Dimension

<-3-> Chapter 3

Monday is basically Sunday, right?

...right?

Short chapter, but I have a shit ton of spare time now, so I'll be writing more.

Edit: whoops the title of the chapter was a little off haha

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Carok Prime was an ash-choked, industrial wasteland, with pockets of paradise dotted amongst the wreckage. It was the capital of the Caroki Star Union, home to nine billion, and residence of two distinct bodies of governmental power; the Naval Board, which seated its power in the planet's northern-most fortress; and the Civilis, which operated from Carok Prime's gleaming subcapital city, Nia Tonar.

In the utterly perplexing system under which the Union was governed, the Navy and the civilian government held near-equal power. The Navy was, understandably, granted near-total control over most space-borne assets, while the Civilis was left with the Union's Army and all planetside and orbital weaponry. The Chief Assembly -- the closest thing the Union had to a legislative body -- was comprised of seven hundred delegates. Three-hundred and fifty from the Naval Board, and three-hundred and fifty from the Civilis. The same was true for the Judicial Assembly, - ten Arbiters, five from each branch, with an eleventh Lord Arbiter elected from high-status members of the public to serve as a tiebreaker.

The concept was arguably sound on paper. Despite the Navy holding a grossly disproportionate percentage of conventional military units, the Civilis had the final authority on the vast majority of the Union's arsenal of weapons of mass destruction. This, in theory, was enough to balance the government, to prevent a take-over from one branch or the other.

Superimposed space invalidated this in the span of a few hours.

"Carok Prime is under heavy bombardment. The Naval Board bypassed its orbital defenses with superimposed space. The Civilis is retaliating with teleport strikes."

"I want a status report on my fucking ship," Carson ordered.

Saj'esh winced, glancing at his console. "Fires on multiple decks. Confirmed casualties on the shielddeck - seven dead, nineteen with severe plasma burns."

"Configure the medbays. I want my people alive, understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Systems?" the El'saas questioned.

"All critical systems are green. She's fully operational, sir."

Somehow.

There was a minuscule chance Mrs. June and her coworker had survived. The Naval Board didn't even really need to know about their treasonous intentions - they would have attacked all Civilis assets. About S15 being supposedly top-secret... well, moles were the Union's specialty. There wasn't a government in the multiverse that didn't have a Union operative in some high-ranking position, and that was an inclusive statement.

If June was dead, the situation suddenly took a turn for the worse. The scene was set for a multiversal cold war, and the Republic needed superimposed space to keep the situation on the ice. The Union, as of right now, could threaten anyone with impunity.

That had to change.

"Contact S15. Tell them the Union is in civil war, and that they will come with me if they want to live."

"S15 has no life signs, sir."

Great.

"Battlestations. Prepare for close combat. We might be dropping right in front of a dreadnought in a few seconds."

Klaxons wailed. The lighting flashed red, and Tempest dropped out of warp in front of a deserted space station, orbited by small medical ship still flashing red and white.

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"I don't know what I'm fucking doing, June."

"..."

Mark sighed, scratching his neck as he pressed random buttons. "Still not awake, I see." He had already identified the self-destruct button, so there didn't seem to be much risk with just flipping switches until something worked.

The helmsman had killed the thrusters before being stunned to a coma, and there didn't seem to be a button to refire the plasma turbines. It was probably a procedure, but the manual was missing. So far, Mark had reactivated the sensor suite and had managed to get a lock on S15 with the medical ship's single point-defense cannon. Not much help when the ship couldn't move.

A klaxon roared to life.

"Proximity. Alert. Inbound starship."

A cruiser flashed out of warp.

Mark recognized it instantly.

Carson, that fucking bastard.

"Incoming communication," the computer reported.

"Ms. June, do you read?" The El'saas's voice was instantly distinguishable.

"June's... uh, incapacitated," Mark replied. "She's fine, just... sleeping. This is Mark. I hope you have a brilliant plan to get us out of this."

"I do. It's called a gravity projector."

"Proximity. Alert. Inbound starship."

Mark glanced up.

A wormhole sparked to life, flashing and writhing with the force of another dimension.

A whole new set of klaxons exploded as the nose of a Union dreadnought crawled out of antitemporal space, swarming with attack drones.

Two warp-negation cruisers followed close behind.

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Walton drifted, her central drive out, her crew dressed down in magnetic gear to compensate for the lack of linear acceleration. Secondary thrusters labored to maneuver the massive battleship into an optimal firing position, straining against her enormous inertia, operating on half power to provide the energy for Walton's four heavy rail cannons.

Captain Noah watched Alexandra crawl into a standard targeting pattern, bringing her spinal railgun to bear on the Union flag. Two Marathon-class frigates, covered from bow to stern in point-defense cannons, bolstered the battlecruiser's ventral defenses.

It was unlikely to help. Marathons were slow and cumbersome, and, against this many drones, no amount of firepower could save a ship that couldn't disengage.

The Lbarisa-class was a threat unlike any other. It alone was not dangerous in the slightest - it was slower than some atmospheric civilian transports. It had no weapons save for three point-defense guns which provided the bridge with limited defense.

But it carried a shitload of drones. They were suicide drones, as well - basically, thrusters with a pointy end and some explosives. It carried so many even Krra'harr'ti'om would struggle to eliminate all of them. The difference was that the Taryian dreadnought had shields that could absorb triple the number of drones a Lbarisa-class could throw at it, and armor to match.

Walton didn't. Alexandra didn't either.

"Captain, incoming communication from Alexandra."

Noah raised an eyebrow. "Put it through."

Buren's voice crackled through the comms system.

"Contact your superiors immediately, Captain," she said. "The Union has just threatened war."