NationStates Jolt Archive

He sat on the captain's seat in the ship which was leading this particular Decimatus raid force, which consisted of a little over three dozen ships. A man in his fifties, a bit on the plumper side, his balding head covered by the white cap, customary for all officers of the fleet. In fact, his suit was white, too. As was that of everyone else on deck, and in the ship itself.

But this man. He wasn't a captain of the ship, even. Not quite. He was, supposedly, a Vice Admiral of the Fleet Decimatus. And the higher-ups had chosen him to commit petty theft. Effectively, they had replaced the ship's real captain with him. This wasn't exactly what he had in mind that he'd be doing in his older years when he had originally, over thirty years ago, joined the Fleet's military wing. He had thought they might finally actually start striking at the heart of their enemy during his lifetime, but...

No. It didn't seem all that likely.

He sighed as he watched the ship they had in tow in the monitors. The fact that it was all they could find without extensive escort wasn't something he exactly was fond of. It looked like it was mostly made of engines and was towing a huge crate-looking thing, which was supposedly full of some kind of supplies. He hoped, anyway.

The shouts and screams from the people who were in the ship were quite disconcerting. "Do you know who we are!" "We're armed!" "F*ck off, bastards!" "Our country'll get you!" ... And all kinds of things of that sort. Not to mention that they hadn't been able to get these people out of the ship. And when they had detached the ship from its goods, they had started shooting at the Fleet's vessels with whatever insanity they had hidden in there, puncturing the armors of a couple of their ships and forcing them to be evacuated and towed by other elements of the raid force. So, they had been forced to disable the ship and take it with them, too.

He was feeling a little bit more at ease now that the hidden space station of the Decimatus fleet which orbited a small moon which orbited a gas giant was dead ahead, with ships, colored white, dotting its surroundings. If these crazed lunatics were to be believed...

Well, their country would have to face Decimatus.

You motherfucking communist pirating whoreson cocksuckers, you sons of idiot freaking bitches! You fucking lamers! Let go of my mom right the fucking – ow – ow, let go of my foot!

Aboard the USS William Shatner

“Sir, we received distress signals from a Space Sport Utility Vehicle. It was hauling cargo from one of the outer systems, and got intercepted by pirates. We don’t really understand what happened, since their ship was taken over with… disturbing speed and efficiency, sir. But we do know that they were taken to this system right here, Sir.”

“Mmm.” – the captain looked at the starchart, then moved his hand through his long, non-regulation white beard. A silvery-white beard today. Yesterday he had it died beige. “I don’t like this. Let’s send an alert to headquarters… and spam their system with, say, half a dozen hyperspace recon drones.”

“Very well, Sir.”

Somewhere on board the immense carrier, a comparatively small launch bay door opens, and eight craft fall out. They look like ancient Stuka bombers – and in fact, those are Ann Coulter fighter-bombers. Except now, they have been disarmed of most weapons except the nose mount, and equipped with a bewildering array of long-range sensors, from ordinary cameras down to advanced GRIDAR. They also had multiple, redundant FTL and light-speed communication suits. Thus, all information they picked up would be relayed back to headquarters – and eventually it would even get to headquarters.

With a series of flashes, the drones were off.

“Now, we wait.”

They had reached the station, finally, and the Vice Admiral had left the raving lunatics who had identified themselves as "Allaneans" to the custody of the station's security chief, who was less than thrilled by the prospect of forcing them from their armed (and controllable) vessel to the autopiloted - and small - ship that was assigned for them to return to their home system.

Sure, it seemed like a bad idea. Who knows, maybe they were actually telling the truth.

But these people were driving everyone CRAZY.

"Alright men," said the chief as they begun their arduous job while the foreigners were shouting like madmen, "GET THESE PEOPLE OUT OF HERE!"

So, it was the job of the security chief of the station and his well trained group of security personnel to force this small group, what seemed like a family - and by what they were saying, was indeed a family - to the other vessel, which was pretty much just a glorified, if rather large, white ball.

In the end, they needed close to three dozen people and three hours of time to finally force them to the (padded) ship. Blissful silence returned to the station as the ship which had no monitors or the like in it for the foreigners to actually see where they were started accelerating towards Sol, and would soon enter the kind of FTL the Kajali had used ages ago for them to actually get back to their home system before they die out of old age, asphyxiation or starvation/dehydration. It was also set to send forth a distress signal once it had reached its destination.

The Fleet wasn't made of senseless brutes, after all.

As for the star system they had been taken to, it wasn't all that much to see. Five planets, of which one, the last, was the said gas giant with at least ten moons, lazily circling a red dwarf. The four other planets were rocky, small, and did not bear any signs of life.

It was just another dead star system, forgotten by time itself, until the Fleet had chosen it as one of its homes.

Even as the white ball flashed into FTL, the drones arrived in realspace. They fanned out throughout the system, taking images in all formats – from optical to GRIDAR – and relaying them immediately back to earth. Of course, with GRIDAR being an active system, they’d likely be noticed very soon.

The drones being non-reusable, nobody would care.

* * *

“Sir, we recovered this escape vehicle at coordinates XX-455-GG. The people that went missing a while back? They’re on it.”

“Oh well. Question them, give them a warm blanket, and send them home. Let’s pray to God that their ship was ensured.”

There was a knock on his, the Vice Admiral's, office door. Great, just when he had gotten back from a nasty brushoff with some crazies in what he considered the fringe.

