Chapter 18: First Contact in the Emerald Sea
The year was 2020, a time when the world was teetering on the precipice of chaos. The three global superpowers, the Greater Russian Empire, the Franco-British Union (FBU), and the United States of America, vied for supremacy with a mixture of fear and ambition coursing through their veins. In the heart of the Franco-British Union, the portal in London led to an uninhabited tropical island, roughly the size of Guam. The Royal Engineering Corp swiftly transformed the entire 500-square-kilometer island into the impenetrable Camelot Forward Operation Base, or Fort Camelot. Its purpose was to serve as a launchpad for the Franco-British Union's expeditionary force into Falmart.
August brought the appointment of General James Vereker as the commanding officer of the 1st Franco-British Expeditionary Force. With unwavering dedication, Vereker oversaw the meticulous preparations for the deployment. By December, an impressive force of 152,000 soldiers stood ready within Fort Camelot. They were accompanied by 21,424 vehicles, carrying with them 360,000 tons of ammunition, 250,000 tons of fuel, and 600,000 tons of MRE, ensuring their sustained presence in Falmart.
General James Vereker sat behind his grand mahogany desk, adorned with maps and strategical charts. The room was filled with a solemn silence, interrupted only by the low hum of men and machinery outside. The events of the past months had brought them to the precipice of a new era, and Vereker could feel the weight of responsibility on his shoulders.
From his office, General Vereker gazed out over the sprawling expanse of Fort Camelot, his heart swelling with immense pride. The runways and barracks were a hive of activity, bustling with soldiers, technicians, and mechanics servicing the diverse array of manned aircraft and drones that dotted the landscape. These war machines represented the various Dominions that constituted the vast Franco-British Union.
Gloster Thunderhawks, Gloster Falcon Furys, Havilland Viperwings, Havilland Black Thunders, Avro Shadowstrikes, Avro Phoenix Furys, Handley Page Stormriders, Handley Page Silver Arrows, Mirage Nightblades, and Mirage Skybreakers stood as a testament to the combined might of the Franco-British Union. Each possessed its unique capabilities, a reflection of the diverse lands they hailed from.
As Vereker admired the array of machines, a twinge of pain shot through his joints, reminding him of the harsh reality of Falmart. This world, with its oppressive gravity twice that of Earth's, had taken a toll on his aging body. Standing for extended periods had become a painful endeavor, transforming this battle into a game of the young.
Before he could dwell further on his discomfort, a sharp knock on the door interrupted his thoughts. Vereker turned his attention to the entrance and beheld Lieutenant General Alan Brook of the II Armored Corps. Alan Brook, a Black African from the Dominion of Rhodesia and Nyasaland. His family had a long history of loyalty and service to the British Empire, and Alan was no exception.
"Enter," Vereker commanded, his voice carrying the weight of authority.
As Lieutenant General Alan Brook entered, his impeccably pressed uniform a stark contrast against the chaos outside. His eyes focused and determined, Brook held a presence that demanded attention. He saluted Vereker, acknowledging his commanding officer's rank before speaking.
"General Vereker, permission to speak freely?" Brook asked, his eyes locked with Vereker's.
Vereker nodded and gestured for Brook to continue. "Speak your mind, Lieutenant General. What brings you here today?"
Brook stepped closer, his voice lowered to a confidential tone. "Sir, I believe it is time to expand our presence in this new world. We have established a strong foothold here at Fort Camelot, but there are nearby islands that offer potential strategic advantages. With your permission, I propose leading the II Corps to make contact with the local population and begin establishing colonies. We can bring glory to Queen-Empress Victoria II and expand the influence of the Franco-British Union."
Vereker leaned back in his chair, considering Brook's proposal. The Lieutenant General's ambition resonated with Vereker, and he could sense the same spark of opportunistic fervor burning in his own veins. The Union had always sought to expand its dominion, and this new realm presented an unprecedented opportunity.
