NationStates Jolt Archive

ooc: This is closed, from my understanding, but if you'd really like to join then TG both me and Bautizar for permission.


Ic: He was totally absorbed in his study. It wasn't that he took classes or had any need to study- he knew the material by heart anyway- but that he enjoyed it. He reclined in a chair, manipulating the scale model of his ship with the tips of his fingers. It wasn't solid- it wasn't even real- but it appeared and felt real, and every detail on it was the exact same. one of his favorite features was that he could see where everyone was, exactly what they were doing, simply by interphasing it with the ship's internal sensors.

The whole thing was rather slug shaped, but he, like all other captains, liked to think of his ship more like a mother whale. From any direction one looked upon it it was an oval. simple geometric proportions governed it's basic shape. It was twice as wide as it was tall, and three times as long as it was wide. all of it was painted a dark slate gray that dimly reflected light from an imaginary star. At the rear was the engine scaffold. It was a massive structure consisting of one lateral piece joining three vertical ones (the tallest of which was in the center). The maneuverability offered by this massive thrust directing device was awesome. Fields could channel the six thrust outputs in almost any direction.

The single, massive bay could be accessed from any of four entrances. Two lay on the sides of the ship all the way to the aft and only a few hundred meters forward of the scaffold. They were the smallest. They could be closed by the matching internal doors that slid back to fill their gap. The third was dorsal and two-thirds of the way forward. It was the second largest. The door that sealed it slid down from behind and lifted into place effortlessly. The fourth and final was the most magnificent. Right in the belly of the ship. It was a gaping hole, through which he now looked. Each of the decks was perfectly represented. Layer upon layer of massive shelf-like surfaces hung in the bay, separated from each other by wide open spaces. It was like a network of arteries- vast networks of individual slips opened into wider and wider lanes which eventually dumped out into open space. A general blue-white glow illuminated the bay. Each of the fighters was in its place.

He pushed the model off of his head with his fingertips, shrinking it as well. Soon it was tiny again. He turned it over, examining the top. Above and behind the dorsal bay opening was a huge turret- the HLICs. A dozen SPPT generators could be seen on its sides, six on top, six on bottom, six on each side. He liked to think about pulling up next to an enemy ship and letting loose with those...


"Captain?"
John sat up, startled. The depiction vanished. The whole room was dark, and his head spun. A yellowish light came from the hall, but it only illuminated the wall next to the doorway.
"Captain Schmitt, Sir?"
"Yes?" He thought for a second, still light headed from sitting up too fast. "Yes ensign?" He could make out the boy's figure in the doorway now.
"We're about to jump to the next location, also unknown-" he said, quietly. Before John could get a handle on his words, however, the ship jumped.

Bridge:
((EDIT: for additions))
The bridge was another massive cavern. It sat well protected deep within the mighty vessel’s bowels. The bay stretched passed it on either side, making its connection to the rear openings. It would have been completely useless, however, if it was an empty cavern within the ship. Walkways ringed the odd-shaped room, one on each level of the outside passages and rooms. Their web of continuous railings stretched from the room’s floor to its ceiling. Suspended independently in the center of the room and taking up most of the space was a series of clear plate decks. Each was littered with work stations and panels and Tactical Representation Tables, tacti-tables or TRTs, which were essentially holographic projectors where sensor’s data was compiled, revealing the highest quality images possible for the crew to analyze. Each deck was devoted to a different service and the center deck belonged to the highest ranking officers. Vertically up the center of the room was a column of light, the Holographic Information Hub, around which text and graphics of varying sizes and colors held current information and data from all over the ship and any others in the area, as well as major news from home.

The suspended decks were connected to the surrounding outer walkways by retractable bridges. Around them were a series of heavy panels, each of which could turn sideways to form a solid barrier between the inside and out. The entire ship was built like a fortress, and it gave him comfort to think it would be hell for any sort of boarding party.


"Vessel detected sir! Long range off the starboard bow. Unknown origin. I'm reading kinetic weaponry."
"Shields up!"

Captain's Log, Commonwealth Naval Ship Centaur, Captain Thomas Serling commanding

We cleared the PNR-21 cluster early this morning, making for the third type-4 pulsar that has been charted since we left the Commonwealth behind. I have to say that considering our mission the crew seems to be taking this in stride. The thought of not seeing the folks at home for a full year is disturbing to say the least, and I had concerns that they would not react well to this mission. However it would seem that my fears were uncalled-for.