Not to mention that he had just found a nice position on his armchair.

So, he started sitting properly, as was fitting for his rank.

"Enter," he said, with a contrivedly cheerful voice.

And so, a man in a white uniform, not much unlike his, came into the room, with the door closing behind him. The Vice Admiral recognized him. It was the captain of the vessel he had been told to commandeer.

"Sir," said the captain, saluting the Vice Admiral.

"What is it?", he asked, tapping the table in front of him boredly with his right index finger which was covered by a white glove. Also a part of the uniform.

"We've received reports from the forward patrols that someone has sent probes into the system."

"... Have they noticed us?"

"Unknown, Sir. But even if they haven't, it's a question of time when they will. Our ships aren't exactly... Stealthy."

The Vice Admiral rose up quickly and hit the table with his right, clenched fist.

"Damn it! We'll have to start evacuating non-essential personnel ASAP! Have the patrols snipe the probes out!"

The captain was noticiably surprised by the Vice Admiral's reaction.

"... What?"

The Vice Admiral pressed a button on his table and looked downwards.

"SOUND THE ALARMS, DAMMIT! We don't have time to waste! We're beginning evacuation!"

He pressed it again and looked up at the captain again.

"You have your orders! Get to it!"

"Y-yes, Sir," said the captain as he hastily saluted, turned, waited for the door to open and then left.

He wouldn't take any chances. Maybe the lunatics had been actually telling the truth.

Aboard the USS NSYNC

“Sir, we are nearly done loading up the Pilonese munitions.”

“This is very, very good. What about the ZMI munitions?”

“We are loading them into the ships now. We are also preparing the Aumanii ships.”

“Are you on fucking drugs, or something?”

“Well, you remember the navy destroyed 500 Aumanii ships a while back?”

“Yes, Admiral, Sir.”

“Well, about a hundred remain in our possession, codenamed Fleet Skydagger. They will join us at the rendezvous point.”

“Rendezvous point, Sir?”

“Slightly outside the pirate system. We will be joining up with Fleet Skydagger, First and Second Force Projection Fleets, Mars and Mercury Defense fleets This cannot be tolerated.”

“Wait. They stole… essentially a car, and yet we’re going after them with eleven hundred ships?”

“To be precise, eleven hundred and sixteen ships, Commodore.”

“But this makes perfectly no sense!”

“Actually, Commodore, this makes perfect sense. This system is like a Tortuga in space. If we neglect it, it will grow and become a danger to us. In fact, with what we estimate to be a fleet half the size of the USSN, it is already a danger to us.”

“I see, Sir.”

“Besides, Commodore Johnson. If the universe sees we are willing to start – and win – an operation of this scale over a stolen truck… you don’t think they’ll think twice before messing with Allanea next time around?”

“Oh. That makes sense, Sir!”

“Then go get to it, you stupid ass! Go!”

Minutes later, the fleet was ready to rumble.

Past the NSYNC, a Porcupine craft moved swiftly, it’s main gatling cannon swirring soundlessly, as if in anticipation of combat. Grand-Admiral Ellaran Lorindel grinned as he saw the smaller ship, and looked on as the oversized hull of the fleet coreship entered hyperspace.

Around it, dozens and dozens Allanean ships of different shapes and sizes flew, in wedge-shaped formation, with a Wrath class ship as the ‘peak’ of the enormous triangle, and the coreship at it’s bottom.

When it exited hyperspace near the target system, it was indeed met up by the other battlegroup.

The Vice Admiral was now on the space station's bridge, standing intently, his hands behind his back, watching the unarmed freighters and the likes leaving the station as quickly as they could and jumping out into safety. At least now he could be certain that the personnel of the fleet not directly involved in warfare would be safe from whatever was to come - if something was coming.

"Sir! Incoming contacts!"

The Vice Admiral turned his head to the left and nodded. Then he once again turned his face forward, although he quickly glanced downwards and pressed a button on th console which was in front of him.

Then, he spoke.

"Men and women of the Fleet Decimatus!"

He saluted dramatically, and then lowered his hand to his side.

"It is time for us to protect our homes with our very lives! We will fight this enemy to the last breath! We will defeat them, or we will die in our glorious attempt! Our everlasting war against the wretched Kajali beasts shall never end, even if these foreign dogs come forth to kill our children!"

For a moment, he paused.

"This is the moment of truth, soldiers of the Fleet! Our righteous fury will bring all our enemies to their knees in the end!"

He theatrically extended his right arm forward, with his fingers extended in line with the arm as wide as humanly possible.

"For a free Kajal! GIVE THEM HELL!"

In unison, all the crewmen in the ancient vessels shouted one thing: "For freedom of Kajal!"

All this, while their vessels were targeting the incoming hostile fleet, and began firing with crazed zeal. MIRVs, plasma weapons, regular missiles, orbital bombardment platforms and many more weaponry were fired upon the incoming fleet. The Vice Admiral was very aware that if the enemy fleet was to fire upon them first, their ability to fire back would've been... Reduced greatly. Their outdated defensive systems would not be able to stand a lot of ordnance... By firing first, no matter who or what was coming, at least they would be able to get one full wave of their own ordnance at the enemy.

FROM: Fleet Decimatus
TO: Unknown fleet

You have entered a system controlled by this very fleet, and have been
identified as a major threat to its existence. As you have found this system,
and we are certain as to why you are here, we cannot let you go unscathed.

