NationStates Jolt Archive

It is a simple message that arrives at the Menelmacari Prefecture of Trade, a simple purchase request like many others that the Prefecture handles every day, with nothing unusual about it. Another day, another potential buyer. The signiture image was anything but humanoid, but it was easily debated that the image was merely an avatar image and not a real photo.

>>>Begin Transmission<<<
>>>>MESSAGE HEADER<<<<
>>Sender ID: Celeste Argent
>>Recipient ID: Menelmacar - Prefecture of Trade
>>>Message subject: Asteroid purchase request
>>>>END HEADER<<<<

Greetings. I am Celeste Argent, and I am interested in the purchase of a mined out asteroid to convert into offworld housing as part of a larger project. The specifications of what I am looking for are as follows:


Between 3 and 10 kilometers in diameter
Contains both a tunnel system and a large hollow section (either interior or a deep surface crater)
Has some structures built into it already (preferably left from previous mining)
Is either in a central location or moveable to a more desireable location.
Is relatively inexpensive.


I shall await your reply and hope you are able to provide me with what I seek.
http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/Celestesig2.jpg
Celeste Argent
>>>End Transmission<<<

With that, the efficient Menelmacari government swung into action, as it does indeed every day on a million different matters. The Menelmacari economy was, frankly, huge, with hundreds of millions of business entities spanning an interstellar empire, conducting well over seven trillion transactions every year in thousands of different industries. For a foreigner looking to conduct business with Menelmacari, it could be overwhelming - one could be left wondering where even to start.

The Prefecture of Trade filled this niche. Besides coordinating with the Prefecture of State on trade agreements with foreign governments, most of Trade's work focused around, essentially, playing matchmaker. Trade was, essentially, a 'portal' to the Menelmacari business world, a friendly interface or liaison between economies. In this case, there were one thousand, eight hundred and ninety-seven different deep space mining firms of varying size registered in Menelmacar, operating in eighteen separate star systems. To contact them all to inquire after an asteroid for sale could take weeks, if not months. The Prefecture, however, as was its specialty, managed it in three hours; the final product was a very spiffy report, complete with holographic images of the asteroids available, and a warm and friendly personally-recorded response from a pretty elven customer service representative with a lovely smile.

The report included thirty-seven mined-out asteroids fitting the bill, but the most promising was a four-kilometer rock right in Sol's inner Belt itself. At some point in the unbelievably distant past (or perhaps in a relatively recent space battle - the Menelmacari did not care) it had been nearly shattered by a large chunk of iridium which had left a crater covering most of its spinward side. A veritable warren of mining tunnels had been carved out beneath the crater to extract the precious metal, and a small complex had been constructed on the surface of the crater floor, providing living quarters for the miners, increased gravity, rudimentary defenses, and a minor spaceport facility. The gravitic core and defenses had been removed when the mine had been decommissioned, but everything else was still there, and available for a mere few million credits.

Celeste browsed the report, verily satisfied with the promptness of the reply and the range of available asteroids. She spoke briefly with her associates before the decision was reached.

>>>Begin Transmission<<<
>>>>MESSAGE HEADER<<<<
>>Sender ID: Celeste Argent
>>Recipient ID: Menelmacar - Prefecture of Trade
>>>Message subject: RE: Asteroid purchase request
>>>>END HEADER<<<<

My thanks for your exceedingly swift reply to my inquiry. Asteroid #xx looks as though it will best serve my needs, and the price is quite reasonable. An electronic payment will be issued from account #xxx-xxx-xxx-x at the First National Bank of Moneylaunderstan for it.

My organization is looking to expand, so we may seek your assistance again in the future.

http://img.photobucket.com/albums/v515/claw-kun/Celestesig2.jpg
Celeste Argent
>>>End Transmission<<<

C-Space

"Is it done?"

"As done as its going to get. I've got as much fitted as we can get away with in dock. Its up to you from this point forward."

"You have my thanks. We'll do our best."

Fleet Deep Storage Facility 9
Highly Eccentric Orbit, Sol System

Above the system's ecliptic, a nondescript asteroid floats through space. The only thing even mildly interesting about it was the pair of transports on a slow ballistic course that would swing past them. Of course, if anyone knew what was inside either the asteroid or the transports, they might find them both were less boring than they looked. The transports are full of former military personnel and supplies. The asteroid contains something much more important.

Passive sensors detect the approaching ships, and as a result hidden defense systems lock on, self-destruct conversion bombs prime, and the Rock's volunteer EI wakes from slumber to full alert level. Either the ships will approach and the Rock would fire, immolating itself if necessary to prevent capture, or the proper codes will arrive and it will need to prepare itself corridors for visitors. The EI doesn't really care either way - it will either get someone new to talk to or it will start serving out lots of BLAM, one of its favorite pastimes. The series of authentication codes are received, and so the Rock goes about the business of pressurizing and heating corridors and activating the internal gravity. This unavoidably increased the amount of waste heat being produced, but that could be dealt with by heat sinks until it powered down again and the Rock could slowly release it over a few years.

