Upon landing, the ship was, as usual, a flurry of activity. Though, somewhat less so than normal. Many eyes were glued to screens, some with jaws agape as news poured in of what happened. High General Yarnitch gunned down by a Vortian sniper and Supreme Commander Grimm almost having bit off a hot bolt of plasma with him. Mumbles from the various Irken spoke of the Spectre of Vort being responsible.
In a briefing room on the ship, the Tallest were in a video call with a scarred Grimm. The man had since taken to wearing a mask to cover the scarred half of his face, horrifically burned from the near miss of Ruk'Ahko's hunting rifle. "My Tallest, I assure you that the conquest of Vort will continue and I will not cease until I reach their capital. I must, however, ask for more troops to make this possible. The Imperial Troopers must keep pace, or this campaign is lost."
Vult stopped short of entering the opened door, Corr flanking his right, the assigned SIR unit at his left. Their peoples' highest-ranking officials were amidst discussion.
"More?" Tallest Red queried, incensed at such a notion as if physically repulsed. "We just committed twenty additional divisions of Irken Elite fresh from Devastis. What did you do with the troops we sent you?"
"Maybe he lost them." Purple chimed in, loudly digging through a bag of chips.
"Surely you haven't taken that heavy of casualties already."
"No, actually lost them." His dim counterpart and co-ruler corrected. "Maybe they got lost on the way to Vort...or maybe they need directions on where the war is happening planetside."
Red glared a few solid seconds at Purple, amazed at his incompetence before turning his attention back to Supreme Commander Grimm on the holographic projector at the center of the room.
"There is a reason why you were chosen to be the spearhead for the campaign on Vort...have we chosen wrong?"
"No, my Tallest, absolutely not! As you can see, the enemy is more cunning than we first thought. Had it not been for a fluke, I likely would be dead as well and General Vaukt would be having this conversation with you. Our enemy is crafty, but we can win with attrition. They can't get help from off world. We will starve them out. If more Elites can't be spared, I request full control over the Imperial Troopers and the ability to use them on the front lines to back up the Elites if so needed."
"What, so you can lose those too?" Red scoffed. "Absolutely not."
"Why not?" Purple asked, shrugging. "Let him have the Troopers. Not like we can't make more of them."
Red grit his teeth with a weary, exasperated sigh of frustration held back.
"...because we cannot make them fast enough on Devastis as he is LOSING THEM!"
Grimm simply blinked in confusion on the other end, "My Tallest, is there something going on with procurement of fresh troops that I do not know about?" If Devastis was operating as normal they should be more than able to meet his requests… "Can we not simply send up some of the slaves to handle menial tasks and free up more troops for the front? My plan is sure to work, but that becomes somewhat difficult when I am nearly assassinated."
"Yeah, sure, whatever," Red facetiously began, turning his attention back to Grimm. "While we're at it, why don't I-
"We." Purple corrected pompously.
"...We send up a slave to do your job for you since you can't manage a campaign well enough to stop hemorrhaging casualties like no tomorrow from "secure" sectors."
Purple pondered in deep thought for a moment, tapping his chin studiously before speaking.
"...have you tried not getting almost assassinated?"
Grimm almost couldn't respond for several moments. These were his leaders but that was ridiculous by anyone's standards. "My Tallest, assassinations tend not to be advertised by their very nature. It is very difficult to combat something you know nothing about. As for my plan, it can succeed, but I must have more troops to combat this foe. Without them, this could turn into a repeat of Impending Doom One all over again."
"You've lost...I dunno...many times that already!" Red bellowed at him, throwing his arms up. "The Vortian people resist still. They fight back. Why are they not pacified? Why are they not conquered? You do realize there are other worlds just as important in need of reinforcements, yes?"
"You said Vort was the most important though!" Purple contested, earning a growl of frustration and pulled antenna on Red's behalf.
"I know what I said!" He looked back to Grimm. "For the time being, yes, you have operational control of the Imperial Troopers. No, you cannot have any more reinforcements. We don't have them ready yet. Impending Doom Two is proceeding as scheduled with the exception of Vort. Do something about it or I will be sure to report you to the Control Brains for being so incompetent you make Zim look like a geinus! Am I clear?"