Vereker regarded Alan, his eyes filled with a mixture of pride and concern. "Lieutenant General Brook," Vereker began, his voice laced with authority. "To establish colonies and expand our influence is in line with our imperialistic ambitions. However, we must remember the delicate balance we now face. We are not the only ones seeking to conquer Falmart, and the dangers that lurk beyond these portals are still unknown."
Alan nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. "General Vereker, we are in a race against time. If we do not act swiftly, other nations will leap into action, and our empire will lose its grip on this new world. Our colonies would stand as testament to the glory of the Franco-British Union and the legacy of Queen-Empress Victoria II."
Vereker sighed deeply, his gaze shifting as he weighed the possibilities in his mind. "I understand your fervor, General Brook. The crown asks much of us, and our duty is paramount. However, I implore caution. Our actions in Falmart may shape the future of our world. We must tread carefully and not repeat the mistakes of our imperialistic past."
Alan straightened his posture, the determination in his voice unwavering. "General Vereker, I do not take your words lightly. But history does not remember those who hesitated when opportunities presented themselves. We must seize the moment and secure our place in this new realm."
Vereker studied Alan for a moment, his gaze piercing and assessing. Finally, he nodded. "Very well, Lieutenant General Brook. Lead the II Corps to the nearby islands, but proceed with caution. Establish contact with the locals, learn their ways, and pave the way for our colonies."
Brook's face lit up with a mix of pride and excitement. "Thank you, General. I will not disappoint you or the Union."
Vereker rose from his chair, his eyes blazing with determination. "Remember, we are not mere conquerors, but diplomats of a grand civilization. Our actions must reflect the values and ideals of the Franco-British Union. Treat the local population with respect and fairness, while ensuring the Union's interests are protected."
"Of course, sir," Brook affirmed, his voice saturated with loyalty. "I shall endeavor to strike a balance between expansion and cultural integration."
Vereker nodded, indicating his approval. "Very well, Alan. You have my permission to lead the II Corps to those nearby islands. Report back regularly and keep me informed of your progress. May Queen-Empress Victoria II's reign shine brightly across these newly conquered lands."
The two men shared a brief, solemn moment. Then, Brook saluted once more and turned to leave.
As Brook exited the room, Vereker sat back down, a mix of pride and concern coursing through him. The path they had embarked upon was fraught with uncertainty, unknown dangers lurking within this strange realm. However, it was in moments like these, on the cusp of conquest, that history was written, empires forged, and legends born.
Vereker looked out of the window, beyond the bustling activity of Fort Camelot, to the unexplored islands beyond. The sun was setting, casting long shadows on the tarmac and illuminating the awaiting aircraft. They stood as symbols of the Union's might and the unrivaled dominion they sought to establish.
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The Albion Archipelago, located in the Emerald Sea not far from the Europania continent, is a tropical paradise boasting a wealth of natural resources and diverse landscapes. This archipelago, roughly the size of Greenland, is home to three distinct countries: Lloegyr Principality, Hibernia Kingdom, and Alba Federation. Each country possesses unique characteristics and contributes to the overall prosperity and development of the archipelago.
Nestled in the northwest region of Albion, Lloegyr Principality reigns as an agricultural powerhouse with its vast farmland and fertile soil. Queen Alycia, the ruler of Lloegyr, was both feared and revered, her intentions veiled in mystery. Recently, she had seized power by ousting the previous king's only son, consolidating her grip on the principality. Blessed by the Goddess of Fertility, Miritta, this nation boasts an abundance of crops, rendering it self-sufficient in terms of food production. The agricultural practices of Lloegyr are highly efficient, ensuring that even neglected plants flourish with minimal human intervention. This agricultural utopia maintains a food self-sufficiency rate well above 1000%, providing nourishment not only for its own citizens but also for neighboring countries. The principality's unique geography, coupled with the enchanting blessings of Miritta, bestows upon its livestock a diet of delectable and nutritious feed. The result is a high-quality farming industry that produces some of the finest meat, dairy, and poultry products in Albion. Lloegyr's livestock thrives on the abundance of lush pastures and nourishing vegetation, contributing to an unparalleled level of agricultural excellence.