A hidden hangar door opens, and the transports slip inside before it closes again. The EI watches with interests as a stream of men and women begin pouring down the gantries, along with cargo cannisters. One of the men heads for facility's small control room. Inside, he drops into a chair before the central console. "Evening, Rock. Before you ask, I've got all the orders right here." He waves a data card in front of the camera before sliding it into the reader slot. The EI quickly goes through it, passing everything through its ICE before reading. Everything was in order, with the proper authorization from the Commandant's office. It certainly helped to explain the odd orders that had come through a few months ago to greatly accelerate the modernization program for its charges, which had included a number of design modifications above and beyond the planned upgrades. Still, there were a few questions it wanted to ask.

"Begging your pardon, Admiral Mazian, but there's a few things I'd like to ask."

"Ask away, Rock."

"Well, for one, this whole situation seems a bit unusual. I noticed that none of your people seem to be active duty or even ready reserve. For another, there's been no general alert or mobilization orders that would go along with this level of activation."

"Ah, I thought you might wonder about that. This isn't a full-scale mobilization. The Strategic Planning Board wants it all hush-hush. We all retired over the past few months and years, so there's not any movement anyone could see in the reserves. There's not any actual conflict yet, either. We're just going to cover certain possibilities that I'm afraid I can't go into at this time. I'm sure you'll be hearing from First Command very soon." The man smiles at the camera. If the EI had more experience with squishy people, it might have been concerned with the tone of the statement and broad grin. However, it doesn't, so it continues to watch as four of its largest charges were prepared for launch, as were a full complement of parasite craft. It was nice of them, it decided, to bring their own missiles and drones. They'd even been considerate enough to bring their own spare parts for their conversion plants, something the Rock didn't have many of, given their relative newness and the age of its fabricators.

A day later, the four ships were ready for launch. The Rock would miss them, it decided, but it would be nice to return to the normal routine. It would need to grab a small comet soon to replenish all the lost reaction mass, and then get back to maintaining the remaining few ships in its store.

= = = =

Bridge, Command Deck, Fleet Reserve Unit 4G/CV-01-00567
Fleet Deep Storage Facility 9
Highly Eccentric Orbit, Sol System

"Sir, Lieutenant Givens reports that we've finished loading, and the transports' autopilots have been set for a slow return to the station."

"Thank you, Major. Have him and his crew get back to the ship as fast as possible. I want to launch as soon as we can. We'll just have to make due with only eight ships. Probably for the best, anyways, given how little crew we have to man them."

The other man hesitates, then says, "Sir, we still have the time to load up Norway. Another ship could be a bit help, especially if the Beta team doesn't pull the op off as well as we have."

The admiral chuckles. "No, Major, we're not going to even touch Norway. I think we both know exactly how many pursuit ship and Inquisitors will be dispatched if her ship were... appropriated. No, nine ships will do." He swings around. "C1, request status reports, all ships. Route to my comm."

"Aye, sir."

>>"Porey on Africa. We're ready for launch."
>>"Edgar on Australia. Standing by."
>>"Keu on India. All systems go."

"Thank you, gentlemen. We'll proceed with flight plan beta. Stand by." With exaggerated care, Mazian sits down into the command couch. "Propulsion, stand by maneuvering thrusters. Operations, seal and retract all umbilicals, close outer hatches. C1, request that the Rock open bay doors. C2, one minute takehold warning, please."

As the bridge crew replies to his orders, the shipwide address speaker says, "Takehold warning, cousins. Shipmove in one minute. We're not expecting the new compensators to do anything, but be aware of your nearest takehold positions. Repeat, takehold one minute counting."

"Sir, bay doors are open. Rock has given permission for launch."

"Thank you, C1. Ops, disengage all grapples," replies Mazian. A series of thunks resounds through the ship as clamps release at points along the hull. "Helm, ahead on thrusters. C1, signal the fleet to proceed."

Sliding silently out the entrance to the concealed hangar, the carrier Europe enters open space on its own power for the first time in over half a subjective century. Though small for its designation as a front-line carrier compared to modern ships, constant maintenance and upgrades by its overly paranoid and loving owners had kept her and her sister ships in good shape. Sixty ships like her had been built and served valiantly in a dozen conflicts over the better part of a century, all but ten either destroyed outright or crippled beyond repair. Now nine of those survivors were moving to serve once more, albeit under slightly vague ownership. The remaining ship was left behind through no fault of its own, but rather for emotional reasons. Not only did the new occupants of her fellows not want to spoil the honor of the venerable Norway, but they knew that even touching the ship in the pursuit of their goal would risk the wrath of the former captain, who was in a position to see to it that their lives came to a slow and exceedingly painful end.

"Captain, we've cleared the station. Six minutes until we clear the no-burn zone."

"Thank you, chief. Navigation, plot a series of jumps, final destination Point Omicron. Helm, as soon as we clear the zone, bring up main drives and get us out of here." Six minutes later, the four ships light up their main fusion drives and begin a burn that places them on a course out of the system. A short time later, with flares from their vanes, they disappear into the night to join their fellows.


http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/maziani/mazianilaunchsmall.JPG
Larger Version (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/maziani/mazianilaunchmed.JPG)
Big Version (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/maziani/mazianilaunchbig.JPG)

Elsewhere, there is a brief meeting being held in an indescript room. Wherever it is, it must be a fairly large room, or perhaps the cargo hold of a spaceship, given the occupants. The most obvious is the large, unmistakeable form of a dragon, all scales and horns and wings and fangs and the promise of burnination barely held in check. The other is a man. A tall man by human standards, easily six feet tall, but dwarfed next to the massive black, silver, and gold serpent. Such a meeting might normally herald battle, the brave knight rushing off to slay the wicked dragon, but this knight is engaged in urgent conversation with this dragon. To call him a knight would be no small misnomer, either.