The matter of provisions is something else entirely: we left port with extra supplies, and it shows. Every cargo hold is crammed with spare parts, equipment, replicator-suited raw materials, et cetera. Several tons of mining and refining equipment were also loaded aboard and installed in three cannibalized cargo holds, robbing us of precious space. But at least we won't be sucking on fumes with the engines anytime soon ... provided of course that we can find an ample raw supply of deuterium. Considering what our probes are returning for sensor results, I don't think that will be a problem.

Fleet -

=()= Captain's Ready Room, C.N.S. Centaur =()=

The sound of the general quarters gong sounding caught the captain's attention, pulling him away from his nonchalant log entry. Less than five seconds after it had started its harsh ringing sound he was on his feet and hustling for the door, donning the uniform duty jacket that had been lazing on the couch. He emerged onto a very confused bridge filled with running bodies and the sounds of computer panels being rapped on by eager fingers. "Situation report," he barked at tactical, passing in front of that console as he headed for his chair.

"Unidentified vessel on the port bow, range fifty-seven kilometers. Vessel appeared to arrive using some form of advanced jump technology. Their shields were raised less than a minute after they jumped in."

"Hail them. Standard greeting on all frequencies." With a nod of compliance the tactical officer leaned over his panel, the lit-up LCARS panel beeping and trilling information at the overworked man. While he busied himself with that, the commanding officer was settling himself into his chair. "Navigation, bring us hard to starboard, engines ahead full."

The cruiser began to roll as the impulse engines flared with light, energy whipping out underneath the angular stern that projected for some distance beyond where the drive shafts were. Her warp engines, projecting out to either side in a manner not to dissimilar from a hawk coming in for the kill, flushed into deeper shades of red and blue. On positions all over the vessel the navigational running lights gave a last wink before snapping off. Moments later they were followed by nonessential exterior hull lighting, plunging the ship into a uniform grey color that was without distinction.

This came even as the warp engines began to roll back to level positions, the ship steadying out on the desired course. Turrets were lifting from the hull, although remaining at the fore-and-aft positions. Between the dorsal and ventral weapons, concealing long and narrow rectangular hatches were sliding back to reveal the two triple mounts for the torpedo launchers. All this took place as electronic messages snapped out into space, questing urgently and repeatedly for a response from the unknown vessel.

ooc: so you too have found the glory of Book Antiqua? Quite possibly one of the best fonts ever, I say. Perhaps the first thread ever to be composed entirely of it?

Ic: The tactical officer's voice was heard above all others, and artificial projection was hardly necessary for it. "They're deploying weapons!"
"By stars, Sigmund!" John, along with the rest of the crew, had reason to be worried.
"Receiving some sort of transmissions! There's a relatively wide range to them, but they're all on older technologies. We can receive them, but weather we'll understand their coding is an entirely different story. Searching old databases...." the comms officer trailed off as he was enveloped by holographic displays- he could barely be seen through all of them!
"Put out a peace message, all known everything!" That was a tall order indeed, considering Kazecistan had access to thousands of common languages, millions of minor ones, and hundreds of transmission types. The amount of energy emanating from arrays on the vessel was massive, files piled upon each other and flooded the surrounding space. This one quiet place now screamed with what was most likely unintelligible noise. The ship continued to shriek, and several drones left its bay, adding to the signal capacity. Unfortunately, no one stopped to think what their protocol was when a foreign vessel flooded them with unknown energy types and patterns.

It was never an order, it was protocol. The vessel's many Zat cannons sprang up from within the hull's protective structure. Hundreds of small generators throughout the ship came to life or increased their output and their energy pulsed through conduits to capacitors. This schematic allowed them to avoid any one main reactor, a very dangerous thing, and instead simply litter the vessel with smaller ones, each of which normally ran at only partial capacity, and at any one time only about half were active. Now, however, they all ran. This increase would have been noticeable to most invasive sensors. Perhaps the most damning of all the automated reactions, however, was the Field Particle Shielding. Tiny bits of shrapnel swarmed out and began to orbit the carrier on random vectors at extremely high speeds. They formed a shell, contained within the fields generated around the vessel, that would shred any small craft passing through. It was a rather brutal melee weapon, relative to this era anyway.

=()= Main Bridge, C.N.S. Centaur =()

"Settling up on course oh-nine-seven-mark-two-one," navigation reported over his shoulder before turning back to his instruments. The far-away bow was centered on a particularly brilliant star that was very distant, impulse engines humming as the ship stepped along at her flank speed. Farther away from the heavy centerline hull the warp engines were cast in shades of dark red and navy blue with the all-too-typical signs of increased power demands, the coils contained within the heavy external shells maintaining their navy grey appearances.

