The Hand of Fate...

With two days before the proposed peace conference between the Regent and the forces of the REF, a location has yet to be chosen.  Trust is in short supply from key members of either side, forcing many to question the validity of such a proposal… The Farrago is the flagship of the Sentinels .  The vessel being constructed from modular elements from the worlds of Garuda , Haydon IV , Karbarra , Peryton , Praxis and Spheris .  Crewed by members from all the sentinel races, including members of the REF who joined the ship to further the Sentinels cause. Bastion of the Forge Bear Reclined in his command couch, deeply embedded in commune with the voices of past Forgebears of Karbarra , Rodar almost dismissed an itch at the back of his mind.  A powerful burst of communications bandwidth, spoken in a tongue he knew well. " Farrago under attack by large Invid force…" Then the transmission stopped, severed as quickly as it had surfaced.  The voices silenced as he sat forward, eyes focused on an analogue world that only those chosen might witness, he scoured the transmission signals.  Nothing?  A shout out into the void, but was it a cry for help or something more sinister?  The Praxian System This was to be his hour! The beginning of a new age! The Regent resolved to decree a new calendar; this sublime moment would mark its starting point. He had stripped outposts and far-flung garrisons, compiling forces, assembling a fleet greater than the one he had sent against his enemies on Optera . Fortune was with him.  His fleet emerged from the immaterium at the correct angle of attack, in good formation and proper deployment. Scouts and Pincers units led the assault, this time under competent veteran commanders, targeting with the enemy mecha trying to protect their flagship. The flagship! How long he had hungered for that morsel! A Living Computer within the Regent's command ship matched it with the specifications Edwards had given him.  The Regent found himself smirking at the exquisite precision with which the Invid sensors penetrated.  Down and deep into the structure, until they found the junction and the components Edwards had specified, Information obtained inadvertently from that Lron when the Sentinels first appeared. The Farrago lumbered as it fought to bring its defensive weapons to bear, streams of firing spitting from her hull.  Yet these were his veteran warriors, well-seasoned, they wove between blasts. Silencing individual stations as they closed to point blank range. It appeared that the Farrago’s weapons crews were determined to remain at their stations, despite the hopelessness of their fate. Likely many of them had been subjects of his Invid cages, choosing death over recapture, rolling the dice of fate and hoping that Luck might show them kindness. But luck would not favour them this time. The Regent's technicians and scientists had prepared an ordinance cannon bolt; pulse phased in accordance with the information Edwards had revealed.  With a shudder the monstrous bolt of energy erupted from the Regents vessel. Striking to the heart of Farrago , the energy of the bolt pulsed throughout the ship's structure. Seething and arcing, within moments the flagship started coming apart. The forces that had unified it had becoming corrupted, the same forces sundering it. The Regent watched, one fist under his chin, wondering if there was some lesson here. Then he roused himself to bellow at his communications drones. "Haven't you contacted the Regis yet? Well?"   What a sweet victory this would be! To wipe out the approaching enemy in the nick of time. To humble the Sentinels and destroy them forever here, where his mate could see it all. Undeniable proof of his strength at war and military brilliance! A true, savage, devolved stroke of greatness.  The Regis would lust for him now that he had displayed that he was the Alpha!  The Farrago was ripping itself to pieces; shields were down, power systems were failing, communications were all but non-existent.  Designed as a patchwork ship, a culmination of racial designs and technologies, she was being driven apart by the Regent's single bolt. The Enemies forces had been taken by surprise. Their transforming creations were surrounded by a horde of his senior Invid mecha.  Closing ranks, the human machines decorated with skulls tried to defend themselves as best they could. A few elements tried to break through and run for Praxis , however he had carefully deployed his forces to ensure none escaped. These humans fought hard, they were skilled, the Regent would give then that, yet they were too stupid to know when to die.  