"We need to acquire ships suitable for our goals. The shuttles and small cargo vessels will not suffice." The dragon comments, the voice deep, but undeniably female.

The man is skimming a datapad, and nods before replying to the beast. "Hitting the military shipyards is obviously out of the question, with what little manpower and firepower we have at the moment." He raises the clipboard sized datapad up for the drake to see. "We may have one solution though... we have some supporters of our cause that can help."

Interest obviously piqued, the serpent eyes the datapad, its screen quite tiny in her eyes. "What are the specifics?"

The man smiles, both from knowing how hard it was for the great dragon to read human-use datapads, and from the knowledge he had gathered for the cause. "Stealth cruiser. Its lightly armed and from what I've read on it, pretty fast. Two hangar bays which we can use to store and deploy our raiding craft. Its being built by a civilian group and is nearly complete." He pauses, dangling the best piece of the news like a tasty morsel before the fanged monster. "And we can get inside help in obtaining the vessel."

The dragon's jaw drops open slightly, revealing fangs easily half the size of the man, a rumbling chuckle emanating from the depths of the thing's throat, a pleased hiss in its voice as it responds. "Excellent... how heavily guarded is the facility?"

The man checks his datapad again. "Moderate security, but we can easily get by that."

"Indeed." The dragon bobs her massive head, talons tapping on the floor with a series of metallic thunks. "It sounds like it will make an excellent flagship for us. Our group deserves a one-of-a-kind advanced warship to flag our fleet."

"Indeed it will." The man agrees, tapping the stylus on the edge of the pad in thought. "I'll need to get more details before we can proceed with taking the ship for ourselves though."

"In the meantime we can use our existing funds and shuttles to start preparing the Weyr, now that we've purchased the asteroid." The dragon accepts the man's caution regarding the ship, turning instead to other matters.

"How long will it take to finish the Weyr?" The man tips his head in thought.

"That depends. We could begin using it immediately, as it comes with several facilities in place." The dragon brings up a large holo showing an asteroid with a massive crater in its spinward side. "However it wouldn't be wise to do so until we have a proper defense in place."

Already considering means of obtaining equipment, the man hazards the necessary question. "Proper defense? What kind of defenses are we talking about?"

"Largely anti-air and stealth equipment. There is power in not being seen." The dragon replies easily, knowingly. "If possible, we should also seek to obtain some form of FTL-denial technology."

The man nods his understanding of the edict. "Do we have most of this equipment already?"

The dragon shakes her head slightly, the air making the faintest of sounds as it is parted by the horns and crests of the great head. "We have a supply of sidearms that are widely available in the open market. We will have to raid space traffic to obtain further funding and supplies. And make connections with those who can supply us."

The two continue discussing matters of raiding and tactics well into the night, the faint whispers of a greater plan.

Point Omicron
Interstellar Space

Lightyears out from Sol, a small, airless planetoid drifts slowly through the void. It has no resources of note, not so much as a drop of life-giving water, and its position is of no strategic importance. The one thing the small rock did have was mass - mass enough for ships to orbit, mass enough to produce sufficient five-space 'drag' to pull a ship coasting along on a first-generation compression drive out of hyperspace. This, and its complete isolation and unimportance, was the reason there was now a small fleet around it.

Over the past several days, ships had dropped into normal space singly and in pairs. They came on wildly divergent vectors, none of them originating at any inhabited or even monitored system. The carriers quickly dispersed their riders and began rotating their fighter wings on combat aerospace patrol, with a web sensor drones scattered through space. Once all the ships were assembled, shuttles were launched toward the vast, violet-liveried flagship.

Gathered in a briefing room deep inside Europe's bowels were the commanders of the other ships: Marcus Porey of Africa, dark-skinned and with a mess of scars on his face left there despite the technology to remove them; Tom Edger of Australia, relaxed and lean; Atlantic's Mika Kreshov, gigantic and perpetually scowling; Pacific's Natasha Sung, tiny and all efficiency; her half-sister Erin Kant of Tibet, so alike they could have been twins; India's Alexandra Keu, silk-soft and confident; small, dark, and quiet-mannered Carlo Mendez of Artic, and Libya's Aiden Chenel, cheerful and with hair going silver from his first rejuv treatments. Just entering the room is Conrad Mazian, captain of Europe and the leader of this motley group. Tall, silver-haired, and still handsome despite his age, he exudes authority and confidence. Of course, in this situation, authority may well be the one thing that he doesn't represent.

"Afternoon, ladies and gentlemen and Aiden," he says as he enters, gesturing for everyone to keep sitting as the room's occupants begin to rise. "I'll try to keep this as brief as possible. I know you've all got things to work out back on your respective ships."

"We had some flutters in the acceleration compensators as we left dock," says Captain Keu, nodding. "Operations says they've got it worked out, but I want to run trials before we get into a situation where we need full accel."