Those who seek war shall find it.

Even though fighting with you does not help our eternal quest for the freedom
of Kajal from its oppressors, it is obviously inevitable.

Prepare to face a fierce battle.

- Fleet Decimatus ~~ For a free Kajal

Aboard the USS NSYNC

“What the freakity fucking fuck!”

The missiles, beam weapons, MIRVs and other weapons tore into the ships of Fleet Skydagger. Thus would become apparent the first mistake of the Allanean planners. The only change they made to the Aumanii ships was to make them drone-piloted – which would mean also that they did not learn as well as they should have their shields, weapons, and other defenses. It would be due to that mistake that Fleet Dominatus would be able to do what it did to Fleet Skydagger.

“Sir, we are witnessing heavy casualties, losses amount to ten Vendetta fleet carriers, twenty Noriegania Cruisers, twenty-five AU-170 ships!”

“You dumb idiot! How the hell did that even hap…”

And then the Allaneans watched in amazement as several kinetic weapons hit the tail end of a Porcupine, destroying it’s engine block and sending the entire thing cartwheeling through space. The silvery bullet-shape of the escape capsule was barely visible at this distance.

In the meanwhile, the Allaneans were already launching their blow.

“Sir, we have had a further five corvettes disabled – three immobilized, one shield generator failure, one massive onboard fire.”

“I see. Evacuate them towards the rear. All other units, full thrust forward, prepare for assault upon enemy positions.”

They did not bother to open communications and negotiate. There was no point.

“Code: Alpha.”

The missile buses opened their launch bays and fired in immense salvos, ‘spamming’ the enemy ships with literally their entire offensive missile payloads. Between them, they fired off over two hundred thousand missile – literally, their entire capability. Then, they broke off and headed in the opposite direction from that of the fleet. One could even argue that they were fleeing.

“Code: Beta.”

Aboard the Wrath – class battleships, plasma cannon turrets swung at the enemy. Kinetic artillery sped up it’s firing rates, strafing enemy lines with hundreds of munitions. ERASER weapons exposed the ‘pirates’ to all forms of radiation known to man. And still, the Allanean hat wasn’t quite out of rabbits.

“Code: Gamma.”

From the coreships, large steel ‘cans’ were ejected. When they departed far enough from the Allanean ships, their true nature was discovered.

* * *
“Linear barreless projectile guns.” – smiled a ship captain as he pointed their operation to an ensign.

“Huh?”

“C-frac nuke pulse jobs. Self deploying canisters. You drop ‘em, a few big bombs form up inna line with a big bullet thingy. Them bombs sequence detonate as the projectile passes. Gets the bitch up to C-frac”

“Wow.”

“That’s not the best part, son.”

“What’s the best part, Captain Woland?”

“Remember me talking about a projectile? Well, that there projectile is 15 tons of tungsten battlesynth coated dart. Straight from ZMI, that baby.”

“Woah. I sure wouldn’t like to be one of those pirates now, Captain Woland.”

“Hehehe, that one’s true, son.”

"Sir! We managed to break a good number of vessels, but the incoming fleet is comparable in size to ours. Our element of surprise is gone now!"

The Vice Admiral nodded again in similar fashion as he had before, and sighed heavily.

Then he again pressed the button he had pressed before in the console.

"The enemy response will be immediate. Start the defensive plan!"

The "defensive plan", as he had mentioned, took into account several things: The weakness of the defenses of their vessels, the ability of their FTL system to manage a tactical jump and the willingness of the crews to die for the cause. As such, their main duty would be to protect the space station, no matter the cost - and the tactic they would use would, hopefully, manage to do that.

The fleet was in five "battlegroups" of sorts, with about two hundred ships (of ancient Kajali design, for the most part) in each - except one of the groups was screening the other groups, thus making it seem that there were four such battlegroups.

So, when the barrage of the Fleet Decimatus had ended, these fifty ships in front of each group detached themselves from them ever-so-slightly, and broke into two groups of about 25 ships, with each group forming a line much like those of riflemen in the 19th Century of Earth. There were two lines, one before the second, and thus one after the first.

First came in the missiles.

The crews of the first lines waited calmly.

They waited. And waited. And waited. It felt like an eternity, but they knew that every single person that would survive thanks to their ultimate sacrifice would give the Fleet more time, and would make their lives meaningful.

Then came the time - and the ships one after another blew with an extremely bright light, ones much brighter than the dim sun of the star system, thus, effectively, causing many chain reactions of explosions with the incoming missiles. Indeed, the ships had not simply rigged their power cores, but had been full of explosives, conventional, unconventional and quite exotic. The second lines were damaged to an extent - but it was well within acceptable limits.

They knew they were going to die anyway. It was all an issue of how many would survive thanks to their deaths.

A hundred ships were blown away - but it was far a smaller number than it would have been, had they let the missiles hit the entirety of the fleet with full force.

With the second barrage coming in, kinetic rounds and radiation, the second lines started to self-destruct with immense power, slowing the kinetics down or diverting their flight paths... And the radiation could not verily get through, either.

About two hundred ships had now been reduced to nothing. Of course, this was a small sacrifice compared to the fact that, as the Vice Admiral knew, if the enemy barrage had come in without hindrance... The space station would now be on its own.

