Re: THE SONS OF LIBERTY

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

A massive starship suddenly drops out of warp. It's crimson markings and huge weapons (comparatively) identify it as a PXE warship. It is a Capricorn Class Heavy Cruiser. The heavy cruiser is trailed by several other ships. These are also quickly identified, especially by their distinctively large missiles. Several ships suddenly appear behind your fleet, these identified as the Lyra Class Corvette.

Your forces quickly prepare for battle, unknowing of whether you will fight you or join you. The ShockER Frigates, Delta 073.1.1, the PXS Shrouded Abyss prepares its ShockER cannon, as you pick up high electrical readings.

Someone from the lead Capricorn, Charlie 073.1.1, hails you. He is identified as Captain Jay Axal, a veteran of the PXE's Navy, and leader of the 73rd Fleet, an elite PXE fleet. Another lifeform is identified as Major General Yke Gkal, commanding the 73rd Division.

OOC:

This will fit in eventually...I hope...

JSYK, the PXE wants you to know who these people/ships are.

Darn, what was I going to say...

End OOC

[Andre TholvelCEO]

*a formidable Wrangler MkIII-class frigate drops out of hyperspace near the Sons of Liberty and PXE fleets, several hundred kilometers out and in view of both sides of the standoff. The ship, bearing an IFS tag and identified as the IFS Titania, hails the nearest SoL starship, requesting a signal transfer to the commander in charge of the fleet*

*seeing the ships possibly maneuvering for a battle, the Titania lights itself up as Neutral, a white marking on everyone's battle screens, while turning away from the field, ready to fly at any moment*

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC The BorD strike again! They first showed up in the Indomitable description, now here! we're doomed. End OOC

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

OOC But legit, I'm working on a Bord Plank. End OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

Commander Turson is sitting in the captain's chair on the bridge, nervously eying the newly-encountered PXE ships and giving various orders to raise the shields and prepare the weapons, when one of his communications officers speaks up.

"Sir," says she. "The Capricorn is hailing us, and so is the Titania."

"Pipe the Capricorn in first," says Turson. "The Titania is neutral and will do us no harm...she is one of Daragon's ships. The Capricorn, on the other hand...well, just pipe her in, lieutenant."

"This is Commander Turson of the Phoenix Command Group. Who are you and what is your purpose here?"


OOC: Dino, I LOVE your subplot!!!! End OOC

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC:
Yep, ditto with Scare about your subplot Dino. I think thats what I was going to say earlier...
End OOC

You watch as you pick up energy level spikes from all of the PXE vessels, indicating that the PXE's weapons are ready to fire.

Captain Jay Axal and Major General Yke Gkal appear on screen.

"This is Captain Axal of the PXE Navy's 73rd Fleet. If you-"

He is cut off by Major General Yke Gkal. You can tell that a silent exchange of information has taken place, as shown by their gestures. Gkal takes over in speaking.

"This is Major General Gkal of the PXE's 73rd Division. We have...arrived at this location...under certain...orders. The PXE has been alerted of this...Sons of Liberty *speaking with some anxiety and almost annoyance*. Phoenix Engineering has decided to aid the Sons of Liberty in their assault against Rator III."

However, even as he speaks these very words, the PXE's weapons do not power down. Alarms begin ringing throughout their ship. They have detected something else...coming out of warp...

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Johnnyred tenses as one of his officers informs him that the PXE ship was not powering down their weapons.

"What should we do, Captain?" Chuck Conway, the XO of Johnnyred's flagship asked. "Should we power our weapons up?"

Johnnyred remained thoughtful for a moment. "No." He replied. "All squadrons report to the hanger and stand by to launch. I want fighters on every catapult. Engineering, full power to deflectors. We won't cause them to fire, or fire the first shot ourselves, but we're sure as heck going to be ready for anything. Comms, open a secure line to Commander Turson."

After a vid monitor on the captain's command chair blinked to life, Johnnyred nodded at the image of the young commander. "Turson," he said. "Be careful, I don't trust these guys. Make sure the fleet's defenses are up. All pilots should be on stand by."