"I know I certainly have my worked cut out for me. I haven't seen such a horrible decorating job since that visit to Rhea. I was thinking - maybe pastels?" quips Chenel, drawing odd looks from the rest of the captains and a exasperated sigh from Mazian.

"Be that as it may, we do have other things to consider," the admiral says. He clicks on the room's main display. "First off, the good news, starting with supplies. We're very well off at the moment, with far more than we need for the amount of people we carry. I've got an agent getting us some small arms to help bolster those supplie and make us less easy to trace. Next, all of our ships are combat-ready. We've got full ammuntion bays, and as expected we do have modernized capital weapons, power plants, repair ships, medical facilities, and parasites."

"That brings us to our first problem. As you all know, while we've managed to automate the carriers and riders enough to function with the current crews, we are still nowhere near having full marine and pilot complements. While I expect this to change once we begin operations and start getting something to make us more attractive to possible recruits, for the moment things will be stretched a bit thin."

"As such, I've drawn up a revised allocation scheme for the marines and pilots. Some ships will be more oriented for hitting smaller, less manpower-intensive vessels and thus carry more fighters to catch said small ships. Others will have more marines and hit larger targets. Aiden, because of your experience with covert ops, Libya, will be mainly be working to get supplies in and our 'acquisitions' out and probably have the least fighter and marine support for now."

"That ties in a bit with our other major problem - our lack of a base. We need somewhere secure to do repairs and store extra supplies.. Now, we possibly could hit a ship with equipment for a station start-up and build one. However, that sort of thing would draw a lot of unwanted attention. Suggestions?"

"We will need a base," agrees Porey. "But I know most of our station-start operations have military escorts, and we can't afford a pitched battle at this stage. It would also be pretty manpower-intensive."

"I'd also hate to have to position it here or at another fallback position," adds Keu, leaning back in her chair. "Maybe we could buy an old station or asteroid?"

"Not enough funds for that, I think," interjects Kreshov, looking at Mazian for confirmation. "And we'd still have to man it."

"If I may suggest," says Mendez in a soft voice, "perhaps we could find someone with such a place who would be willing to ally themselves with us?"

Mazian nods thoughtfully. "It would increase the risk of exposure, but having others to assist with less combat-oriented functions would be a help. I'll put our spooks back at Sol looking for possible contacts. Meanwhile, I've drawn up a series of exercises in commerce raiding. We'll spend a few weeks doing drills for boarding and running through possible scenarios." He distributes discs to the captains. "Right then. Return to your ships. We'll proceed once any major," he eyes Chenel, who smiles back, "technical issues have been resolved and personnel transfers are finished. Dismissed."
http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/maziani/omicron2.JPG (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/maziani/omicron1.JPG)
Clicky clicky!

Outside the Lordinum 4 Factory Colony, several figures approach the colony's hull, most tethered to the black and white figure of a great serpent floating through the blackness, unseen by the unsuspecting colony's traffic control center.

"All units, we're almost to the airlock. Once we're inside, our contacts will lead us to the ship. Be prepared to nullify any security. We can expect a lag time of no more than five minutes for reinforcements, so we have to board the ship and be moving before that." The dragon's synthetic voice comes over the comm to the small figures clinging to the tethers.

Shin Kazaki is clinging to his tether, watching the colony get closer and closer warily. "Hey boss, you sure we can trust these guys?"

The great dragon simply flashes its claws, massive lengths of silvery material, and most assuredly of deadly caliber. "If they betray us, they shall feel the vengence of my claws. They will not chance that."

Shin nods at that. "I certainly hope they won't..."

The dragon grabs hold of the nearest protrusion on the colony hull, clambering easily from handhold to handhold to the auxillery heavy equipment airlock they will be using to enter the colony. "The codes we were given should open this. Input the codes, and standby."

"Yes ma'am!" The other tethered human, one Amelia, salutes, climbing along her tether to the massive lock and entering the required codes. "Opening the outer lock now!"

The outer airlock door cycles open, granting the raiders entrance to the colony interior. Inside the lock, 3 people in red normal spacesuits are waiting for the group. The lead person taps the comm button on his helmet to open a link to the dragon. "I take it you're the group that's interested in our ship?"

The massive black serpent peers down at the humans and nods her crested head once. "Are you the salespeople that will show us to the ship?"

The man nods, understanding perfectly the businesslike lingo. "The night shift work teams won't clock in for another twenty minutes, so the ship'll be empty until that time. We'll need to move quickly."

Shin deftly manuvers into the lock using his suits mini thrusters. "Let's get moving then, guys."

Amelia does likewise, a wide grin evident in her tone. "We're ready! For justice!"

The dragon steps gently into the airlock after the humans, her vast form largely obscuring the view outside. "Lead us quickly then. How many will be joining us when we leave?"

The second of their three escorts looks up at the dragon. "About thirty or so will be leaving with you."

The serpent hisses her amusement. "Excellent. The ship will serve our cause well, and I thank you for your assistance in helping us obtain it."

The first "salesperson" surveys the lock briefly. "Is everybody in?"

Amelia responds first. "Yup! There aren't a lot of us, we're all in."

