Shariahs POV

Shariah marches through the halls of the Catfish heading for the briefing room. Her EVA suit boots clack against the metal floor as she makes her way to her superior. She isn't angry at the man; she is just greatly disturbed by how the entire situation is playing out. She hadn't predicted anything like this and was very shocked at the "proportional response" the Commodore had done. She is grateful, but the political situation is now quite insane.

She opens the door, steps into the dimly lit room, and pauses. The only sound inside is the sound of a glass being set down on the wooden table, she can only make out the vaguest outline of Commodore Hollander but his eyes. Those damned reflective eyes like a predator stare at her and this time it isn't a look of slight annoyance, his eyes are harsh and predatory.

He speaks calmly and with an authoritative tone, clearly showing his emotions are not positive,

"Shariah, come inside and close the door behind you..."

She does as commanded and she finds the lightswitch doesn't work, most likely something to do with the Commodore's complete control of his vessel. She enters the dark room and sits across from him. A dim console on the wall was the only light in the dark room, enough to reflect his blue eyes. He then speaks again,

"I apologize about the light in the room. I have a chainsaw migraine right now."

Shariah nods and asks,

"Sir, with all due respect, was the response you gave necessary? It is now functionally impossible to recover diplomatic efforts. There were over 100,000 people on the ship you destroyed in both crew and support staff."

For a moment it looks like his reflective eyes flicker with a backlight of some sort, a flicker of thinly veiled anger. The Commodore responds,

"With all due respect, there were 200 civilians on the science vessel that was destroyed including the entire legal team and their leader. That vessel was unarmed and was destroyed without warning. I understand things are different now from when I was your age but when I was coming up as a naval officer the motto was, A drop of our blood is equal to a gallon of theirs, especially when it came to civilians. I believe I showed restraint, only targeting military targets, and avoiding unnecessary killing where possible, and the shows of force targeted a single military target and two locations void of civilians.

Policy forty years ago would've meant we would occupy the offending planet and entirely remove the enemy chain of command but I decided in the nature of good faith relations I chose to have us get our people, including you, and sitting behind the moon here until the relief fleet arrives.

Due to the loss of the majority of the civilian effort I have taken full command of both diplomatic and military relations, effective immediately. This comes down from the president. I still respect your skill and capabilities so I ask that you return to my side and offer advice when needed. "

Shariah frowns and responds,

"Sir, what means are you pursuing forward."

He smiles widely with a predatory grin and answers,

"The best diplomacy the US Nacy has ever utilized, Gunboat Diplomacy..."

Back to Commodore Hollander's POV

I rub my aching eyes as Shariah leaves the darkened briefing room with a curt salute. I take a long sip of the Marines's homemade hooch and grimace at the taste of rot, but the burn going down tells me it's strong. Beside me Major Mosoma of the USS Bullfrog sits, shrouded in the darkness of the room. I ask the white-haired man,

"What's your opinion on local enemy forces? Do you think the Marines can help secure us better bargaining positions?"

He thinks for a moment and responds,

"I think we can secure any single objective on the planet without issue sir, but we don't have enough dogs to hold the entire world. Ask us to take a city, a castle, or even capture an enemy leader, but don't request we hold. We are marines, we are shock troops, we arrive quickly and with incomprehensible violence. We may outclass our average foe, but their leadership does have some surprising capabilities. That attack the golden fuck shot at the dropship was more than capable of taking it down if thermal readings are to be believed, luckily it was rather short-ranged and moved below mach."

I nod and say to no one,

"So we'd have roasted devil-dog in that event?"

He nods in the darkness and I sigh. I then order him,

"Get all the marines ready, I'm not certain what our alien friends are going to do, but I doubt it will be peaceful. Most likely I'll have an assassination team deployed, start piecing one together for me, and have them ready to deploy at a moment's notice. I think the Inquisitor is going to be the problem, the Shipmaster that we spoke to before made no moves against us despite the enemy being fully aware of our presence in low orbit."

I stand from my chair and try to ignore the dark spots in my vision. I checked the time and found it was time for me to cycle off rotation. I bid the marine a goodnight and head right to bed taking a few commercial-grade painkillers.

