Fiction:Andromeda War/ISF Involvement

Iron Systems Federation Sub-plot
''Magos Sabato let his consciousness drift through the information network of Forgeworld 36. Lazily, he observed hundreds of his fellow Paladins experimenting on newer, more efficient weapons, armour and civilian technology. He filed away packets of data for dissection and analysis later. All of a sudden, a spike of data was injected into the system. A scouting team had just returned to the forgeworld, carrying terabytes of data on activity in Galaxy 0105, called 'Andromeda' by the other races.''

''Sifting through the data available, Sabato began to pick up irregularities- small granitic distortions, minor deflections of electromagnetic detection sweeps. These things a lesser, flawed organic might have missed, but their significance was not lost on Sabato. Something was in Andromeda- something they had not encountered for a long time.''

''Marshalling his available resources, Sabato began to assemble a scouting mission- literally. Beneath his inactive body, machinery began to cut out and piece together an unmanned scouting craft. Engine, sensors, communications and hull all drawn together and constructed in less than an hour. With the drone complete, its programming was downloaded from the general data net, and the machine was clear for launch. With a small magnetic boost, the device deployed, thrusters firing to propel it out of atmosphere and on its mission. Whatever was out there, Sabato intended to find it.''

Where There Is Smoke...
''The probe drifted along currents of solar wind as it made its way through the Andromeda Galaxy. Sensors along its sides searched for anything abnormal, or, for that matter, anything at all. Its programming held no particulars for the kinds of data it was to collect, in fact all the basic information it carried about its mission was the sector of space it was to search. It did not have long to wait, however.''

''As the probe began to enter its search grid, small EM radiation flares began to pick up. These were not the background emissions of local stars, their patterns indicated they were directed energy weapons- lasers of significant magnitude. The drone's miniature voidspace communicator array sent a coded message back to its creator, who responded with new orders that had the drone stray closer to the source of the EM flares.''

''Just as its creator had feared, the probe entered the solar system to find it besieged by alien vessels, of a configuration all to familiar to the Federation. With his worst fears confirmed, the probe's creator ordered it to take as accurate an account of the battle as it could, before phasing back to its point of origin. Unfortunately, before the drone could begin close observation, it was detected and destroyed by the same lasers it had detected.''

Shadow of the Storm
''Long hours of debate passed, and yet the Council remained unconvinced. To them, the Grox had been eradicated years before, and were no longer a serious threat. Nonetheless, Sabato knew the price of complacency, and tried again and again to convince the councillors of what he knew as the truth- the Grox had returned, a greater threat than they had ever been before. The swift demise of the Domain of As Radan proved this, even when they were supported fully by the newly formed Andromedan Commonwealth.''

''Even as evidence heaped behind the claim, Sabato could not convince the Fordan Grand Council of the need for action. Gladly, he did not have long to wait. Praetoria at the door stood aside as the single most well-known Fordanta ever to live strode into the room: Hel'Bre'K Ce'So'Va, the Blademaster.''

Hel'- Sabato speaks true, Council, the Grox have returned. I have been told so by my old allies, the Zazane. A fledgeling empire, the Domain of As Radan as I recall, has been utterly annihilated in a single stroke. It seems the Old Enemy has returned, and stronger than we have seen them before.

Councillor- Then we accept their coming as truth. Be that as it may, though, this is a matter for Andromeda to deal with! Our accord with the universe forces our hand. The For'Dan'Ta shall not march on the Andromedan Grox!

Hel'- If this is the Council's will, then so be it. *turns to Sabato* You, however, are no For'Dan'Ta. Marshall your forces, and join the fight against the Grox. I fear that the Council may be too hasty in barring our full participation in the coming war.

Sabato- Thank you for your belief, Blademaster. I will begin preparations immediately.

''With that, Sabato returned to Forgeworld 32, and prepared to wage war on the Grox one more time. From his central spire, he began to organise, strategise and mobilise. Although he did not need to, he formulated a word to initiate the hive of activity which would soon surround him. A formality, perhaps, but one that brought him great pleasure in its finality. The word was 'begin.' ''

''Across the entire forgeworld, some five million paladins and twenty million initiates, along with many more serfs, set to work. Weapons, vehicles, battle suits and rounds poured out of production lines, ready to be set to work exterminating the single greatest enemy the Federation had ever encountered. Weapons so complex and devastating that few of the un-illuminated could comprehend them were assembled, tested and connected to their operating units. Gun drones, machine familiars and automated defence turrets came together in their millions, while the ponderous might of a new battlecruiser was drawn into being in low orbit. Sabato was the conductor of a symphony of technological destruction, and he revelled in the thought of unleashing his newest designs.''

The Beginning
??? - Commander, we cannot hold this position! We have to fall back now! ??? - Are you a coward, soldier? The Creed will not let some puny ambush stop us! ??? - As you command, sir.