Situated in the northeastern part of the Albion Archipelago, Hibernia Kingdom draws its strength from the vast expanse of the Emerald Sea. This island nation specializes in the fisheries industry, harnessing the bounty of the surrounding waters for sustenance and economic prosperity. The Kingdom's deep-rooted connection to the sea forms the heart of its cultural heritage, shaping the lives and livelihoods of its inhabitants. Hibernia's skilled fishermen venture into the briny depths, expertly casting their nets to capture a rich assortment of fish and seafood. The calm yet fertile waters of the Emerald Sea yield an impressive variety of aquatic life, making Hibernia the leading supplier of seafood throughout Albion. The Kingdom's bustling fishing ports act as vibrant hubs of commerce and trade, where the aroma of freshly caught fish permeates the air.
Framing the southern region of the Albion Archipelago, Alba Federation thrives on its advanced banking and manufacturing industries. The nation's bustling cities are a testament to its economic prowess, with towering skyscrapers and state-of-the-art factories dominating the urban landscape. Alba Federation has established itself as a leading force in technological innovation, drawing admiration from neighboring countries. At the heart of Alba Federation's success lies a robust banking sector that fuels economic growth and facilitates international trade. The nation's financial institutions provide targeted financial services to support various industries and enterprises. As a result, entrepreneurs flock to Alba Federation, seeking capital and expertise to bring their ideas to fruition. The manufacturing sector, closely intertwined with banking, propels the nation forward, producing cutting-edge technology, high-quality goods, and innovative machinery.
To the northeast of Lloegyr lay the bustling Trade Center City, Efnysien, serving as the economic hub of Lloegyr. Its paved main street was lined with antiquated shop buildings, teeming with carriages and landbirds bustling with life. The vibrant atmosphere of trade permeated the air, as merchants from all corners of Albion gathered to exchange their wares.
However, on this particular day, a looming threat cast a shadow over the city's liveliness. The Tyranid, a formidable horde of alien insects, descended upon Efnysien with unprecedented force, dwarfing any previous invasion. Duke Durham, Queen Alycia's brother, and her secret lover, stood at the forefront of the city's defense, commanding six thousand men.
The once bustling Trade Center City now lay engulfed in darkness, its streets filled with a writhing mass of insectoid creatures. Duke Durham, a man driven by cruelty and a lust for power, stood at the forefront of the battleground. His eyes burned with a mixture of rage and fear as he assessed the situation before him.
"Damn it!" he roared, his voice drowned by the chaos. "This horde is ten times larger than the one we faced last month. Are the Tyranids growing bolder, or are they driven by some unseen force?"
"Duke Durham, what do we do? The horde is relentless!" shouted one of his commanders, sweat glistening on his forehead.
"We fight, damn it! We fight to protect the city and our Queen!"
As the Duke scanned the battlefield, his eyes locked onto the ten imposing Type-10 SPAAGs, living metal creatures standing tall amidst the chaos. Each of these titanic machines was a gift from the Holy Darwinian Empire, armed with rapid-fire autocannons capable of unleashing a devastating hail of projectiles. But even these powerful weapons were being tested in the face of such overwhelming numbers.
"Protect those guns, or we are as good as dead!" bellowed Durham, his voice resonating within the minds of his fellow Pathians. As a magical humanoid connected through the divine dimension called Paths, he possessed incredible abilities, one of which allowed him to transform into a towering Titan.
Durham's command did not go unheeded as the Pathians around him, their bodies glowing with ethereal energy, began their transformation. With a surge of power, they grew in size, their forms shifting into colossal dimensions, their bodies encased in metallic armor. The ground trembled beneath them as they formed a solid defensive line around the ten Type-10s, their massive shields creating an impenetrable barrier.