Their escort enters the codes for the inner airlock hatch, the outer door cycling shut as the chamber pressurizes. Then the inner hatch opens up to a large cargo elevator. The dragon and the two humans ready their weapons as a precaution, ever wary of the possibility of betrayal or ambush.

Noting their alertness, the first man smiles reassuringly. "There's nothing to worry about. This'll take us close to the drydock where the ship is located." With that he grabs a handrail and enters the lift.

"Rule Number 1 of the Serres Argentées Du Dragon Céleste!" Amelia points one hand upward for emphasis. "Always be alert, lest the enemy try to catch you by surprise!"

Shin lightly shoves the younger girl ahead of him, and Amelia yelps indignantly as she corrects her balance. "No need to shove!"

Once the group is on board, the elevator begins its climb to the drydocks, the dragon surveying the large lift idly. "How long will we have once the elevator arrives to board and start the ship? I would assume most of the people coming with us are already aboard."

The third member of their escort glances over at the serpent. "It shouldn't take long to get to the ship from here and board. But it'll be a few minutes to get the ship started up and ready to launch."

Amelia frowns in thought, checking her plasma rifle. "Well, once we've got the doors sealed, regular security forces shouldn't be too large a concern, right?"

The second member of the escort nods a confirmation. "That's right."

"Then we only have to move swiftly to launch the ship and escape the colony." The dragon comments softly as the elevator comes to a halt once it reaches the top, the doors slowly opening into a cargo container storage area. The three people in the red suits walk out and head towards the doors at the opposite end of the area. The dragon steps lightly after them. "Stay sharp. We do not know who else may be in the area."

"The drydock is out here." The first member of the escort states, peering through the door to the drydock area. "There's two guards on patrol, heading away from us though. What do you guys wanna do?"

Amelia hefts her rifle, tensed from adrenaline. "Can we sneak past them?"

"Amelia, Shin," The dragon states, her tone full of the authority she wields. "I want you two to sneak out there and disable the guards. Quietly."

"C'mon, lets go." Shin nods curtly and steps just outside the door.

"Roger that." Amelia does likewise, studying their quarry. The guards are walking down the platform past the walkways that are connected to the ship, which is now visible from where the two raiders are standing. The young woman lines up a shot with her secondary weapon, a silenced pistol. "I've got the one on the left."

Shin nods and mirrors the motion, lining his weapon up with the one on the right. "Ready..."

"Locked on..."

Two silenced shots lance out, each striking the unwary guards in the head, killing them with painless efficiency. "We're clear now." Shin states simply.

"Nice firing." The dragon notes. "Alright, lead the way."

The three guys in red make their way past Shin and Amelia, jogging towards one of the walkways leading to the ship, the dragon gliding over, since the walkways are too small for her bulk. "It is marvelous. It will serve our needs perfectly!" The dragon comments, locating the ship's cargo hatch.

Shin and Amelia bring up the rear, rifles armed and scanning the drydock for any other interlopers, ready to gun them down if the need arises. The three men open up the outer hatch and board the ship, the cargo bay hatch opening up for the dragon a moment later.

"Excellent, excellent." The serpent boards the ship with the expected serpentine grace. "Prepare for departure, the clock is running!"

Amelia nudges Shin along toward the ship. "You heard the commander!"

"Hey, don't push!" Shin jogs down the walkway toward the hatch.

"Wow... it is an awesome looking ship." Amelia looks up at the dark hull with admiring eyes. "Perfect for serving justice!"

"What is it with you and all this justice stuff?" Shin rolls his eyes as he boards the vessel.

Amelia scoffs, boarding after the young man. "Well, that's why I joined this group!"

Once aboard, the raiders' escort leads them to the bridge elevator, the passages still dim for want of power.

"How long will it take for the launch doors to open?"

"It should only take about a minute to get the inner ones open."

"Can we begin preparing for takeoff now?" Amelia inquires. "After all, we don't know how long until somebody finds those two guards."

"You're right." The leader of the escort nods. "Let's get started on that."

The dragon's voice can be heard easily via their comms. "All hands, prepare for immediate takeoff then."

The bridge elevator comes to a halt, the doors opening with a soft hiss to reveal the darkened bridge. "We're here?" Amelia peers into the gloom. "Where's the light switch?"

The leader of their escort starts flipping various switches as he takes a seat near the door, the various lights and consoles of the bridge coming to life with a soft hum. The second man makes his way to the front of the bridge section, taking a seat at the helm controls.

"Is everyone aboard who's coming?" The dragon asks from her seat in the cargo hold.
The third red-clad man takes a seat at the communications console and replies. "Everyone that's joining us should be onboard by now."

Amelia grins like a child with a new toy. "Shin, you want the captain's seat or the vice-captains seat?"

The young man thinks about it for a moment before hopping over the back of a chair and settling contentedly in the captain's chair. "I guess you're stuck with the vice-captain's seat."

"Okay! Let's go!" Amelia seats herself in the vice-captain's seat. "How long until we can take off?"

"Starting launch sequence now." The first of their escort replies from his console. "Inner launch gate area doors opening."

"Make certain all stealth systems are running." The dragon states calmly. " Our escape hinges on the enemy fleets being unable to track us."