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

R.R.W. Alth'Indor Corridor 22:07, Day 2

    Vardok changed direction as he replied to T'nai.
    "Understood, doc. Is the situation under control down there? Are you in danger?" Commander S'ren didn't wait for a reply. He muted his end of the conversation with sickbay, and tapped a second channel open on his wrist-comm.
    "Security, send a team down to sickbay, our patient has been killed. I'll meet you down there." He closed the channel as soon as security confirmed that they were en route. Doctor T'nai's voice came over the comm again just after Vardok un-muted his own voice, his heart and feet pounding towards the turbolift; which he recalled to his deck with his personal, wrist mounted computer.  
    "Vardok! My sedated patient was just stabbed through the heart with a dagger! My back was turned and I have no idea who's responsible! The killer could be standing two meters away from me! And I think the security recording has been tampered with." Vardok kept running.
    "Doctor, is anyone currently pointing a weapon at you?" S'ren's booted feet flew down the corridor.
    "No. It could've be anyone." The turbolift was just ahead.
    "I suggest you arm yourself! And erect a force-field around yourself too, and whoever's on duty. I'm on my way, as is security. Have you seen Nora'dex's Reman thugs?" The turbolift doors opened and Vardok leapt the last three and a half meters, landing inside.
    "I already have my trusty hypospray filled with a fast acting sedative. I haven't seen them, or anything else." Commander S'ren pushed the button for the desired deck and took a couple seconds to breathe.
    "On my way T'nai, Vardok out."

    Commander S'ren commed security again.
    "Have you found those Remans yet?" He quarried as he drew his disruptor pistol and switched the safety off.
    "No sir, the level one scan failed to locate them. I'm conducting a level two security scan now, sir." Vardok checked the power-pack on his weapon. Good, full charge.
    "Blast it! Belay that scan. Take it up to level three, sub-protocol gamma-five. Focus on sickbay and the surrounding decks. If you can't find them there, move to engineering, armories, computer cores, transporter rooms, hanger, and jeffries tubes. If you haven't done it already, erect level nine forcefields around sickbay. I want those guards found. Now!" He ordered as he set his sidearm's power level to "kill." They're wearing some kind of body armor. Can't risk failing to stop an attacker. I'd rather take them alive; lot's of questions to be answered. Where would I go if I were them?
    "And have you figured out how they got a recording playing as a live security feed yet?" The turbolift came to a stop, and S'ren run out as soon as the doors opened.
    "No sir, there's something wrong with our systems. I think they may have planted a virus of some kind. That could be why they're evading our sensors." Blast it! A computer virus is the last thing I need to deal with.
   "Well, get the techies on it. We'll be going into battle in a matter of hours. Get it cleared up. Fast."

    Vardok's wrist comm blinked again. It was D'Avek. S'ren adjusted his grip on his disruptor as he ran so that he could answer.
    "What's going on D'Avek?" Vardok was getting close to sickbay and needed to finish this communication.
    "I was just going to ask you the same thing. I just got a silent red alert over my communicator. What's happening?" Vardok slowed as he neared sickbay. The murderer could be anywhere. I'd better keep my guard up.
    "We've been hacked. The Centurion patient has been killed. Murderer unknown. Reman guards are AWOL." He came to a junction and slowed to a walk. He held his weapon in the safe/ready position, both hands on his sidearm, arms out and bent at the elbow, disruptor angled slightly down. He checked to ensure that no one was waiting to put him in their crosshairs, and then continued carefully towards sickbay.
    "You still want to keep up this charade Vardok? Why not get the whole crew on this? Lock Nora'dex up and worry about him later? I'm ready to help find those guards." I don't have time for this. We need intel. I need to end this communication. I've got to find those Remans.
    "Yes. Keep Nora'dex down there and occupied. I need you to gather intel undercover up there. S'ren out." D'Avek is a good officer, and he means well, but I worked so much better with Tovan. I still miss him. Ah, there's the security detail, already at the sickbay door, good.

    "You two, stay out here, the rest of you with me. Computer, lower forcefield, authorization code S'ren-two-two-six-delta-tango-five-three-eight." The computer chirped in confirmation as it shut off the forcefield covering entrance to sickbay. Vardok took point, followed by six Romulan security officers.
   
    Commander S'ren and the Republic security forces stormed into sickbay and quickly moved to clear the room. Their weapons were out and ready to dispatch any threats they found.

    The doctor, and a nurse were under a forcefield, in the middle of the room. Doctor T'nai looked ready to utilize his hypospray to forcefully sedate anyone dangerous. Vardok would have found the sight amusing if he was not completely focused on the safety of his crew.  