Outnumbered five to one, he encouraged his units to fervour, permitting them to tear the remaining machines asunder. As if on cue, the Farrago came apart.  Rippling explosions throwing portions and scraps of the vessel toward unreachable stars. "Still no contact with the Regis ?" the Regent howled, shaking a gargantuan fist. "Has she no idea what I've accomplished?"  A drone technician looked stricken, realizing that he might die in the next few seconds. "Oh, All-Powerful One! The Regis is no longer on Praxis ! The readings we receive indicate that she may be on her way to Haydon IV with her half of our race, but-there are no Protoculture readings on Praxis , no power sources, no movement-nothing!" The Regent bellowed with unbridled rage. It would have been too much of an inconvenience to leap from his throne and smite the technician. Instead, he tried to wipe the taste of disappointment from his mind.  "A waste, such a waste! Did you record every bit of my victory, so that she may see it? Well then, make us ready!"  "You wish planetfall on Praxis , my lord?" an Enforcer asked.  The Regent cuffed the Enforcer aside, and the Enforcer's armour buckled against the deck with the impact of it. "No, of course not to Praxis ! We travel to Optera ! I'll find that female and make her see the truth, make her appreciate me!"  He felt acceleration around him even as he issued more orders. "Send a small observation force to Praxis should any of my enemies return; this place is of no use to me now. Have them set up a transmitter to warn me if there's trouble here again. And then back to the Home Hive!"   Valivarre Star System The Rings of Fantoma “I don’t understand Sir! I thought that the SDF3 was at Praxis ? How is it here?” Captain Benson gaped in awe at the visage of the UEEF flag ship as their Horizon-t assault vessel began final approach. “Smoke and mirrors Benson .  Slight of hand, if you like.”  T.R.Edwards smirked.  No, the vessel suffered some significant damage to her drive system during the liberation of Karbarra .   It would not have done for our potential allies to see any sign of weakness on our behalf, so with my encouragement a Lighting show was put together to create the illusion that the Flag ship had departed. “But why is she here sir?” Benson pushed; confusion written across his face. “ Tirol is a seat of power, a gem in this forsaken region.  There is Influence, wealth and power here.  A corrupt world of backstabbing and politics, one that we can twist to our needs, that can be milked of its riches.” Edwards let a predatorial smile spread across his face at the thoughts of such a bounty.  “Talking of backstabbing, how did our agents fair at Karbarra ?” Benson grimaced, the unit deployed had been killed in action. “A partial success sir, the explosives were planted next to the drive system of the Muses craft, however our men were interrupted not long thereafter.  That team has been destroyed.” “They were marked as I requested?” Edwards dry response failing to mask his anger. “Yes sir, the Zentraedi icon was branded into their flesh…” A Chirping priority message interrupting Benson’s report. Striding briskly to his personal briefing room, without saying a word, Edwards unlocked it by retinal scan. Entering, the locked the door sealed behind him, making the room a secure, soundproofed facility. He was glad he was sitting down when he keyed the call. It was a Multi patch-through from the loyal Ghost Team techs manning the Invid equipment beneath the Royal Hall. The Regent stared out at him. "You take your time about answering a transmission."   Edwards found his voice. "My apologies. Had I known, I would have-made arrangements, and ensured you had not been kept waiting.”  He had to keep a certain parity here.  The Regent made an annoyed gesture. "There are other arrangements you don't have to make; the Sentinels are destroyed, one and all."   Edwards felt the colour rise in his face, and the grip of his hands as he made triumphant fists, but he gave no other sign as a silent victory cry rang through him. "And now it is time you and I met face to face," the Regent continued.   Edwards's eyes narrowed. "Surely, you don't expect me to, to-"  "Come to Optera ? No; you wouldn't, would you? But noblesse obliges; I will come to you, this one time. Do us all a favour, Human, see-that you make it worth my while." The Regent broke the connection leaving Edwards sitting there, his head swimming. My rivals are dead. The would-be Overlord of the galaxy wants to cut a deal with me.  Edwards instantly began trying to figure out ways to gull, use, and betray the Regent .