The large doors beneath the ship slowly slide open, the ship easing down into the launch tunnel. Once safely inside the cavernous passage, the doors cycle shut, the chamber depressurizing.

Unless their fleets can catch us, this ship is now ours. The dragon thinks smugly to herself, listening to the distintive sounds.

"Launch gate area is depressurized." The red-clad bridge crew reports. "We're ready to launch!"

"Alright!" Amelia crows, flashing a V for victory with one hand.

The ship halts at the outer gate, waiting for the doors to open slowly to the inky void of outer space beyond. Once opened, the docking clamps on the ship release, the ship's engines starting to glow as they power on for the first time.

"Silver Fang," The dragon declares, naming the craft on the fly. "Launch when ready!"

With that, the engines pour on the power, the ship shooting swiftly into the darkness for parts unknown.

Space Forces Orbital Station Second Luna, Earth Orbit

Admiral Greenwood sat quietly in his quarters, going over some of the usual daily reports that he was unfortunatly forced to read. The silence was broken however by beeping from his computer, indicating an incomming message. He set his datapad down and turned the computer's screen on.

"Greenwood, go ahead." he stated once the comm link opened.

"Sir, sorry to bother you at this time. We just recieved an emergency transmission from the Lordinum 4 colony. We've got a situation on our hands. I'm relaying the message to you. One second, sir."

The admiral sits up in his chair and watches his screen as another window popped up, displaying a text message. He scans the message, frowning as he reads further and further, slamming his fist down as he finished reading it over. "Those goddamned idiots. Has Major Kojima been notified about this yet?"

"Not yet, sir. We're still trying to get ahold of her. Should we notify the council as well?"

"Yeah. They aren't going to be too pleased with this breach of security. What ships do we have that we can send down there? I want an investigation and search begun immediately!"

"Second Defensive Fleet is here at Second Luna, but its going to take them a few hours to get out there if they leave now. First and Second Earth Orbital Fleets are on the other side of the planet, so they won't be able to respond. There's one ship in the area already, but I'm not sure if its ready for deployment."

"The Laurasia? Yeah, its ready. Its maiden voyage is supposed to be in five days... looks like its getting an early start. Deploy Second Defensive now with orders to support the Laurasia once they arrive at the colony, and get me the Laurasia's captain on the line now!"

"Right away, sir!"

--------------------------------------------------------------------------

Strategic Naval Research Institute Shipyard 01, Lagrange Point 3, Earth Orbit

Captain Mira Jerross shut off her terminal, having finished being briefed by Fleet Admiral Greenwood on the shipjack situation. Throwing on her uniform jacket, she leaves her quarters and quickly makes her way to the bridge, where upon arrival she takes a seat in her chair and lifts up the handset in the armrest, opening a comm link to all decks on the ship.

"All hands, this is the captain. All personnel are to begin preparing for emergency launch procedures. This vessel and its crew have been assigned the task of recovering a prototype stealth ship which was just stolen a short while ago from a nearby colony. While our launch date is supposed to be five days from now, our ship is the only one close enough to respond and possibly catch up with stolen vessel. Our maiden voyage starts now. I expect everyone to perform their duties to the best of their abilities. Finding and recovering that vessel is our highest priority. That is all."

Captain Jerross sets the handset down in the armrest and stands up. "The Laurasia is launching. Begin launch sequence now!" she declares to her bridge crew, who quickly begin carrying out their tasks, preparing for launch.

Out in the drydock, activity picks up as dock personnel scramble to clear the launch area as orders are given over the loudspeaker system.

System Control to all personnel. As of this moment, RPRA-AWC01 Laurasia's identification code has become effective. The Laurasia is currently going through its emergency launch sequence. All personnel should clear the launch area immediately. Depressurization of launch area in thirty-seconds.

Once the dock is cleared of personnel and depressurized, the dock doors in front of the ship cycle open, the docking clamps holding the ship in place release and pull away from the ship's hull. The Laurasia's engines begin glowing with power as they're started up in preparation for launch.

Captain Jerross takes her seat once more and watches the launch doors finish opening. "Laurasia, LAUNCH! Goto Condition Yellow. Increase thrust by twenty percent and take us out. Set course for the Lordinum 4 colony. Once clear of the dock, increase thrust to full!" she orders, watching her officers work.

The Laurasia's engines flare up and the ship is slowly propelled out of the dock, beginning its journey.

'How fascinating', thinks the Mind of GCF Slytherin Solidarity. 'It seems that someone's making off with one of Sneaky B's new warships.' He quickly checks the position and speed of the escaping ship, and concludes that, while it would pass near, the relative velocities of the two ships would prevent an intercept. A deep scan at close approach, however, could certainly be possible. He set it up, deciding that it could possibly be of help in locating the ship at a later point, or at least provide some kind of amusement.

Glorified TAG of Tagging!

Near the Lordinum Colony Cluster, L3, Earth Orbit

The Laurasia drifts through the space near the colonies as its crew carries out the task of searching for the stolen stealth ship. Finding such a ship would be very difficult due to its design and stealth technologies. Up on the bridge, Captain Jerross briefed herself on the ship's details, looking over a datapad full of data on the ship formerly known by the Self-Defense Force as the Akumu, trying to find any information about the ship that could help her crew locate and capture the stolen vessel and its crew. However, their task was about to become much more difficult. As the Laurasia drifted along, two vessels slowly made their way up behind the carrier, slowly closing in on it, setting off an indicator tone at the technical operator's console as the radar screen enlarged.