    The six Romulan security detail and Commander S'ren split into three teams. Each moved out in a separate direction, working to clear sickbay of any hostile personnel.      
    One team moved to the right, checking behind the biobeds on that side of sickbay, and around the ICU where the "Centurion" still lay, dagger embedded in his heart. The rescued nurse was kneeling beside his biobed.
    Another group of two security personnel moved towards the back of sickbay, looking around tables of medical supplies, the operating table, and finally inside the large cabinets of medicine and equipment.
    The third team worked its way to the left side of sickbay, through more biobeds.
    "Starboard wing clear." The Sublieutenant commented.
    "Port section clear." Offered a Uhlan.
    "Aft section and cabinets clear, sir." Said the Lieutenant in command of the security detail.  
     
    Vardok turned his attention to Doctor T'nai's office. He motioned for his security forces to form up on him and move in on the room. The walked up to the open door carefully, then burst in ready to fire. But there was no need; the room was empty.
    "Computer, lower forcefield. Authorization S'ren two-two-six-delta-tango-five-three-eight. You can put the hypospray down now doctor, you're safe." Vardok said as he commed security again.
    "Commander S'ren here, sickbay's clear. You got anything? No? Keep looking. I'm going to try and find out what I can down here."

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC PXR- I'm pretty sure you're not supposed to, though I think they would let it stand in this instance. END OOC

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC
@Mighty: How do I delete posts. Also, @everyone else, IGNORE MY MOST RECENT POST!

Edit: Only reason why I did that was I had no idea what to say.

End OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

OOC to PXR: That's okay, chap. I'm a rookie at this, too, even though I'm the GM. I'll take care of the post for you. End OOC

Commander Turson nods quietly to Captain Johnnyred's image in the corner of the viewing screen, thus showing he has acknowledged his command. Grasping his belt buckle (a signal to the weapons officer at hand to relay Johnnyred's command to the rest of the fleet.

"Captain Axal and Major-General Yke Gkal," he politely addressed the figures on the screen. "Kindly reduce the power of your weaponry. We know your weapons are charged. If you mean us well, show us now by fulfilling my demand, and we shall be happy to continue discussion."

Turson looks at the weapons officer. The latter nods, signifying that fighters are at the ready, if necessary.

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC There should be an X in the top right, although I'm not sure that's necessary; we'll have to wait for Scare, as he *is* our GM. Next time, you should clear stuff with him first; otherwise, you're mainly just reacting to stuff that happens (at least, that's my understanding).

*EDIT- Just saw Scare's post; he summed it up pretty well.

END OOC

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC
@Scare: Lol, I'll try my best not to create any other major headaches (IRL only of course ) but I will in the RP!

Edit: @Tetra: I know, but there was no X for some reason. Does it disappear after a couple minutes? Or posts? I wanted to delete it, but couldn't.
End OOC

Captain Axal looks slightly stunned but quickly recovers. Major General Gkal shares the same expression but it disappears in less than a second. He taps something on the left side of his helmet with his thumb (all PXE officers, personnel, etc wear their helmets at all times ). He then uses his index finger to tap something else, but quickly withdraws his hand from the helmet.

Within moments, the energy spikes of all weapons in the PXE fleet dissipate.

Captain Axal, appearing to have composed himself, takes his place on the view screen. "We have now powered down our weapons, Commander Turson. We do not mean to harm you or your crew members. We stand down, sir."

OOC: Just so you know, the first and second paragraphs happen within seconds. Sorry if it was a bit long there. End OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

OOC: Guess what? Went to delete your post and found out that, irony of ironies, I don't have moderating powers in my own RPG!!!! But I've sent a message to the Council and ought to fix that soon. And don't worry about making a mistake. I'll make plenty myself in this RPG! End OOC

Commander Turson relaxes a little, and salutes casually.

"Many thanks, sirs," he says. "I have heard of your organization, and know enough about you to know that you have some very powerful ships. I do not know how you discovered our venture--" a troubled look washes across his face as the possibility of "traitor" continues to gnaw him "--but assuming your honesty, I must say the extra firepower would do us some good. But before I answer you concerning your offer of aid, let me consult my superior."

Turson signals for the communications officer to mute his dialogue with the PXE officers temporarily, and Johnnyred's image comes on the screen.

