31 OCTOBER, 2569
23:03:11
“They were warned,” Tom Zarek's holo said to some rando on the Alliance's Net, as, in the background, patriots, beat, burned, raped, murdered and multilated their way through a protest on the bloofy steps of the Alliance Forum Builfing on Atlantis.
“We made it clear our revolution would be bloodless only if the Right allowed it, only if they submitted peacefully to the rule of true, sovereign, living men, made white and pure by the Emperor's Light.”
“Admiral,” Haggerty's holo said via BCI,”we're five minutes from the Romulan border. We continue to remain unchallenged.”
“Acknowledged,” Benedict replied, rising from the wardroom sofa,”Continue scanning for cloaked vessels, bring all Vipers and Sagittarai to five-minute alert. I'm on my way to CIC.”
With that, he walked to the hatchway communicating with Mes Culpa's command center, and stepped through to the red-lit space, eyes on the DRIAD repeater now showing the line denoting the boundary between Klingon and Romulan space, that line being approximately 9.5 petamiles wide.
The combat air patrol were already crossing that line, the CAP fighters continuing to maintain comm silence, same as the rest of the ships under Benedict's command.
“Crossing Romulan-Klingon border now, Admiral, the quartermaster announced, as Mea Culpa led the formation's capital platforms over the line, on vector for Romulan space.
“Artificial singularities,” thhe DRIAD operator reported,”tree-niner-zera-zera, zera by five, two-five petamiles beyond the Romulan border; hostile are in two lines, six-two kilomiles apart.”
Benedict nodded, seeing this for himself on the DRIAD repeater, two lines of cloaked enemy vessels.
And several thousand capital platforms, attacj craft, and fighters, blacked down, and holding position nearly 186,000 miles downrange of the two Romulan lines.
“Quartermaster,” Benedict ordered,”alter vec zera by tree, maintain max av; Master Commandant, launch all fighters, Signals, relay my orders to the rest of our ships.”
31 OCTOBER, Y169
23:05:12
Thought Admiral Prince Krenn epetai-Rustazh held his position as Security Minister through acombination of competence and sheer force of will, rather than political acumen and toadying loyalty to Kowron at the Empire's expense.
Which was fortunate for him, as those incompetents installed by Kowron, those who'd put themselves above the Komerex Klin, to the near-ruination of the latter, now shared their political master's fatw of slow seath by slow torture.
As Minister of Security, Prince Krenn oversaw all the mutally-competing police and intelligence services within the Empire, and somehow, contrived to have them working together for the good of the Empire, and Kharn himself.
He approached his kitumba, seated at the center of the yelloe-lit of the A12 dreadnaught IKV Death Angel, and bowed low.
“My Prince?” Kharn prompted.
Krenn faced his Sacred Lord, looking him in the eye, as a Klingon should, and reported,”our operative is leading the Frieslander fleet to Justinia. She assures us the way will be laid bare for our forces.”
Kharn nodded, studying Death Angel's tactical holotank...two thousand Klingon warships, plus tebs of thousands of fighters and attack ships, crossed the border into Rom space, max Q-factor, fully prepared to unleash devastation on Justinia's starbase, orbital facilities, ships and the planet itself.
For that endeavor, Kharn had at his disposal the 1,000 or surviving warsgips of the Western Fleet, the six hundred surviving warships of Home Fleet, the as yet unblooded household forces of the families Mogh and Walkuria—2,880 warships in total—plus another seven hundred Internal Security Force vessels pressed into service with the Deep Space Fleet, everything from G1Is,, E3Is, F5, F6, and F7Is to modernized D7Is, along with five hundred tugs and light tactical transports carrying a mix of battle pods, carrier and attack ship pods, and troop transport pods.
In other words, everything Khatn could muster that was not needed to hold the Earthers at bay, or sent to intercept the Rom star legion that had violatted Klingon Imperial space.
“In Rom space, my kitumba,” the helm reported.”Closing Justinia system, max Q-factor.”
