NationStates Jolt Archive

OOC: Here it is, the long awaited and very, very long first post. Excuse the pretentious-yet-stupid title. It's late.
The preparations were complete. The plans were ready. The men were eager. The assets were in place. Events were about to be set in motion, events that would bring the Gurguvii Hierarchy to it's knees.

Fleet Admiral Devin Blask smiled grimly. He surveyed the docking bay of the Super Star Destroyer Valour flagship of the Gurguvii 1st Fleet. Marines sprinted to their transports while sergeants cursed and spitted at them to move their sorry arses. He turned to a console in the docking bay control room and inspected their target. It was a glimmering gossamer construct, floating in open space. Only the tiny orbs of light beside it belied its massive size, for each orb was a mile long Star Destroyer in formation around the huge structure. Blask smiled. The hour was at hand. He gave the order. Marine transports launched.

Devin Blask was a hard, cruel man. He was also ambitious. For years he had dreamed of commanding the 1st fleet, but now that he did, it was not enough. He wanted an empire, a dominion to rule as his own. So he had laid plans to get one. He promised senior officers ruinous sums to support him in his mutiny, and invented tyrannical orders from Gurguvii command to sow dissention in his men. With his men’s disgust at Command steadily growing, Blask began violating the false orders ‘on the behalf of his men’, thus guaranteeing their loyalties. With his men’s loyalty assured, Blask prepared his entire fleet for a simultaneous takeover, removing those officers who remained loyal to Central Command and installing new, loyal commanders. The stage was set for the final act, and Admiral Blask smiled.

The Target was the Intergalactic Gate Portal Alpha. The gate opened a fissure in space-time allowing for instantaneous transportation between one Gate and another. It was the only gate between the Andromeda and Milky Way galaxies, and he who controlled it could hold for ransom the entire Gurguvii nation. It was crewed by just one-hundred people, all in one long room where they controlled the future of Gurguvungunit as surely as the politicians on Karasitha. They believed themselves secure, surrounded by the largest space fleet Gurguvungunit had ever raised. When the marines burst through the door and fired six shots into the ceiling, the scientists fell to the ground and whimpered. Galactic Portal Alpha had fallen.

Aboard the Cruiser Dominance chaos reigned. The Captain had been shot, bleeding his life away on the deck. The security officer and assasin had been hit by six bullets at once, his body exploding in a pile of gore. The ship’s marines were waging a pitched battle in the corridors, and the Executive Officer had been found in bed, a knife in her throat. The assasin was presumably the Colonel of Marines, Charles Straw, who commanded the Rebel forces. On the bridge, Lieutenant Commander Lindsay Aken held a pistol to Lieutenant Commander Richard Bruce’s throat, while Ensign Yerv Nakay adopted the same attitude towards Marine Captain Amos Decatur. Six loyal marines held heavy blasters to the three entrances to the bridge. Outside a grenade could be heard exploding. Lindsay stood slowly, keeping the pistol aimed at Bruce’s forehead. It was her first cruise aboard a starship, having previously served on Admiral Gregory’s staff groundside. She shuddered at the thought that she was the senior loyal officer.
“I am formally assuming command of the Dominance,” she croaked. “Marine Peterson, restrain Commander Bruce and Captain Decatur.” The walked to the command chair, moving the Captain’s arm off of the seat. She sat, and composed herself.
“Someone man communications. And get me Marine Major Eindecker. We need to co-ordinate the defense of the ship."

OOC: It's not that long, i've seen posts 10 times this long, but hey, not to high-jack your thread, carry on.

With listening posts covering the length, breadth, and to a lesser extent the depth of the Milky Way galaxy, it never takes too long for the Robotic Galactic Flotilla to hear news of anything. The hostile takeover of a jump gate operated by a major ally causes quite a stir.

However, with the three currently active dreadnaughts and their support fleets currently operating with the combined Atlantian Outcasts/LRR/Zoir fleet, the best the flotilla might be able to spare is a cruiser and two or three frigates. Obviously not a sufficent force to go up against an entire Gurguvungunit rebel fleet. Perhaps once a few more dreadnaughts are built and their support fleets assembled, a crushing force could be sent, but in the mean time nothing sufficcent could be spared. And with RGF frigates spread throughout the Milky Way galaxy and a few of the nearer ones in the cluster, its a miracle that two could be rallied.

"Blast!" yells Captain Yosr Hrung at the news of his assignment. "We can't possibly fight all those ships! I mean look, we've only got three!"

The gathering of the ship's officers watches as Captain Hrung describes their situation, his shiny chrome body reflecting light from the flourescent bulbs that adorn the ceiling.

"So what the fleet command wants us to do, apparently, is pick up a special forces team here." Hrung points to a star on the chart, not too far out of their way. The captain could sometimes be very hard to follow, jumping from one state of mind to another. Just now, even, he had jumped from just finding out about his orders to apparently knowing them for some time.

So the 'task group' of three ships enters hyperspace, headed for a large space outpost, home to the 13th special operations group.

Lindsay watched a schematic of the MC 90 cruiser Dominance. Parts of the ship shone red indicating that they were held by the mutineers, while others glowed blue, showing that they were loyal to Command. She winced as a corridor flashed blue for a moment, then red. She turned to Major Eindecker.
"Send another patrol to corridor 32, deck 16, cross 30." Eindecker nodded, and gestured to a marine squad, whose leader shouted "Lock and load!" before the team ran out the door. Lindsay grimaced at the thought of sending more men to their deaths and turned to Lieutenant Gribwald at Communications.
"Contact the flagship, tell them that part of the crew has mutinied and that the Captain and XO are dead," she ordered tersely.

Aboard the Victory Star Destroyer Braveheart, Marine Major Patterson fired two rounds from his pistol into the face of Captain De Valentino. As the captain sank to the floor, Patterson shouted.
"Does anyone else want to rebel?" The would be mutineers all shook their heads and watched the marine squad that had captured them nervously. At their feet lay most of the loyal bridge crew, chests and heads a bloody morass. Patterson turned to Ensign Ferlenghetti.
"Ensign. You're the most senior bridge officer still living, not counting those trecherous scum. Do you want to take command?" Ferlenghetti shook his head.
"No sir. I'ld rather return to my post at sensors, seeing as this is my first assignment out of the Academy, sir." Patterson nodded.
"In that case, I've no choice but to take command of the Braveheart. What's the nearest ship, Ensign?" Ferlenghetti consulted his instruments.
"The Cruiser Dominance, sir." Patterson frowned, thinking. By the chaotic behavior of the fleet outside, the entire 1st Fleet was experiencing some kind of difficulty, including the Dominance. Contacting anyone was likely to bring more danger than salvation. However, the Dominance was known for the quality and loyalty of her crew.
"Hail them, and inform them that we have quelled the mutiny onboard, and inquire if they would like assistance."

The task group arrives at Shipyard Station C after a little less than a day in hyperspace. RGSV Lowell George, the cruiser, parks itself outside the station, along with its two frigates.

Captain Hrung darts inside to make a call.

"Hello? Operator? This is Yosr Hrung...yes, yes, I'm a cruiser captain...no, could you make this a station to station? Yes...thankyou...president of Gurguvungunit, please...thanks. Hello, Dimitry?"

(OCC: A little Dr. Strangelove reference there, if you can find it. :))

Meanwhile, the cruiser's chief engineer is shown the new gear which will be used for the operation.

"These are the stealthiest ships in the galaxy right here." The station engineer points to a gloss black, delta shaped ship, with smooth lines that would make an RGF dreadnaught jump in fright. Obviously built for sneakiness...

"You can't detect this baby until it gets right on top of you. Slow as a pig, though, and doesn't have shields. But you need to bump into this thing to see it."