"What do you think, Captain?" he asks. "How could they have discovered our errand? I thought it was a secret...apparently not. Should we trust them? You know their reputation as fierce and well-equipped fighters. Is it worth the risk? Should we invite them aboard the Liberty to discuss matters? Surely the rest of their fleet would not fire upon us if we had two of their officers aboard one of our ships."

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC: @Scare: Two of my officers are on your ship?! How did that happen? No but seriously, they're still onboard the Capricorn...right? *gives a deliberate look at Scarecrow*

Edit: Misread your thing! Sorry Scare. Wait, I'm allowed to read that part, right? Sorry, I'm a n00b if you haven't figured out already.     End OOC

Captain Axal replies, "Acknowledged, sir." *returns salute* "If you believe we have secret contacts within your organization, you would be...incorrect in your assumption. But rumor has been spreading quite quickly of this...mission of yours. And PXE has its methods of information retrieval, far beyond its own borders. Perhaps you should be more...careful in your secrecy. PXE is not the only one who would find this information of value."

With a final salute, Axal leaves the viewscreen and the channel closes.

OOC: Is it okay like that? You alluded to a possible traitor, so I was hoping to play along. However, if this doesn't fit, just tell me. End OOC

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

Commander’s quarters, Aeranite Station, Sector 14, PCG space


  The silence was interrupted by the doorbell. It wasn’t one of those humming-noises most stations attempted to pass on as a doorbell; it was a proper bell sound. Of course, it had required some hotwiring to get it like that, not to mention in a way that wouldn’t trip the maintenance sensors, but the result was worth it.
  Lieutenant Commander Michael “Tetrahedron” Slokachev chuckled to himself. Sure, he thought, I’m a bit old-fashioned. What of it? It was a running joke among some officers that he could design a warp-30 capable fighter on two hours sleep, but felt pong was too “modern” for his tastes. Hmph, he thought, Maybe I should show’em I can, just to shut’em up. I spent enough time with that game when I was five an-