Waking up later my head feels fine, just as expected. After all the migraines are caused by the sudden shift in perspective and information flow into my head. While there is a limit on how long someone can be completely plugged in like that, anytime within that window results in a migraine that can be slept off in only a few hours, just have to give yourself time to reset.

A cup of coffee in hand I enter the bridge to find nothing amiss. I check the locations of local vessels in the system and only find that the smaller wooden ship has been moving. The orbit of the vessel changes by 100km every time it orbits the planet. I swear and quickly scold the sensory technician in charge, not harshly, but enough for them to understand. The ship is doing an optical search pattern. It is slowly changing orbital altitude so it can scan all space near the planet since it is clear they do not possess as sophisticated sensory suites as we do... if at all.

I begin barking orders,

"I want USS Terrapin and Snapper both to intercept with 100km to spare, I want all guns trained on that piece of shit. I want USS Hognose to have 4 tubes open at all time and to be on a close approach, but keep at least 1000km between it and the enemy. I want drones on that thing like stink on shit. Hopefully, they are here to talk, but if not, eradicate all of them."

In my head, multiple voices affirm my orders and immediately the ships in question are maneuvering before burning away from the formation.

I wait patiently as blips move on a screen in front of me. After a few moments, I get confirmation of proper intercepts being made. Three seconds later, USS Snapper confirms communication from the local vessel. The captain of USS Snapper connects the call to me. She says before dropping the call herself,

"They're here to talk. The vessel is supposedly unarmed, and it's that inquisitor guy."

I groan and connect to the call, and the haughty voice of the Inquisitor comes through,

"Lord conquerer Commodore Hollander, I have come to negotiate."

I dismissively reply,

"Speak."

I hear a huff before the golden creature speaks again,

"My lord, the reason I have come is because I believe there to be a cultural misunderstanding on both of our parts."

I say with sarcasm,

"Oh, you don't think? Explain in what way."

I hear another annoyed huff before he explains,

"Disregarding the actions leading up to the current situation, it is clear your people have very different rules when they conquer a planet."

I ask carefully, while being surprised at this revelation,

"Conquer? We have done no such thing."

There is a long pause before the inquisitor continues,

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"You have effectively removed all military presence on the world below. Would your kind not consider that conquered?"

I am stunned for a moment before I quickly answer,

"No, we have no boots on the ground, and I was also unaware of the total lack of military presence on the planet. We had assumed you would have many more garrisons across the wide world."

There is once more a pause, and then the Inquisitor explains,

"We defend our capitals of worlds, the rest are expected to defend themselves as there is rarely a reason to attack those outlying villages and towns except on maybe the most central of worlds to the royal capitol."

I sigh and explain,

"We as humans, across the board regardless of creed or nationality, tend to be quite... stingy when it comes to our worlds, and we would fully commit a defense of a planet under our rule even if it's a barren rock. For your context, what happened below was what we consider a major political incident of course, but we also do not consider it outright conquest or war. It definitely was something that can lead to war of course. We call this action a proportional response."

I hear the alien man laugh, and he responds,

"You killed thousands in response to the loss of a civilian vessel? Your... Ambassador explained there were less than 200 on the ship! "

I cough and flatly state,

"We've turned worlds to uninhabitable wastelands for less."

His laughing stops, and he questions carefully,

"Why not this time?"

I give him the only answer I can,

"Because we wish to pursue friendly relations with the first non-human political entity."

This causes a bout of very dry laughter, and he responds,

"And how do you plan to be friendly with us after such an exchange of violence?"

I quickly respond,

"Friendly to us. That's all that matters. Due to your actions, we have begun a new avenue of diplomacy with you and your kingdom. It is called Gunboat diplomacy. This is a method of doing political negotiations while having a superior military force in order to force someone to actually come to the negotiation table. Do not misunderstand we do not wish to subjugate your people or yourself, nor do we wish to force unreasonable demands. We want proper relations with you and yours, but it has been decided for now to negotiate with a sword in our hand rather than an olive branch."

I hope the last part is translated with a similar word or phrase that the Inquisitor would have cultural context for. There is a long pause before he asks,

"So... what are your current requests as we are now... negotiating."

