehow speaking perfect Turian.
"It seems we underestimated our foes. I'm beginning to think they may be more widely dispersed than we initially assumed."
Apparently no less than five groups from three species had settled this world. He was greatly interested to see how the Admiral would react to this.
Ah yes, the Admiral. Admiral Kaius Vargus. Noridon had never known a man so supremely confident in his own ability as Vargus. His confidence was grounded in reality - he had a flawless track record and several commendations for actions against Batarian slavers - but in the Admiral's mind his ability was overexaggerated to the point of seeming fictitious. And Noridon had the horrible feeling that the man's arrogance was about to blow up in their faces. He opened a comm channel to the Defender of Palaven, the Admiral's flagship. One of the newer Cassatian class of dreadnought, the Defender was the equal of an Asari dreadnought thanks to her enormous main gun and powerful kinetic barriers.
"Admiral Vargas. Have you seen the messages from the alien representatives?"
The elderly Turian on the comm screen fluttered his mandibles in amusement.
"I have better things to do than listen to empty threats and pleas of mercy."
"I would recommend watching the messages, sir. They do give us an idea of what we're facing."
"Bah. Your recommendation is noted. Defender out."
He shook his head, muttering to himself. Crazy bastard was far too confident for his own good.
###
"All flocks prepare for immediate launch."
Trajeet-Hcacn felt his back spines stiffen and stand upright as the announcement broke the oppressive silence in the Fourth Flock ready room. He reached out and drummed on the heads of his fellow aviators as they rose.
"Show some life, you tired old men. Time to test out the new missile systems."
The three other pilots growled good-naturedly at him as they activated their nanite flight suits and jogged through the corridor and out into the enormous underground flight pan where their stealth gunships were warmed up and ready to go. He let the other three run past him, letting him drum on the tops of their flat, triangular heads. In traditional Raachok culture, head drumming was a mark of respect from a superior to his subordinate. Of course it didn't really apply in this situation, the pilots all being equals, but was used more as a friendly tease. Out in the colonies the Union's rigid social structure was far looser than on Tirfan, the Raachok homeworld. In this case, Trajeet was just head-drumming because he was the tallest and nobody could head-drum him back.
"Shift, fliers. We've got some missiles to launch."
The four fliers clambered into the cockpits, the opaque canopies sealing over their heads, momentarily plunging them into darkness before the HUD sprang to life. Trajeet performed a quick pre-flight check and then fired up his thrusters, the Nemesis gunship rising smoothly up and out of the disguised hangar to strike out and lie in wait where the Turian landers would be entering the atmosphere. The Union's stealth gunships, and their cousins the USA and USSR's stealth fighters and ground attack craft, we're designed to be completely undetectable, thus preventing hostile warships from simply blowing them out of the sky from orbit and enabling them to operate with relative impunity even under an enemy-controlled orbit. The Turians wouldn't even know what hit them.
###
"Sir, the Turian vessels have achieved orbit. It looks like they're going to commence an invasion. No response to our messages."
"Looks like we're doing this the hard way. Scramble stealth fighters, instruct them to take down any landing craft or shuttles that break atmosphere and keep doing so until they run out of ammunition. Also, as soon as they start dropping troops have the surface to orbit missile silos fire everything they've got at the troopships."
"Understood."
Ash's avatar winked out, replaced by a hologram of the planet showing the Turian fleet in orbit. General Williams leaned forward on his desk.
"Dark clouds are smouldering into red
While down the craters morning burns.
The dying soldier shifts his head
To watch the glory that returns;
He lifts his fingers toward the skies
Where holy brightness breaks in flame;
Radiance reflected in his eyes,
And on his lips a whispered name.
And so it begins."