''On the cold, dusty dunes of Gierlo, a desperate skirmish was unfolding. A group of some twenty Zazane, waiting to be dispatched on separate scouting missions, was ambushed by a Grox force more than five times their number. The Grox brought to the battle their advanced battle suits and weapons technology, the likes of which made most shudder to think about. For a while, the Zazane held them back, their shidium blasters mangling flesh and metal. Before long, however, injury took its toll. Half the Zazane were wounded, a few would never fight again. Slowly, the Grox began to press their advantage.''

Commander - Concentrate fire on those larger ones- don't let them get a bead on you! Sergeant - Sir, ammunition is low, we have to pull back to higher ground- we need every advantage we can get! Commander - Agreed. Signal the dropship to meet us at the top of that ridge line. With the sun at our backs, these damned shyrak-eaters will have a harder time spotting us. Zazane! Fall back to the ridge!

''The warriors that could still move sprinted up the hill, scything down a thin line of Grox trying to bar their path. A few were shot down on the way, but more than a dozen Zazane still stood when their dropship came to pick them up. A dozen watched as a Grox battle suit fired a shoulder cannon, the shot arcing up and striking the dropship in the engines. The thin atmosphere of the planet muffled the sound of the blast, but the shockwave knocked the Zazane down the ridge. Scrambling for cover, the warriors set up behind the wreckage of their crippled vessel.''

Commander - Gah, hold the line! Someone get on that dropship's port gun and blast those Grox!

''A Zazane disappeared into the ship, throwing out a few packs of ammo to those nearby. Before long, he found the weapon controls, and turned one of the dropship's cannons onto the attackers. For a moment, the Grox line wavered, and fell back. The warriors, thinking they had won, cheered and cursed the retreating Grox. Before long, though, the sound of battle filled the air again, as the Zazane found themselves hit from behind by fresh troops. Once more, the Zazane shifted positions, now being forced to defend from all angles against a much larger foe. As the dropship's tortured hull began to crumple and warp, the Zazane knew that the honourable death they had hoped for was coming.''

Commander - This is it, warriors! Prepare to charge! Sergeant - Sir! Do you hear that? Over the wind. Commander - Never heard anything like it Sergeant. Must be some new Grox shyrak. Ready...

''Just as the commander was about to issue the order to charge, the Grox line halted again. Hurtling out of the sky, the steel-grey hulls of two alien dropships- neither Grox nor Zazane, roared over the desert. On their flanks were the inverted-swords symbol of the Council of Blades, on their nose was the Universal Gear of the Iron Systems Federation. As the dropships flew low, clusters of stasis missiles shot out, snaring the forward ranks of the Grox assault. Rear access hatches swung open, and half a dozen Paladins entered the fray.''

Magos - Secure area. Defend Zazane. Terminate all Grox. Execute... now.

''As one, the Paladins raised their weapons. The Grox, having moments before faced a wounded and under-armed enemy, were now met by warriors who could match, and even surpass, their formidable technological skill. Weapons beyond the comprehension of humanity unleashed the cold wrath of technology on the Grox.''

Commander - Zazane! Do NOT let these aliens steal our glory! Forward!

''As the Zazane leapt from cover, the Magos leading the Paladins raised a gloved hand. Calling upon arcane technologies and cold sciences few could understand, the Magos altered the gravitational field of the planet. Battlesuits crumpled and bullets thudded into the ground as Zazane found their bodies unnaturally light. The pale sands of Gierlo, tainted murky-brown by Zazane blood, were now painted black by machine-oil.''

Sergeant - Grox Commander! *fires a few shots* His energy shielding deflects even shidium!

''The Grox Commander, armoured and shielded as he was, strode unflinching through the fire brought to bear on him. All around him, bullet, plasma, missile and shidium felled his soldiers. But these same weapons had little effect when brought to bear against him.''

''In response, the Magos brought two mechadendrites, each laden with sensors, up to scan the newcomer. Bathing the shield in all imaginable forms of rad-scan, the Magos found his course of action. Dialling his auto laser to variable frequency, he projected a stream of electromagnetic energy attuned to pass unhindered through the Commander's shields. As soon as he had his wavelength, the Magos concentrated the beam to the point that the delivered energy slagged the approaching battle suit's shield generator, leaving it immobilised and vulnerable to the murderous rain of shidium that tore him apart.''

''With the death of their commander, the Grox reverted to secondary protocols and fell back. The Zazane prepared to pursue him, but the Magos held out an arm to block the commander.''

Magos - More Grox. Numbers overwhelming. Best option: retreat. Commander - Are you calling me a coward, shyrak-eater? Magos - Scout group more useful alive than dead. Return home. Deliver report. Commander- Hey! What's that alien doing to our dropship?

''As the stunned Zazane watched, a group of Paladins descended on the stricken dropship's damaged engine, mechadendrites and servo-limbs hissing as they worked. Within minutes, the engine was repaired, although the shidium plating could not be replaced. Without a word, the Paladins returned to their dropships, and departed.''

Cold, Cold Heart
On some rim world, whose name was scarcely known and less cared for, the threat of the Grox struck like a hammer blow. Hearing whispers of the defeats suffered by the greater powers, the citizens were terrified that their tiny military would be torn apart by these Grox if they ever decided to appear. As evacuations to the larger neighbouring Empires began, the shape of an Iron Systems Federation destroyer materialised in high orbit. With clockwork precision, hatches opened and magnetic grapples released as a lander was catapulted toward its entry into the thin atmosphere.