I smile to myself and give him a few requests,

"None of these requests are being made without some form of cultural or situational context, and I will also will be giving these demands as transactions with a proper reimbursement for anything we take.

First is the simplest, an end to all hostilities between our people. That is all on that front, I do not want violence.

Second, we wish for full rights to mining and harvesting the asteroids in the belt outside of the 3rd planet in this system. This is in order to develop proper infrastructure for our continued operations and friendly relations with your people.

Lastly, this is the only demand, but we wish to be exempt from all trade taxes and tariffs. This one can be negotiated, but we may wish to acquire materials from the planet below for research purposes as we will no longer be sending any civilians planetside even if hostilities have been ceased."

The Inquisitor ponders this for a long moment before he responds,

"Before I give my answer, I must ask if I am a free man or if this is done holding me captive as a negotiating chip?"

I respond quickly,

"You are free to go as you please; thank our republican tradition(as in republic, not the party) for this mercy as we no longer utilize prisoners as bargaining chips for political matters."

He seemingly formulates a response for a moment before eloquently stating,

"I, Lord High Inquisitor of the glorious royal faith, his majesty, above all else, Flavian Ontos, humbly accept the mercy granted by your... republican tradition... and with my authority grant all your requests."

I thank him, and before the call disconnects, he suddenly says quite angrily,

"We will meet again, Commodore, but first, I will report to his Majesty."

Then the call cuts. I immediately start laughing to myself at the circus that those negotiations were and at the last statement. Little does he know, the relief fleet is incoming in about 2 weeks.

4 Months prior, the planet of Yggdrysil

"Leftside flankers incoming, give em hell, boys."

The squad of screaming insurgents come rushing out of a patch of trees before a spray of gunfire rips them to bits. Their bright red uniforms become stained dark by the gore produced by the dozens of .338 caliber rifle rounds slamming into their bodies. The group of army soldiers then moves together and returns to formation with bounding leaps.

The planet of Yggdrysil was once under the control of the Confederacy of European Peoples, but during the last war, it had been handed over to the USA during the peace talks. Unfortunately, in recent months, a violent communist uprising had begun due to a mixture of extreme nationalism and foreign meddling. The insurgents are not the freedom fighter type, instead, they are the kill, torture, and pillage everyone else that isn't with them on the planet, civilians and military alike. This has resulted in a situation of total chaos forming, and military intervention had to be done. Luckily, the planet is still considered a territory due to its new status as part of the USA, meaning the Army and Navy could be deployed to help solve the situation.

The army, composed of the men and women of the USA who aren't modified from their state prior to them joining, forms the main backbone of all terrestrial military action. They utilize lightweight powered armor that is nothing compared to the armored hulks the Marines wear, but it reduces recoil to nothing, makes them no longer feel any combat load they wear, and allows them to sprint at a maximum of 30mph but hold a prolonged speed of 20mph. This allows them to keep good speed when marching alongside the armored forces that compose the central spine of all military operations.

The ten soldiers reach the main column that is spearheaded by a massive 300-ton behemoth of a tank that flattens everything in its path, creating a trail of compacted earth as it is followed by the much longer column of IFVs, regular MBT tanks, and logistic vehicles. The great vehicle known as the M13A3 Kansas class Superheavy Terrestrial Supreamacy vehicle, a wall of armor and guns powered by a small fusion reactor allowing it to utilize Navy-grade defensive lasers and other forms of electronic warfare systems, grants the entire formation of vehicles and infantry defense from missiles and drones.

As it rumbles along the marching infantrymen jump onto the back and take seats as it continues toward the mountain base that the insurgents have been using, remaining safe due to the navy being not allowed to smoke it from orbit, until now.

Lieutenant Colonel Malakai Hollander removes his helmet against standard protocol and inspects the Galea shaped object and fluffs the dark brown plume running along its length, a sign of his rank as the CO of this entire formation. He puts the protective device back on, and with a slight hiss, it seals up once more. He inspects his M8A6 rifle, the large .338 ETC gun feels comedically light in his hands thanks to his powered suit, internally he grumbles about the new armor and how it makes the new soldiers not respect the large piece of death dealing equipment in their hands.

