The Pinnacle - Level 195
Back at her desk, Ronovi was getting the latest breakdown of clan activity before the upcoming onslaught. TuQ’uan sat across from her, eyeing the bottle of Whyren’s Reserve which contents were slowly but surely depleting throughout the meeting. Behind him stood Cyvarria Ranin, Admiral of the Ascendant Fleet, and Owen Serrus, Captain of the Ascendancy. Both of them still wore battle scars from the explosion during the siege of the Thuvis Shipyards, Serrus specifically wearing an eyepatch as his left eye attempted to recover its shape and vision.
The four were going over the latest assets of the Ascendant Fleet and deciding where to send them in this latest skirmish. Kel Zar’s fleet could be handled by Khryso and a handful of Besh Task Force squadrons - nothing heavy needed to be there to take that on. However, the Dread Lord knew full well of other splinter cells from the Collective patrolling the Unknown Regions. Therefore, they had to be mindful of their allotment.
“The Wrath can head a few squadrons to the north of the system,” TuQ’uan opined. “I can command that. As for the Termagant, its ships can be allocated to multiple areas. There are some gravity wells we can draw ships to, to trap them and keep them from launching into hyperspace.”
“I’d be careful,” warned Ranin. “Our ships are equally vulnerable.”
“What about the Ascendancy?” Serrus asked. “Does she stay home?”
“She’ll maintain a moderate defensive line near the Anchorage, yes,” Ronovi replied. “We don’t want to send every ship we have out. That leaves us open for attack if we’ve missed anybody.”
TuQ’uan’s eyes crinkled in a smile above his respirator. “But we’re certainly going to clean them up in this city, aren’t we?”
Ronovi nodded simply. Wrathus and Tahiri had taken charge of the “enforcement” prong of the campaign - as in, they and others who had decided not to fly out for battle would take out enemies in Aliso City itself. Anyone who questioned the planet’s governance would be taken in and interrogated; given many Plagueians’ reputations for torture, the Epicanthix knew that it would not be pretty.
Feeling comfortable with the set-up, she stood up and beckoned TuQ’uan, Ranin, and Serrus to leave. “Enough chatting for now. You have ships to man and pilots to command. Varick, Ranin, Serrus - I’m counting on you.”
Once they were gone, Ronovi sat back down, picking up the whiskey bottle and draining it of its innards. As soon as the room began to tilt, she knew she was finally where she wanted to be mentally.
Let’s murder some Collective scum.