He stifled a grimace. That was an insult he wouldn't forget for some time. "Understood, my Tallest, I will make do with the additional use of Troopers in what I have." That made his blood boil, his left eye narrowing...easily excused due to the recent scalding, but he was glaring at his two leaders.
"Good. Finish subjugating the Vortians and bring them into line. We've wasted enough time and resources as it is." Red nodded, catching a glimpse of Vult, Corr, and their black SIR out of the corner of his eye. "I expect a revised approach as soon as possible and making due with what you have. No more clone meat for the grinder for you. That is all."
Grimm respectfully bowed before the video call ended. Corr glanced over to Vult. His commander was repressing it, but he could tell that Vult was just pleased seeing Grimm getting chewed out. He even took a small bit of satisfaction in it. Had it not been for Vult, he likely would have been part of the bloodbath that Vort was turning into. Now it was just a matter of what the Tallest were after…
Only then did Purple take notice to the open door and the three figures standing at it. His eyes widened in surprise, mouth full of food as he pointed, mumbling something that could have passed for communication.
"Swallow, then speak." Red grumbled at him.
"Visitors! Also, we left the door open. Again."
"Yes, I see that...weren't you supposed to close it?"
"Oh yeah...I was. I forgot."
Dumbfounded, if not apathetically so, the crimson Tallest looked to Vult and his entourage. "Ah, Commander. We've been expecting you."
"Come on in!" Purple waved. "Close the door behind you, while you're over there."
"Of course, My Tallest," Vult nodded respectfully, leading Corr and the SIR into the room before doing as requested. The door whisked shut behind them, locking.
"Who's this you've brought with you?" Red gestured to Corr.
"...You have met him before, My Tallest. Captain Corr is my second-in-command. He was with me prior to our deployment to Praxxus 7."
Silence.
"...at the Great Assigning?"
Crickets.
"Zim was there."
"Oooooh yeah, I remember now!" Purple pointed to Corr.
"Do you actually?" Red directed towards his co-ruler.
"...I don't...do you?"
"Yes. I do." He sighed, looking back to both of them and the little robot. "You were on Vort, right?"
Vult blinked, doing his best to remain composed and not let his frustrations get the better of him.
"...Yes, My Tallest. You had assigned Supreme Commander Grimm as our liaison for the duration of the Vort campaign...then requested my unit withdraw from Vort."
"We did?" Red queried, perplexed at the notion.
"See?! I'm not the only one that forgets!" Purple accused his co-ruler. "You were the one that wanted our super secret unit to come back for...something!"
"Of course," Red played off, looking to the trio of visitors. "Why else would we have called them here? You...Captain." He pointed to Corr, leaning closer. "Speak. Not that we have forgotten or anything...but why have you arrived as summoned? What is your purpose today aboard the Massive?"
"My Tallest," Corr spoke next, "we received your transmission after we took Sub Zero Station on the orders of the Supreme Commander. We moved at best speed with an intercept course as ordered. Your transmission mentioned something about a possible member of some...Srail Society resistance movement within the Empire you needed to brief us about."
"Oooh, ooh, ooh!" Purple excitedly began, his hand flailing for Red's attention. "I remember now! He's talking about that jerk on Irk that's been spreading all the lies and calling us mean dookie heads!"
"Aaah, yes...that's right," Red nodded. "Are you familiar with the Srail Society, Commander?"
"This is my first hearing of them, my Tallest," Vult admitted with a small shake of his head, looking to his immediate subordinate. "What of you Captain?"
"If I remember my reading, though the records are scant…" Corr began as he tried to remember what he learned, "The Srail Society was once a prominent group in the Irken Empire in the past. A group advocating for rule of the people by voting and reducing the power of the monarch to that of a ceremonial figurehead, if not remove them entirely. Though, as time went on their popularity faded. I thought them gone ages ago with the introduction and standardization of the PAK. Someone has revived the group? They're continuing as dissidents to the Empire? Have their goals changed?"
"Yes, yes," Red nonchalantly waved the Captain's impromptu lesson off. "A fancy, drawn-out way of saying "traitor"."
Vult's expression remained unchanged, but with the controlled chaos happening aboard their own vessel among members of the unit, his thoughts ran wild. Maybe it was his own paranoia threatening to undo him, but something about the way their leaders were behaving towards all of this felt off-putting.