Weighing over 3500 tons, each Type-10 SPAAGs was armed with formidable twin rapid-fire 258mm autocannons. Capable of firing up to 240 fragmentation and armor-piercing tracer shells per minute, these living machines were unrivaled in their destructive power. Connected to the divine dimension known as Paths, these Type-10 SPAAGs were granted access to practically limitless ammunition. Through this divine link, the living machines could continuously replenish their arsenal, ensuring a sustained and unyielding defense against the invading Tyranids.
As the air filled with deafening explosions and the acrid scent of burnt Tyranid flesh, the Type-10s unleashed a relentless barrage at the flying insects who sought to dismantle their defenses. Countless Tyranids were torn asunder by the fury of the 285mm shells, their fragmented remains forming a grotesque barrier between the invaders and the precious guns. The ground trembled beneath the weight of each shot, and the impact of the shells tore through the enemy ranks, ripping apart the bodies of the Tyranids in grotesque displays of gore. However, despite the mighty firepower of the Type-10s, the Tyranids persisted with their onslaught. Hundreds of fireballs plummeted towards the mechanical giants, threatening to overwhelm their defenses.
The air crackled with magic as the supporting mage corps unleashed their icy spells. Brilliant blue crystals bloomed in the sky, forming a shimmering dome over the defenders. The swirling winds and freezing temperatures turned the scorching fireballs of the Tyranids into harmless fragments of ice. It was a delicate dance between mage and warrior, the balance between shielding and safeguarding the Type-10s.
Durham's Titan form, towering at an impressive eighteen meters, led the charge. With swift, thunderous strides, he closed the distance between himself and the swarm of Tyranids. His colossal fists swung with a raw, primal force, smashing through the chitinous exoskeletons of the alien insects. He fought with the might of a Titan, crushing the relentless horde underfoot with each step.
But for every Tyranid that fell, it seemed that two more replaced it. They swarmed like locusts, gnashing their teeth and slashing their razor-sharp claws. Their corrosive venom dripped from their fangs, eating away at the very fabric of the city. The Titans stood firm, their impenetrable bodies a shield against the onslaught, but the strain was beginning to show.
Durham gritted his teeth, feeling the searing pain of countless blows against his titan form. His vision blurred with rage as he swung his massive fists, shattering the exoskeletons of several Tyranids at once. But their sheer numbers were overwhelming, and he knew that if they didn't find a way to turn the tide soon, Efnysien would fall.
A sudden tremor rumbled through the battlefield, tearing Durham's attention from the ongoing fight. A massive insectoid creature, larger and more monstrous than the rest, emerged from the Tyranid horde. Its carapace was thick, adorned with jagged spikes that dripped with acidic venom, and its bloodshot eyes glowed with a sinister intelligence.
"What foul beast is this?" Durham muttered to himself, his eyes widening in shock.
"It's a Hive Tyrant, my lord," a nearby soldier replied, his voice trembling. "One of their most fearsome leaders."
Displaying the six-limbed body configuration typical of Tyranids, Hive Tyrants are bipedal monstrosities which stand nearly twenty meter tall. They are covered in a tough, chitinous carapace which makes them very difficult to harm, let alone destroy, and their upper two pairs of limbs can be equipped with an astonishing variety of biomorphic enhancements: living cannon of varying designs, razor-sharp blades of bone, and long, tendril-like whips which secrete poisonous slime are all weapons which have been encountered fitted to rampaging Tyrants. In addition, they may also be engineered with biological upgrades which suit a particular situation, for example glands which produce a type of adrenaline closer to rocket fuel than any organic compound, acidic blood, or even vast, leathery wings.
The Hive Tyrant released a bone-chilling screech, a deafening call that reverberated through the airwaves, capturing the attention of its Tyranid brethren. Energized by the presence of their formidable leader, the Tyranids surged forward with an unprecedented fervor, their primal instinct driving them to annihilate anything in their path. The battle unfolded with a frenzy of violence as the Tyranid horde relentlessly pushed against the unyielding Testudo formation.