"I see," says Lieutenant Van King. "Er...so...why do we need it?"

"This is what you'll launch the special ops teams in. Each one can carry thirty men in heavy power armor, and you'll be getting seven."

"Oh. It doesn't look they're much more than single-purpose. Those drives...bleh."

"Yeah, I don't like it either, no good in an actual battle, but if the targets not moving, these things can get right on it."

"I see. Might as well load 'em up."

On the ship, the first of the 210 special ops troops board. They find that they are to be quartered in a spacious, yet quite spartan quarter of the hold, which suits them fine. However, the well-conditioned warriors find something lacking among the easygoing crew, who are very much spacefarers, adhering to the slogan 'Gravity Is For Squares.'

Commander Jamie Stewart arrives on the bridge, to be met by a handful of bridge robots preoccupied with monitoring the ship's sensors, chatting with the AI about modern physics and the best restaurants, and listening to the ship's endless David Bowie librairy.

Jamie wears an olive drab flight suit, bearing the insigina of the RASO (Robotic Army Special operations) battalions, and her appearance is generally orderly and martial, in contrast to the shiny chrome robots, who fit eerily with the choice of music.

"Is the captain here?"
"What? Er...no, he'll be back in a bit. Want a drink?"
"No, thanks."

Jamie finds a seat and waits for Hrung to return.

bump

Commander Art Delorme ducked behind a fallen stanchion in the spacious gally of the Carrier Tempest. Blaster fire lanced overhead, chewing holes in the wall behind him. Huddled with him were the cook, two marines and the ship's surgeon, who busied himself cauterizing a bleeding wound in the side of another fallen marine. Delorme winced as a fragment of superheated metal brushed his cheek.
"How long can we hold out, Sergeant?" Delorme asked the senior marine. The captain fingered his pistol.
"Not long, sir. The rebels are bringing some light artillery to clear the room. We'll have to make a break for it, sir." Delorme nodded, and gestured to the other marine and the Surgeon.
"Alright. We're going to run for the side entrance in five seconds. Do not stop for any reason. Once we're out the door, we're going to collect as many loyal soldiers as we can. Then, we head for the bridge. Clear?" The others nodded, fear and determination etched on their faces.
"GO!"
The Captain made a break for it, running for an overturned table. He ducked behind it, loosing three quick bolts from his pistol. Happy with his covering fire, he jumped up and sprinted for the door. Slapping the keypad, he was through.
Doctor Relas stood and ran straight for the door, disdaining cover, and managed to dash through before he was hit, collapsing on the other side, exhausted.
The two marines moved in a leap-frogging pattern, covering each other with their heavy rifles. The sergeant made it through the door, but when he turned to cover the other marine, he could only watch as the other fell to three shots in the back. The sergeant grimaced, and slapped the door shut.
Awaiting him on the other side were Captain Delorme and the Doctor, panting.
“Sergeant, I want you to find anyone who is still loyal to Command, and rendezvous at the bridge atrium. We’ll hopefully be able to contact another ship from there, and possibly retake the bridge.” The sergeant saluted and jogged off down the corridor.

"Hold on, operator...excuse me, do you have your phone card?" asks Captain Hrung to a passerby, who looks at him strangely and continues down the corridor at a faster pace than before.

"Oh...found it!"

Sticking the small strip of plastic into the acceptor, Hrung manages to fool the phone and get free calling.

"Hello? May I please speak with the admiral in charge of the Gurguvungunit navy, please? This is Admiral Smith, in case you were wondering."

Yosr tries to fool the person on the other end of the line into thinking that he is a lot more important than he really is. For all his robotic intelligence and mathematical powers, he was somewhat witless.

Meanwhile, Stewart grows tired in the company of the somewhat dull robots, who seem much more interested in whatever it was that they were doing. A constant stream of David Bowie music videos occupies the auxiliary screens, while the main is focused out into space.

"When did the captain say he would be back?"

One of the robots turns around in surprise.

"Oh, um...er...after he made a call."

Gurguvii HQ, Gurguvungunit, Karasitha
"A man on the line, sir. He says he's an Admiral Smith of the LRR space fleet," the orderly said crisply. Fleet Admiral Brendan Ross raised his eyebrows at the unfamiliar name, but nodded his assent.
"Thank you Kendrick, I'll take it in my office."
***
Captain Delorme burst onto the bridge of his ship, flanked by three marines. All opened fire, swiftly clearing the bridge of mutinous marines and armed personnel. More marines flooded in behind him and placed their guns at the heads of the surviving mutineers. The sergeant from the galley saluted Captain Delorme as the senior officer elbowed his Executive Officer emeritus out of the Command chair.
"Thank you, Sergeant, that'll be all. Major Kearsey? Please escort these men to the brig. Ensign Wilder, would you be so good as to inform the flagship that there has been a mutiny aboard, and that we are in the process of retaking the ship?" Wilder was about to relay the message when Lieutenant Gray cut in.
"Ensign, belay that order. With respect, sir, that wouldn't be a good idea. Take a look at the screen."
Delorme did so, wondering what would make the dependable Gray behave in such a fashion. All doubts were banished though, when he saw what had caused the behavior.
"Oh ye gods!"
The flagship had launched troop transports at Galactic Portal Alpha.

"Hello, Admiral Ross? This is captain Yosr Hrung of the RGSV Lowell George. I'm not sure weather you know already or not, but one of your jump gates connecting the milky way with Karasitha has been...well...taken over. We don't have any more information for you at this time, as many listening posts in that sector have been taken off-line to avoid detection. But it is essential that you get as many ships in there as you can."

In the background, Van Morrison's And It Stoned Me plays softly. One of Hrung's favorite songs, he sings along with it until Ross responds, which takes a few seconds due to the time delay.

"We are aware that the jumpgate has closed down, but we've not recieved any indication that there is a problem. Unfortunately, since the gate is closed, there is no way to get ships to the Milky Way within the next thousand years. Incidentally, you're not allowed on this channel, but what the hell. Say, is that Van Morrison?"

"We are aware that the jumpgate has closed down, but we've not recieved any indication that there is a problem. Unfortunately, since the gate is closed, there is no way to get ships to the Milky Way within the next thousand years. Incidentally, you're not allowed on this channel, but what the hell. Say, is that Van Morrison?"

"Yes, it certainly is. Are you a fan?"

Captain Hrung momentarily forgets the problem at hand, as And It Stoned Me fills his silicon brain with happiness.

Meanwhile, Jamie Stewart becomes increasingly agitated at the non-appearance of Captain Hrung. The bridge robots' performance of Let's Dance provides some entertainment, however.

The Wormian Sol Diplomatic Courier fleet was parked just inside the dead Milky Way Jumpgate. Not moments ago, the fleet had transmitted it's final flight plan with intentions to warp back home to Andromeda, whereupon the Jumpgate summarily quite.

The peculiarly warship filled "diplomatic" fleet, often used as a ... "big stick," pathetically hung in space, isolated by a torodial supermassive machine, several million tons of cabling, nearly 26 milllion Pentium Quanta 9 Processors for a total of several million zettaflops of computational power. To sift through the machinery of all of that was an idle dream to be completed even within a human lifetime.

On the bridge of the WAS Lunaria was an all pervading feeling of ... confusion.

"Lieutenant... what... just... happened?" Captain James DeMarcos asked. One of the few Sol captains of the Wormian fleet.

"I ... believe... the wormhole... just... died... sir..." the lieutenant sputtered, unusually. Even a hardened, emotionally surpressive Vulcan such as himself realized the sheer magnitude of the event he had, against all odds, lived to witness.

Another of the torus's magnificent specifications was the rate at which it consumed power. To be put bluntly, planetary Wormia generated and consumed an average rate of approximately 600 petawatts, including the combined energy of the Wormian military. A single jumpgate node consumed roughly the energy output of a large star.