  Another ring broke his reverie. Slokachev jumped a little, then composed himself and called “Come in!”, wondering to himself if it was finally his appointment or if another President-loyal Fed ship captain had lost it and decided to take on the whole station by himself. He entertained the thought for a fleeting moment before his appointment came in.
  “Sir!” Brandon Wrightshede said, snapping a neat salute. Slokachev returned in kind and the two dropped the formality, greeting each other with a big handshake, quickly making small talk and discussing all the things two old friends discuss when they meet after a while. of separation
  It was strange; they had just seen each other four days ago, when Brandon’s ship, the PCG Hantā, had left on a regular patrol; but with the diplomatic crises looming, it felt like every day was a year. They both knew first-hand; it seemed like every hour, another Starfleet ship arrived, asking either for asylum or capitulation. Every day, the scale of the anarchy beginning to grip the Fed’s command structure was becoming more and more apparent.
  That’s why they were there. Both men were members of Task Force Jupiter, which had been assigned to protect Sector 14, home of many of the PCG’s most lucrative mining and nebula harvesting ventures- without which, the PCG’s economy would be dealt a serious blow. The sector was directly adjacent to Federation space, which traditionally was seen as a defensive advantage-at the time, it made it much easier to protect and police; but now that Starfleet was beginning the descent into anarchy, the region was becoming more turbulent and dangerous by the day.
  From a war planner’s perspective, moving TF Jupiter to the sector was a master move; it significantly bolstered the region's defences and put a relatively senior commander in a good position to strike into Federation space, should the need to dispose of the imposter-president the old-fashioned way arise. There was only one issue: the “senior commander” had no interest in guarding a couple of prospectors with little chance of seeing actual combat.
   With the formalities over and done with, the lieutenant commander offered his junior officer a seat, taking his own behind his desk. Tetrahedron placed his elbows on the desk and intertwined his fingers. “Now,” he began, “you may be wondering why I brought you here.” “May?” Wrightshede snickered. ”You’re not usually the one to call meetings for the small stuff.”
  The LC’s eyebrows furrowed, his voice hardening. “No,” he muttered, his voice hardening. “No...I’m not,” Wrightshede dropped his smile and stared as his superior officer got out of his chair and walked to the large viewing window. He stood there for a moment, his eyes glued outside, as if there was something terrible weighing down his mind and he couldn’t find the words to say it. Finally, he sighed and muttered “Beautiful view of the nebula from here.” Wrightshede glanced at the vista; indeed, the aqua-green blob covering much of the sky in that direction looked epic, almost erie; they were less than a lightyear away from an active stellar nursery. Silence again enveloped the room. Wrightshede hated silence like this, where there was nothing to focus on; it left his mind open to wander, and it never went where he thought it would- or wanted it to.
  “Funny,” Slokachev finally laughed quietly to himself, breaking the pause. “This view is the one complaint I have with my office- I can’t get any work done. I have my eyes on it all the time,”
  Wrightshede knew the only time The LC let his mind get caught on trivial stuff like a pretty view was when he wanted it to- because there was something he didn’t want to think about. If any more evidence had been required to prove something was amiss, that was it. “Sir,” Wrightshede burst in before the quietness could become entrenched again, “...if I may, why was it that you brought me here?...I... can tell it’s important.” Slokachev sighed. “Well, no more beating around the bush anymore, eh?” He sighed again, then got to the point.
  “I don’t suppose you’ve heard of the Sons of Liberty flotilla- have you?” “It’s the talk of the station,” Wrightshede replied, now on guard “Are they really going to just brazenly run into Romulan space and think they can get away with it?” “Going to?” The LC laughed, temporarily returning to his old self, his old voice, “They’ve already departed- several days ago. By now, they’re almost at Rator III. Now,”
  His voice hardened again, but this time to his commanding tone he usually adopted when briefing officers on their assignments, and turned on his heels to face his junior officer, slowly walking back to his desk, “I’d give up most anything to go join them- but the council themselves have me here protecting some…” he sat down and looked at a datapad on his desk “...dilithium deposits or whatever they’re digging up.” he glanced up, “But...those orders only apply to me, specifically. Given the circumstances, I’m sure the council wouldn’t mind if I sent a few ships- vessels just waiting, not already doing something- to… assist in their little Hail-Mary play.”
  He paused a moment for the gravity of his words to sink in. For a solid minute, Wrightshede‘s mind attempted to discern what all this meant. The answer, rather obvious in hindsight, hit him like a brick wall. “You want me to...lead this task force?”
“Indeed, I do.”
Brandon paused again, almost shocked at what his commander was saying. “But... Mike..” he finally sputtered, “I’ve... I’ve never had command of…of anything before!”
“Nonsense!” Slokachev laughed dismissively. “You’ve had the conn plenty of times when you were XO of the Robin...remember that?”