As the bulky lander approached an airfield, the Paladins began to survey their task. Several ships required critical repairs or improvements in order to carry such a number of people, and the defensive structures around the spaceport would need further calibration and fine-tuning. The Federation knew much from their deep-space probes, and they knew that a new player on the field was coming to this world: The Followers of the Grox.

Over 60% of the planet's population had been evacuated when the Followers struck. Armed with a mixture of conventional and exotic weaponry, the most notable feature of the force was a peculiar device which stripped a target of its atoms. Worse still, they brought with them some form of nanite plague which began to corrupt citizens, driving them against each other.

All this the Paladins saw as they hacked into the global data network, and so they established a perimeter. Twelve Paladins, although veterans armed with the mightiest weapons known to mortals, could not be expected to hold the line against a vastly outnumbering force, but they could at least buy time for the remaining civilians to evacuate. Agile bipedal battle suits took place alongside the hulking form of a spider-like Stalker-pattern suit, the hungry maws of its cannons pointed out to the invaders. Fanatical faith and fury were not unknown to the Paladins, their allies the Fordanta bore it in excess, but for once they were facing such fury, although much dimmer, on the opposing side of the field.

A few shots from long range weapons on the Followers' side signalled the begin of the battle.

Like a lightning bolt from an angry god, the Stalker-pattern suit's twin 04-22-Magma Cannons opened fire. Twin lances of molten destruction gouged a great line in the Followers' advance, and those too slow or stupid to take cover were reduced to ash. Other Paladins, armed with all manner of technological marvel, joined the battle. Bullet and stream of energy changed sides, but the Followers still marched forward. The Stalker engaged its Kraken missile unit, and drawing on targeting information from the data-pool of one of its fellows, launched a salvo of missiles into the command element of the Followers' attacks. Although most of the command guard was cut down by the tritium reaction warheads, the Grox battle suit leading the attack was unaffected. On the right flank, a lucky shot penetrated a Paladin's armour, causing a momentary depressurisation. It was enough for the Mechovirus to penetrate.

A massive pool of data was poured into the tactical net as the afflicted Paladin uploaded his consciousness to the destroyer in orbit above- the virus would claim his body, but not his mind. Subroutines left relayed as much information on the virus as they could before being shut down by the hostile nanites. The Stalker suit turned to its fallen comrade, and discharged its magma cannons, incinerating the body.

As the Followers reached a hundred metres away, automated turrets sprung up, lending their own fire to that of the remaining Paladins. At the same time, they received word that the evacuation was complete- everyone left on the world was either a Follower or an infected. The Paladins initiated a fighting retreat, blasting and vaporising whole swathes of infected, pausing only to annihilate any of the Followers who pursued them.

Rain of Iron
As the Paladins retreated, the azure glow of a Federation teleportation array flickered into being. Within it coalesced the fearsome might of an Odin-pattern battlesuit. Towering over even the massive Stalker suit, the Odin's great bulk required three Paladins to operate- or one completely hardwired into it. The fallen Paladin had returned, dedicating his entire existence to a single machine so that his brethren might survive.

A Followers walker climbed over the perimeter wall, only to find itself paired with the mighty Odin suit. A huge energised fist swung in a wide arc, smashing deep into the Followers walker. Another arm, ending in a great chainblade swung in an uppercut, digging into the walker's drive units. Watching, mouths agape, the Followers saw one of their prized walkers torn in half by alloy teeth the size of a Grox battlesuit. The Odin discarded the remains of its foe, and turned its eyes upon the Followers all around it. With his brethren safely on their transport, the Odin transmitted his location to the destroyer, and requested a full orbital bombardment of the site. While he awaited confirmation, he set about slaying everything in his path.

When bioengineered Epic units began to attack, the Odin charged, crushing warriors with every step. Chainblade and powered fist carved through the first Epic, while a shoulder-mounted gauss cannon locked on to the second. A mass-reactive shell the size of a small car felled the Epic, its corrupted ribcage blasted wide. Even so, the beast charged the Odin, knocking it to the ground. As the Followers scrambled to cut apart and destroy the Odin, the orbital strikes he had requested landed.

The first few shells studded into the ground with little effect- hatches opened releasing a gas compound. Thinking that the shells were duds, the Followers continued to hack at the Odin. Then, a single shot was fired. A tritium warhead, which impacted with the Odin suit, detonating instantly. The nuclear material in the Odin's reactor, as well as the gaseous deuterium seeded into the atmosphere by the first salvo all lent their stored energy to the blast- and a blast it was. With this final word of defiance, the Odin suit and its attackers were annihilated. The entire planet rocked to the nuclear fury that was unleashed upon it. A deep wound was cut into the planet, while the atmosphere was thrown into turmoil. The planet would be black and dead for decades, possibly longer, and by then it would be a Grox colony, but the few surviving Followers looked in utter terror at what the cold-hearted technology of the Iron Systems Federation unleashed had done.