Crina History: Finest Hour

[Alva Calvarona]

This is the story of the death of Crinan Royal General Tiberius, the true depiction of events as they were.

"Lord Tiberius, Colonel Maxwell's full division has been assaulted by a large rebel force. They're apparently trying to capture the city of Diconia from his position. That'll put them another city closer to Andreea sir."

The older man sitting in the command seat of one of the Crinan Royal Army's Noble class battleships stared down at the young officer at the communications station, confusion and disappointment filling his gaze as he gave the young man a hard look before answering. "Well then what is it you're wondering about? Tell him we're coming!" He was Lord General Tiberius! Even if the communications officer was new it was a sad showing on his part. After all, whenever it came to Tiberius there was always the same course of action: Get in there in time to save the day.

It had become such a staple of the General to go to the aid of allied forces hard pressed he was confused how communications had thought to ask him about things. The woman at the helm of the ship had already been coordinating with the navigation officer to begin steering their ship towards the city without having to request permission at all, they had served before yes, but navigation at least was somewhat new and managed to act knowing what to do.

Maybe that was just buying into his own hype too much though. "Get an internal communication down to the soldiers below in the troop bays. Have them be ready for deployment when we arrive. And get an estimate on the rebel's strength and what we're looking at."

 

[Alva Calvarona]

The soldiers in their quarters still did not stay where they were for long, at the sound of the communication coming over for them to begin grabbing their gear and preparing for a combat scenario the royal soldiers of Crina began to move. Climbing from their bunks or from the mess halls and everywhere else where they had been spending their time, the troops under the command of Lord General Tiberius hurried to meet the reputation they had garnered. Boots were strapped on, armor secured into place, and helmets lowered over the faces of the Royalists loyal and dedicated infantry units. Knives were slipped into place and blasters holstered or slung about as the Crinan men and women in armor jogged down the halls towards their posts and waiting zones.

All as practiced.

All as planned.

But not just by General Tiberius' design.

Explosions would begin to dot the ship, both from the outside and from within, specifically in the areas were many of the Royalist Soldiers were awaiting deployment. Screams and cries of shock and pain and fear and death could be heard as destruction was wrought on General Tiberius' flagship, and as the reaper came to claim the lives of those on board.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

Lord General Tiberius was in a perfect position to understand and see everything unfold. His bridge crew was on top of things right as they began, the call from the Sensor suite that incoming missiles had been detected rang out alarm for the General and his officers, his helmswoman already taking the initiative to maneuver the ship to take the least damage or buy time for a counterattack. They were the best of the best, the finest crew. the finest soldiers, the finest commander, they were Crina's blessed battalion. They could deal with a surprise attack, it was a pitiful attempt on the rebels to believe that a simple assault on his ship would bring down "The Saint".

It would take an assassin for that.

A traitor.

And extensive work to create the perfect situation.

As the ship surged to react to the attack upon it the Communications officer tipped his hat before clutching a device within his pocket. A device that caused planted explosives across the ship, in areas where the majority of the crew and on board soldiers would be, to erupt and seal the fate of the Royal Army's "Finest". The Noble class vessel would buck and teeter, its evasive maneuvers thrown in disarray leaving it open to the missiles that now slammed into its hull and joined the internal detonations in wrecking havoc on the Royal Navy warship.

Tiberius watched in dismay and fury as the Communications officer spun in his seat and raised a blaster toward him, realization fully understood after the initial surprise at the failure and destruction of his ship sank in. Soldiers working security of the bridge who had been thrown to the floor furiously fought to get to their fleet and stand in front of their commander, their general, the Hero of the Royal's Armed Forces.

But they were far too slow as the rebel infiltrator fired his blaster, the weapon's shot burning through the uniform and ceremonial garb that the Lord General wore.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

Meanwhile in the troop bays and dropship zones, the major hallways, and essential system areas all found themselves engulfed in flames. When the ship would eventually crash onto Crina's surface there wouldn't be much more death than there already had been, so many already struck down in this initial rebel attack. The fires consumed them, many dying right away caught within the immediate proximity of the explosions. Even then those close enough became heavily injured, the armor intended to protect against explosives and concussive forces unable to handle such intense explosions as were ripping the Crinan Warship asunder.