"On our homeworld of all places!" Purple blurted out as if personally offended. "The nerve of some people! They're given life, assigned a purpose, and start whining about equality? Pffft."
Corr also bit his tongue. Part of him wanted to dive into the realm of the Srail Society's genuine concerns of Irken society that existed back then. This wasn't the place, and these were the last people in the Empire to give a lesson to about philosophical morality. "What is it we are to do then, my Tallest?"
Red hovered past the pair of soldiers to the terminal belonging to the projector at the center of the room. A few taps and commands typed brought up a projection of their homeworld, Irk. A once thriving, varied ecosystem turned into a sprawling series of interconnected mega-cities. Reaching for the skies just a deeply as they plummeted into the subterranean layers of strata. The projection zoomed in on a particular section in one of the cities.
"This...annoyance," The crimson leader began, searching for the best way to describe what was taking place without blowing it out of proportion. "Has been originating from here. Habitation Block 451 of Material Processing Center 12. The drones have been feeling "oppressed" and "shunt" by their foremen because of this Srail Society garbage filling their heads with nonsense. Production is dropping and quotas are not being met. I want these lazy good-for-nothing ankle-biters brought back in line before more of them get any bright ideas."
"Why not just deactivate 'em?" Purple callously suggested.
"I would if Grimm hadn't botched the Vort campaign." Red grumbled. "Devastis is already at capacity with replenishing lost numbers. Every drone cloned is one less soldier we already need. That, and this problem will persist even if we keep deactivating them."
He paused, looking to the two Shadow Strikers.
"I want you and your team to locate the source of this and eliminate it. The plant these drones work in supply small arms to most of the Armada. Can't fight wars without guns, can we?"
"No, My Tallest, you cannot." Vult acknowledged, the SIR unit taking notes and recording this interaction for their review later. "Is there anything else we need to be made aware of, My Tallest?"
Corr mulled over the information in his head, coming up with a few questions of his own, "My Tallest, I presume we will have the full support of local law enforcement to comb through data on potential agitators? If you have any possible hunches of your own on sources, it could greatly aid in our investigation." Was he making them feel even more important? Possibly. But even the smallest hint can give way to a breakthrough somewhere down the line. There was something interesting Corr couldn't help but notice…
Material Processing Center 12 was a few blocks away from Irk's government sector. Even with a single use for each planet, a zone needed to be set aside for government buildings and officials. An uprising so close to that was curious...and also concerning in other ways.
"If we knew that, we wouldn't be sending you, now would we?" Red facetiously questioned of them, downloading what intel they did possess onto a data disk before handing it to Vult. "Find whoever is behind this and make sure it stops. Permanently."
Vult accepted the storage device, but did not immediately respond. Several thoughts coursed his mind. Between all that had transpired aboard the Ghost of Irk and now being ordered to assassinate an Irken on their own homeworld for having a differing opinion. The waters became all the more muddied.
"Commander." Red spoke unkindly to get his attention. "You have your orders. Leave."
"Yes. Of course, My Tallest. My apologies." He nodded before snapping a crisp salute before turning about to leave.
Corr did the same, following Vult out. There was also this uneasy feeling welling up inside him. He kept silent, containing his thoughts until they were back aboard their ship, and once Rem had gotten them out and on their way to Irk. The Captain heaved a sigh, taking a seat with Vult in the briefing room, locked for privacy in whatever the storage device held on it for their review. After some further silence, and with a deep sigh, the now uneasy Captain spoke, "Does this seem wrong to you? Not just in that we're now being asked to do this on our own homeworld of all places...but this. This idea of someone just being deactivated or assassinated because they think differently?"
Vult did not take a seat. Instead, he slowed his gait, mulling over his Captain's words and replaying the conversation had with their leaders just moments prior. A lot to take in. A lot to consider. Every step towards a solution only served to complicate matters worse, it seemed.
"It is no different than you, I, or anyone aboard this ship openly defying and criticizing the Tallest ourselves," He reasoned with a weary sigh. "The only difference being is we have the resources and technical knowledge to be discreet about our activities. Even so...traitors, we are not, Corr. I have my fair share of grievances and grumbles as to how the Empire and our leaders conducts its business, but complaining about it changes nothing. Only action will inspire change...but not at the expense of our own people."