The hapless lieutenant had just witnessed just what happens when one improperly terminates the hyperspace corridor between two controlled black holes. More importantly, he had survived to see 3.9 x 1026 Watt 390,000 exawatts become a cold 0 watts in mere seconds.

"Very astute lieutenant. This doesn't happen everyday. We're fortunate not to have entered it... we'd have been beamed into oblivion." DeMarcos said.

"It is good fortune, captain, that quantum radio allows us to communicate with Wormian Space Command. They may be able to put a Wormian stargate up for temporary transit..." His science officer, the Elven Tier' Araneim.

"Such an action would seem the logical course of action, captain." The Vulcan helmsman turned to view the Elven science officer. It was a peculiar moment, needless to say.

"We're not opening up Wormia to any foreign aggressors... now... the first thing were going to do is contact WSC...."

********************************
Wormian Space Command - 0400 Hours
Orbis Terralonius

Of course, having just gotten an incoming transmission that half of the Gurguvii fleet had just gone "for a ride," the first thing the WAS Lunaria did... was the last thing WSC needed.

A frazzled and stressed Wormian lieutenant looked at his computer monitor. He almost felt like hitting it, as it unemotionally continued to blink message #457 of the day. WAS Lunaria.... He moaned, and pushed the recieve button. It would be a long day.`

bump for the G-man.

Lindsay frowned as a grizzled Major appeared onscreen rather than the expected Admiral, but figured that asking him would be just as effective as speaking to Blask.
"Major, the Dominance is experiencing a mutiny. The command staff is dead, and I have assumed command. We are currently fighting for the lower decks, and taking heavy casualties. I urgently request assistance," Lindsay entrieatied the Major. He smiled gently.
"Lass, if you'd asked the Admiral for assistance, you'd have found yourself blasted to hell. The entire fleet is experiencing a mutiny, and it looks like he's in charge of it. I'll send some marines right over." The display keyed off, and Lindsay blushed.
***
Brendan Ross nodded emphatically.
"Yes, indeed. I'm a huge fan, but I'll have to get back to you. I need to discuss this with the Chief of State and the Senate. Thank you for the tipoff, Captain Hrung."

"You're quite welcome, Admiral."

Hrung hangs up and walks back to the ship. Upon entering the bridge, he gives the order to set sail.

"Helm, take us out! Set hyperspace coordinates for Intergalactic Gate Portal Alpha!"

The bridge robots and the AI perform their functions quickly and seamlessly. The cruiser and its three frigate escorts shoot out into space. All the while, Yosr Hrung stands at his station, twisting dials and checking the ship's hyperspace targeting with the AI.

"Excuse me, captain..."
"One moment please."

Stewart remains unnoticed at the back of the bridge as the crew guides the ship into hyperspace. And it was, of course, bad karma to talk about combat in hyperspace, so she would have to wait...

1600 Hours - Wormian Space Command
Orbis Terralonius - Terralon System

"...Yes. YES. I am aware of the situ... MR. SENATOR. I am FULLY aware that there is a multibillion yenom battle fleet... stuck in the Milky Way. There is, at the moment, nothing we can do about it." Admiral Jonathan Ketcher spoke as quickly as he could to a flat, holo-video playback of the old, and somewhat impetuous Senator Nevren, an soldier of politics, and a politician of soldiers.

"Admiral," he began, "Wormia's economic position currently is not in the shape to lose such a number of ships. If that fleet is unable to return home, we cannot afford replacemen..."

"MR. SENATOR." Ketcher roared into the hologram."With all DUE respect, ECONOMIC ISSUES are as far as the senate's power goes. This is a military issue, and will be resolved by us at Wormian Space Command. We are a *bit* more concerned about the welfare of the men on board the fleet, as the hydroponics bays on that particular fleet will not provide sustenance for the crews for more than a year. After this, they will need to dock at foreign ports, where the host government will undoubtedly have a sudden surge of curiousity about the previously mysterious Wormian technology. Good day, sir." He pounded a pad that locked the port hosting the senator's datastream. The display flickered, and faded into thin air.

A young lieutenant walked forward to Admiral Ketcher, "Sir... latest reports. A Guguvii Admiral seems to have gone off the deep end. The entire Gurguvii fleet is suffering a plague of mutiny... and... we haven't a god damn clue who's winning."

"Perfect. Just perfect. There are nearly 600 million Wormian's living on the continent on Karasitha... we... could call in the Alpha Strategic Battle Fleet. They are currently in orbit around Karasitha." Ketcher said.

"I would... be... happy... to send the word?" The lieutenant felt a bit confused. The Admiral had tossed a major tactical idea into the lap of a mere lieutenant for his thoughts.

"Oh..... yes. Sorry. Do so." Ketcher quickly caught on to his indecisiveness, and corrected it.

**************************
1650 Hours - Alpha Strategic Battle Fleet
Karasithan Geostationary Orbit - Lalusa Star System

The Alpha Strategic Battle Fleet was Wormia's call to arms. If a war were ever to happen, it was the first to be called into action. The devastation achievable by the armament of modern space armadas called for a singular deterrent, identical in theory to the elden Mutually Assured Destruction pacts.

The fleet in question was massive, and could effectively end any well established galactic civilization in a matter of days. The fleet was one of 250 ships -- of all kinds. Among the main "deterrent" vessels were the infamous Wormian Talon-classes, capable of sending ZPE packed warheads from Andromeda to the Milky Way in two weeks. Each torpedo packed sufficient punch to remove any unsightly planets or other things of that nature, but the Talon-class could hardly rely on the weapons as an efficient ship-to-ship defense. For one, they carried a mere 11 of these missiles, and, the ensuing blast of ship-to-ship range would more than likely result in ship-and-ship destruction.

Thus, the fleet was not a Deterrent Missile fleet, but one fitted to carry out all the necessary tasks of making a front in a war. Planetary invasion troops, armor and artillery, as well as the ever-necessary ships for ship-to-ship, or fleet-to-fleet engagements. The fleet was a working war machine, intent on defending her ally.

Drifting lazily on station in space, the RGSV Stone Free, a new Purple Haze class freighter-battlecruiser-dreadnaught-whatever simply floats, napping.

The cruiser is a very neat ship. It is in fact a warship, explorer/science ship, freighter, and towship all in one, and good at all of the aforementioned tasks. The Purple Haze class is the largest LRR warship, with only six in service, a giant flying saucer shaped thing almost 6km in length. If Hrung can manage to call one up, he could probably liberate the jump gate relatively easily.

On board, the AI wakes up, feeling like an electronic cup of tea. Startled, the AI notices an incoming transmission from the Gurgvii admiralty.



Meanwhile, Hrung and his ships exit hyperspace, in the same area as the gate but a good day's cruise at moderate acceleration.

"So, here we are."
"Captain?"
"Oh, yes. You."
"I'm the commander of the special forces aboard. It's my job to retake the jump gate."
"Oh...its nice to meet you. So, when will you be briefing your troops?"
"Shortly, sir."
"Alright, be sure to tell me when it starts."

Admiral Ross felt the urge to cower behind the Speaker's Rostrum. A hundred yelling men and women accosted each other and him, while a flustered Cheif of State screamed ineffectively from his place on Ross' left. It was all that the combat hardened Admiral could do to keep trying to make his point.
"Ladies and gentlemen," he said, keeping his voice measured. "I--ladies and gentlemen! LADIES AND GENTLEMEN!" He sighed inaudibly. He twiddled the knobs on the podium, sending a piercing screech through the sound system. The noise from the senators abruptly cut off as they covered their ears. Ross killed the sound.
"Ladies and gentlemen," Ross said finally. "It is impossible to connect with the vessels on the other side of the gate or affect the outcome there in any way. Our scientists are trying to figure out how to force the gate open, in which case the entire Gurguvii fleet can be sent through. Until then, I am afraid that we can only pray.
The yelling resumed, and Ross left the Rostrum in a sour mood.