Tirol Tiresia, The Royal Hall. A red glow washes across the small service corridor, forgotten and unused, no fixed lighting had been installed. Litter and debris from the devastation wreaked, first by the Invid then later by the UEEF in their liberation, lay strewn about the hall. Neither of the figures found themselves affected by these conditions; physical limitations were merely problems that had yet to be resolved. Given time, there was little that their people could not overcome.  “An intriguing location to conduct this meeting?” A flat emotionless voice echoed against the cold walls, only the mildest trace of feminine phrasing implying the figures gender. “The options for discussing information of importance, are being actively reduced.” The companion replied as his eye wandered over the walls checking for concealment. “This Edwards is unpredictable, he sees enemies in the shadows, foe’s disguised as friends.  He places mechanical eyes and ears everywhere he can, such is his paranoia.” “He would not care for what you have to say?” The female figure asked. “No, he would view it with mistrust.” Sliding forward noiselessly, the male figure lowered the tone of his voice. “As might you.” “Irrespective, tell me. I dislike this indirect approach to presenting a topic, inefficient. Akin to the patterns of speech the Tolians use and you know my feelings toward those peoples.” An undercurrent of irritation edging her response. “ Sarana , a problem had arisen. A test program, one designed to address the issues that exist at our home…” The male figure divulged. “You have never mentioned this before Veidt , what test ?” Sarana interjected, her body language as unreadable as her face. “A development, a programming test designated to purge organic contagion. Akin to the contagion that occupies our home.” The male figure continued, apparently unperturbed by the interruption.      “You know that, regarding our home, I believe that no measure should be overlooked. Neutrality was the incorrect response to the Invid, father’s analysis of the Regess’s intent was in error.” The illumination of the corridor walls darkening as the light emitted from beneath Sarana’s hood darkened to crimson. “I was uncertain as to the effectiveness of the plan. It was chosen to conduct preliminary testing apon a planetoid that was considered Lost. Polluted with radiation and near devoid of life, it appealed as a suitable testing location.” Veidt explained. “The Karbarrens had cut ties with the planetoid at some stage, most likely when the Invid occupied it, as evident in their oral histories.” “I need you to summarise, time is limited, and my absence would be noted from the next consular meeting. That would raise questions.”   Sarana ventured, declining to provide any further information on the subject. “As you wish, though the more data I can provide, the more you shall be able to recognise the proposed threat. The Test was conducted on Arcturus , the perfect testing grounds. Remote, abandoned, devolved unto a pre-industrial level by war with the remnants of Invid Genesis Pits. However, unfortunately, it has been discovered that the Humans ventured onto the planetoid. Their interaction with the test material was unpredicted. Their interferance appears to have resulted a variance in the Tests programming, something beyond the predictions of our algorithms.  Cascade changes proceeded; the Test material is no longer on Arcturus . The Test material has self-altered and continues to do so.” Veidt lay the facts bare, wary of his mate’s response. “It became self-aware? Without the birthing rites, without sanctions?” The distain in Sarana’s eyes echoed the change in hue of the light they emitted.   “The Test , was it one of the Bioweapons proposed by the Purists ?” Veidt’s lack of response spoke volumes.   “Who is in possession of the Test Material now?” Sarana’s mind processing the information, the prospective outcomes even as she spoke. “The political environment is tenuous, if this was traced back to our peoples…” The transition of red to amber of Veidt’s visual emitters indicated the shame that he felt as he answered. “We do not know. The program no longer responds to interrogation requests, its signature is not on Arcturus . Nor have we detected any trace from the worlds freed by the Alliance.”

