NationStates Jolt Archive

KHGV Napalm Enema, Interstellar Space near CoreWorlds;


In the dimly lit space of a Dark Valor class frigate's cramped bridge, a soft tone sounded, drawing the attention of the vessel's master.

"Five minutes, people!" the enarmoured Captain Rose Martin called, "All stations, final check."

Voices sounded as the vixen listened, mentally checking off reports befor keying her repeater.

"Comms?"

"Bone Saw and Pirate's Bane report green, ma'am."


Rose nodded, taking a moment to reflect on the irony of the later's name befor rechecking her screen.

"Raise shields. Fields to combat strength. Bring EW online and ready Point Defence, load missiles and charge the spinals. Tracking?"

"Few hyper contacts, ma'am; nothing that meets our target's profile."



Minutes passed in relative silence, an anxiousness building as time ticked down, and all wondered at the accuracy of NavInt's data. Then...

"Contact! ...confirmed, ma'am; profile match, she's our bogey."

"Good," the captain replied, mixed emotions playing as she prepared to commit her nation's first act in the ESUS/GFFA war; banished a second later as duty overcame - "Sync grav mines and FTLi. Ready burst transmission and paint her as soon as she's pulled through."


Ayes sounded as seconds ticked by, then...


"Grav mines firing!"


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



Outside, a dozen warheads detonated, energies feeding one-shot gravwell generators; a quarter of the deployed grav mines - repurposed ordinance from the ancient Shivan War - bodily yanking the Coredian freighter out of hyperspace, along with it's cargo of war materiel.


It would find itself just outside a shell of sensor and ECM drones five lightseconds in diameter, Kanuckistani frigate amidst the confusing static at it's center, from where FTLi lept out at half the speed of light, towards an end radius some lightminutes in diameter even as FTL comms were aggressively jammed.


Seeded, too, around the grav mines, and now Cordian freighter, a hundred lightly stealthed remote missile pods hung in space a light second distant; half painting the freighter with active locks, even as the frigate's drone arrays did the same.



Three seconds later, a burst transmission arrived upon laser whisker;

'Coredian freighter' the Captain began, pre-recorded and voice-only, 'This is Captain Rose Martin of the Kanuckistani High Guard Vessel Napalm Enema. In accordance with the Articles of War and the existing state of hostilities between the alliances to which our nations belong, you are hereby ordered to stand down your vessel and abandon ship. If you have insufficient smallcraft capacity or require medical assistance, it will be provided. If you attempt to escape, we will fire into you. If you attempt to resist, we will fire into you. If you attempt to summon assistance, we will fire into you. Respond.'


Meanwhile, a small medical cruiser flanked a Kanuckistani freighter some ten light seconds away; the Privateer's support.

The Neverland Ranch was a common Corellian-made freighter, about 100 meters in length. And it was indeed carry material for the Coredian war effort...against the Empire. As well as a few other items of interest to potential customers.

"Oh, crap. What are we going to do?" Captain Fredrik groused. "I've got an appointment at Yorkshire and this is making me late!"

"Priorities, Captain." Helen, his second-in-command sighed. "We don't have many choices."

"Hmm. Perhaps we do, perhaps we don't." The captain said. "Stand down. Then...someone go to the cargo bay and ready that thing for action."

"I hope you know what you're doing, Captain."

"We shall stand down. Make it quick, though. I have an appointment in three hours." The Captain's voice replied to the Kanuckistani.

Rose frowned at the reply, weighing possibilities before deciding to err on the side of misunderstanding.

"Record for tight beam; Coredian freighter, I say again, you are ordered to abandon ship. If you lack sufficient smallcraft and escape pods, state such, along with your current crew compliment. Furthermore, be advised that upon the safe evacuation of your crew, your vessel will be fired upon, and destroyed - at which point we will withdraw and alert your government to your location, so that they may effect recovery. Continue stalling and I will be forced to consider your position to be one of non-compliance, and fire into you. Martin out."

"It's on the chip, ma'am."


"Good." the vixen sighed, hoping the civilian fool wouldn't do anything stupid; wouldn't force her to butcher them. Unfortunately, she knew too many freighter captains to hold much hope, "Transmit."

The ball was now in the Captain's court. It seems like the valuable cargo will be lost no matter what they do.

"Grr. Damned pirates." The captain swore. "Right. Closest edge to the FTLi field?"

"About two lightminutes ahead of us." The sensor officer said.

"Hmm. We'll have to get word to a Coredian outpost somehow. They're jamming us and even if we break through the jamming..." The Captain said. "But we do have a chance."

"What?" Helen asked.