“Have we been detected?” Krenn asked, the sensor operation replying, at once,”no, my Prince,” as the yellow giant star round which Justinia orbited loomer larger in the center of the main holotank.
It was said the Roms colonized Justinia first, in their long flight across the galaxy 4,500 years ago.
If so, taking that world would be a symbolic, as well as a practical victory for Kharn's Empire.
“My lords,” the senspr operator reported,”a force of 2,880 starships entering the Justania system, nine-zero mark zero, fifteen trillion kellikams downrange.”
“That,” Krenn remarked,”would be our friends.
Everything, according to plan, so far, my kitumba.”
304-69M2
23:05:41
“Everything, according to plan,” said Warmaster of the Fleet Hermes Nagala to himself, as the Leviathan-battlestar Tian Lung led the First and Second Solar Fleets toward Necromunda, now held only by a single, badly-battered fleet of Xenos scum and an equally-battered battlestar group of foaming at the mouth radical Right Polythiestic traitors and heretics, to whom Nagala's 2,880 battlestars would bring fire, death, and eternal damnation in the bowels of the Warp, where they would be raped, repeatedly and forever, with big, firey demon dicks.
That thought, of Servitors and lesser Humans stripped naked of all self-deception, chained strappado, and raped forever and ever with the blazing instruments of the Emperor's Divine Mery, like in the mural by Hieronymous Angelos decorating the ceiling of the Temple's main chapel in New Delphi, warmed the Warmaster of the Fleet as much, as the hundred-year old ambrosia he sipped, while watching the Net in his quarters.
“--gave them a choice,” Zarek assured Henry Greene, a prominent Redeemptionist chaplin with a massive congregation, both on- and offline,”between submission to those the Emperor Himself had set in authority over all Servitors and lesser Humans, at the beginning of Creation, or heresy and rebellion against Him.”
In the background, several vigilance committees converged on the violent protesters staging an insurrection on the steps of the Forum, and adminitered extreme accountibility and righteous indignation to all of the apes, monkeys, Servitors and demons pretending to be Human and demanding they'd be given rights.
“And,” remarked Green,”they freely chose heresy, rebellion, sexual uimmorality, and wrong thinking, and, they are paying the sin price,” the patriots hog-tied and black bagged many of these violent radical Right psychopaths, organizing them in a pile for teleportation to deliverance centers, after administering extreme accountibility,”reaping exactly what the harvest they've sown for themselves, both in this kife, and in the life to come, when the Emperor condemns them all to howling and wailing in the Warp, as they are raped, repeatedly, dor ever and ever, by big, firey, demon dicks.”
Nagala's mind flashed to the mural, to Bill Adama's blonde slut receiving righteous judgement from her lords and masters, and it made the Warmaster of the Fleet almost hard enough to burst then and there.
He focussed on the viewslate in front of him, showing the DRADIS display in CIC, the icons of the badly-mishandled BSG42, and the half-strength fleet of Rimmer Xenos scum, the latter being of no consequence to true Human males, made white and pure as snow by the Emperor's Light radiating through ever pore, ever fiber of their being.
Soon.
Any moment now, the call would come from Captain Tolen in CIC, and judgement, at Nagala's hands, would begin.
And, once he'd redeemed Necromunda for his race and his Emperor, Nagala would move onto Ragnar Anchorage itself, to cleane his Alliance of heretics, Servitors and Xenos scum once and for all, before crossing the Red Line in force, Humanity united and standing strong behind him, as he redeemed all the worlds of his Emperor's Creation, and took back Holy Terra itself.
Just as Scripture, written in the hearts of every true Human, said would come to pass.
“Warmaster,” Tolen's voice said over the wireless,”we are approaching Crone's heliosphere.
“Very good, Captain,” Nagala said, as he rose from his seat, straightened a uniform proudly bearing the many medals he'd earned in service to his race, his Emperor.
“I'm on my way.”