“Well, yes… but I always deferred to you on important matters, and you always were in command during combat,”
“And the Hugarah incident? I wasn’t there for that,”
  “That…” Brandon stopped mid-sentence, collecting his thoughts on his albatross around his neck, the anchor chained to his waist. “....my ship was destroyed at Hugarah… I was suspended for two weeks…” his voice trembled. It was an ordeal just remembering the event “And what about after that?” Slokachev replied, his voice raised and arms outstretched while simultaneously jumping up, out of his chair, as if he were about yelling Look at this! Think about it! “After that, huh? After that you got the Hantā, that’s what! You’re commanding that!” he finished his own question. He calmed down and plopped himself back in his chair. “Under my command…” Wrightshede finally replied, struggling to simply say the words, “...sixty four brave men and women died...died…at Hugarah.. sixty four! And it was all my fault!”
“And if you hadn’t assumed command, everyone would’ve died!” Tetrahedron shot back. There was silence as the two stared at each other, each attempting to slow his heartbeat.
“...Look,” Slokachev finally said when their breathing returned to normal, “I understand your concerns-” “I know, I know,” Brandon interrupted, sighing. “I… I accept command of your task force.”
  “Excellent.” Slokachev replied. He stood up again and walked into an adjacent room, motioning for Wrightshede to follow. The room was the commandant’s planning room, where strategies could be formulated most effectively. Since Aeranite Station primarily served as a central command-and-control facility, it was equipped with several of these, including one for the captain’s personal use.
Once inside, he commanded “Computer, boot up the tactical map for Aeranite and all supporting facilities,” Immediately, a three-dimensional map of every ship and station that comprised the outpost of which Aeranite was the center of was displayed over a large 10’x10’ command table. Each ship was seen moving in real time, and each object was labeled with it’s name and status.
  Wrightshede entered the room as Tetrahedron commanded “Computer, focus on Port 1B,” Immediately, the map panned and zoomed to Port 1B, one of the main receiving areas, containing docking rings, drydocks, and other vessel-support stations.
  “Well…. Acting Commandant,” Slokachev began, with a bit of a snicker at commandant, “I’ve already made all the preparations. Seeing as most of our frontline ships are tied up with border disputes and all the other operations we need to constantly run to keep this sector safe, you’ll have to...erm, settle...with some of our larger, more powerful ships,” and then sarcastically added “I’m sure you’re very upset about that,” For a brief moment, a grin crossed the newfound commandant’s face before he returned to the task at hand. “Boo-hoo,” he replied “Yes, I thought as much.” Tetra said. “Now, you’ll have command of the Vindex and the Bastion, currently docked her-”
  “What?!” Wrightshede interjected, sitting up like a pole in the seat he had taken opposite to his commander. “The Vindex?! But that’s your personal flagship!” “Do I look like I’m using it in here?” “Well, no, bu-” “Just don’t scratch the hull up too badly. Same with the Bastion; she just came out of spacedock after I led her into a nebula to chase a pirate a few months ago. I don’t want to have it kept away from me that long again. You hear?” Still somewhat recovering from the shock that his commander was having him take his two personal ships deep into Romulan space on what amounted to a suicide mission, he nodded and muttered an “uh-huh”. “Excellent,” Tetrahedron continued, not skipping a beat. “You’ll also have command of the Hantā, of course, and a Harmony-class we just finished retrofitting for combat duty- the Unity. The Vindex has it’s Apollos swapped out for Ambition fighters- I figured you’d need the air cover- and the Bastion’s spec-ops hangar is kitted out with two Knights and a Yersinia.”
  The Lieutenant Commander paused as Wrightshede examined and considered the options. Finally, the latter muttered “Well, it’s not exactly a lot…”
“It’s all I can spare. I can try to get you reinforcements, but don’t expect an early Christmas.”
“‘All you can spare’ is not enough to take a capital.”
“We’re not going to take the capital; just… have a little chat with their queen. At gunpoint. Think of it that way.”
“And who’s going to be staring down that gun?”
“If all goes well, her.”
“‘If all goes well’?”
“If you haven’t noticed, the plan is hardly foolproof.”
“Touché.”
  Wrightshede got up and walked over to the side of the display. “So where am I to meet up with the SoL task force?” “Well,” Slokachev replied, slightly embarrassed, “they… don’t exactly know you’re coming,”
“So they won’t be waiting for me?”
  “No; You’ll have to intercept them en route.” He sighed and walked over to Wrightshede. “If worst comes to worst… you’ll have to catch them at Rator III itself,” He muttered. “Oh, wonderful,” he grumbled in reply, “Right into action on my first fleet command after being captain of a starship for a grand total of two months.” Tetrahedron chuckled once more. “Don’t see it like that,” he advised. “See it as ‘once more into the breach,’” “Easy for you to say,” “Alas, that is true in this case. As I said, I’d love to be there with y-” Suddenly, an alarm rang, causing both officers to leap in surprise. In the hallway, a klaxon could be heard blaring. “That’s probably for me,” Slokachev said as he rushed out of the room, “Godspeed!”
   “Godspeed,” Wrightshede muttered back almost sarcastically as he settled back into staring at the three-dimensional projection.