"The fighters inside the cargo bay. Are they warmed up?" Fredrik asked. There were two Z-95 Headhunters inside the cargo bay to deter fighter-borne pirates. They're small and won't win against an X-wing or equivalent fighter, but they're quick and most importantly, hyperdrive capable.

"Yes, sir."

The captain nodded and pressed a button on the dashboard. A datatape, about the size of an Earth-based credit card, spat out with the sensor log for the last day. Another copy printed out as well. "The pilots are to take one of these tapes and get them to a military base quickly! With these pirates in the area, the Navy must be notified!"

"Right!" Helen said, taking the datatapes. "And what about us?"

"We'll try to run. They'll destroy our cargo anyway, so let's give them a workout!" The captain yelled. "Now go!"

"All right." Helen nodded, getting up from her chair and heading aft towards the cargo bay.

"Now..." The captain clutched the helm. "Robby, activate weapons systems and raise shields! Jason, juice the engines! We're going to run!"

Two laser cannons popped out of internal compartments on the dorsal and ventral hulls and began tracking targets. The engines began humming loudly as it routed power to the thrusters in preparation to run. Then the shields raised. In the meantime, Helen reached the cargo bay just as the freighter suddenly accelerated, feeling the G-forces as the compensators worked to keep up with the thrusters. The two pilots were already preping their fighters and waited for orders.

"Alright, you two. Your orders are to take these tapes to the nearest friendly base you could find. Don't look back." Helen warned.

"And the freighter?" The younger pilot, Jeremy asked.

"We'll run too. Hopefully, we'll get lucky." Helen just said. "Now go!"

And just like that, the pilots jumped to their fighters and sped out of the cargo bay and sped for the two-lightminute-away exit while the freighter protects them with its bulk...

Rose frowned as she caught sensory telltales upon her repeater, ears wilting as CIC confirmed her suspicions - 'Oh, don't you dare...'

"They're raising shields, ma'am. Weapons. Accelleration - they're running, ma'am."

Rose swore inwardly, unable to supress a grimance; it would only take a word to kill them, and they wouldn't have a chance... but just maybe, just maybe, she could still contain the bloodshead.

'Let's hope they build tough...'


"Persuit course, maintain distance. Guns, target their engines and give them a taste of Spinal Three."


"Aye ma'am - I'll try not to..."


"Seperation! Two strikecraft confirmed, ventoring away. CIC calls them Z-95 Headhunters - minimal threat."


Rose nodded; they'd been detailed in her NavInt breifing - any of the hundred missile pods englobing them could probally have killed both with warheds to spare.

That ment they wouldn't be contributing to the war effort - weren't a target in and of themselves. And half the point of this exercise was to draw military units from the front, which requiored their actions this day be known...


"Let the fighters go."


"Aye. Spinal Three firing..."


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


Outside, primed and charged, an armoured gunport opened, unsheathing one of the shadowy craft's trio of three-hundred meter long spinal mounts - cataclysmic energies building in a hellish prefire glow within it's gaping maw, climax hesitating for one ominous moment as the freighter found itself looking down that dreadfull bore...

The frigate - so-called 'pocket dreadnaught' - vanishing suddenly, eclipsed, a blinding spear of light racing towards the defiant freighter from the mouth of her massive Cryo-Atomic Lased Particle-Wave Beam Cannon - but the first of three, and those the lesser of her two offencive mounts, she was fifteen trillion USD well spent.

"What the hell---" Was the last words of the captain before he was eclipsed by a brillant glow and then blackness as the shields collapsed under the overpowering strain of the particle cannons and then the engines detonated, reducing the freighter to space ash.

"What the hell was that?" Jeremy exclaimed as his sensors went off the scale.

"Looks like some kind of particle cannon, but the sensors can't decide yet." The wingleader, Jacob said. He sighed as the freighter blinked off the scanners. "ETA to hyperdrive?"

"Two minutes." The younger pilot said.

Two minutes of sheer terror as the pilots hoped they won't be destroyed by the numerous missile pods strewn around the area. When they finally calculated the jump to the nearest base, Naota at Yorkshire, they sighed in relief and disappeared into hyperspace.

Rose bit her lip as she waited for the fireball that had been the freighter's engine block to fade, cursing aloud when it did; mentally wincing at the slip.

"There's... nothing left, ma'am... No survivors."

It was protocall, of course - even if most commanders watched their sensors themselves - but it still irritated her.

No, that wasn't it; she had failed, and innocent people had died as a result. And unlike the faithful, these people were gone.

With a quiet sigh, she put on her best Captain's Face, and together the three ships began the retrival of missile pods and grav mines; those fighters hadn't escaped, yet, but word would still get out sooner than they'd planned, and Rose had no intention of still being here when a response was scrambled.