"So, the objective is the gate's control center, located here. Teams B and C will land here and here, at the powerplants, to prevent the gate from being destroyed by mutineers. Team D will mount a diversionary attack on the docking bay here. Mission-specific information has been downloaded onto your armor display systems."

Stewart watches as the special ops troops under her command check their suit systems and weapons systems, grunting and making various other warlike noises. The robots and insectoids watch from the sides, somewhat unhappy with their warrior guests, being of a much more intellectual type themselves.

"Alright, commander Stewart. That was a very...er...good presentation there. So, I wish all of you good luck. You guys are gonna turn this for us, yeh? So don't mess up...er...just be careful and good luck."

"Now, to the boats!"

The boarding teams file into the docking bay, which houses the cruiser's drone fighters and dormant repair bots. Several smooth, reflective black shapes dominate the bay floor, and into each one of the four 20 boarders enter.

With no fuss, they exit the ship and set out on their two-day journey to the gate, being in pitifully slow ships. Fortunately, it would take almost a direct collision to detect the stealth boarding ships.

1600 Hours - Alpha Strategic Battle Fleet
Karsithan Orbit

Captain Tev Ramus, a native Wormian born on Karasitha, was quite tired of passively scanning the Lalusa system from Lalusa IV's plasma torus. Revolt and strife were plaguing his country's ally. His current objective was to passively scan all vessels entering the Lalusa system, and to engage all of those loyal to the leader of the widespread mutiny.

"Dammit. Comm... send message to Lexington, Concorde and the Pennsylvania. They are to stay here and continue the current mission. To the rest of the fleet: Start Engines. We're going after these pirates."

"Captain...?" The helm officer turned around. Every crew member knew the ship's mission, and that this order was a blatant violation of orders.

"Any qualms with the orders I have given will be noted and subsequently marked in my log. Despite my actions of undermining the military heirarchy, I expect you all to uphold that, and to carry out my orders."

The helmsman grinned. "Yes sir." He turned back to his console. "Awaiting your orders sir."

"Helm, set course for Karasitha."

OOC: Er, Spadge?
The mutineers are in the Milky Way Galaxy, not the Andromeda. It wouldn't be possible for the Karasitha fleet to affect them. In the same breath, I really shouldn't say NO in an RP... er... yeah.

Marine General Tev Michaeli leaned back in his office, captured from the derector of the Gate in the recent mutiny. Michaeli sipped his coffee and studied a report from the modification teams. Their work was proceeding apace, and the new components were being hardwired into the Gate controls as he read.

Lindsay Aken watched with some satisfaction as the defeated mutineers filed into Cargo Hold 21, the only space large enough to contain them. Two guard stations manned with three troopers and two E-Web repeating blasters each held the door. Lindsay turned to Majors Patterson and Eindecker, both commanders of shipboard marine crews.
"I have to thank you both, sirs," she said. "Without your help, I'd likely be as dead as the rest of the senior staff." The older one, Patterson, spoke for both.
"Aw, it was nothing doing, lass," he said, embarrased. Lindsay smiled in response.
"I need to get back to the bridge," she said. "Major Patterson, transport back to the Braveheart has been aranged."

OCC: I'll wait a little while longer before RPing the boarding.

Aboard the RGSV Stone Free the crew prepares for a hyperspace jump to Galactic Gate Portal Alpha, along with the RGSV Bold As Love, an exploration/trading junk which is not too shabbily armed itself.

"Prepare for hyperspace jump!"

Captain Delorme leaned back against his chair back, viewing the fleet outside. Powerless to stop the troop transports without revealing himself as a loyalist, Delorme and his Tempest had drifted, trying to give the impression of continued fighting aboard. Unsure of what to do, the crew tried to carry out their usual day schedule in the face of their newfound danger.
For the captain's part, he had spent hours dreaming up absurd solutions to the problem his ship faced. Alone, Delorme was forced to conclude, Tempest would be destroyed by the mutinous fleet. He was, in effect, stuck. As he felt ready to blast a hole in the bulkhead and jump into oblivion, the sensor officer spoke.
"Captain," the man said. "I believe that I have found a way out of our predicament." Delorme was on his feet and standing over the sensor board within seconds.
"Tell me."
"Sir," the man replied. "There is a nebula surrounding a young star near here. The energy spikes from the star and the radiation in the nebula will permit us to hide there without detection by the fleet or installation. However, the entire First Fleet lies between us and it. We'll have to get past them to get into the nebula." The captain nodded pensively. Communications had reported numerous orders from Admiral Blask for the Tempest to form into a parade formation, which Delorme had disregarded on the grounds that no answer would be interpreted as a side effect of continued fighting. If his ship suddenly moved away from the fleet, the only possible conclusion was that the mutiny had been put down, and the ship was still in Loyalist hands. However, they could wait only so long before someone in the fleet got suspicious...
"Do it," Captain Delorme ordered tersely.

Suddenly, and totally without warning, two large RGF ships arrive, via hyperspace, outside the non-functioning jump gate.

They are quite surprised to find themselves among a large fleet of Star Destroyers, presumably the mutineers.

"All weapons systems on-line!"
"Shields on-line!"
"Quickly, full acceleration!"

Thanks to the quick thinking of the ship AIs, the Junk and the recovery cruiser are manouvering and ready to do battle very soon.

Admiral Blask stared at the monitor. Two LRR cruisers had dropped into the middle of the First Fleet. His mind raced. If the LRR ships got word back to their government, a fleet would be on his doorstep before he could say 'security threat'.
"All ships, entrapment formation Blask Kappa Tau. Fire as you bear, all ships, launch fighters."

Art Delorme watched in shock as the First Fleet curled in on itself, firing as it went.
"Sensor focus on the fleet, now!" The sensor officer hurried to comply.
"Sir, two Lunatic Retard Robot craft of cruiser size have decanted at the centre of the fleet. They are taking heavy fire from Admiral Blask's ships." Delorme grimaced, thinking. If he made a run for it now, he would be able to sneak into the nebula with little persuit, but he would doom two allied ships to destruction. He knew that his first duty was to his ship, but the moralist in him forced a different decision.
"Sound General Quarters. All pilots to their craft, all gunners to their stations. Take us to the edge of the fight, where the screen between us and the LRR cruisers are weakest." A chorus of Aye, ayes greeted this statement. In every hallway of the Tempest, alarms began to sound the attack.

Lindsay Aken jerked upright at the incessent beeping of her comm unit. She realized that she had fallen asleep reading a report about munitions stores and cursed. She shook herself awake as she slapped the comm.
"Bridge to Lieutenant Aken," an ensign's voice issued from the comm.
"Aken here," Lindsay replied.
"Ma'am, the fighter carrier Tempest has attacked elements of the First Fleet, which are themselves firing on two Lunatic Retard Robot cruisers that recently decanted from hyperspace. Major Patterson urges that we follow and assist the carrier and the LRR cruisers." Lindsay absorbed the information with shock. LRR vessels and another loyal ship that they had not known about, together with Lindsay's own Dominance and the Major's Braveheart, would make a formidable force.
"Sound the alert. The LRR vessels must be saved at all costs. Fall in beside the carrier, and transmit our intentions to the Braveheart."

The cruisers (properly known as a trade junk {900-1,250m} and heavy salvage cruiser {1,500-1,750m}) fire back with all their weaponry, which actually amounts to quite a bit regardless of their designations. Their drone compliments are launched, and they begin to do battle with the mutineer fighters as antimatter cannons and ion cannons engage larger ships.