"Captain, two radar contacts, both directly astern. Ship patterns match entries in the database. They're ours, both Starwind-class escort carriers! Looks like we've got some support, eh?"

"Second fleet is supposed to be a few hours away still... what fleet are the two ships attached to?" asks Captain Jerross as she turns her chair around to face the operator, raising an eyebrow.

"I... don't know. This is odd, the IFF signal doesn't match any Self-Defense Force ID signals. The ID signals I'm getting indicate they belong to 'Serres Argentées Du Dragon Céleste'. I've never heard of them..." replies the operator with a confused look on her face as she types away at her keyboard. As she types, more tones sound and little blips appear on the radar screen, which quickly move towards the center of the screen. "Captain, incomming missiles, eight of them!"

The captain quickly spins her chair forward as her facial expression turns from neutral to serious, shouting out orders to her crew. "Activate CIWS systems and deploy anti-beam mines! Condition Red! What the hell is going on!?"

As the missiles speed towards the ship, port holes up up along the aft section of the ship with multi-barreled gattlings emerging from them. Once locked on, the gattlings open fire, sending a shower of slugs at the missiles, picking them off and destroying them. The resulting explosions of the warheads rock the Laurasia slightly as the shockwaves hit.

"Bring us around to face the ships. Target the lead Starwind with particle cannons, load missile tubes one through six in launchers one through four with concussion missiles, and open fire! Try and avoid incomming fire from the enemy vessels!" orders Captain Jeross loudly once the ship stabilizes.

Thrusters along the port side of the ship fire, slowly turning it around to face the enemy vessels. Missiles launch from their tubes and speed off towards the lead Starwind as the upper particle cannon turrets roatate to face it, firing off twin red energy beams from each cannon turret. The Laurasia picks up speed as it moves forward to close the gap between it and two attacking ships.

However, as the white and red carrier advances, the two white and blue escorts reverse their engines, trying to maintain their distance between them and the larger ship. The first volley of missiles from the Laurasia are picked off by CIWS systems as the two escorts return fire. The exchange of fire between the three ships intensifies andcontinues on for several minutes as the Starwinds attempt to lead the Laurasia towards the Earth, away from its original course.

Fire from the Laurasia increases as the lower particle cannon turrets begin firing along with the upper turrets upon the two ships. With the battle becomming more and more dangerous for the two obviously outgunned ships, they begin turning around to run. However, before the lead Starwind can fully turn around, energy beams rip through the hull of the port engine section and on through the central body of the ship as the Laurasia scores a direct hit. Small explosions tear through it before the ship is ultimately destroyed by one single massive explosion sending chunks of the hull in various directions. The second vessel's engines flare up and ship speeds away towards the direction of the planet once its rotation finishes, expanding the gap between it and the Laurasia, eventually disappearing from sensor range.

Captain Jerross lets out a heavy sigh as she watches the ship retreat and disappear, relaxing in her seat a bit. "Stand down from Condition Red and take us to Condition Yellow. I want damage and casualty reports, now."

"Moderate damage on the starboard side aft section and minimal damage to the starboard hangar bay. Few injuries reported but no deaths. All starboard engines are offline and the engineering teams report they can't make the repairs themselves."

The captain slowly nods in acknowlegment of the report and sighs once more. "Very well. Notify the Bladewood of our situation and give them our location. Also, contact Admiral Greenwood and report to him about this incident with two Starwinds. Relay a copy of that IFF data to him as well. Its possible that whoever took control of those two vessels may be linked to the theft at the colony." she ordered. "It looks like for the time being, our particpation in the search for the Akumu is over..."

'Well, well, well. A touch of mutiny going on, it seems. I wonder what's going on,' thinks Slytherin Solidarity. It locks on it's considerable suite of sensing equipment, ranging from conventional broadband lidar/radar scanners to micromolehole remote fisheyes and electromagnetic effectors, plus a drone array. Regretably the target ship goes up in a cloud of expanding gasses (http://web.ics.purdue.edu/~chigbee/Cetaganda/solid.JPG) before the scans pick up more than a smattering of radio chatter, and the other quickly escapes from view. Giving an electronic sigh, the intelligence frigate makes its way over towards the damaged Laurasia while using its scanners and drones to sift the debris for anything interesting.

"Attention RPRA-AWC01 Laurasia. This is the Cetagandan General Contact Frigate Slytherin Solidarity. I have been monitoring your situation, and am approaching your position. I regret not being able to help in defending you against those ships or with your pursuit, but I've only just gotten into range. I can, however, render assistance. While I'm not currently running with a crew aboard, my medical and engineering facilities are at your disposal."

Meanwhile, the Mind locates a few possibly helpful bits of debris from the destroyed craft. Deciding to look them over itself, it uses the ship's displacers to stealthily bring them aboard.

"Now what..." grumbles Captain Jerross as she turns her chair back towards the operator's console as alarm tones indicating radar contact begin sounding off once more.

"Captain, there's another vessel moving in on our position. No confirmation on its ID yet. We're recieving a transmission from it, though. Putting it on speakers now."