He paused, turning to face Corr fully, coming to a stop.
"We treat this like any other assignment, Captain. Dissent on our homeworld affects the Armada abroad. One drone's influence may cost many lives at the fronts across the universe. Imagine the units deployed on Vort being stranded. Abandoned. No supplies. No logistics. No support...all because the factory drones stopped fulfilling their purpose. Do you believe the Vortians would be so quick to forgive in the wake of such absence? No...they would hunt us down relentlessly and justifiably eradicate every single Trooper, Elite, and Spec Ops unfortunate enough to be left behind. To us...that is the enemy."
Corr's eyes closed and he took a breath, contemplating everything briefly. "Yes, we do have an obligation to our comrades in the field...we do need to see this is handled." He paused, briefly, turning to look at his commander, "You know, sir, there was a figure from our people's past, an orator, she said that in many cases, words suffice for change; if that fails, act; if actions fail, then more...drastic measures must be taken." He gulped, considering the implications, "That was Kha the Wise, as she was referred to in one older work I once stumbled across, lived during the reign of Sarug the Great."
Where was Corr going with this talk of an old Irken emperor back from before their people even went into space? "She was one of the founders of the Srail Society."
"So the Tallest addressed," Vult acknowledged. "Our target is calling back in reference to...whatever this society is. What is the significance? Why? Today is my first hearing of it and while I may not be as well-studied as you, such intelligence is difficult to come by. Especially so for a drone. Drones do not have access or clearance to much of the systems employed throughout our civilization. They fulfill a singular purpose, nothing more."
This wasn't the first time they had dealt with a "drone". Maybe there was more to this than was being let on. Last time, they assumed much and Vult nearly paid the price with his life.
"One thing I noticed, sir, is that the manufacturing sector in question is rather close to the government quarter of Irk. This may be my assumption, and something I do not think the Tallest would consider, but what if we're not looking for yet another drone? Is it possible that whoever's spreading this message has access to this old knowledge? What if we're possibly looking for a member of government?" The Captain rattled off what was his intuition. The strong lesson learned from Tak, something Vult knew better than the rest first-hand, if the Tallest think a drone is responsible, it's probably not.
"Every angle should be considered. However, until we uncover actionable intelligence, it's nothing more than speculation." Vult reasoned.
"I'll inform the others...I just hope that some bad feelings I'm getting about this mission don't turn out."
Elsewhere…
Things were rather mundane aboard the ship for several days as the Shadow Stalkers continued their voyage towards Irk. They had no way of knowing that Gantas'Zharic's plan was kicking into motion...they had done the impossible, piercing an immensely valuable and heavily protected part of the Empire. The Irken would soon learn the fear of the gods themselves in the night.
Podciotakos Vana'Qoris, a Commander in the Vortian Navy laid prone on a Devastis rooftop, the optical camouflage covering her muscle suit and urban camouflage armor. She kept her eyes on Imperial Trooper patrols through the scope of a semi-automatic railgun sniper rifle. She was the head of the duo that made up Ervaus team. Though they had the best armor, they took older weapons to leave the VDF with every plasma weapon they needed. She was one of the best of the special forces operators in the Navy, cunning, collected, and able to operate under such conditions...this was her environment.
"Wires, how we lookin'?"
"Just thirty more seconds, Night Witch," Tukialstis Jur'Orpos replied over the radio. Likewise, he was an experienced special forces operator of the Vortian Navy, a Chief Petty Officer. Between the two of them, plenty of experience and a small enough team to be effective and spread fear into the Irken Empire. The Vortian made his way through the halls after rigging a final transmitter to the same frequency. Kicking a roof door open, the man ran out and started jumping across rooftops until he made his way to the one adjacent to Vana's. "All clear."
"Copy," she replied as she drew a remote detonator, extending the antenna. Without hesitation, she firmly pressed the trigger three times as trained. Brilliant explosions erupted from the building, a facility full of Irken just waiting to be activated. Fragments of glass and building debris blew out into the street and into adjacent buildings as the structure collapsed. This wasn't a civil demolition like Jur's civilian university training taught him in architecture, this was meant to cause collateral damage. "Nice work, Wires. Let's head back." The duo took to the wind as alarms blared locally in the aftermath of the blast.