The Stone Free and Bold As Love, equipped with monstrous ion drives, are able to manouver quite adequately and run away from the massive fleet of apparently hostile ships as fast as possible.

On the Lowell George, captain Hrung orders his Brigantine (a smallish, heavily-produced ship measuring perhaps 750 meters {use brigantine in place of battlecruiser}) towards the larger junk and recovery cruiser as they try to make their escape, flanked by his two frigates.

Meanwhile, the first special forces transport lands on the jump gate.

Slowly, a superheated plasma torch burns through the hull of the gate control center, and a team of 20 special forces troops enters...

"Damn you to valhallah!" yells the leader of a team of hyperspace engineers on the Purple Haze as they look over a giant missing chunk of superconductor and crystaline memory banks which had dissappeared off of the ship's hyperspace drive.

"Must have fallen off, sah," says one of the lesser engineers to the captain and AI.

"How long to repair?"
"In the neighborhood of fifteen hours, I should wager," says the AI.

Captain Delorme hung gamely to the arms of his chair. Gravity had gone, and hyperspace was sure to go next. Under the lash of several cruisers worth of firepower, the Tempest shuddered. Damage reports flooded in.
Two hours ago, the carrier had launched fighters and opened fire on the poorly defended Engine bank of the First Fleet Star Destroyer Pennant, savaging its maneuvering capability until a full one hundred and forty fighters from the Valour broke through the fighter screen. With the cruiser Dominance just entering the battle and the Braveheart lagging behind, Delorme ordered the fighters to dock.
"And Lieutenant Whithers?" Delorme asked.
"Sir, Lieutenant Whithers is dead, Ensign Mallory at the Comm."
"Ah," he replied. So few of the senior staff remained, the faces were unfamiliar. "Send a message to the LRR vessels. Transmit our apologies. Then, helm, set a course to the nebula, full speed."

Lindsay Aken felt her gut wrench as efficient fire from her own cruiser burst a VSD of the First Fleet like an overripe fruit. As she watched bodies spill into space, Lindsay reflected that surely some of the Dominance gunners had friends among that crew. Gunnery and fighter screen shifted to a pair of support vessels, their shields sparkling for a few minutes, then collapsing. Another piece of Lindsay died as she watched Gurguvii kill Gurguvii. A hole opened in the First Fleet's entrapment formation.

Tev Michaeli fingered an innocuous blue switch. The LRR troopers burst through the compartment, rifles leading. The leader marched up to him. "Surrender or face the conciquences." Michaeli looked levelly at the other.
"I think not. I have my finger above a switch, which connects to twenty plasma charges across the portal, one of which is below our feet. The others are spaced througout the ring. If I trip this switch, we will be blown to the afterlife, and the connection between here and Andromeda will be severed. Gurguvungunit will be deprived of it's connection with the outside world, and I can assure you that your superiors would not be pleased. So, if you would lay your rifles on the floor?"

"The Gurgvii loyal ships are taking a lot of damage," calls one of the sensors operators.

"Turn us around! We must give them support!"

The junk and recovery cruiser return to the battle, with Hrung's task group in tow.

"Captain Hrung, take your squadron and cover that damaged carrier! We will cover you."

"Right away!" is the response from the Lowell George. Hrung's ship, flanked by the two frigates, makes its way through towards Delorme's carrier as the larger and more heavily armored junk and recovery cruiser fire against the rebellious star destroyers.

Back aboard the Purple Haze, repairs continue at a feverish pace.

Engineers fit new crystals and processor arrays into the computational units that somehow failed, and repair bots, equipped with very precise welding tools, connect the many superconducting joints. In a few hours, the hyperspace drive module should be fully operational.

Meanwhile, aboard the jump gate, the boarders are surprised at the situation that they are in. They expected to have the element of surprise, but it clearly did not have much to offer here. The leader, one of Commander Stewart's best officers, is totally unprepared. One of the engineers that they brought with them decides to try and negotiate. Harry Avraham, an insectoid engineer specializing in the maintainance and operation of fixed FTL systems, steps foreward.

"If you, say, were to trip that switch, should it have the effect which you recently described to us, then it would not help either of us, Mr...who might you be?"

bump

OOC:
I swear this thread is cursed. Whenever I try to type a response, I'm called away on something that I can't ignore. I've tried to type a post to follow yours about four times, but alas, it is not to be.
I'll be away for a few days, so you'll just have to wait!
(And whatall happened to Wormia)

Ok. I know the feeling.

As for wormia...who knows?

OOC: Okay, finally.
IC:
"I am General Tev Michaeli, formerly of the Gurguvii Marines. As to your other statement, our movement desires separation from the megalomaniacs of Gurguvii HQ, and this can be accomplished both by closing the gate and by destroying it. We would prefer to leave it open, but plans can change. You, however, desire to keep the gate operational, so you should place your weapons on the ground and submit peacefully. Also, your squad leader will inform any other teams of this situation, and request that they cease resistance and submit to capture."

The Tempest rocked with another hit, sending crewers flying. Captain Delorme lay on the deck, his arm lacerated in seven places when the remains of his chair had been hit by a falling stanchion. Despite his injury, the Captain remained in command, owing only to the fact that he was the last remaining senior officer.
"Damage report," he said as loudly as he could.
"We've lost another engine, sir," replied an enlisted man from the engineering station. Delorme did not waste the breath to curse.
"Compensate. Direct all fire forward. Try to clear us a lane." The midshipman at Tactical bent to her task, and sporadic bursts of fire from the remaining turrets fired forward, splashing against the shields of two Nebulon-B frigates. They fired in return, hitting armour rather than energy. Sparks flew and a fire guttered up in the corner, but no one had the time to put it out, the sprinklers having gone hours past. Delorme winced as a spark fell onto his injured arm.
"We can't take much more of this!" The engineer's voice was frantic.
"Sir," broke in a master's mate from the sensor station. "LRR vessels inbound, ETA one minute."

"I think there is a way to serve both our purposes here, General," says the engineer.

"You see, we were sent here to capture the gate...but for our own purposes, not those of the Gurgvii government. If you notice, these are not the uniforms of the regular naval infantry, but of the special operations battalions. We are not part of the fleet as you might have it. If you kept the gate open, just long enough for us to get our fleet to the other side and capture the gate, which is quite a valuable strategic asset, some support might be in order for your movement."

Outside, the junk and the recovery cruiser fling themselves towards the loyal ships, weapons blazing away at the rebel star destroyers.

The AI handles targeting, and engages enemy torpedos, fighters, and minor vessels while the crew targets the primary weapons systems on the rebel capital ships.

"Fore antimatter turret, engage large vessel at eight o'clock!"
"Roger that, fire control."

"How are the shielding systems?"
"84 percent power, and dropping relative to enemy fire."
"Fighters have lightly damaged the starboard C secondary battery."

The bridge of the Stone Free is alive with activity, as it and the Bold As Love try to use their speed to avoid heavier weaponry on Gurgvii ships. Their heavy shields, armor, and powerplants allow them to force through many situations.

Small ion cannon turrets swivel at blurring speeds to blot out fighters and missiles, and larger, medium-sized ion cannon turrets swivel at slower speeds to fire at the rebel ships themselves.

The Lowell George, meanwhile, takes very heavy fire, seperated from the other LRR ships on the other side of the battle.

"Shielding systems at 26 percent and dropping!"
"Weapons fire has broken through and damaged secondary ion batteries A, B, and D on the starboard and A, B, C, D, and E on the port side!"

A wave of 200 Hurricane II drones, all of a sudden, comes to the ship's aid, streaming through the battle and attacking rebel destroyers.