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Johnnyred remains silent for a moment. "All pilots remain in their positions at the catapults. I want all Starquest personnel armed and prepared to repel boarders... or should I say, "receive special guests. I'm going to communicate with them now."

The main comm splits open, revealing Captain Johnnyred in full dress uniform (a sight quite uncommon) arms behind his back, with a stern look on his face. His eyes glared with a fire from behind his Aviator sunglasses HUD unit. His mossy oak camo hat was removed revealing his his hair. Neatly combed, the brilliant orangish-red hair flared like a fire upon his head. His katana and sacred sword was sheathed on his back, light gleaming off of it, creating a halo effect.

Grinning he said to the PXE officers. "Greetings gentlemen. I am Captain Johnnyred, one of the founders and commanders of the Phoenix Command Group. I would like to respectfully invite your commanding officers to meet aboard my current flagship, the PCG Arondite."

[Dino27Captain (PCG)]

OOC Why Migty, I had no idea you were such a skilled writer! Well done, I look forward to more. It would seem we'll both be playing officers leading "unofficial" forces into the battle. Welcome to the RPG.

Mirage, welcome, way to join the party.


Did any posts need to be delated? I believe I have moderation ability throughout the forum.

I was hoping to get another part up today, but It's late and I'm getting tired. Tomorrow then.

End OOC

[TetrahedronCaptain (PCG)]

OOC- High praise, Dino, high praise. Very much appreciated. It took me about two days to fully write up, working on-and-off; future posts will be shorter (or, at least that's the plan ). Yeah, I'll be leading this small, "unofficial" squadron, somewhat similar to yours (but smaller).

Mirage wants to delete his post where the Romulans come and attack, JSYK. END OOC

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

OOC to MM: BRAVO ON AN EXCELLENT SUBPLOT!!! And I must say, good literary reference with the albatross. I look forward to more of your character! End OOC


As Captain Johnnyred talks with the PXE officers, Turson flops into his chair with a strange look on his face. Smythe walks up to him.

"Sir, are you alright?" asks the lieutenant.

"I don't know," says the Commander. "I have the strangest feeling."

"Perhaps you should go to sickbay," suggests Smythe.

"No, it's not that kind of feeling," Turson replies. He pauses for a moment. "Nevermind, Smythe. I'll be alright."

"I haven't much time," Turson thinks to himself. "Not much time..."

[Andre TholvelCEO]

*the IFS Titania resumes its hailing, this time with a message*

"I will not be kept waiting.

--Daragon"

[JohnnyredCaptain (PCG)]

Captain Johnnyred notices the incoming hail.

"Bob, put the good man on the screen." He says calmly.

Siriondil Daragon (OOC Is Siriondil a name or title? I'm assuming it's a title End OOC) appears on screen.

"Ah, Siriondil Daragon." He says with a quick salute. "It's good to see you again, I must give you my sincere apologies, we were dealing with a new player to the game. How may I help you, sir."

Johnnyred ends his statement with a slight bow.

[Andre TholvelCEO]

[OOC]Siriondil is Daragon's first name. His title is CEO of Daragon, Incorporated. I'm not sure if you've read his bio or not, but it can be found here.
[/OOC]

*The man who appears on-screen is not Siriondil Daragon, but a tall, medium-build man with shoulder-length blonde hair, in full DI Officer dress. He smiles at Captain Johnnyred when the call is answered, and speaks in a cheerful, animated manner with a very slight British accent.*

"Ah, Captain Johnnyred, what an honor," the stranger replies with a wide smile, "and how strange to be on the other side of "please hold"-- normally I'm the one saying that when speaking to customers, you know. I'm afraid this couldn't wait, however, though I see you're quite busy as it is." The man turns to speak to someone off-screen, and the Titania turns to face the PXR fleet flanking the Sons of Liberty. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Captain Adan Candirith, the COO of Daragon, Incorporated, in charge of DI's combat-ready fleet. I've been sent from IF headquarters to inform you that our previous, erm, issues, have been remedied," Candirith's face shows a flash of worry at the mention of issues, but quickly resumes its cheerful look. "Should you require some quality, battle-proven starships, rest assured that Daragon, Incorporated is once again available for starship rental or purchase."

"I also come with good news, as well as news you may find important," the Captain says, looking genuinely happy about the news he delivers next. "The good news is, as a gesture of good faith, our CEO himself, Siriondil Daragon, has offered you four frigates of your choice, along with starfighter complements, to assist you until the end of your quest; essentially, the contract, should you accept the gift, will expire at the end of whatever conflict, if any, may ensue at Rator III. CEO Daragon also wishes to express his disappointment at being unable to attend personally, and hopes that his gift will sufficiently compensate you for being forced to abandon your party himself."

Captain Candirith becomes less animated and more serious as he progresses. "As to the other news, well, as a second gesture of good faith, and because he supports your endeavor, Mr. Daragon wishes you to know that the Romulan Empire has requested a full division of ours, and will receive it within several hours of your intended time of arrival. However, we will provide you with a list of the ships they have requested, so you may be better prepared for them." Captain Candirith assumes a much more businesslike tone as he continues to speak. "Additionally, though you may think your collaboration and mission a secret, the Sons of Liberty are, in fact, common knowledge throughout the upper echelons of the business world. How this may have happened, we do not yet know, but we will keep you informed."

