Mr Zoat
Dedicated ragequitter
- Joined
- Dec 1, 2016
- Messages
- 16,061
- Likes received
- 823,398
29th November
19:33 GMT -6
"Not that I am in any sense complaining-" Admiral Oswin gives me a look of mild curiosity. "-but is there any particular reason for this change of heart?"
I lean back in the 'important visitor' chair on the balcony overlooking his flagship's bridge. I wonder if this is just how big this sort of chair always is, or if he had it upgraded just for this occasion? Can't see any wear…
"I was distracted by home affairs." I shrug. "With the psions bottled up, the situation on Karna and the anti-pirate crusade, it didn't seem urgent… But I had a chat with Princess Komand'r and she made it clear that she -and Tamaran- want this campaign completed." He nods. "I do hope that I haven't thrown your own plans into any sort of turmoil."
"I.. would probably have sought to tie you down to a date before New Year, Kranaltine time. We have laws about leaving Fleet Admirals out in the field for too long."
"They think you need a break? I'm sure that Tamaran would be happy to offer you hospitality and shore leave."
"I'm sure they would, but no." He smiles. "The law is in place to prevent Admirals building up an independent base of support with which to threaten the Crown. It wouldn't be an actual problem, but there's a…" He makes a circling motion with his right hand. "A certain poetry to being finished at that point."
"You have plans?"
"A.. gradual transition from war admiral to administrative admiral… And then hopefully dominion over one of our new colonies. With a.. title to match, naturally."
"No desire to stay in harness?"
"And do what? There aren't any other foes in this region to win acclaim against, not at the level of Fleet Admiral. And I certainly don't want Her Majesty to have time to forget about me."
"You're not concerned about the Spider Guild?"
"If they could bring a fleet to bear now, certainly. But given the amount of time our analysts believe it will take them, I'm perfectly happy to take a back seat and let some other young buck lead the defence. I assume that we can rely on Tamaranean cooperation in that fight?"
I nod. "Barring something truly bizarre happening. We should.. probably talk to the Queen and her Cabinet about future cooperation at some point… Get a few things down on paper."
"As long as you don't mind it being after New Year. That sort of discussion is best conducted when the celebratory hangovers have had a chance to wear off."
"Whenever you think best. I'm perfectly-."
The small hologram generator in front of us activates, the bust of the ship's flag captain appearing. "Admiral? My Lord Lantern? All ships report ready."
Oswin smirks, bowing his head slightly. "Think they're expecting us?"
I nod. "At this point I suspect that us turning up will be more of a relief than anything." I stand, nodding to the image. "Thank you, Captain. I'll get started right away. We should be finished by the time you arrive."
He nods formally. "Good hunting."
"Mother Box, hush tube."
"Ping."
I step through the portal, appearing at the very edge of the Wombworld's defence zone. The psions haven't exactly been lazy as their few remaining allies were hunted down and exterminated like the vermin they are, but they appear not to have wanted to be too overt in case that's what sets us off. I can see new weapon platforms, interdiction field and a.. defence fleet. Such as it is. The psions were never ones for risking their own necks if they could get someone else to do it for them, but they were never stupid enough to have no power projection.
Interestingly, no one else who used to be on the Citadelian side retreated here. Can't imagine why not.
I raise my left fist to my mouth. "First Lantern Grayven to the Orange Lantern Corps. One last obstacle lies between us and the liberation of Vega. Our job is to ensure that the combined fleet can bombard the place unopposed. Resistance will be stiffer than what the Citadel was able to provide, but you're all a good deal more skilled than you were back then. I have every confidence in your abilities."
I generate a singularity beam construct.
"Attack on my signal."
I aim at the nearest defence station, remembering everything I've learned about psion history and culture from Vegan and Crown Imperium archives. I can't really castigate them in absolute terms -compared to Apokolips they're positively small potatoes- but they have done enough to the people I now call mine to justify everything we're about to do to them.
Fire.
Immediately an area of space twenty centimetres across and millions of miles long gains a gravitational attractiveness equal to the event horizon of a black hole. The platform I targeted shudders and snaps as its gravitational control system is effortlessly overloaded, falling into two parts as I turn my weapon towards the planet.