Back on the massive cruiser RGSV Purple Haze, which might be described as a battlefreighter due to its large cargo capacity, repairs are nearly finished. Repair robots work incessantly around the large hyperspace drives, accessed through internal panels in the engineering compartment.

The large flying saucer of a ship sits in space for several minutes longer, until the head repair bot reports back in...

"All damage has been repaired. The primary drives are ready for operation at 100% power."

bump

23:00, Gurguvungunit,Karasitha
Admiral Ross stared at the progress reports. The generators were to be tested that day, and the main spaceframe was capable of shouldering the stresses that were required of it. The project was going well.
Galactic Rim, Andromeda, Co-ordinates classified
The Vice Admiral gave the signal.Commodore Yettel Vidal nodded to the man at the Helm. He was a full Captain, and the lowest ranked member of the team aboard the little Cruiser. It was that secret. The Captain pressed the button. The sky exploded.
Gate
The fast attack arm of the First Fleet was fully engaged with the Loyalist and LRR ships which had suddenly materialized at the centre of the fleet. Admiral Blask studied the situation. The embattled Lowell George took several hits to the spaceframe, and bodies vented into the void. As Blask was sure the cruisers were about to overwhelm the junk, hundreds of small contacts flooded the scopes, using their small weapons like scalpels. Turrets exploded and bridges darkened. Two cruisers exploded, and three frigates listed in space, disabled. One small Light Cruiser took several hits to its fusion reactor, initiating a loss of control that would render the little ship a fireball within moments. The captain, seeing that he had no hope, aimed his ship at the Lowell George and fired all engines. The cruiser hurtled at the larger Junk, caution abandoned. Drones and A-Wings were smashed against the ship's hull, and its superstructure was nibbled away by the pecking fire of a hundred drones. The distance ticker rolled down, and a collision alarm sounded...

The Stone Free manouvers all over the place, avoiding the rebel ships and returning their fire. The Bold As Love supports the junk with its antimatter cannons and secondary armements as fighters and torpedos are blotted out by point defense batteries.

However, they would clearly not survive much more of this.

Back on the Purple Haze, the mechanic robots return to their bays.

"All circuts test operational, systems are all operating well within safety parameters."
"Charge up the hyperspace drives!"

And with that, the ship disappears into hyperspace, headed for the jump gate.

Galactic Rim, Milky Way, Co-ordinates Classified
The sky returned to normal, but the stars were different. The roar faded, and the Captain smiled. Commodore Vidal checked the scopes.
"Position confirmed, people. We have stepped through."

Gate, Cruiser Dominance
Lindsay Aken brushed a lock of golden hair from her face, and winced as she felt it brush the bleeding cut on her cheek.
"Status, people!"
"Shields at 4 percent, turbolasers operating at 74 percet power. Power grid fluctuating, hyperdrive inoperable." Two Destroyers moved to cut off her ship from the nebula and the other loyal ships. Outside she watched fighters strobe past, guns blazing.
"Full speed between those ships. Fighters, form up. Guns, target the Destroyers. Fire at will." The engines whined and the Dominance shot past, shields grazing those of the enemy.
"Shields down, armor at 54 percent! We can't take many more hits!" The destroyers turned to follow.
Gate, VSD Braveheart
Major Patterson cursed. The Braveheart was in better shape than Aken's Cruiser, but her engines were older, and the VSD would be smashed to pieces trying to break through the cordon. Patterson sighed. He studied the situation holo, trying to make sense of it. There! A wounded MC-90, listing in space was the only thing separating him from freedom. However, it bordered the wrong side of the Melee. If the broke through there, he'd be staring down the guns of the SSD Valour. Nothing else presented itself though, so he turned to the helm officer.
"Full speed towards that damaged cruiser. Guns, tag vessel as target prime. Tag SSD Valour as target deuce. Fire at will."
Gurguvii HQ, Karasitha
The transmission appeared on the commwall of Admiral Ross's office.
"We've d-ne it sir. Ste--rough compl--t. Advise construc--on of a-- ve-s-ls."
The scratchy transmission went blank and TRANSMISSION ENDS appeared on the screen. Ross broke into a grin. Finally, a break!
"Get me the Gurguvii Royal Shipyards!" he shouted to his aide. The slight young man nodded and patched the Admiral through.
"Yes, thank you. This is Admiral Ross. Yes, thank you. I am ordering twenty Heavy Cruiser Class ships of the New Type, ten Scout Class ships of the New Type and two Pocket Battleships of the New Type. I expect a full complement of fighters as well. Thank you." He cut the transmission.

In almost the direct middle of the battle, a huge hyperspace signature appears.

The battle around it stops for a moment, looking over the huge saucer that is emerging. But the strangest thing about it is its flag. On its bow, or at least on one region of the saucer, a huge banner is painted.

http://www.jpc.de/jpcimages/big/8541664.jpg

Blask stared. An enormous saucer had dropped into the midst of the battle, just as the LRR and Loyalist ships were about to be overwhelmed.

However, it had dropped in an inopportune place for its captain. It was in the outskirts of the Ships of the Line, the largest in the First Fleet. The cumbersome Destroyers and Heavy Cruisers slowly turned to meet the new threat, but once turned, fired their entire broadside at the gargantuan saucer. A pair of First Fleet B-Wing bombers were caught in the sudden sheet of light and exploded, victims of friendly fire.

Aboard the Tempest, all was chaos. Gravity was back, but almost everything else had gone. Engines were at 10 percent power, and holes riddled the blimp-shaped vessel's flanks. Fighters were smashed in their berths, and hangars were jammed shut. Shields were gone, Turbolasers would soon follow. Art Delorme no longer stood in the bridge, that was gone. He now commanded from the Situation Room, where all the multifunction consoles had been geared to bridge command. There was no way to see outside except for a large hologlobe displaying the battle as a series of dots and lines. There were no officers left except Delorme, who himself had lost an arm. The entire ship was crewed by enlisted men and noncoms. The ship shuddered from another hit.
"Captain," it was the damage guy. He was the only one that Delorme recognized, simply from looking at him so much. "We've lost maneuvering." The Tempest was crippled. There was no hope for the little carrier now.
"Chief, signal the crew to abandon ship." The words hurt in a way that had nothing to do with hours of smoke inhalation. For the crew of the Tempest, it was over.

Gurguvii Royal Shipyards, Karasitha Orbit
Thirty-two berths were filled, and gleaming skeletons were already beginning to come together. Their shapes were exotic, unlike anything that had ever flown the Gurguvii Flag. The New Class was the future of the Fleet. Names had already been picked. The Pocket Battleships would be the Marshal Class, the ships were named Massena and Ney. The Heavy Cruisers were the Hero class, named for figures from Gurguvii history. They would be the salvation of a planet.

"'Tis but a scratch!" yells Admiral Emerson Hendrix into the transmitter, open to the rebel ships. "Now listen! You are going to surrender right now so we don't have to destroy you, hey? Because that's what we'll do. Who do you think you are?"

At that, the transmission to the rebel ships ends.

"What's the damage?"
"Superficial, sir! They hit us on the edge, the mechanics are repairing the armor plating now."
"This is MB-8843787389 reporting in, we are almost done with welding new plating on. Damage to other systems is negligible."

Fortunately, the Purple Haze had presented its heavily armored edge to the rebel ships of the line, and thus suffered very little damage.

"Manouvering speed, right away! Launch all drones! Call out the big four!"
"Aye, sir!"
"Drones away, sir!"
"And bring up all weapons systems! Fire a salvo into the leading rebel ships!"
"Aye, sir!"

Hendrix was referring to the four big dreadnaughts operated by the RGSV, slightly larger (by about a kilometer) than the one-and-only Purple Haze.