The behemoth he is riding on suddenly stops and over comms, the tank commander states,

"Sir, we are in range and position. The drones are picking up a huge formation of insurgents on their way here. "

With a laugh, Malakai leaps to his feet and climbs onto the large turret of the vehicle. He looks forward at the mountain ahead as mortar shells begin landing around the formation. Most likely coming from hidden tunnels nearby. With a single wave of his hand, the rest of the armored vehicles fan out and line up next to the titanic Kansas tank. In the distance, he can hear the sound of the screaming communists on their way. Swallowing his plug of chewing tobacco, he then starts giving orders,

"All forces dismount and prepare to attack. We are gonna let our hot and heavies soften 'em up before we move and and squish 'em. This big tub of lard I'm standing on is gonna put a really big hole in the mountain for us, and after that, we will make sure there isn't anything left alive in there."

These orders are replied to by various hoots and hollers, then the normal-sized MBTs begin firing their 5-inch cannons. The airbursting rounds sail through the trees in front of them, expertly fired to avoid the massive trees that the planet gets its name from. Utilizing the drones to designate range, the shells detonate 2 meters above the charging insurgents at the optimal time to cause the most casualties. The Kansas tank fires a battery of a 20-barrel 50 mm mortar system(see iron storm mortar system), causing more damage to the rushing men. All this is done over 2 miles away.

The slaughter continues in this way as the drones above are finally able to utilize ground-penetrating radar to find the main chambers of the mountain base. With that done, the order is given, and the great 7-inch railgun of the Kansas tank tracks to the optimal firing angle and arc. Lightning arcs and small metal objects levitate nearby as the railgun prepares to fire. There is a tunderous crack as the massive slug is let free, then another and another as the 6-shot cylinder feeding the large gun is drained. Once all six are fired, the distant reverberating sounds of massive explosions fill the air as the autoloader feeds more shots into the cylinder. Following the blasts is the sound of a massive landslide as the side of the mountain crumbles. The insurgent mortars are silenced by counter-battery fire from the Kansas tanks' 50mm mortars.

Watching the feed showing the slaughter and deciding the enemy force has been decimated enough, he gives the order,

"Tanks! Forward!"

The big vehicles continue crawling forward through the trees, followed close by the IFVs and behind them the dismounted infantry. The fire from their cannons continues, and as they get close, the roof-mounted autocannons begin barking with their drumroll beat. The massive tank fires its railgun once more, which it will continue to do until the friendly forces make it to the mountain. As the advance continues, the infantry don't get a chance to fire their rifles as the machine guns, autocannons, and main guns of the armored vehicles make short work of the unsupported insurgents, causing a rout, and the horde of red-clad insurgents begin running away. Being terrorists, they are not spared as they are fired upon as they run away.

Lt.Colonel Hollander sits on the massive vehicle, enjoying the feel of recoil every time a huge shell is sent into the mountain before him. A smile creeps across his face, hidden by the matte and one-way opaque glass of his helmet. As the tanks and IFVs begin engaging the remaining defensive positions at the foot of the mountain, the following infantry begin clearing the tunnels scattered through the woods, not sending anyone in. Instead, they fill them with fire from flamethrowers and then seal the tunnel exit, letting the smoke and toxic gasses finish off the insurgents inside if the heat didn't get them. When an airvent is found due to billowing smoke, the same thing happens, making sure there is no place for refuge.

Eventually, the tanks and other vehicles have to stop at the foot of the mountain as terrain becomes impossible thanks to the shelling from the Kansas. It stops its own bombardment, and the infantry moves forward. Breaching teams and flame teams move forward and begin exterminating the insurgents still left alive inside the shattered mountainside.

Proud of his boys Lt.Colonel Hollander begins to take his helmet off to put another lip in but is stopped by a message. He answers the call and cusses, then laughs, and ends with a report that the insurgents have been eradicated...

Later that night, once the battalion returns to their transport ship, Lt.Colonel Hollander addresses his men,

"Good news fuckboys and whores. We have a new duty. My beloved older brother has gotten into some slight trouble with some aliens! Apparently those fancy jarheads ain't enough. We will be joined by the 46th engineers and the 8th artillery. Looks like they need some muscle and that's gonna be us!

Pack your bags because we are going on a trip!"