Alert. Enemy countermeasures detected.
Graviton manipulation isn't a psion speciality, but when someone starts pointing a weapon like this at you, you learn to solve the equation very quickly. I've barely gone more than a couple of degrees before the beam fades out, but that's fine.
Ping.
Throughout the system my Lanterns are flying through hush tubes into and around psion defence systems. Already I can see flashes of orange, both from their constructs and from the burning atmospheres of those platforms which until a few moments ago had living crew.
"Gravyen to psion Wombworld. I request contact with whoever down there is authorised to issue a general surrender."
"You will be neither the first nor the last Lantern we have killed."
"I thought you might say that. So I'm not going to bullshit you by saying that when we win we'll leave a significant proportion of you alive or anything dishonest like that."
Ping.
"But we don't have to render you entirely extinct. We're prepared to accept any of your neonates who are no more than halfway through your indoctrination process. They will be apprenticed to the Controllers, who will take responsibility for teaching them not to be heartless blights upon the universe like you were. And who knows? Given enough time they might even learn to access the emotional spectrum. And you people were basically the maltusians' pets anyway."
Lantern deceased.
No, don't bother notifying me unless the fatalities reach ten percent. I knew there'd be deaths here, but… It's got to be done.
"Deranged alien, you will never take the Wombworld."
"As you will." Ring, cut communication with their command, and open a link to their crèche.
By your command.
Play them that exchange.
By your command.
In near-Wombworld space, the psions' last line is collapsing. But I won't say they're not giving it their all. Construct-defying shields flare into being, protecting spaceborne citadels for a few moments before hush tubes open to their interiors. That tactic is immediately abandoned throughout the battle zone in favour of using those shields to hem Lanterns in so they can be shot. That works a little better, but it swiftly becomes apparent that whatever their intellectual abilities they have no good counter to widespread hush tube use.
Exchange replayed.
I nod to myself. "Hello, lads. Remember me?"
"Y-yeah..?"
Space shudders as the Crown Imperium's fleet jumps in, swiftly followed by the few Tamaranean and Karnan ships that were available to take part.
"How would you like to be the last adults of your species left alive?"
19:33 GMT -6
"Not that I am in any sense complaining-" Admiral Oswin gives me a look of mild curiosity. "-but is there any particular reason for this change of heart?"
I lean back in the 'important visitor' chair on the balcony overlooking his flagship's bridge. I wonder if this is just how big this sort of chair always is, or if he had it upgraded just for this occasion? Can't see any wear…
"I was distracted by home affairs." I shrug. "With the psions bottled up, the situation on Karna and the anti-pirate crusade, it didn't seem urgent… But I had a chat with Princess Komand'r and she made it clear that she -and Tamaran- want this campaign completed." He nods. "I do hope that I haven't thrown your own plans into any sort of turmoil."
"I.. would probably have sought to tie you down to a date before New Year, Kranaltine time. We have laws about leaving Fleet Admirals out in the field for too long."
"They think you need a break? I'm sure that Tamaran would be happy to offer you hospitality and shore leave."
"I'm sure they would, but no." He smiles. "The law is in place to prevent Admirals building up an independent base of support with which to threaten the Crown. It wouldn't be an actual problem, but there's a…" He makes a circling motion with his right hand. "A certain poetry to being finished at that point."
"You have plans?"
"A.. gradual transition from war admiral to administrative admiral… And then hopefully dominion over one of our new colonies. With a.. title to match, naturally."
"No desire to stay in harness?"
"And do what? There aren't any other foes in this region to win acclaim against, not at the level of Fleet Admiral. And I certainly don't want Her Majesty to have time to forget about me."
"You're not concerned about the Spider Guild?"
"If they could bring a fleet to bear now, certainly. But given the amount of time our analysts believe it will take them, I'm perfectly happy to take a back seat and let some other young buck lead the defence. I assume that we can rely on Tamaranean cooperation in that fight?"
I nod. "Barring something truly bizarre happening. We should.. probably talk to the Queen and her Cabinet about future cooperation at some point… Get a few things down on paper."
"As long as you don't mind it being after New Year. That sort of discussion is best conducted when the celebratory hangovers have had a chance to wear off."