Nonetheless those not caught on top of the detonation fared better than their comrades as their armor protected them as they were thrown about and debris rained around them. Broken bones were fairly decent trade offs to dying in fiery death, still the soldiers of Crina's Royal Army knew their torment was not yet over as the floors beneath their feet tilted as the ship buckled and plunged toward the ground below. Many began to climb, hoping the further they were from the impact point the better their chances of survival, others lay stunned or shocked or crippled by the loss of their comrades.

All the same they all suffered regardless of where they lay as the Noble Class Battleship met the solid surface of Crina, and still yet there was more death and doom to come. Still General Tiberius would witness.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

He witnessed as the blaster bolt penetrated his abdomen, piercing a lung and causing him to gasp in pain and fall from his seat to the floor. He witnessed from there as the woman at the helm rushed the traitor and was shot as well before the soldiers who were tasked with defending the bridge managed to draw their own weapons on the rebel who had managed to sneak into their ranks. Lord General Tiberius witnessed as the rebel finally met his end as a flurry of returning fire from the security team lanced through the body of the nameless rebel who had sealed the fate of the man who had created a legend.

The navigation officer rushed to the fallen Tiberius' side, though she was quickly waved off in favor of the General pointing to the fallen helmswoman. He was picked up by the loyal soldiers who had gunned down the rebel, furious and panicked at their failure to protect the bridge and those within it, though he felt very distant from this act, more so as the navigation officer's negative on their fallen comrade's status came through. Was this how the legend of Lord General Saint Tiberius would end? Slain by a rebel trick? His crew and ship devastated and destroyed?

He ignored the number of questions launched at him about how they should flee or abandon ship, the calls that the escape pods and shuttle bays had been targeted in the attack, and the fact he could feel his blood still dripping from his wound. "This isn't over yet. . . . not yet. . . ." Staring out from the bridge, Tiberius watched the ship fall, and closed his eyes expectantly as the ship struck the ground.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

Thrown around wherever they had been resting at, the soldiers and crew under Lord General Tiberius command lay motionless, stunned, battered, wounded, dying, dead, and afraid. Once called the blessed battalion, the angels of the Saint, the finest on Crina. . . . . now broken and fallen. Was this their end? Would the ship fall apart more? Crush more of them? Burn down with them within it? Or would the rebels continue the attack, enter the remains of the once proud and noble ship, and finish them off? Or would they show mercy if they came? Letting those who survived go back to their homes? What would they do? What should they do? What could they do?

"We will exit the ship. . . . . .we will make our way to Diconia. . . .Colonel Maxwell is still waiting on us. . . .we're the blessed battalion, you follow me the Saint. We won't die here, this can't be our end. Get on your feet, carry what and who you can. . . . .we are unbreakable, unstoppable, we are Crina's finest. We will walk out there and break them, and we will make it to Diconia just like we always make it. Now get up, all of you, you angels of Saint Tiberius. . . . .get up."

The sound of Tiberius voice over the ship comms reached many of the survivors, not that there were many left to hear. In the destroyed areas there were few to none survivors to hear anyway if the comms were working there. So the majority in the less damaged regions of the Noble battleship heard their commanders voice, their Saint's orders, their heroes request. And they picked themselves up, clutched desperately to each other and those they could not leave behind, and moved to meet up where they could exit the ship.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

"We will exit the ship. . . . . .we will make our way to Diconia. . . .Colonel Maxwell is still waiting on us. . . .we're the blessed battalion, you follow me the Saint. We won't die here, this can't be our end. Get on your feet, carry what and who you can. . . . .we are unbreakable, unstoppable, we are Crina's finest. We will walk out there and break them, and we will make it to Diconia just like we always make it. Now get up, all of you, you angels of Saint Tiberius. . . . .get up."

A grin spread across the weathered face of the hero of Crina's Royal Army, the Saint revered by allies and enemies alike. Loved and feared, brilliant and foolhardy, strong and worn, a man of virtue and who had risen to legend. A chuckle escaped his throat, short and weak as it devolved into gasps, his punctured lung taking a toll even as those around him attempted to provide emergency care. Yet he waved them off, they had to go organize with the rest of their crew, their forces, and break the rebel lines as they always had.