The third barrage, luckily enough, came mostly too late, as at least six hundred and seventy ships of the remaining fleet had initiated - and performed - tac-jumps (hopefully) right in the faces of the unknown fleet, nevermind the fact that the FTL engines of over half of the ships in the fleet were now broken down. Of the ships that had not managed to jump before the tungsten projectiles came forth to bring them death, about ninety were destroyed - most of which were actually glorified orbital bombardment platforms.

Then came the order:

"OPEN FIRE!"

And so they did.

A second round of everything they had came forth from the fleet elements, same kinds of MIRVs, beam weaponry, missiles, the works - of course in reduced numbers due to the great loss of ships, but with a lot higher precision and actual targeting.

In addition, the Allaneans would find out another part of their tactics - where ever possible, they would attempt to ram the unknown fleet's ships and then self-destruct in an attempt to take as many of them with them as possible.

FROM: Fleet Decimatus
TO: Unknown fleet

Feel our wrath, dogs! See your friends burn like the Kajali dogs shall!
The Fleet shall triumph, in the end! Even if it would not today...
WE WILL TRIUMPH!

- Fleet Decimatus ~~ For a free Kajal

Again, Fleet Skydagger took the blow. Twenty ships that were once the pride and joy of the Aumanii navy were shredded by immense rockets, burned by thermonuclear explosions, and pierced by plasma bolts. The Allanean sailors gasped in horror as they watched the sheer power of the pirate navy impact these vessels.

Aboard the USS William Shatner the situation was grim. While it was not downed by the enemy shots, several dozen cannon turrets were put entirely out of commission by enemy fire and would not be able to shoot back at the pirate forces at all.

"So, what exactly had happened, Ronson?"

"We're not quite sure. But it seems we have lost multiple turrets. Turret 35A had it's swivel mechanism jammed, turret 24N has had something impact the gravitic demodulator array – we're not sure how yet – turret 16F has multiple redundant targeting system failure, which is not even supposed to happen…"

"Oh brilliant. Is there anything else?"

At that precise moment, the main screen of the USS William Shatner's bridge showed a full view of an Au-170 frigate, turning uselessly in space as multiple missile impacts detonated against it's hull.

"Damn. This is about the twentieth to go, right?"

"Right, Sir."

A message appeared on the weapons' officer's screen. It consisted of only one sentence: Run Code Gamma again.

That the crew of the USS Shatner would not have a problem following up on. Yet again, hatches opened on different parts of the craft, and enormous multi-ton 'cans' were spouted by the hundred from the battleship – and the other ships of the Allanean navy.

"This should hurt 'em, Captain." – smiled the weapons officer with some satisfaction in his voice and face as he saw the massive non-reuseable weapons set themselves off in the darkness of space.

"Yes, yes indeed."

And the computers aboard the ships came alive again.

Code: Delta.

"Oh boy, this is going to be serious fun."

The Wrath battleships were not the only ships in the Allanean navy to possess large amounts of firepower. Of far more interest, right now, to the opponent, would be the Porcupine cruisers.

Visualize, if you will, a spacecraft, perhaps 750 meters in length. It has only one pilot, restrained in a small capsule inside the craft. His brain has long been modified by drugs and electronics, and dozens of cables run from all over the ship to his head and body, linked into his nervous system. His arms, legs, eyelids do not move. His entire body and all of his mind has been modified to control the systems that take up all of the space aboard the ship – dozens of reactors, power plants, and targeting software and hardware.

He also controls the systems that take up the external surfaces of the ship. And it's not called a Porcupine for nothing. Each of them has over a thousand weapons – if one counts PD and machinegun mounts.

What interests the Allanean command, however, are the six hundred or so anti-ship weapons, that begin turning themselves toward the enemy and firing post-haste. If we remind ourselves that there are 240 such ships in the Allanean ship, it's obvious why Ronson believe this to be fun.

But this is not yet all. While the Shatner did have some of it's turrets bruised, others are still capable to fire. Other battleships are in a better shape, and then there are also the coreships, the cruisers, the frigates – in short, everything that has anti-ship cannon in the Allanean navy – including the 25 surviving Aumanii ships – turns it's turrets and begins subjecting the pirates to an even stronger beam and kinetic bombardment than has been seen previously witnessed.

And yet, the Allaneans still have more rabbits in the hat.

"Sir, traces of our vessels jumping out of the system have been successfully wiped," shouted the sensor officer, who seemed just a little bit too excited. Well, to be quite honest, everyone on the bridge were excessively excited.

"Good," said the Vice Admiral excitedly, now sitting on his seat in the middle of the bridge, "It seems that even with out outdated ships we've managed to keep these dogs at bay long long enough! Tell the fleet to press on!"

"Yes, sir!"

The fleet the good Vice Admiral was talking about had been, for a good period of time now, pressing on the enemy. Over two hundred and fifty ships had been destroyed during their most daring attack head on to the enemy, some due to enemy fire, some due to the ramming and self-destructing tactics. All of the ships exploded with the radiance of several Suns. Practically all of the ships in the fleet were damaged to an extent, but - luckily enough - still operable. The remainder of the fleet was doing rather insane maneuvers in the middle of the enemy's formations, which was, as they had figured, the safest place to be right now, with all things considered, away from the main cannons of the enemy fleet.

They wouldn't shoot at their own, would they?

Wrong. The enemy had quickly re-targeted the fleet and started firing into the middle of the rather chaotic field of ships with their own and the Decimatus ships entangled in a deadly dance for dominance.

While many ships of the Fleet were summarily wiped out, it was highly likely that the Allaneans managed to also cause massive damage to themselves.

Which, while it was unexpected and even seen as utterly insane, was also hailed as a welcome event. Of sorts.

FROM: Fleet Decimatus
TO: Unknown Fleet

So you would fire at your own people, dogs? Where is the honor in that? You
remind us of those evil, degenerated, foul beasts who now dare to call
themselves the leaders of Kajal!

We will prevail!

- Fleet Decimatus ~~ For a free Kajal

“You fucking ****, Hermeneut! Cease fire! Cease fire!” – the captain of the USS William Shatner tore a gunner out of his turret control seat and threw him on the floor, then kicked him several times. But it was already too late. The Margaritifier carrier that the young man had accidentally caught in the sights of his immense ERASER cannon now became that much broken metal.

That would not be too bad – the device was unscrewed. The bad part came later – when they discovered that fleet Skydagger was now down to fifteen ships due to enemy and friendly fire. And further, a Porcupine ship was downed by enemy fire, its pilot killed immediately

All personnel, stand down from weapons fire except point-defenses. I repeat, all weapons fire except point defenses will now cease. Personnel, prepare for Code Epsilon

The carriers began to spout thousands and thousands of drone fighters from their bellies. These – almost half the drone fighter capacity of the Allanean Stellar Navy was present here – would attack the enemy ships, strafing them at extremely close range, then attacking them with guided missiles at quarters so close that missing the target would be near impossible. Yes, thousands of drones would be lost – and yet much more would remain to strafe the enemy. And if they had an opportunity, the drones were programmed to simply crash into the enemy ships’ engine blocks or other sensitive spots and detonate their self-destruct charges.

The captain of the USS NSYNC viewed this with a sick smile. “Good. Activate the teleporters. Try and get as many combat drones as possible on as many ships as possible. Program the drones to kill all in sight and take control of the ships when they’re done. Clear?”

“But Sir! It’s not safe! Some of the drones could be lost during teleportation due to the combat conditions!”

“Yes, but who cares? They’re drones. Not people.”

“Right.”

“Now, go tell the Shatner they are Delta Zeta Four clear.”

“…yes, Sir.”

Minutes later, the USS William Shatner flashed as it entered hyperdrive. It reappeared in the same system – but much, much closer to it’s goal – the system’s sun.

Aboard the Shatner, the science officer was completing some last calculations.

A ghastly plan was about to unfold.

While the battle raged on and ship after ship broke down as was their fate, a short conversation took place within the bridge of one of the vessels.

"Sir, we're picking up hostiles inside the ship!"

The captain, a man in his thirties and wearing the customary white uniform of the Fleets turned towards the sensor officer, a woman in her late twenties.

"What? How the hell's that possible?!"

"They just appeared inside! They're tearing all the internal defenses apart!"

The captain rose up from his seat most dramatically.

"Alright, men! This is it! Death is at hand! It's time to steer this bucket of rust into one of the enemy vessels and initiate self destruct! No retreat! No surrender!"

"Yes, sir," the rest on the bridge shouted in unison, saluting the captain.

The ship turned violently and took a collision course to one of the Allanean vessels, almost making the captain fall down, but he remained standing. Artificial gravity did work just fine in the ship still, just that it had its inertial dampener had taken a few hits. The ship was taking constant damage from fire from the drones and the likes, but it held together - almost. If one looked, its hull integrity was a joke, and only a few of the engines actually worked anymore.

"Drive us down the throats of these dogs and make them feel the fury of Decimatus!"

And with that, when they thought they were close enough to the unknown vessel, the nearly broken ship exploded, like so many of them had before.

The very same happened to at least fifty other ships before they started making such erratic evasive maneuvers that teleportation into the ships became close to an impossibility. Close to fifty other vessels gave up under the constant firing from the drones, exploding as well, taking their destroyers with them.

Only a fifth of the fleet was anymore, in any way, capable of continuing the fight.

--

The Vice Admiral had kept a keen eye on the battlefield.

It was obvious they were losing, but at least they had managed to get most of their people to safety, and by now it would've been too late for the enemy to attempt and follow them - there were no tracks anymore.

Then he noticed one of the enemy ships leaving, and appearing closer to the system's sun.

He turned his head, while sitting on his seat, towards the sensor officer.

"How many ships do they have at our sun?"

"What, Sir? Ah. Only one."

"Any idea what they might be up to?"

"Well... We're picking up some odd readings off the vessel, but the sun is interfering. I think it could be nothing."

"Hmm."

The Vice Admiral turned his head towards the defense officer.

"What's the status on the shields?"

"Up and running, at 100 percent."

"Hmm."

He turned his head towards the weapons officer.

"And your status?"

"We're almost ready."

"Hmm..."

Based on this, he made a quick decision.

"Start moving us out of the orbit of the moon and try to keep us in the shadow of the gas giant. Just make sure we don't get pulled in by its gravity."

"Yes, sir."

"I don't like this. I really don't."

Something's up. And I doubt we'll like it.

Aboard the USS NSYNC

“Well, there goes the remnants of Fleet Skydagger. Sure didn’t last long, did it?” – the Grand-Admiral commented. His ensign nodded. “Yes, Sir. However, it’s not that I… holy shit!”

As he said that, the Dominatus fleet ship entered the hull of the Porcupine from the side. There was a vast explosion and the gunboat cruiser was completely destroyed in a single blast. Within seconds, five carriers, three more Porcupines, and a missile cruiser went along for the ride into Hell – though some of the crew on the latter did manage to evacuate. Still, some two thousand personnel were killed immediately aboard the vessels.

“Jesus Christ, Sir.”

“This doesn’t affect anything.”

“What?! Two thousand people just died in front of our very eyes and you claim it does not…”

“That’s precisely right. We will continue as we were, tactics-wise. Keep the teleportaters going, and keep up with the fighter drones. Something’s got to give. Also, spread our ships out more.”

“Why?”

“Because once we are really spread out – and I mean really spread out, like we properly should be, anyway – we can fire at them with little risk of accidentally hitting each other.”

“Yes, Sir.”

Within minutes, the ships moved away, separating from each other and the enemy fleet. At the very same time, the cannon and missiles came alive again, pelting the vastly-diminished enemy fleet with purely Allanean amounts of firepower.

This time, even the coreships’ spinal cannon fired a shot each –and when an 11-km long ship takes a shot at you with it’s spinal, you’re not exactly the luckiest man in the known multiverse.

Near the system’s star

“Ready at my command. Proceed to execute Delta. Zeta. Four. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill. Proceed to execute Delta. Zeta. Four.”

From the battleship, a small metal box fell towards the star below, and then the ship began to accelerate away.
“Stage one!”

Where the box entered the star, a large solar flare rose. Then, it began to transform strangely.

“Stage two!”

As the ZMI thermostellar device died, it affected the star’s magnetosphere in a peculiar pattern. From the flare, an immense focused LASER beam rose, targeting a location in space. An empty point.

By the time the beam of focused light would arrive there, the moon that was home to the Dominatus Fleet’s arcologies would be right at that spot.

Somewhere aboard the USS William Shatner, the captain began to laugh.

"Sir, there's a beam coming this way! It is... On a collision course with the moon! It is highly likely that our arcologies are finished!"

The Vice Admiral hit the armrest of his seat with quite some power, and it almost broke. At least now he knew he was right to get the station off the moon's orbit. It would've probably been a bad thing to be in its orbit with the beam coming in.

"Dammit! I knew it! I knew it! Those bastards! Weapons!"

"Sir?"

"Fire the main cannons! I don't care if we even momentarily lose power, it is time to show these bastards the true power of this station! Bring forth the Lance of Light and burn them to a crisp!"

"What shall we target, Sir?"

He knew they couldn't have targeted the ship at the sun, so...

"Their main fleet! Especially those insanely huge ones the remnants of our fleet's been failing to destroy! I can see the dogs are trying to loosen their formations, so tell our fleet to stick to their smaller ships and let us take care of those gigantic bastards!"

"Yes, sir!"

Klaxons began to wail all over the station. A female voice spoke from the loudspeakers, stating "All hands, prepare for firing," and so forth - the fleet, now reduced to a measly hundred ships, was following the Porcupines and their ilk now,showing an obvious change in tactics. What was noted though, that the Allaneans, while they again managed to lower the amount of ships in the Decimatus fleet, were again also firing at their own.

And then, a horrid, white, crackling light surrounded the entirety of the station, and soon after, a gigantic beam of the whitest light most have ever witnessed came forth from it, aiming for the coreships of the Allanean fleet at a speed greater than light could, normally, travel.

FROM: Fleet Decimatus
TO: Unknown fleet

Feel the wrath of Decimatus, dogs! This is what will come to all who
stand before our great cause to free the Kajalian people of the shackles
their dark masters have created for them!

- Fleet Decimatus ~~ For a free Kajal

Aboard the USS NSYNC

“Oh, Jesus…”

“I can’t fucking believe this! We lost contact with the USS Eradicator! They are adrift in space, no engine power, no life support, no nothing!”

“Oh Jesus Christ, this is so not supposed to happen!”

“Fuckity-fuckity-fuck, what are we going to do…”

“Sir, we have contact with USS Mincer, they lost propulsion and shields and are sending mayday signals.”

“Oh fragging great, at least it didn’t vape the ships altogether. You know, I’m beginning to be annoyed by those pirates. Initiate code Sigma.”

Another manoever was taking place now, as the ships were charging their FTL drives. Left behind were only the Porcupines. These ships were equal in number to those of the enemy, and each began to ‘spar’ with one enemy ship. Now, at this range, the firepower superiority of the Porcupines became obvious – and in the meanwhile, the fighter drones left behind, too, pounded on the enemy ships.

The other ships emerged from hyperdrive – heavily damaged and horribly scarred by both friendly fire and enemy weapons fire – and stalled, doing precisely nothing, on the opposed side of the gas giant from the enemy station.

"What are they up to now...?"

The Vice Admiral stroked his practically non-extant beard. The few seconds of no power had passed quickly after the shot, so they were kind of aware of the actions of the enemy.

And he knew that they were up to something again.

Again, he turned his head towards the weapons officer.

"What's the status on the main cannon?"

"It's holding together, Sir! Of course, the longer the time we have, the stronger it'll be when we need it again!"

"Good, good," he said, and turned his head towards the defense officer.

"And the shields?"

"Still at 100%. The momentary powerloss had no effect."

He nodded.

"Alright, bring us about and go behind that moon. You see it? The one that's coming to the shadow of the gas giant."

"Yes, Sir. I see it. It'll take a few, though. The propulsion systems weren't meant to make this thing a ship."

"Yes, yes. The dogs seem to be packing the kind of firepower we aren't really equipped to stand against... So we better make sure we have as much shielding in front of us as possible. They won't get us without a good old fashioned fight!"

"Yes, sir!"

--

The remaining fleet, which was just above hundred ships, was left behind by the majority of the Allanean fleet, which wasn't exactly the best possible situation for them.

After some quick and heated transmissions while the ships were being pounded by enemy fire, it turned out that just a little below half of them, fourty seven or so, still had working faster-than-light drives. So they came to the conclusion that the ones which couldn't follow the majority of the enemy fleet came about, made a tactical withdrawal and sat right next to the rubble of the disabled coreships, and those capable of jumping did so.

Several ships of the jumping fleet managed to be destroyed by enemy fire before they jumped, leaving them at a grand total of thirty nine ships in total. The other group was left at a total of fourty six ships - which was still at a good position to continue firing at the massive hulks of the defenseless enemy vessels.

While they were doing thus, the jumping group just, with the same kind of stubborness they had fought from the beginning, continued to fire what they still had - mostly beam weaponry - at the invading fleet, again lying right in their formations, with some of the ships, in all actuality, FTLing right inside enemy ships, probably causing massive explosions. That was the kind of determination these men and women had, to take out as many of their enemy as they could.

Maybe it wasn't the best idea to split, but they knew it was better than simply staying there to die.

Porcupine Fleet

“They did what?”

“Yeah, I didn’t believe it either, that’s fragging insane.”

“They’re headed for the goram coreships! Somebody do something!”

“Somebody means us, Fred.”

The Porcupines began to form into pairs, their enormous engines bringing them swiftly to the tail of the enemy ships, on which they immediately brought their beams to bear, computer-assisted targeting doing what it could to prevent targeting of the coreships.

They outnumbered the enemy fleet at two to one – and even a little more – and even a single Porcupine was bigger, leaner, and meaner then a corresponding Fleet Decimatus ship. Further, even one Porcupine had at least ten times the firepower. It would be now that this advantage would be seen in full – even despite the fact that the enemy ships were concentrating their fire on the crippled coreships. In fact, this would grant them some form of perverted advantage.

Aboard one of the coreships

“Kevin! Answer me! You can’t die on me now, you sonofacommiebitch! Kevin!”

It was pointless. The ensign was dead, fried by a gamma radiation leak that was caused by one of the enemy beam cannon, slicing right through the immense, thick metal hull and the internal failsafe defenses of the gravitic modulation reactor that was supposed to power cannon batteries on the dorsal armor plate on the ship. On it’s way to the reactor safeties, the beam also boiled a roomful of sailors – but right now Commodore Torrens only cared about one person – Kevin Northworth, his friend.

He was still trying to shake Kevin back into life when some form of coolant tube aboe him burst, spraying him with superheated steam..

He lived for a few more minutes – without eyes, lips, or eyebrows. His tongue was scarred, too, and his mouth could now only elicit terrible moans of pain – and screaming was so painful that, in the last thirty seconds of his life, Commodore Torrens remained silent. Only his shoulders shuddered in soundless sobs.

Main fleet

“What the bloody hell!”

Two ships became floating balls of fire as Dominatus vessels appeared right inside of them.

“Yes, it appears like kamikaze attacks.”

“Nah, couldn’t have been deliberate, they’re just morons.”

“Oh fuck this shit. Hit them with Program Epsylon.”

“But Sir, this is horribly wasteful.”

“At least it gets us rid of the bloody idiots.”

Aboard forty of the most damaged Allanean ships – mostly missile cruisers with their ammunition capacity expended - but also some light frigates, crew evacuation began. The enemy would watch in horror as dozens of evacuation pods dropped out of the ships for utterly no apparent reason. Even the sapient AI of the ships was removed and taken away on special storage drives.

Then, a program was initiated with the ships’ onboard computers.

They became, now, no longer Allanean ships, but Allanean C-frac kinetic kill vehicles, diving each at it’s own target.

"Keep firing! Keep firing!" shouted out the captain of one of the still surviving Decimatus vessels who were assaulting the coreships of the Allanean fleet. Blood was flowing furiously from his forehead, covering his left eye. His right arm was charred with many burns, his legs did not quite work anymore, but he somehow managed to ignore the pain. His white uniform was drenched in blood, and was blackened by burns all over, but he did not care.

It was his duty - as it was the duty of those in his crew. And as long as he lived, he would see to it that he, nor those under his command, would not fail his people.

"If we destroy those massive hulks before they get us," he continued, "We can indeed rest in peace! I don't care if we have to RAM them and self-destruct, just get them!"

Mere two dozen ships - a shadow of what it had been originally - of the fleet remained in that part of the battlefield. They had fought this enemy most valiantly, sacrificing their lives for the greater good of the Fleet.

And it wasn't over yet.

The remnants fevereshly fired at the colossal husks of the enemy ships in an attempt to disintegrate them beyond any repair. When they took critical enough damage, the vessels rammed the coreships and detonated with blinding light.

It was as though their honor demanded them to destroy these obvious emblems of the enemy's power.