To the Victor go the spoils... The pings and scraping sounds rang throughout the sleek hull of the Telesthesia . Fid’hae had been chasing this particular hunk of scrap for some weeks now, though he was sure that the effort expended would prove worthwhile once his crew had secured the object. Lounging in an exaggerated manor, Fid’hae stroked his ganglia, musing at his own lusting’s toward this object. Or more correctly what it represented. Twisted metal, effectively little more than junk now. Searchlights played out from his vessel, playing across hand crafted plate metal with heavy exposed rivets...and there, the name! Pulse quickening, confirmation was muttered eagerly about the bridge as his staff coordinated the recovery. The trophy was his! To be display prominently, it would inspire both a mixture of fear and respect in all who bore witness. Fid'hae doubted there were a single race in this entire sector who remained unaware of the fate of those who chose to deal with the Robotech Masters , to corrupt the design of Protoculture... The Farrago had been an elusive mark, one that had represented a rallying point for the creatures of the Sentinels races. Lesser beings, oblivious to their place in the hierarchical order of the system. Fodder that had shown the impudence desire to shake the yoke of servitude as designated by the honorable leader.  Their vessel had been a crude, unsightly conglomeration of technology and designs. The resulting abomination apparently intended to convey the message that in unity we find strength… They had not. Strength had come from an unforeseen force of creatures from some distant world, yet that too had crumbled and failed. The outstanding success in the conflict above the world of Praxis had forced these humans to grovel for term at the exalted one’s feet. Such actions would only belay the inevitable, for they too had stolen the flower of life. These sub-creatures were unworthy of the gifts of the flower, Fid’hae knew he would relish the day of reckoning. Yet these were thoughts for another time. The Farrago … The Regent had bestowed upon his crew, the honor of claiming this trophy, for their efforts in grinding the rebellion into dust. A crushing victory, perfectly executed, they torn the heart out of the enemy fleet with the destruction of this iconic vessel. Fid'hae relished the envy that other fleet commanders of the Invid would know, desperately longing to be shown the same recognition. “We have the section being bonded to our hull now my Lord.” “Ensure that it is! We have a long way to traverse before we can ronde-vue with… A heavy impacting thud shook the Telesthesia , shocking the crew and cutting all conversation short. Wide, startled eyes flicked to his elevated station, awaiting orders. “Get me damage reports. Determine what struck us; and have whichever patrol leader failed to report the incoming object brought before me.” His voice cold and measured, Fid’hae sat up straight in is command chair. Punishment would be proportionate with the depth of the failure of whomever had failed him. This detachment was renowned for its elite status. A status that was maintained by harsh discipline and the eradication of any weak links. Painfully slow minutes ticked away as his helm staff verified the information from their respective ship sectors before reporting. “Professional.” Fid’hae allowed himself to enjoy the sense of pride in the efficiency displayed. “Training and fear, such effective tools!” he mused quietly. “Insignificant damage reported. An object struck us at moderate velocity.” “Tracking it now Honored One.” “An interception squad has already been dispatched.” Eager voices reported one after the other, each keen to impart favorable information. None wishing to draw the focus of his ire. “The patrol squad, why did they not report this object prior to impact? Explain why I am still awaiting confirmation of what struck our craft?” The tone and language he chose was inflammatory by design.  Kindness was a weakness that must be eradicated lest it take root and weaken moral. “The patrol squad gave their lives to slow the object honored one. Trajectory indicates that the price paid was sufficient to prevent significant damage. The Telesthesia will not have been reduced in her efficiency.” The Infantry commander replied flatly. “As it should be. Initial reports from the object display a mechanical vehicle of some form with trace radiation signatures. Inactive. Perhaps junk long since discarded.” Quiet conversation about the command deck silenced as the crew watched and waited.  The cold stare Fid’hae fixed the Infantry commander with was returned in kind as each invid officer weighed the other. “The object may well be below the contempt of those more evolved, you however may not include yourself amongst those exalted. Fetch this object, personally. Do this and the previous slight may well be overlooked.” The warped and burnt machine lay propped awkwardly within the hold of the detachments supply ship. Curious and suspicious eyes played across the angular surfaces. Remnants of strange alien text marked the pitted surface. What military purpose had this machine once served? “Odd, immeasurably different in design…” The lead scientist muttered as his prodded and probed, trying to decipher a way to access the machines core. Heavy radiation shielded suites impeding their progress. “Does it hold ANY value, or is it merely junk to be discarded?” Agitation slipping into his posture, Fid’hae hoped that his gambit might pay off. The radiation sickness that the infantry officer had suffered from on returning had been unexpected, to most.  Foolishly the Officer had chosen to publicly tip his hand, to challenge for leadership was expected. To be applauded. A code that ensued the Alpha lead, but only as long as he was fit to do so!  The Officer may yet learn from his miss step, the reason that Fid’hae had chosen not to terminate him. It would serve as key lesson for those who would follow. “It is…difficult to say. A fragile design, non-military. Yet these here, appear to have once been antenna devices.” Consulting within his inspection group, the other scientists nodded along with the assessment. “A science or scouting machine. It is old, the radiation traces indicate solar bombardment, though many decades old. It has traveled for a considerable time!” “Arriving at the point in a timely manner is not one of your strengths. Can we recover intelligence of data of value?” His reputation, his pride rode on being able to determine an assets strategic value, Fid’hae needed for his hunch to prove valid. “We are trying honored one, the machine is fragile and not well designed. The radiation hampers our ability to access…” “Douse the machine in radiation flocculants until it reaches safe working levels. You will give me access; I want whatever information dwells within!” Fid’hae declared in a tone that left no room for argument. 

Stalking away, the irritation that bubbled within lessened with each step. A feeling, a sensation that he had come to rely apon, forewarned that this thing held importance. What that might be, only time would tell, but he would be a fool to ignore such warnings. His hand subconsciously stroked the glowing crystal that hung from his neck for luck, feeling the familiar soothing sensation to his ire. Yes, grand events may be developing on the horizon, yet none would be more prepared than he!  The glory would be his for the taking, then he might be elevated to the position of Warlord… The flicker of lighting and power took him by surprise. The vessel was glutted on Protoculture, there was no reasonable cause for... A feeble ploy, it must be a desperate attempt on his position!  Again, the lighting flickered as the supply vessel shuddered rhythmically. The drives were misfiring, something was wrong, very wrong. Adrenaline fueled anger, drove his headlong rush to the Helm. He had expected a warrior’s challenge, this was not the way! This was cowardly, underhanded, when he found the individuals responsible, he would see them relegated to the Genesis Pits . Rounding the corner, he collided with an someone moving at speed.  Reflexively Fid’hae spun, lashing out at individual, hearing the crack of bone as his blow landed below the targets eye socket.  Sinking to the deck the target squealed in fear, sobbing as it cradled its maimed face.   Fid’hae looked down at the creature in disgust as its green blood dripped and spattered to the deck, choked sobs muffled by its hands. Dragging the figure to its feet Fid’hae began to berate the scientist before him yet the words died in his mouth as the crystal at his neck throbbed and hummed. A twisting blackness was oozing from the wound. Maggot like tendrils writhed blindly within the gash, panicked eyes silently pleading for help.  Desperate hands pawed at his suite, like a drowning creature trying to cling to life. With considerable effort, Fid’hae broke the scientist’s death grip apon him, throwing the invid hard against the wall. The figure impacted with a wet squelch as Fid’hae hurried past him. With mounting trepidation, he sprinted. The hold, he had to see firsthand. He had to contain the threat before it spread… The screeching sound reached his ears before his mind had a chance to register the lurching monstrosity shambling from the hold. Pieces of the alien craft wove seamlessly with the bodies of several of the science cast members, yet all were twisted into sickening parodies of their original form.  Beyond the beast, the hold was swathed in pulsating darkness. Misshapen heads and eye stalks rotate to fixate on Fid’hae as the creature shuffles ungainly forward. “Come home to ussss… Be remade…” The voice rings and echoes painfully within Fid’hae’s head, the words misspoken and barely discernible as language.  Precognitive pulsing from the crystal at his neck the only warning a spear tipped tendrils lance though the space between the two figures, narrowly missing their target.  Deeply embedded in the bulkheads the malformed mass pulls itself forward, stretching obscenely as flesh and steel reform. “Survive, flee and survive.” The thoughts drive Fid’hae to action as the crystal burns against his flesh. Shapes and chitin flow and knit from the seething mass, images that burn themselves into his dumfounded mind as his body reacts. Flashes of light, howls of pain, the hiss of airlocks failing. The thundering roar of thrusters as the medical shuttle craft streaked away from the buckling supply vessel.  Despite his training, despite the indoctrination and rigours of enforced discipline panic strips Fid’hae of reason. Finally finding time to look about the cramped confines of the shuttle, the collection of survivors wear the same expression of terror etched into faced that are well versed with the horrors of war. As realization slowly reasserts itself, Fid’hae forces his way past enforcer troupers and those well below his station.  “Clarity, Stimulants. I need to reassert control and plot a course of action.” The words muttered to himself go unnoticed by the stupefied crew. The physical effects of shock playing out progressively in each individual. Locating an auto injector, with shaking fingers, Fid’hae struggles to load the ampules into the cartridge. “Why can’t these fools clean up?” The incensed thought fading as the question as to where the medical staff are dawns. The groan from one of the stretcher cubicles causing fumbling fingers to drop the ampules to the floor. Something wet slaps against a table, scattering medical equipment. Something stinking and moist slides from the stretcher and rises towering above the Invid. Something that wears the face of the radiation burnt Infantry Commander…