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Nepleslian News Network Turassiel partnership talks


“Welcome back to NNN, Nepleslian News Network. Noting the heavy casualties faced during the attack on Nataria prime, which was stopped with a massive Armada, part of which was led by our very own grand admiral Violetta Deluca in the Nataria system. Both Kuvexian and allied forces have withdrawn from the system to rest and recuperate. In other news, we now go live to the observation deck of the Starborne, carrying one of the first crews to see the inside of a Senti Flotilla. Jane?”

“Thanks, Dave.” The swirling blues and whites of Hyperspace framed the green-eyed brunette Nepleslian reporter as she spoke, her dress surprisingly conservative, her voice strong and professional as she laid down the facts. “In a few moments, we will be dropping out of Hyperspace to visit the Senti Flotilla named Turassiel, which, since Shurista’s first contact four years ago, has stepped forward as a hopeful major supporter of Nepleslian operations in the region."

Another young woman would come onto the feed, Nepleslia’s very own NNN girl, her blond hair flowing and her bustline as low as usual, she stood bright-eyed and cheery. “We take a moment from this current broadcast to remind folks back at home. To do your part for our boys and girls in blue and green. Help with the War effort, and don't forget you can also show support at your local Neppy's burgers! Now back to the exciting developments." Her face would fade, as the young reporter came into view once more.

"The flotilla is known to patrol between Euthalis and Red Sky, further out in the expanse towards the Snot Nebula and the former Osman Star Organization territories. Their economic focuses have been reported to be primarily manufacturing, trade, and support of local antislavery operations. Most flotillas are difficult to track, and the closest to a location we have been allowed is an operational zone. This is primarily because Flotillas move. This sector of space is known to have several flotillas patrolling the area, including the Katamuran pirates known for raiding military supply routes and defending refugees, attacking Kuvexian slave vessels, and sending the slaves into Nepleslia and Elysia for rehabilitation.”

She stood awkwardly for an instant, noting that the drop from Hyperspace was behind by a few seconds, perhaps a minor miscalculation. “The Senti as a species is generally not hostile, though may have a different definition of an appropriate response. In my experience, they are pragmatic, blunt, and friendly people, industrious and hardy like ourselves, and secretive if you don’t ask the right questions. Through those questions, we have been granted navigational data to visit one of the four most well-known flotillas, and the industrial powerhouse of the dark expanse reaching out a friendly hand to Nepleslia. We hope that the talks we witness here will be fruitful.”

At some signal, the woman pulled away from the window, stepping back and turning to watch the glass as space flickered and folded, fading into the infinite black and the brassy gold horizon of the monstrous, continent-sized mobile superstructure. Something bounced off the window, and the reporter jumped. “Was that-- Was that a body? Satu, get up here, you have to see this!”

The camera shifted and rolled slightly as the cameraman stepped to the window, taking in the scene of burned steel and gouts of plasma arcing across space, scorched and husked hulls lining the space as the Starborne cut on the exterior lights. “This is… This is horrific. Turassiel has been attacked, and we count four… No, five segments spinning off into space. The continent-sized mass of steel has been shattered, and her depths exposed to space. Everything is on fire, and she is hemorrhaging air. We can see… Bodies… Hundreds? Thousands? No, more… Look at that!”

The camera zoomed into a cavernous space, clearly once full of air as flickering reactors glittered across an enormous tree of golden steel, dotted with pieces of glittering silver, whether frozen air or bodies it was impossible to tell, until something drifted past the window, the frozen corpse of a mother and child, the mother’s face frozen in fear as she clutched the child eternally, instinctively. The last sight that had crossed her eyes was her metal sky tearing open to the infinite black. The reporter stepped into the frame again, looking visibly ill. “Cut the feed,” her voice cracked as the realization that this destruction was brought upon unarmed civilians, merchants, and families finally struck her. “Turassiel is destroyed. They were unarmed. Cut the feed, we’re going to look for survivors.”

Returning to the news anchors, both seemed taken aback, before the woman behind the desk shuffled a few papers. “This just in, Turassieli refugees have started arriving in Nepleslia and Elysia. Katamuran pirates are escorting refugee ships, some claim they may go as far as Shurista in the Lonely Expanse or Sutrata in the Western Frontier of Duskerian space. Normally, Katamurans announce themselves with music meant to block communications by overwhelming signals. Tonight, though, Katamura is silent. We wish them godspeed and good luck. For those that come here… I hope my people send to look for survivors, soon. This is a terrible blow. We hope that the Nepleslian people will welcome the Turassieli refugees with open arms, that they may mourn the loss of their home in warmth and safety.”

“I, for one, will be hoping for the safe arrival of the survivors, and their continued safety.” He seemed pale as he sipped from the mug on the table. “We will keep you updated on this story as it develops.”