[@Wildman13][@Liotrent][@Sophrus][@Legion02]

[color=f26522][center][h1]=THE BATTLE OVER RARIA=[/h1][/center][/color]

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[img]http://i.imgur.com/hGlyTDL.png[/img]

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High Orbit, Rarian Homeworld
12:54 Galactic Central Time, D-Day

Space and time warp at the will of the FTL. A truly magnificent device developed hundreds of years ago to make time a much smaller place. But since it's developement, a new methods of space travel have been developed that allow for faster or safer travels. Like Wormholes that allow entire fleets to transit almost immidiately if they don't need to hide their exit points. The massive whirlpool of gases and dust particles was filled with lightning bolts created by the kinetic forces. The wormhole sucked in any and all material around it in space, creating these beautiful, but not exactly stealthy gateways for fleet movement. The Rarians have been seeing many of these shining whirlpools lately as fleets arrived and left their sectors, using the primitive world as a safe haven from pirates. But this time, the gateway was much bigger than any they've seen before. The moon of the planet shrinked in comparison to this massive space anomaly, althought it was probably a trick of the eye. Nevertheless, the first ships started pouring through the gate in great numbers, mostly being corvettes and frigates. But minutes went on, and their endless stream didn't stop. By the time the massive battleships pulled through, the wormhole has been open for 15 minutes. Then it collapsed behind the last ship with an unworldly grace, eating up all the dust and gases that were stuck in it. The entirety of the 171st, 173th, 174th and 176th fleet arrived above the planet, and were beginning to perform a methodical blockade operation. Smaller detachements of the 172nd and 175th fleets could be seen dispersing from the main group and heading towards the planet's moon. Thought the planet was big, the bloackding fleet was so large in size that several dots blocked out the sun by the time they finished. 

On the surface, Militia and Military alike stood on the streets and made fortified cordons. Loudspeakers blared on the streets. [color=f26522]"All human citizens are required to evacuate to the nearest shuttle facility. Bring only food and drinks with you along with basic necessities. Follow the guide of the guards if you are unsure where to go."[/color] Panic wasn't the right term to use to describe the situation. It was more like mass anxiety. Nobody was crying or shouting, but everbody was nervous. Nobody knew this was going to happen, and they had the right to be afraid of being bombarded from their own fleets from above. The massive crowds slowly walked down the streets overwatched by automated gun turrets and dozens of guards. The shuttle facilities were overburneded with people, and the wait times were taking forever. Even though as soon as a shuttle left another one landed, the lines didn't really seem to move.

Some Rarians tried to sneak into the crowd. Those who managed to escape the sights of the turrets or the guards were quickly pushed aside or beaten up by the rowdy crowd. Those that were spotted were shot on sight. Near the shuttle facility a Minotaur began his rampoage along with a few dozen other morphs. The first wave of Militia guards were trampled and beaten to death, and the massive body approached the second line of defense. He shouted some unintelligible crap about honor and the proud Rarian race before he received a copper coated tungsten bullet to the face from a nearby tank. Without a head to speak of, his body slowed down and the tumbled to the ground, his legs kicking for the last time. The others behid him charged at the cordon nevertheless, but they were shot down by the gunfire. Some in the crowd cheered for the guards, and one even gave them a high five. Others turned away with disgust on their face. They were certain about one thing: they will never see their homes again, and that is all the fault of the Rarians. 

[b]Hours and hours later[/b]

The streets were littered with junk left behind by the crowd. The walls were filled with graffiti quoting xenomorphic slogans. One the side of one apartement building, someone used some digital paint to immortalize the death of the "proud" minotaur warrior and the "heroism" of the tank's operators. It was a shoddy work, but it got the point through. A few Militia members laughed at the painting and then moved on towards the shuttle center. Just a few minutes ago, the last group of civilians left the planet's surface, and approached one of the many cruise ships waiting to take them away. Ever since then, dropships and military shuttles have been keeping the complex busy, with multiple takeoffs and landings every minute. The situation was same in every Rarian city. The Military occupied the cities, and systematically evacuated every human civilian from them. Then as the Military set up the HQs, the Militia members began to "remove" the former settler of the cities. And they weren't happy. Even thought many of the Rarians rose up to the EOM forces, they were quickly killed or subdued by the Militia. Those hiding in houses couldn't escape the all-seeing gazes of the IFV's sensors, and those who tried to run were gunned down by the gunships patrolling around the edges of the cities. If one looked up at the sky, pillars of different aircrafts could be seen entering and leaving the Glory-class battleship that still hanged graciously above the planet. With the main space fleet, many of these atmospherical monstrocities arrived, enough to be distributed to every city, and even have some spare for the larger metropolises. They would serve as the regional HQs for the ground forces in the coming days. 

Even thought many Rarians have been killed on sight, those of the weaker morphs gave themselves up at the sights of the EOM militaries marching through the streets, and after hearing the loudspeakers spewing the Imperial propaganda. [color=f26522]"For a single human casualty, a thousand will die! Surrender now, and you won't have to be one of the thousand!"[/color]. Soldiers would subdue them and take them away in prisoner transports. No rest for the Rarians, not even those who never raised a finger against a human. They may live for now, but they won't last long in the concentration camps where they'll be taken. Even those working in the mines as slaves would consider themselves lucky if they saw the place these poor souls were going to. Ever since the great war of 300 years ago, the galaxy has never seen such terrifying acts against civilians. Either this was the beginning of another great war, or the Butcher himself decided to pay a visit to Raria.