In the midst of this chaos, as the Hive Tyrant emerged from the teeming swarm, an intimidating figure that instilled terror in the hearts of Durham's soldiers, an unexpected twist of fate unfolded. A streak of vibrant light pierced through the air, hurtling towards its designated target with unparalleled speed and precision. The Storm Shadows hypersonic anti-ship missile, a fearsome weapon armed with a colossal 500kg warhead, struck its mark with unrivaled force, unleashing a devastating explosion that engulfed the monstrous creature in a cataclysmic display of power, reducing it to mere nothingness.
Durham stood awestruck, his senses overwhelmed by the magnitude of the explosion that consumed the Tyranid Hive Tyrant. The shockwave rippled through the Tyranid ranks, indiscriminately propelling bodies into the sky, as if they were insignificant playthings tossed aside by a malevolent force. The surviving Tyranids found themselves momentarily halted in their tracks, their relentless momentum abruptly disrupted, their instinctual unity shattered. Panic rapidly set in, transforming the once cohesively advancing horde into a disjointed and disoriented scattering of alien creatures.
Durham, caught between amazement and disbelief, slowly turned his gaze towards the source of this unanticipated salvation. The residual smoke from the detonation gradually dissipated, unveiling a surreal sight on the distant horizon. Emerging from the sun-kissed waters of the tropical expanse was an enigmatic vessel of colossal proportions, like nothing Durham had ever witnessed before. Its sleek and gleaming metallic structure reflected the sunlight, almost blinding in its brilliance. Adorned with the emblem of the Franco-British Union, a symbol of unknown significance to the people of Falmart, the behemoth ship exuded an aura of intrigue and mystery, beckoning curiosity and demanding attention.
As the initial bewilderment settled among Durham's troops, their collective focus once again redirected towards the remnants of the Tyranid menace. They swiftly regained their composure, the memory of the annihilating missile strike imbuing them with a renewed sense of purpose and resilience. The unforeseen intervention had undeniably altered the course of the battle, injecting newfound hope and vigor into the ranks of Lloegyr soldiers. Emboldened by this extraordinary turn of events, they rekindled their fighting spirit and surged ahead, determined to confront the Tyranids head-on.
In the midst of the escalating pandemonium, Captain Adrian Murdock, aboard the flagship of the Franco-British fleet, intently observed the unfolding chaos beneath him. His eyes transfixed on the awe-inspiring sight of the Pathians, mere mortals who had undergone an unparalleled metamorphosis, their bodies transformed into towering Titans – beings that now stood as physical manifestations of their profound connection to the divine Paths. The raw power they wielded surpassed imagination, akin to the legendary gods of ancient lore.
Captain Murdock's admiration for the immense capabilities of the Pathians was accompanied by a lingering concern. While the titanic beings demonstrated remarkable strength and resilience, they appeared ill-prepared to counter the relentless onslaught of the Tyranid menace. The horrifying prowess and destructive capabilities of these colossal insects were undeniable, and it was uncertain whether the towering Titans could single-handedly repel such an unyielding and savage force.
"Magnificent... and yet fragile," Captain Murdock murmured to himself, the words hanging in the air, laden with mixed emotions.
Interrupting his thoughts, a crackling voice penetrated the ship's communication system. "Captain, we have received a transmission from headquarters," the operator reported, urgency lacing their tone. "They have instructed us to maintain our current position and refrain from further interference in the conflict."
Captain Murdock sighed, his disappointment evident. The directive from higher authorities was clear – their mission entailed the covert gathering of information, remaining observers in this foreign realm of turmoil and chaos. Despite the tantalizing urge to decisively intervene, Murdock and his crew were bound to silence, their role reduced to mere witnesses in the face of a cataclysmic clash that could shape the fate of worlds.