Later she would pray, for the dead, for herself. But for now she had a job to do.



OOC:

And I supose that's that, aside from your reaction. Who knew Corellian freighters were flying bombs, eh? :P

Anywho, ball's in your court. You want to retaliate, set up another ambush, or something else?

OOC: Most likely retaliate, heh. Give me some time to think about a response, though.

OOC: Right then. Now that I'm back...

IC:
Naota Asteroid Military Base was a bustle of activity carved out of the largest asteroid in the Yorkshire system, a 500 km potato made of iron-nickel and the premire defense station for the system. The frenzy of activity has only increased when two Z-95 Headhunters came zooming out of hyperspace and after a flurry of comminicative telemetry went back and forth several times, was allowed entry into the base proper.

Brigadier General James Madison (no relation to the fourth President of the United States) helms the base. A man in his late forties, he's one of the younger generation of commanders to rise up as the old guard look to retirement and the eternal rest of death. His black hair is speckled with grey and his stout, light-skinned body gives off an aura of a man well-fed. He was a former starfighter pilot as well, so it was no question that he would personally meet with the newcomers and continue to wish he was flying a snub instead of a desk.

"Thank you for meeting with us, General. I assure you that your time is well spent." The elder '95 pilot, Jacob said. He and his copilot are sitting in the base's meeting hall, where commanders and brass alike congregate to make important military decisions for the safety of the system.

"Not a problem. The urgency of your message makes little room for haste. Do go on." The General answered.

"Alright." Jacob said, pulling out the late Neverland Ranch's log. "If you fast-forward to the last ten minutes or so, that's where you'll notice the pirates' attack."

The log was replayed and all sensor, comms and other recordings were given to the General's soldiers for analysis, but it was blindingly obvious who the belligerant is.

"Kanukistani." The General said, rubbing his temples. "I thank you two for the log. Sergeant, please give these two pilots a room to stay in for now."

"Yes, sir." The sergeant, a young woman, replied and escorted the two pilots to a room while the General thinks of a response.

"Right. Major Mackerel, please notify High Command of our lost freighter and the fact that I will be preparing a force to deal with the threat. Colonel Ramsey, get Wolfpacks 20 and 21 and Gold and Black Squadrons up and running within the hour."

"Yes, sir." The two aides saluted and left to carry out their orders.

A Wolfpack is a light-ship squadron, usually complimented with a corvette and four gunships each, sporting heavy laser cannons and deadly torpedo tubes. Gold Squadron is an XJ X-wing squadron, boasting the best fighters money could buy without being an elite, Jedi or Ninja squadron (They use XJ5s). Black Squadron is a heavy fighter-bomber squadron, with three flights of four B-wings, E-wings and K-wings each. It certainly seems to be overkill, but with Kanuckistani pirates involved, taking chances is not an option. There's a third squadron, Orange, but the A-wings are kept in reserve.

Soon, the planning will begin...

OOC:
So, next action? About a dozen of frigates can be assumed to be continuing operations following a similar pattern of massive overkill/FTLi/jamming, by the way, hopefully with smaller body counts and larger cargos.

Do you want to set up an ambush, counterattack my shipping, RP another attack on your shipping, etc.?



Also, a week and a half? Damn, you must be busy. :/

OOC: Yup. Busy vacationing! :p

I want to counterattack those pirates of yours and then hijack a freighter or two.

IC:
An hour later, the mighty Wolfpacks, with the K-wings in the bellies of the corvettes, and their starfighter escorts jumped to hyperspace with but two orders for the Lieutenant Commander in charge of the operation, Walter Caligan.

Hunt down and destroy the pirates, and protect shipping at all costs!

The first waypoint is the location where the first freighter was killed. Not only a proper, if quick, funeral was necessary, but perhaps there could be a clue or two that the enemy left behind. It's a long shot, but that's where things will start.

I want to counterattack those pirates of yours and then hijack a freighter or two.



OOC:
Good luck. My privateers are fully mobile, traveling with their own support and sticking to interstellar space when not in home port, so you either catch them in the act, or you set an ambush - maybe leak information of a big arms shipment then tail a ship at the edge of sensors, watching to see if it's pulled out of hyper. Or put fighters on said freighter, etc.


Also, you won't really find anything at the scene, save maybe a memorial wreath near the wreck. If you're got good enough optics you could use the ol' light-delay trick to watch them arrive, deploy, run the ambush, and then pack up their missile pods and mines and leave, but that wouldn't really give you anything that wasn't in the sensor logs the pilots brought back, or public knowledge.


In the mean, like I said, you can assume reports of additional attacks are coming in.