The saucer quickly accelerates to a fast clip, and fires a salvo of several thousand torpedos at the Gurgvii rebel ships as the beleagured cruiser-sized ships attempt to get away, firing all their weapons into the rebel ships as the big pocket-dreadnaught fights its way in.

Antimatter cannon turrets swivel and begin to track, and secondary cannons also look for targets, their gunners reporting proffessionally back to fire control. The Purple Haze is actually somewhat mediocrially armed for a ship of its size. But what it doesn't have in guns, it makes up for in engines and armor. The massive ship can easily beat a frigate on an open stretch, and can also manouver pretty well. As the saucer makes a sharp turn, even with compensaters working at full, the crew of the pocket dread (a mere 175) is tossed around a bit.

The missiles struck four Star Destroyers on the leading edge of the Line Formation. Antioch exploded outright, shields and armour overwhelmed by missiles. Sunrider was gutted, drifting out of control. Napoleon belched flame from her side, but continued onward, firing. The large ships cut their engines loose. Torches three times longer than the ships themselves burst out of their sterns. Turrets tracked, then fired. Missile Boats belched their rocket payloads, and a cloud of missiles were sent back to the quickly retreating Purple Haze.

On the other side of the battlefield, General Michaeli watched as the massive saucer disabled the leading edge of the fleet.
"Get me all channels. Yes, even the Admiral's Priority Band."

The missiles impact the Purple Haze, most exploding on the shield or downed by point defense, but some get through and explode on the hull, disabling several secondary cannon stations.

"Damage control on deck F-8 reports moderate atmosphere leakage. Repair bots are currently at work in that area."
"All crew, don EVA suits!"

The Purple Haze does a sharp turn towards the rebel cruisers, using its ability to rotate on its axis to maximum affect. Secondary and antimatter turrets track the rebel ships and let fly. The antimatter cannons, while very powerful, have a relatively slow rate of fire. Therefore, the secondary ion cannon turrets do most of the firing.

Meanwhile, the Lowell George is on its last legs.

"Hull integrity at ten percent and dropping!"
"All crew, prepare to abandon ship!"

The ion drives finally give out, and escape pods shoot from the hull.

Meanwhile, four medium-sized Slowhand class junks, which have pulled up to eachother in deepspace to exchange charts, picks up the call from the Purple Haze...

bump

Still interested, G-Man? If not, its fine by me, we can always drop this one and perhaps go for something about Karos or the like...always open to suggestions.

bump?

bump?

You still interested, G?

Michaeli paused his thumb above the transmit button, as the Rebel armada hit back with a volley of missile fire. For a moment, he had feared that the battle would swing against the fleet and in favour of the massive saucer. Preparing to threaten the destruction of the ring once again had been a despiration maneuver, but now proved un-necessary.

The Valour, engines straining, slowly closed with the Purple Haze. Blask gripped the arms of his chair, and watched as efficient fire from the fighter screen sent the drone units banking around the side of the screen, rather than through and to the vulnurable Destroyer.
"Distance to outer range of the guns?" Michaeli asked.
"Five kilometres, sir," the man at the tactical ring replied calmly. I give it seven minutes to extreme firing range."
"Lock the saucer into the primary firing computer. Designate it Master Six," Blask ordered.
"Aye, sir!"

Gurguvii R&D, Secret Location
"Do you read, Sarai? Repeat, do you read?" The tech's face was bathed with the eerie glow of computer screens. His eyes were focused on a small holoprojector plate. An image of a tall, slim woman wearing a tight leotard sputtered to life in 1/4 size. She looked back, smiled sardonically and said.
"Hello, Specialist First Class John Rainwright. My name is Sarai. I am a level 10 Artificial Intelligence, tasked with Military Vessel Operation." Rainwright smiled.
"Thank you, Sarai. That will be all." She disappeared, and Rainwright slapped a button.
"Admiral, this is the Abraham Project. We have completed our first MAI, and she's ready for upload to one of the New Class vessels."

Gate
Patterson smiled grimly. The MC-90 had fallen back, superstructure holed in a hundred places, but the Braveheart had taken nearly as many. Now up against the guns of the Valour, the Major clung to a severed support strut, his chair having been voided with the rest of the Main Bridge. Watching the situation through a one foot viewer, he called out targets for the guns.
"Engines, third bank, second engine. Shield flutter. Fire as you bear." He heard a chuff from a turbobank near him, and called another shot.
"Group of XJ X-Wings, low dispersal. 45 Azimuth by 33 Eliptic." Another shot. With every eliminated target, Patterson's day got a little better.

"Target the largest ship," calls the dreadnaught's captain. Torpedos and antimatter cannon fire streak out of the gigantic saucer as it hurls all it has at the rebel ships. The smaller cruisers attempt to withdraw and make quick repairs and rejoin the battle once damage is uncer control. After all, an RGF dreadnaught is quite capable of handling itself.

Dreadnaught is probably a stretch of terminology, considering that the Purple Haze's original designation is "heavy protected freighter Type N."

But nevertheless, it is a well-armored and sufficently-armed vessel, probably the biggest in the area, and its cargo hold could probably swallow up smaller rebel ships, although the swallowing process would be difficult.

Originally designed to transport trade lane equipment, the Purple Haze has seen action transporting a wide range of cargoes, especially space station and ship components, across the galaxy.

Space was filled with light around the two battling juggernauts, and the smaller cruisers retreated out of the fields of fire. Lieutenant Aken scanned the boards. With the space opened between both huge ships, two clear escape routes presented themselves, but they would mean leaving the survivors of the Tempest to freeze in space. She bit her lip at the descision she had to make.
"Helm. Set a course for the last known position of the Carrier Tempest. Prepare to recieve lifepods. Guns, clear us a lane." The turbolasers chuffed their destructive bolts outward.

Across the battlefield, two squadrons of Rebel Tie Avengers strafed the Stone Free, having finally caught it at the edge of the battle. Several were blown away by the guns of the Junk, but they delayed it long enough for twelve B-Wing fighter bombers to drop on top of it, firing their rockets as they came. Twenty-four medium rockets impacted the larger craft, followed by a salvo of Ion Cannon fire.

Gurguvii R&D
Sarai programmed. She programmed and programmed and programmed. A ship's AI had to be individually coded to match the ship itself, and Sarai was a much faster coder than any humans. Already Zipporah, the second MAI, and Tamar, the third, were loaded into the new ships. Their programming had taken a day, rather than the two weeks needed for Sarai. Two weeks more of solid writing remained before the fleet was ready. Then, it was hoped by all, the situation in the Milky Way could be ended once and for all.

The Stone Free throws up a forest of point-defense laser fire at anything that comes near it, as drone and a handful of piloted fighters actively pursue the attacking rebel fighters.

The Junk, which is actually due to be recycled into new Type F independent cruisers, is still quite a threat to smaller fighters, but can only do superficial damage to capital ships, as its primary weaponry had been knocked out. The repair cruiser moves in close to the Stone Free, comitting its own drones to attack the rebel fighters bombing the Stone Free.

The Purple Haze continues to pound on the rebel capital ships with its weapons batteries.

But inside the gate itself, the special forces teams go about their business, trying to secure the gate...

The Point Defense cannon tears into the ranks of fighters, sending B-Wings and Avengers careening out into space, cockpits dark. A pair of Ties radio in for backup, and a nearby Carrack Cruiser lets loose its high speed engines, closing rapidly with the Stone Free. Its light turbolasers track, then fire.

The fleet near the Purple Haze takes several hits, but the guns of a single ship, no matter how large, can't slow down half the Gurguvii Navy. Rebel though the crews may be, they were still capable as ever. Spearheaded by the Valour, the entire Battle Fleet closes with the Purple Haze, and the teeming capital ships let loose enough firepower to slag a planet.