[b]High in Orbit, Main fleet formation[/b]

The matt black flagship of the Butcher floated above the atmosphere in silence. Around it were it's sister ships and escorts forming a circle around the Praetor's ship. Then the rest of the 171st fleet surrounded them. Near them, the old civilian dockyard floated, now repurposed as a staging point and repair station for the fleet. Shuttles hauled all kinds of goods between the station and capital ships creating the effect of a buzzing hive. Praetor Maximilian Brutus gazed out the window of his flagship and smiled confidently. His grand plan was finally approaching it's next climax. Whether they win or lose here, he would succeed in crippling the rebel factions. If htey wanted the valuable manpower, they would need to regain control of Raria. It is unknown how many Rarian have managed to escape the EOMs grasp, but a lot of them will be captured and killed during the initial assault- Even if the xenos claim victory somehow, Sector 17 isn't the only sector with Military fleets. And with Iserlohn fortress controlling the only route out of Sector 17 towards the rest of the Empire, the battle fought here will definetly alter the course of this skirmish, but will be unlikely to change teh course of the war. 

The door opened to his private workroom and his assistant entered with a large tablet. It was the complete report on the occupation of Raria. The praetor grabbed the tablet out of the assistant's hands, and the motioned for him to be gone. The assistan nod in silence and left the room as the Praetor began reading. Everything seemed to be in order and fit in his plan. But as he kept on scrolling, number started to mismatch. Low Rarian losses and minimal gear seized from them. So they were hiding a movement after all. That is the only answer to such a small amount of resistnace. Any competent leader would recall their troops before a big battle. The Praetor sat down in his armchair and grin with excitement. Maybe this battle won't be so uneventful after all. Truly a grand victory for the Butcher, one that could elevate him to the ranks of a consul member. 

But the joy didn't last long. There was one small mistake in this report. Initially he didn't notice it, but after reading through the report several times to find exact numbers about the Rarian losses, he began tumbling into controversies. They were tiny mistakes in wording, but added together they caused confusin in the reader. [color=ed1c24]"Shiv, come here my dear."[/color] A piece of the wall shimmered for a second, and then the shape of a beautiful woman emerged from the mirage. She has been hiding in the room ever since the assistant entered. Now she walked closer to the Praetor and sat down on top of the desk. She didn't say a word, just looked at the tablet.
[color=ed1c24]"Dear, do you think this could be the work of the Black Sun? I am sure you've killed more them than me, so I'll leave the decision up to you."[/color]

For some minutes, Shiv scrolled through the pages before returning the table to the Praetor. She nod in silence, her facial expressions cold and still as ever. It was always hard to figure out what she was thinking, and this instance wasn't an exception either. The prateor clapped his hands together and stood up with a smile on his face. [color=ed1c24]"Eliminating Xenos AND Insurgents at the same time? It must be my birthday! Shiv, be so kind as to escort our unwanted guests to the afterlife. I don't want any ships turning on us as we battle the main opposition."[/color] The woman nod yet again, and hten silently left the room. The door shut close behind her, and the Praetor was left alone yet again. Before he could finally attend to his master plan, he had a call to make.

The large holopanel on the desk lit up, and 3 hooded figures appeared in front of him. They spoke up in unison with the Praetor. [color=f26522]"Glory to Mankind"[/color] Their voices were also masked, but they were of a familiar tone, and those who knew them would instantly recognise them. Thought two of them seemed to be indistingushable from any other generic voice, the third one ringed with a feminine tone and the words seemed more childish than the others. Magnificus Chrisjen Helga herself was present. The other two remained to be identified. But they must also be very important characters if they are talking alongisde the Praetor and the Magnificus (//God, too much exposition, I get it//). The Praetor spoke up with a soft tone, unlike that of before. He even managed to force a calm look on his face for the call. [color=ed1c24]"The plan is going smoothly, just as I predicted. We have yet to run into any real complications."[/color]

One of the indistingushable figures spoke up rashly. [b]"What about casualties. Are they within an acceptable range?"[/b] The Praetor nod and brought up a page on his tablet. [color=ed1c24]"As you can see, we haven't lost a single armored vehicle. We had 2 shuttles crash into each other, and 5 bombers were shot down by Rarians who were later killed. We had many morphs attacking Militia members, but we only have a few dozen losses in the ranks of the Military. I would say this is the definition of acceptable."[/color] The figure nod, and then left the call.

Then the Magnificus spoke up, her voice light and playful, but every word as sharp as a blade and as refined as starship armor. [color=ec008c]"I hope you haven't crashed the ships I gave you Brutus. It would be a real shame if they ended up being damaged or even captured. I hope I don't have to go through that disgrace."[/color] The Praetor has to take a deep breath before he answered. She wasn't just saying to take care of the ships. She told him to not lose a single ship or his carrier, or perhaps his life, would come to an end. The praetor forced a smile on his face and replied. [color=ed1c24]"Of course not. I am taking care of your gifts. I will make sure to prove you my loyalty." [/color] The Magnificus giggled and replied before leaving [color=ec008c]"I expect so."[/color]

The Prator sighed as he tured to the last shadowy character. Then they waited in silence for a good minute. The Prator was sweating in anxiety by them time his peer spoke up. [color=8882be]"You have no need to feel anxious."[/color] His voice was void of emotions, but it still felt unnerving and soothing at the same time. Words cannot describe the man's words properly. [color=8882be]"When I appointed you Praetor of Sector 14 I knew I made the right call. Now I stand here, about to see the fruits of my work. Do NOT fail me Praetor. I can guarantee you that making me regret my decision is a good way to end up in an unspecified airlock somewhere. Should you fail here, I will let you live because of our friendship, but if I am forced to intervene, you will be the firts casualty of the SDF. Am I clear?"[/color] Crystal clear. The Praetor was confident in his plan, but the words of this man made him nervous. He simply nod, and murmured a yes under his nose before cutting the connection. He sighed as he leaned back in his chair, finally being able to relax. Maybe he'll visit a holiday resort on Raria, once ever filthy xeno that infest the planet has been killed.