They had created a legend, they had set a precedent they could not fail to meet, they would succeed, because they always had, they couldn't not do so now, it was impossible, it was not something they could afford to let go. So Lord General Saint Tiberius, leader of angels, hero of the Royal Army, the finest commander of the century and man to make such an impact on the civil war, strode out the ship with his soldiers in tow, a staggered charge and battle cry rising up from his forces as they tore out of the fallen battleship, aiming for the mountain rise between them and Diconia.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

And died.

A rebel Noble class battleship moving above Lord General Tiberius ragged force, raining down fire with its capital ship guns, while an entire rebel force moved on them having closed in on the fallen flagship of the Saint. Blaster fire lanced out from Tiberius' Blessed Battalion the moment they exited their fallen wreck, but rebel fire in turn pierced back through their ranks to greater effect. Lord General Tiberius being the first to fall, his time of witness coming to an end as a burst of turbolaser fire consumed him along with his navigation officer having offered him her shoulder.

The rest of the crew and compliment of the once famed finest force soon collapsed as well. Those who had seen the General's death fell and gave in to the inevitable, those who did not tried foolishly to fight on still and push forward only to be slain by rebel arms as their armor was struck by the many blaster shots firing at them until their armor was pierced through. Those who watched their HUDs stared as the counters of the vitals of nearby comrades perished, their lives extinguished, as lasers left smolders in their once brilliantly shining armor, their winged helmets cracked, visors broken, blood pooling out.

Spirits broke, so too did their charge. Yet the rebels did not stop, brutal as it was. They knew what they were doing, what they had to do here. A complete victory, a complete extermination of the enemy. They would extinguish all the Royal Army's morale just as they were breaking those of the men and women in Royal Armor before them. They had to, to win the war, to bring it to an end sooner, they had to eliminate that which had given the Royalists such confidence and hope. Their Saint was slain, their angels shot down, their finest defeated.

Without having slain more than ten rebels in return.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

Yet the war did not end, in fact it went on for many many more years. Until an outside force intervened. Until the Imperial Remnant came.

And conquered them all.

The fate of General Tiberius and his forces, the fall of the Blessed Battalion and the heralded saint of Crina, was vastly covered up. There had been no siege of Diconia to repel, Colonel Maxwell's forces were not in danger and did not need rescue. The rebels had the entire thing set up just to kill the Lord General, they killed every last one of the crew under his command to ensure he was truly dead and not merely hiding. They crushed their finest in a trap laid due to the failed belief in Tiberius' legend. The overconfidence cost so many their lives, and all for nothing, all because a rebel snuck onto the crew and could completely destroy the ship himself and make an attempt on the general's life.

Whether it was because of failed protocols, or because the Saint was too confidant or kind to judge those under his command initially, one cannot say. But what can be said was that the official tale never made it to the textbooks or public ear. Only rumors spoke of the disgraceful death of General Tiberius. What would be told in propaganda and be written in history was that Diconia was indeed besieged, that Colonel Maxwell was pressed to the edge, and that Lord Tiberius had come to save the day once more in a glorious charge that allowed the Colonel and his men to flee to safety while the Blessed Battalion held the line against overwhelming odds until they all fell, the Lord General last to perish as he stood against the rebel hordes.

 

[Alva Calvarona]

It is because of this that the high command of Crina's armed forces quickly put a project into development to further enhance the armor of their soldiers. It was quickly determined that while the armor of the Royal Soldiers was durable and protective, it did not defend as much as it could against blasters and even though it was designed to withstand explosives the energy of the blasts themselves, including the flames, was still a major problem at hand. So it was soon put into development, and then practice, that soldiers in the Royal Army were equipped with light shield generators for their armor, that protected against energy based weapons like blasters and could absorb some heat to increase the protection against explosives.

It also taught them to better shield their commanders, less a bolt fatally wound them as the traitor at the communications console had shot Tiberius. Prompting the construction of Durasteel command armor meant to protect commanders not on the front lines from snipers or spies attempting to assassinate them. They learned from their mistakes, they would not allow such losses to befall them again, not when the loss of the General hit their morale so hard, and not when the rebels surged under their counter propaganda.

These contributions would someday be at the hands of the Imperial Remnant as they took over. The Crinan Royal Soldier's armor now also open to their own forces.