(OOC) The claim is, in fact, correct. A fleet the size of the 1st CAN slag a planet. It's kinda scary. Source: One of the Star Wars books I read when I was younger

IC
Gurguvii Royal Shipyards
A New Class Pocket Dreadnaught drifted with stately grace from Construction Bay 20. Christened the Ney, it was the new command ship for Commodore Robert Weissman of the Green, a decorated naval officer and master tactician. He bent over the bridge AI Interface.
"Sarai?" He asked quietly. The holoplate shone, and the AI appeared.
"Yes, Commodore?" That sardonic smile again. He hoped that she'd drop it. It reminded him far too much of his least favorite academy instructor.
"Are all the preparations in place?" She paused, for a moment, signifying how much data there was to be processed before the fleet could be designated 'ready'. Wills, transfers, letters, supply lists, ammo tallies, personal effects...
"We're short a few AIs. The others are programming them. I estimate three days until completion." He mused for a moment.
"We'll complete them en route. We still need to reach the galactic rim, after all."

The Purple Haze staggers under the hail of fire. Large portions of the thankfully unmanned hull float away as the AI and damage control robots struggle to weld on spares as the hyperspace engines are charged for a jump to the nearest friendly shipyard. The ship's saucer shape is flattened and scarred, and all the weapons systems are offline. Its only hope is to leave, and very quickly.

In a flash of light, the Purple Haze disappears into higher-dimensional space, followed shortly after by the other LRR ships. Although the task is very far from complete, the task group assigned to recapture the gate will need to undergo major fixing-up before it can think to be effective in combat again. Repairs will likely take several weeks of non-stop work at least.

But fortunately, several independent cruisers are present at the task group's destination, which can be assigned to any rebuilt force. With luck, a few heavy protected freighters would be present as well.

Outside a medium-sized shipyard station nestled away on the edge of a nebula, safe from the nebula's fierce electromagnetic forces and particle winds but still obscured from sensors by it, the Purple Haze and escorts drop out of hyperspace to see two Type D and one Type B independent cruisers, along with about 15 destroyer escorts.

OCC: I will post my fleet's call to yours as soon as I can tomorrow.

A quick guide to LRR ship designations (with the new Type letter system)

Inter-system Bulk Freighters

Type A (2)

Independent Cruisers

Type B (8)
Type C (5)
Type D (2)
Type E (10)
Type F (6)
Type G (4)

Repair Ships

Type H (1)
Type I (4)
Type J (2)

Escorts

Type K (20)
Type L (35)
Type M (22)

Protected Component Freighters

Type N (1)
Type O (1)
Type P (1)

System Commodity Freighters

Type Q (50)
Type R (8)

"Dammit! All LRR vessels have just gone to superluminal speeds. Rebel armada is vectoring... they're inbound, repeat, inbound." Lindsay cursed, not bothering to hide her frustration.
"Are all the survivors picked up?"
"No ma'am. Three more pods remaining." The sensor man's voice cracked.
"How long will it take?"
"Estimate another five minutes, ma'am!" It was too long. The ETA ticker of the inbound fleet was under three. Lindsay bit her lip. Each life boat held five people. Fifteen would die if she ordered her ship to hyperspace.
She couldn't do that.
"Shields up! Bring the ship back up to combat alert Alpha. I want everyone at their stations!"
"Everyone, ma'am?" The ensign serving as XO looked unsure of himself.
"Everyone."

OOC: catch the Halo reference?

OCC: Can't say that I do...

I've never really played Halo.

IC:

At the shipyard, repairs get into full swing. The large missing chunks of hull from the Purple Haze are replaced with new fabricated sections, welded on by armies of repair bots. The shipyard is not meant to work with such large ships, but it finds itself in such a position. The first priority is getting the hull back together. Miraculously, no-one in the ship's very small crew was killed, but the AI and repair bots find themselves in for several weeks of hard work to fix the ship up into combat condition again.

The smaller cruisers fit neatly into the yard's bays, and begin their conversion into freighters. The repair ship, a vessel about 600 meters long and equipped with a large set of cranes and articulated arms, which got off better than the other ships from the battle with the rebels, aids in the repair of the Purple Haze.With its help, things might go a little bit more quickly.

But the RGF, which is meant mostly for exploration and trade missions, does not possess the fleet organization necessary to engage in major battles alone.

But hopefully, with the rebel armada weakened, the RGF could return with a larger force and finally win the battle.

Five passing freighters are added to the new fleet, and large torpedo bays are installed in their holds.

A message is also sent to the Gurgvii high command:

Wondering if you have any ships to spare for jump gate situation. Fleet beaten up badly. Planning second assault soon.

Gurguvii HQ, Karasitha
A message bleeped to life on a cold display in Gurguvii HQ. The supervising ensign took one look, and forwarded it immediately to Admiral Brendan Ross.

Ross sipped his eggnog latte, yawned, and checked on fleet dispersal in the Smuggler's Run. All seemed to be in order. A light appeared on his screen, and he tapped it. He scanned the message, and tapped out a quick reply.

Task Force inbound. Unable to inform you of more details. Most Secret.
-Ross

Albert Vaughn, the robot commander of the shipyard, watches as the message flashes across the station's control room.

"Well, we now know that something will come. This is good."

Vaughn looks out the large observation cupola at the ships being fixed up outside. One of the station's repair scaffolds is full witht the junk, and the one that repaired the repair cruiser is busy loading torpedo bays into the cargo compartments of the requisitioned freighters. The Purple Haze sits in space off to the side. Its saucer shape comes back together, but its systems are still far too damaged to take traveling for some time.

Major Patterson set his teeth. It was every man for himself, apparently.
"All hands, prepare to disengage. Helm, full speed for the nebula. Guns, lay down covering fire."
The ships engines strained to cross the distance, guns clearing a path through the battlefield.

Lindsay vomited for the third time. She crouched over the toilet in her quarters, and grabbed for the hypodermic needle filled with a drug cocktail that would supposedly help her combat the negative effects of the nebula's radiation. She knew that hiding on the other side was a option, but the Rebels had followed the Dominance, and she couldn't have lost them in open space. The negative effects might shorten her life by a few years, but running in open spae would shorten it even more. She retched again.

With the RGF gate task group out of action for the time being, several probing ships, small frigates, are sent in to appraise the situation.

Arriving outside a large nebula near the jumpgate, the frigate Mick Jagger brings up its powerful and accurate sensors, which take up most of the ship.

Sarai composed a message, taking .000301 seconds to process and send it.

<Fleet prepared to jump. ETA, four minutes to destination, two hours to Jumpgate at top cruising speed. Prepare.>

The message was addressed to both Admiral Hendrix and Lieutenant Aken. Once the message was sent, Sarai charged the coils of the ship, while in the background, Commodore Weissman ordered the crew to begin broadcasting his 'pennant', a signal which would denote the Ney as the flagship, and lock down for Stepthrough.

"Ok, we are go! All hands to the ships!"

Around the shipyard, the combat-capable vessels are immediately fully crewed and prepared for hyperspace. Ships pulse with energy as the hyperspace drives prepare to tunnel to the destination, and AIs plot courses.

In a massive flash of light, the fleet jumps into hyperspace towards the gate.

OCC: I'll post the arrival tomorrow.

Commodore Weissman set his teeth. The situation that the fledgeling task force was jumping into was about as dangerous as they got. He gestured over the holoplate.
"You don't have to call me like that," Sairai mock-pouted. "It feels strange when something enters my holofield."
"Sarai," Weissman replied, all business. "Ready the Ney for step-through. Order all ships to charge their coils. Engage Yellow Alert." Sairai closed her eyes for a moment, going completely still.
"Done, sir." She was animated again.
"Good. Jump when ready."

Bump