"Whenever you think best. I'm perfectly-."
The small hologram generator in front of us activates, the bust of the ship's flag captain appearing. "Admiral? My Lord Lantern? All ships report ready."
Oswin smirks, bowing his head slightly. "Think they're expecting us?"
I nod. "At this point I suspect that us turning up will be more of a relief than anything." I stand, nodding to the image. "Thank you, Captain. I'll get started right away. We should be finished by the time you arrive."
He nods formally. "Good hunting."
"Mother Box, hush tube."
"Ping."
I step through the portal, appearing at the very edge of the Wombworld's defence zone. The psions haven't exactly been lazy as their few remaining allies were hunted down and exterminated like the vermin they are, but they appear not to have wanted to be too overt in case that's what sets us off. I can see new weapon platforms, interdiction field and a.. defence fleet. Such as it is. The psions were never ones for risking their own necks if they could get someone else to do it for them, but they were never stupid enough to have no power projection.
Interestingly, no one else who used to be on the Citadelian side retreated here. Can't imagine why not.
I raise my left fist to my mouth. "First Lantern Grayven to the Orange Lantern Corps. One last obstacle lies between us and the liberation of Vega. Our job is to ensure that the combined fleet can bombard the place unopposed. Resistance will be stiffer than what the Citadel was able to provide, but you're all a good deal more skilled than you were back then. I have every confidence in your abilities."
I generate a singularity beam construct.
"Attack on my signal."
I aim at the nearest defence station, remembering everything I've learned about psion history and culture from Vegan and Crown Imperium archives. I can't really castigate them in absolute terms -compared to Apokolips they're positively small potatoes- but they have done enough to the people I now call mine to justify everything we're about to do to them.
Fire.
Immediately an area of space twenty centimetres across and millions of miles long gains a gravitational attractiveness equal to the event horizon of a black hole. The platform I targeted shudders and snaps as its gravitational control system is effortlessly overloaded, falling into two parts as I turn my weapon towards the planet.
Alert. Enemy countermeasures detected.
Graviton manipulation isn't a psion speciality, but when someone starts pointing a weapon like this at you, you learn to solve the equation very quickly. I've barely gone more than a couple of degrees before the beam fades out, but that's fine.
Ping.
Throughout the system my Lanterns are flying through hush tubes into and around psion defence systems. Already I can see flashes of orange, both from their constructs and from the burning atmospheres of those platforms which until a few moments ago had living crew.
"Gravyen to psion Wombworld. I request contact with whoever down there is authorised to issue a general surrender."
"You will be neither the first nor the last Lantern we have killed."
"I thought you might say that. So I'm not going to bullshit you by saying that when we win we'll leave a significant proportion of you alive or anything dishonest like that."
Ping.
"But we don't have to render you entirely extinct. We're prepared to accept any of your neonates who are no more than halfway through your indoctrination process. They will be apprenticed to the Controllers, who will take responsibility for teaching them not to be heartless blights upon the universe like you were. And who knows? Given enough time they might even learn to access the emotional spectrum. And you people were basically the maltusians' pets anyway."
Lantern deceased.
No, don't bother notifying me unless the fatalities reach ten percent. I knew there'd be deaths here, but… It's got to be done.
"Deranged alien, you will never take the Wombworld."
"As you will." Ring, cut communication with their command, and open a link to their crèche.
By your command.
Play them that exchange.
By your command.
In near-Wombworld space, the psions' last line is collapsing. But I won't say they're not giving it their all. Construct-defying shields flare into being, protecting spaceborne citadels for a few moments before hush tubes open to their interiors. That tactic is immediately abandoned throughout the battle zone in favour of using those shields to hem Lanterns in so they can be shot. That works a little better, but it swiftly becomes apparent that whatever their intellectual abilities they have no good counter to widespread hush tube use.
Exchange replayed.
I nod to myself. "Hello, lads. Remember me?"
"Y-yeah..?"
Space shudders as the Crown Imperium's fleet jumps in, swiftly followed by the few Tamaranean and Karnan ships that were available to take part.
"How would you like to be the last adults of your species left alive?"
Last edited: