RENS
LOCATION UNKNOWN 

It hadn’t taken long for Roc Wieler to slip up, not long at all. General Mako smiled bemusedly at his good fortune. In  his experience, complex plans often required every attention to detail, every estimation for the unknown. Patience, cunning, deception; these were all traits he had employed several times over in his past endeavours, exercising great care and caution to ensure he always met his objectives. Subterfuge was where he excelled; and  yet Roc Wieler had made it so easy, so early. The General suppressed his laughter.

“Sir?” the voice on the other end of the comm asked.

“You heard me correctly, Talon Commander. Destroy every hostile target and their allies. Leave nothing remaining.” Far too easy indeed.

“Understood, sir.”

The comm double clicked and went silent. General Mako moved his piece on his mental chessboard, savouring his closing endgame. “Checkmate” he whispered to himself.

—

VARD SYSTEM
BASTARDS/MILITIA FLEET

The Renegade closed the distance to the main battle quickly, the blaze of its afterburner contrasting starkly to the dark canvas of space. Colonel Roc Wieler already had a Punisher locked and scrammed, and at thirty kilometres, began hammering it with 250mm artillery cannons. The Punisher diminished quickly under his assault, not able to return fire against the fast moving, out of range ship. Gaping holes appeared along its hull, followed by visible buckling against the pressure of space. Roc was already onto his next locked target, the death throes of the Punisher a thing of the past.

A half dozen Republic Militia Fleet had responded from nearby systems to Roc’s call, and he had quickly flagged them as friendly on the Bastards overview. The situation was tenuous at best, and all it would take for this alliance to fall apart was one careless shot.

The Bastards fought courageously, vengefully, the Minmatar by their side against the might of the Amarr fleet, yet still it wasn’t enough. Mr. Frog’s Executioner exploded; another loss they couldn’t afford in this fight.

“What’s the deal, darlin?” Mynxee implored on a private comm channel with Roc.

“I don’t know, Mynx. There should’ve been more of a response. I’m monitoring the channels. There are militia fleets about, but none are responding. I think we’re on our own.”

Roc was bitter, angry, disappointed. He was a colonel for crying out loud. His request for help had gone mostly unanswered in both the Militia Intel channel AND the Tribal Fleet Commanders channel, both fully populated with his brothers and sisters at arms.

Something wasn’t right. He could feel it in the pit of his stomach. 

—

DAL SYSTEM
VARD STARGATE

“You heard me right, fleet.” Dorian Flagg spoke into his fleet channel. “Comm silence at all times, break and engage at your discretion. There’s an Amarr fleet in Vard at a minor facility; there’s also pirates. Command has intel that some of our eggers have gone rogue, and have allied with the pirates. No questions asked, we’re to make an example of them. This run is off the books. Disengage your pod recorders now.”

Numerous double clicks sounded as the members of Flagg’s fleet acknowledged his orders. He was looking forward to this. He hated the Amarr as much as any Minnie;  he hated traitors to the Republic even more. 

He checked the systems on his Muninn twice, then gave the order to jump into Vard.

—

“I don’t believe it.”

“It’s about bloody time!”

“Alright, boys and girls, let’s hold out until the calvary arrive!”

A new surge of hope pushed the Bastards and their diminutive allies into action. Fifty two Republic Fleet ships had just entered Vard; battleships, battlecruisers, heavy assault ships, and interceptors. The tides of the battle had just shifted in their favour.

“Way to go, babe.” Mynxee spoke into their private channel. “Looks like you managed to pull this off. Grats.”

“Thanks.” Roc said distractedly. He had been hailing the fleet since they entered the system, but there was no reply. He issued the proper protocols, and Aura confirmed they were being received. They were simply not responding.

A quick shot across his bow brought Roc back to the reality of the moment, and he fully re-engaged himself into the task of survival.

The dance of the Bastards and the Amarr was as elegant as it was deadly. Couples left the floor when the cosmic judges deemed their movements not worthy to continue on. The accompanying light show of exploding ships and orchestral backdrop of weapons fire made for a magnificent mosaic of destruction. 

The Minmatar fleet was reverting to realspace. Some of the Amarr turned their attention to this new inbound enemy; some turned and fled altogether. The Minmatar were brutal, razing the Amarr with seemingly little effort. 

“WOOOOHOOOOO!”

“Yeah bitches!”

“That’s the shit I’m talkin’ about!”

“Nice! Nice! Eat it!”

The Bastards fleet channel had fallen back to chaos and disorder, the norm for them when not consumed in battle apparently. Roc Wieler sighed at this reversion, but still was distracted by the Minmatar Fleet. They were not returning his hails, and it was really getting on his nerves.

“I repeat, Minmatar Fleet, do NOT fire on my wingmates, they are currently aiding the cause of the Republic, and are to be treated as friendly. Do NOT fire.

I repeat, Minmatar Fleet do NOT fire on…”

“What the? I’m being locked! Oh shit, oh shit oh…” Raelyf never finished that thought as his Rifter popped before their eyes. Half of the might of the Minmatar Fleet had turned its wary eye towards the Bastards, and was engaging them in full force.

“Roc? What the hell is going on?!”

“Do NOT fire back. I can salvage this!”

“Oh we ARE firing back! Nobody shoots the Bastards!”

“Just gimme a damn minute. I can sort this out!”

“Your damn minute ended when Raelyf popped, Colonel.”

Roc cursed to himself as Jedziah berated him in front of the entire Bastards fleet. She was right. It was over. It had been going so well too. The Bastards were genuinely enjoying their adventure, getting a small taste of the elation experienced when ridding the galaxy of the Amarr. It was reinforcing his original pitch to them, join the Republic, fight for the Republic, and feel the reward of doing what is right and good.

Now it had all turned to shit. His stomach lurched; he was probably getting an ulcer, and he still didn’t know why it had all gone wrong at the end.

Jedziah interrupted his introspection, “Bastards, we’re leaving. Cover each other back to Evati. We’re done with this horseshit.”

Roc froze for a moment as his overview winked out, then re-appeared much more minimally than before. He had been kicked from their fleet. The message was clear; you aren’t welcome here anymore.

He had never been one to give up, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to give up now. He set his course for Evati, entered warp, then hailed Jedziah.

She accepted his request, and their private conversation began.

“It’s not your fault, Roc. I know. But this is exactly why we will not get involved in the war. It’s too hard to manage, too slow to maintain. We should’ve treated every ship not in our fleet as an enemy from the getgo, regardless. It’s how we roll; it’s how we survive. 

We’ll do this again, because it’s you, but you and I are gonna have a long talk and lay some ground rules. I’ll see you in Evati.”

With that, she disconnected, leaving Roc to stir in his own negatively spiralling thoughts. He would find out what was going on with the militia, and someone would be held very accountable for their actions today.

—

RENS
LOCATION UNKNOWN

“Mission failure, sir.” Flagg reported, his voiced deflated and afraid. 

It was a simple task any buffoon could’ve executed. How hard was it to not let your enemy escape? General Mako cursed, smashing his fists together in frustration. He had accounted for this, but had not really expected it to happen. Perhaps Colonel Wieler would prove to be more of a worthy adversary than he thought.

All the better, he mused, for when I crush him.