~Attention RPRA-AWC01 Laurasia. This is the Cetagandan General Contact Frigate Slytherin Solidarity. I have been monitoring your situation, and am approaching your position. I regret not being able to help in defending you against those ships or with your pursuit, but I've only just gotten into range. I can, however, render assistance. While I'm not currently running with a crew aboard, my medical and engineering facilities are at your disposal.~

"How nice..." mumbles the Captain as she listened to the message. The operator, upon confirming the ship's ID, turns to the Captain and nods her head. Slightly relieved, Captain Jerross turns her seat forward again, picks up the handset on her armrest, and opens a comm link to the other ship. "Slytherin Solidarity, this is Captain Mira Jerross of the assault weapons carrier Laurasia. Thank you for the offer of assistance and use of your facilities. My crew will be informed of your offer and arrangements will be made to transport them over should they decide to take you up on it."

The Captain closes the link, sets the handset back down into its cradle in the armrest, and looks up out the forward windows of the bridge, gazing out at the wreckage of the escort carrier. After a few minutes of staring out the window into space, Captain Jerross turns her chair around to the CIC operator. "Lieutenant, I want all power suit and mobile armor teams deployed immediately. Kanegawa Team is to secure the area around the wreckage and search for any survivors. Its highly unlikely they'll find any but if someone survived, they might be able to tell us what the hell is going on. The remaining teams are to take defensive formation around the Laurasia. I want to be ready in case we have any more suprise attacks by 'friendly' forces." she orders, spinning her seat back around.

"Aye, Captain!" quickly replieds the CIC operator, announcing the orders for deployment over the ship's internal comm system.

Moments after the orders are issued, the hangar bay doors open up. Re-MkIII power suits are launched in pairs until all sixteen are fielded, followed up by the six mobile armors that the ship carried. Four of the power suits break away and zip off towards the wrecked ship while the remaining units form up into three teams of four around the Laurasia, taking stationary postions while the 6 armors patrol the space around the ship.

Starwind 8-04 drifts through space towards the Earth at high speed. Scorch marks cover various points on its hull, marks left from the battle it had just escaped from several minutes earlier. It continues forth towards the planet, making its way towards the Earth's debris belt, a place where most of the space trash and other junk in the planet's field of gravity eventually makes its way to, taking a somewhat stable orbit. There the ship would take refuge until things quieted down a bit.

Up on the bridge, Commander Allen Rayner sits quietly, staring down at the floor, thinking about the events that took place a short time before. Anyone looking at him right this moment would see that he's somewhat angered. Around him, some of the crewmen present on the bridge are visibly shaken up and upset, having just seen many of their friends and fellow crewmen die with the destruction of the other Starwind. Others just sit in silence, trying to keep their focus on their duties.

Looking up from the floor, Commander Rayner glances around at everyone on the bridge and takes in a deep breath, attempting to calm himself a bit. "Has there been any word from Kodachi 8-01?" he asks, looking over at the technical operator to his right.

"N-none yet, sir..."

"Time until we reach the debris belt?" the Commander asks, turning forward towards the helm.

"At present speed, a little over and hour, sir." came a reply.

Nodding slowly, the Commander leans back in his seat and rubs his forehead, shutting his eyes, trying to ignore the pain of the headache that was beginning to form. "Someone send an encrypted message to Captain Merrell. Let him know what happened and that Starwind 8-05 is gone, Kodachi 8-01 has made no contact, and that we won't be joining up with Celeste and the new ship. They can go on ahead back to base without us. Don't give any details about our current course."

"Yes, sir..."

After a minute or so, the commander rises from his seat and storms off the bridge, heading somewhere else to be alone.

"And you're sure that its legit?" asks Captain Chenel, lounging in his office aboard Libya.

"Quite sure. I witnessed the battle myself - definitely mutinous vessels. I suppose it is possible that they could fake it using a remote-controlled vessel, but I doubt that's the case. Too many dead on both sides - what bodies were recoverable from the debris were alive prior to the action, and there's plenty of dead and wounded aboard aboard Laurasia. Its not their style to kill off their own people any more than it is ours," comes the reply from the other end of the stutterpoint link.

"I see," says Chenel, mulling over the information. "If you think you can alter the data without it being noticable, do so and turn it over to the proper authorities. If not, then the navigation system was, unfortunately, destroyed in the explosion."

"But of course, oh captain my captain. You leave that to me. Be careful, Aiden - just because these people mutinied doesn't mean they're the help you've been looking for. Don't hesitate to call me if you need emergency assistance, even if it risks blowing my cover."

Chenel smiles. "Don't worry. I'll be fine. I'll contact you again in a few days once we get a chance to investigate." With that, he closes the link and heads out to the bridge. "Colonel Turning," he says to the duty officer, "We'll shortly be receiving a set of coordinates through the secure link. Set a course that'll take us there. I want us to go in slow and non-aggressively. Try to time arrival for first shift."

"Aye, aye, sir."

A little over a day after the battle in Earth orbit, Libya slowly nears the navigational point in the outer system recovered from the computer of Starwind 8-05. She comes in slow and with little stealth, scanning the local area with her active scanners and looking for any other ships or objects of interest.