23:03:11
“They were warned,” Tom Zarek's holo said to some rando on the Alliance's Net, as, in the background, patriots, beat, burned, raped, murdered and multilated their way through a protest on the bloofy steps of the Alliance Forum Builfing on Atlantis.
“We made it clear our revolution would be bloodless only if the Right allowed it, only if they submitted peacefully to the rule of true, sovereign, living men, made white and pure by the Emperor's Light.”
“Admiral,” Haggerty's holo said via BCI,”we're five minutes from the Romulan border. We continue to remain unchallenged.”
“Acknowledged,” Benedict replied, rising from the wardroom sofa,”Continue scanning for cloaked vessels, bring all Vipers and Sagittarai to five-minute alert. I'm on my way to CIC.”
With that, he walked to the hatchway communicating with Mes Culpa's command center, and stepped through to the red-lit space, eyes on the DRIAD repeater now showing the line denoting the boundary between Klingon and Romulan space, that line being approximately 9.5 petamiles wide.
The combat air patrol were already crossing that line, the CAP fighters continuing to maintain comm silence, same as the rest of the ships under Benedict's command.
“Crossing Romulan-Klingon border now, Admiral, the quartermaster announced, as Mea Culpa led the formation's capital platforms over the line, on vector for Romulan space.
“Artificial singularities,” thhe DRIAD operator reported,”tree-niner-zera-zera, zera by five, two-five petamiles beyond the Romulan border; hostile are in two lines, six-two kilomiles apart.”
Benedict nodded, seeing this for himself on the DRIAD repeater, two lines of cloaked enemy vessels.
And several thousand capital platforms, attacj craft, and fighters, blacked down, and holding position nearly 186,000 miles downrange of the two Romulan lines.
“Quartermaster,” Benedict ordered,”alter vec zera by tree, maintain max av; Master Commandant, launch all fighters, Signals, relay my orders to the rest of our ships.”
31 OCTOBER, Y169
23:05:12
Thought Admiral Prince Krenn epetai-Rustazh held his position as Security Minister through acombination of competence and sheer force of will, rather than political acumen and toadying loyalty to Kowron at the Empire's expense.
Which was fortunate for him, as those incompetents installed by Kowron, those who'd put themselves above the Komerex Klin, to the near-ruination of the latter, now shared their political master's fatw of slow seath by slow torture.
As Minister of Security, Prince Krenn oversaw all the mutally-competing police and intelligence services within the Empire, and somehow, contrived to have them working together for the good of the Empire, and Kharn himself.
He approached his kitumba, seated at the center of the yelloe-lit of the A12 dreadnaught IKV Death Angel, and bowed low.
“My Prince?” Kharn prompted.
Krenn faced his Sacred Lord, looking him in the eye, as a Klingon should, and reported,”our operative is leading the Frieslander fleet to Justinia. She assures us the way will be laid bare for our forces.”
Kharn nodded, studying Death Angel's tactical holotank...two thousand Klingon warships, plus tebs of thousands of fighters and attack ships, crossed the border into Rom space, max Q-factor, fully prepared to unleash devastation on Justinia's starbase, orbital facilities, ships and the planet itself.
For that endeavor, Kharn had at his disposal the 1,000 or surviving warsgips of the Western Fleet, the six hundred surviving warships of Home Fleet, the as yet unblooded household forces of the families Mogh and Walkuria—2,880 warships in total—plus another seven hundred Internal Security Force vessels pressed into service with the Deep Space Fleet, everything from G1Is,, E3Is, F5, F6, and F7Is to modernized D7Is, along with five hundred tugs and light tactical transports carrying a mix of battle pods, carrier and attack ship pods, and troop transport pods.
In other words, everything Khatn could muster that was not needed to hold the Earthers at bay, or sent to intercept the Rom star legion that had violatted Klingon Imperial space.
“In Rom space, my kitumba,” the helm reported.”Closing Justinia system, max Q-factor.”