[LonestarCaptain (PCG)]

A figure enters a dimly-lit room—one of the officers’ quarters. Taking off his uniform and putting on some more comfortable garments, he lays down on his bed.
    Suddenly, after a couple minutes of rest, he springs up from his bed.
    “Computer!” he barks. “Contact the Imperial Romulan Capitol—private dialogue. Do not record.”
    “Yes sir,” the machine responds.
    On a nearby screen, the beautiful and yet wicked face of the Romulan Empress appears.
    “I’ve been waiting for you to contact me, you idiot,” she snaps. “What is the current size of this ragtag group of nobodies that dare to assault my headquarters?”
    “They are still small,” replies the figure. “You shouldn’t have much trouble annihilating them if—“
    “If WHAT?” the Empress interrupts.
    “Well, your excellency, the PhoeniX Engineering group is offering to aid the fleet, and Daragon’s group seems to have returned as well.”
    “Well, what of it?”
    “Madam, they are formidable foes.”
    “Are they come in large numbers?”
    “Not when compared to our forces.”
    “Then why are you concerned?”
    “Because they are fierce fighters.”
    “I have some information for you,” sneers the Empress. “Daragon Incorporated has just lent us a detachment of some of their fine vessels for our use in the destruction of the Sons of Liberty and their allies. It is quite possible that they are merely planning to betray the taskforce in two ways: first secretly lend ships to us, and then turn on them in the heat of battle. That is the thing with these galactic capitalists: they have no loyalties and can always be bought with superior bids. We can pay DI much more than the PCG can—or at least, will.”
    “I have met Daragon before,” says the traitor. “and I can validate what you say.”
    “Of course you can,” snaps the Empress. “I’m always right.”
    “Of course, your Excellency!” stutters the figure.
    “We presumably have DI on our side,” continues the Empress. “But just to be sure, I will send a detachment of cloaked warbirds to follow the DI ships currently used by the taskforce. If they try to double-cross us, we can annihilate them before they do any serious damage.”
    “And what of our planetary defenses?” asks the traitor.
    “The entire Romulan Navy is alerted. When the ‘Sons of Liberty’ drop out of warp, they will be utterly destroyed within a matter of a half hour.”
    “They plan to seize you and coerce you to withdraw our agent in the Federation.”
    “Then they will be surprised to find that I am not at the Capitol, as they no doubt expect.”
    “Where are you then, your Excellency?”
    The Empress adjusts the view of her screen to show a nearby window to the figure. The traitor gasps.
    “That’s right,” chuckles the Empress in a most disquieting way. “I am in New York City—on Planet Earth. The Sons of Liberty are running headlong into my trap.”

[PXRRecruit (No Affiliation)]

OOC I would've written this this morning, but school got in the way. Sorry about that.   End OOC

Two dropships depart from the lead Capricorn, presumably carrying Captain Axal and Major General Gkal.

Both dropships are carrying two MI-3 Taipan's each, in addition to four troops, all in MI-2 Anaconda's each.

OOC: You don't know this yet, but this is what you find out if they land/the Captain/Major General are in hardsuits too. Any info from here to the end of the post is yet unknown by the other SoL members. End OOC

Back on the Capricorn, Axal and Gkal are in the secondary bridge, communicating with another figure.

"But sir, with all due respect, why would we help the Sons of Liberty? The odds of victory, and therefore profiting, are much slimmer. However, if we instead aided the Romulans, we would-"

Axal is cut off by the figure in the projector.

"You fail to remember that by aiding these allies," putting emphasis on the word "allies", "they will pay a great deal more than the Romulans would. They are desperate for allies-and blinded. The Sons of Liberty compose of multiple governments, the largest in the known universe, and if we succeed, we may be able to take...advantage of this. The MSI are merely competition, competition that we will hopefully be rid of in the upcoming confrontations. The Romulans are rich. If we claim victory, the repayment will be high, much higher than the risks."

Axal responds. "Sir, I understand that. But if the PCG does not fall for our decoys, our entire plan will fail."

The figure in the projector slowly looks up, signaling annoyance. In terror, Axal quickly stuttered, "My apologies, sir. And yes," as if reading the figure's mind, he quickly proclaims that both the MI-2 and MI-3 units were deployed, and that the Pisces have been cloaked.

Emotionlessly, the figure then conveys his satisfaction with a simple, "Good sir. Have your fleet and fighters ready at all times. And your ground forces prepared as well Gkal."

With that, the transmission ends.

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