--

At the main fleet, they were indeed outclassed, outnumbered and outgunned, but it did not matter, they would do their duty to the very end. And then, they saw their chance come, as they noticed the enemy vessels which had started evacuating people.

Evacuatees.

In other words, "easy pickings".

For them, it didn't matter for what reason they were leaving their ships - but as long as there were fleet elements remaining, they fired at the evacuation pods.

The problem, though, as the Allaneans would probably soon notice, with their C-fracs, was that they had made too many of them for a fleet half the size the amount they would've needed, thus again endangering their own people needlessly. It made the Vice Admiral smirk while he watched the situation unfold through his monitors.

Sure, the fleet was now just a two dozen group of ships pounding away at the massive, defenseless hulks of the enemy's ships, but at least they had caused great damage to the enemy as well. It all did make him feel proud to be a part of the Fleet Decimatus.

Aboard a coreship

Several ships impact against the massive hull of the coreship, and eventually, something gives. In the seconds in which air rushes out of the 11-kilometer body, fires burn inside the ship, and are put out immediately as vaccum ensues. The 200-meter white-bodied vessels pierce the enormous metal wedge right through, and the immense holes do in what is left of the ship’s life-support.

It is finally over.

The coreships are spinning in space, uninhabited and dead. Only a handful of crew survive in enclosed rooms or escape capsules.

The pirates have made Allaneans pay the price they wanted.

Aboard the USS NSYNC

“So. We can’t shoot at them, they can’t shoot at us. Bah.”

“Actually, Sir… we can. I may have an idea.”

Minutes later, dozens and hundreds of oversized missiles rise from the Allanean ships, and begin to circle the planet. Most are actually decoys, cheating RADARs and other detectors to look like missiles.

Others are Miriel anti-continent missiles. They will soon begin to approach C-fractional velocities. Then, they will launch their payload – approximately 150,000 tons each of what appears to be simple steel bearings, lead weights, and ordinary rocks – moving at C-frac speeds, that’s a total of three megatons of steel, lead, and stone, coming at the pirate station like a shotgun blast from Hell.

Dodge this.

The Vice Admiral scratched his head in wonderment. Sure, the tactic the enemy was employing seemed to be quite devastating and was likely to destroy anything in its path.

If it weren't for the fact that the station was hiding behind a moon, that is. A moon which was, effectively, larger than the station itself. Apparently the enemy hadn't taken this celestial object into account while firing their weapons of mass destruction.

This, of course, was a sort of relief for the crew of the station, as they would - hopefully - live to fight for a few more moments.

The moon in question took the worst beating it had, most likely, ever witnessed in its long existence. Gigantic crater upon even more gigantic crater was created upon the surface of the moon, slowly turning into canyons which reached down to its very core.

As more and more material hit the moon at fractional speeds of light, something gave in as it cracked into two non-equal sized pieces, which remained relatively close to each other, however, still protecting the station from the incoming barrage, although now some of the material managed to also hit in between of the hapless moon's pieces, causing parts to be dislodged from it, slowly turning the moon into small asteroids and unassorted rubble.

At the end of the massive attack, what still screened the station was just a bunch of asteroids - not exactly something that could hold off another attack of that kind.

"... And with that, our last cover is blown," stated the Vice Admiral.

"Well. I am honored to have worked with you," he said and looked at everyone in the bridge of the station, "And you have made me proud. But there is one more thing we must do before we succumb to the blissful peace of death."

He stood up.

"One more thing!"

"Weapons! Target the gas giant with the Lance of Light, but do not fire yet!"

"Yes, sir!"

"What is the status on the weapon?!"

"At full charge, Sir!"

"Good! Draw energy from all other systems in the station as well!"

"Done, Sir!"

"Excellent!"

He extended his right hand theatrically again, spreading his fingers like he had before.

"GIVE THEM HELL!"

"Aye, Sir!"

The station was once more covered with blinding, crackling white light as the main cannon was fired. But unlike last time, it was overpowered by everything the station could offer, making the ball of light completely non-transparent at all sides.

And then, a gigantic beam of light came forth from the ball, crashing down into the depths of the dormant gas giant in an attempt to awaken it and turn it into a miniature sun in its own right.

We have seen this happen before... It should work!

The transformation of a planet into a small star is not something that takes place within a single second. It takes time – and the early signs are clear and seen by anybody equipped with the proper sensors. The Allanean ships are equipped with the proper sensors.

"Admiral, they are apparently…" – the ensign run up into the bridge of the USS NSYNC, panting, his face flushed. – "Apparently, they're trying to…" The admiral raised his eyebrows. "I don't see them trying. I see that they are successfully turning that planet into a star. Order a retreat on all ships."

"But sir, the station…"

"Fire some Miriels at it before we leave."

The Allanean ships enter hyperdrive again. Just before they do this, ten more Miriel missiles are fired, 'spamming' the location of the enemy craft one more time with tons and tons and tons of steel, stone, and lead.

They seem to have escaped the wrath of the star – but later, when they are on the outskirts of the system, where the wrecked coreships lie, it seems that last exertion has crippled five missile cruisers and a frigate. They are abandoned. Their crew – scooped up into the NSYNC – were being prepared for shipment outsystem.

And now, as they prepared to witness the results of the pirate's action, they swooped the location of the former battle for ship fragments of the enemy, ejected crew members, anything that could be used for information, or for gleaning elements of technology. In particular, onboard computers were especially sought, with thousands of recon drones dedicated to finding one.