“Have we been detected?” Krenn asked, the sensor operation replying, at once,”no, my Prince,” as the yellow giant star round which Justinia orbited loomer larger in the center of the main holotank.
It was said the Roms colonized Justinia first, in their long flight across the galaxy 4,500 years ago.
If so, taking that world would be a symbolic, as well as a practical victory for Kharn's Empire.
“My lords,” the senspr operator reported,”a force of 2,880 starships entering the Justania system, nine-zero mark zero, fifteen trillion kellikams downrange.”
“That,” Krenn remarked,”would be our friends.
Everything, according to plan, so far, my kitumba.”
304-69M2
23:05:41
“Everything, according to plan,” said Warmaster of the Fleet Hermes Nagala to himself, as the Leviathan-battlestar Tian Lung led the First and Second Solar Fleets toward Necromunda, now held only by a single, badly-battered fleet of Xenos scum and an equally-battered battlestar group of foaming at the mouth radical Right Polythiestic traitors and heretics, to whom Nagala's 2,880 battlestars would bring fire, death, and eternal damnation in the bowels of the Warp, where they would be raped, repeatedly and forever, with big, firey demon dicks.
That thought, of Servitors and lesser Humans stripped naked of all self-deception, chained strappado, and raped forever and ever with the blazing instruments of the Emperor's Divine Mery, like in the mural by Hieronymous Angelos decorating the ceiling of the Temple's main chapel in New Delphi, warmed the Warmaster of the Fleet as much, as the hundred-year old ambrosia he sipped, while watching the Net in his quarters.
“--gave them a choice,” Zarek assured Henry Greene, a prominent Redeemptionist chaplin with a massive congregation, both on- and offline,”between submission to those the Emperor Himself had set in authority over all Servitors and lesser Humans, at the beginning of Creation, or heresy and rebellion against Him.”
In the background, several vigilance committees converged on the violent protesters staging an insurrection on the steps of the Forum, and adminitered extreme accountibility and righteous indignation to all of the apes, monkeys, Servitors and demons pretending to be Human and demanding they'd be given rights.
“And,” remarked Green,”they freely chose heresy, rebellion, sexual uimmorality, and wrong thinking, and, they are paying the sin price,” the patriots hog-tied and black bagged many of these violent radical Right psychopaths, organizing them in a pile for teleportation to deliverance centers, after administering extreme accountibility,”reaping exactly what the harvest they've sown for themselves, both in this kife, and in the life to come, when the Emperor condemns them all to howling and wailing in the Warp, as they are raped, repeatedly, dor ever and ever, by big, firey, demon dicks.”
Nagala's mind flashed to the mural, to Bill Adama's blonde slut receiving righteous judgement from her lords and masters, and it made the Warmaster of the Fleet almost hard enough to burst then and there.
He focussed on the viewslate in front of him, showing the DRADIS display in CIC, the icons of the badly-mishandled BSG42, and the half-strength fleet of Rimmer Xenos scum, the latter being of no consequence to true Human males, made white and pure as snow by the Emperor's Light radiating through ever pore, ever fiber of their being.
Soon.
Any moment now, the call would come from Captain Tolen in CIC, and judgement, at Nagala's hands, would begin.
And, once he'd redeemed Necromunda for his race and his Emperor, Nagala would move onto Ragnar Anchorage itself, to cleane his Alliance of heretics, Servitors and Xenos scum once and for all, before crossing the Red Line in force, Humanity united and standing strong behind him, as he redeemed all the worlds of his Emperor's Creation, and took back Holy Terra itself.
Just as Scripture, written in the hearts of every true Human, said would come to pass.
“Warmaster,” Tolen's voice said over the wireless,”we are approaching Crone's heliosphere.
“Very good, Captain,” Nagala said, as he rose from his seat, straightened a uniform proudly bearing the many medals he'd earned in service to his race, his Emperor.
“I'm on my way.”
Statistics: Posted by WillDexter — 2024-07-11 11:10am