Up forward on the bridge Captain Serling gave a nod at the report, acknowledging it as he studied the hostile vessel again. On the viewscreen it looked very different, something now obscuring it from his sight and blurring its previously-fine lines. Occasionally there was a glint of light from near it that caught his eye. His executive officer tapped at something on the console between them, confirming that she too had seen it. "Tactical station report."

The officer didn't even look up from his panel as he eyed the readouts and demanded more information from the system. "They appear to have deployed a shield barrier around their vessel. It is comprised of numerous small pieces of metal, and is backed by a number of heavy energy-based weapons. Picking up a large number of communications from the vessel and a number of unmanned craft in close proximity."

"Are they fighters?" Serling inquired as he quirked an eyebrow and tented his index fingers. Carlisle class vessels were armed to deal with small fighter craft as a contingency, although their truly revolved around the heavy main armament that was fitted.

"Unknown sir."

"Give them a warning shot. Continue your broadcasts." Forward of the bridge, the squat and imposing silhouette of bravo turret loosed a salvo from its barrels, the heavy projectiles streaking past the unknown vessel before detonating harmlessly in empty space. The orange blast cast shadows over the field particle shielding of the Kazeci ship, ones that vanished after a moment or two. Inside bravo turret the gunners racked another set of charges into place, checking their equipment and adjusting their targeting focus until the unknown ship was once again bracketed by the turret's barrels.

"Any luck on those signals, comms?" John addressed the whole department.
"Nothing in response to the outgoing, sir!"
"Still no progress on incoming, either. We can pick it up, but the files are funky. We've got random sequencers working, hoping something coherent will result. Nothing yet. Even if we get the files right, the languadge is likely to be giberish as well- if they cannot even get a universal or common format..."

The holographic column suddenly changed color. It was flooded with orange, red, and yellow text- almost choking out the calm blues and greens of peace time. Tactical suddenly had the loudest audio on bridge. "Shots fired! They're hostile!"
"Cease transmissions! Make ready for battle! Launch all and engage!" Commander John Schmitt needed only to give these orders, each of which implied dozens if not hundreds of others. The communications drones were recalled, the ship began to maneuver away from its foe, and pilots rushed toward the Remote Direction chamber. It was much like the bridge with regards to size and basic layout- situated in the lower front portion of the vessel. The main difference was that each pilot had an enclosed chamber, which effectively put them in the cockpit. The real time VR quality was stunning.

The once still ship lurched to life. The fields on its engine scaffold directed all thrust forward; six purple trails stretched around the outside of the ship as it slid back. The maneuver put space between the carrier and its opponent, while presenting the smallest and best armed profile possible. Many wars had seen it, and many more still would.

The massive bays below and above the vessel opened up to reveal gaping caverns. They weren't empty for long, however. Their open mouthes were filled with small combat craft rushing out. Squads of five and seven rushed fourth in wings of several dozen. Robin Davy, flight leader B1, was one of the highest ranked and most skilled pilots aboard, but not a kamikaze. He held back just enough not to be part of the first wave, and stuck with the protection of the pack. His seven vehicle bomber squad led a wing. The particular bomber who's view he was using was all the way out front of the formation. Each of its twin hulls exerted 80% thrust and rocketed along. "Remember, flight, hold course until the last possible second. Let them fire twice before we move- our abilities need not be revealed too early. Do nothing unnecessary- you're not showing off at the academy." He shouted a little so that they would hear him without needing the amplification devices- they were right next door, after all.

As they approached the particle barrier, it parted for them. It wasn't a gaping hole, either. The constant communications relay allowed the magnetic fields to be manipulated so that they hugged close to each of the escaping drones. Less than a meter of spare space existed, and the pilots needed do nothing but cruise straight through, knowing the gaps would appear when needed. It was a truly miraculous device, Davy thought, as he passed through its protective barrier.

=()= Main Bridge, C.N.S. Centaur =()=

There were no counterparts to the fighter and bomber squadrons aboard the Centaur, unless one counted on the fifteen surveillance and science drones that were carried in the large aft hangar. Sometime in the distant past Commonwealth policy had dictated larger combat units carrying smaller one- and two-man craft into combat. But that had long since been abandoned as infeasible in an age where space was at a premium. Much to the detriment of ships such as the Carlisle.

"Picking up numerous smaller contacts clearing their shield sir," tactical reported as he eyed the monitor to his front. "Estimate four wings incoming, but we're having a hard time locking down exact numbers." It caused a grim look and glance between Captain Serling and his executive officer. Of course it would figure that they were up against a ship that carried fighter-sized craft; their own anti-fighter armament was weak, at best. But the state committee that had first come up with the design for the Carlisle class hadn't had combating fighters in mind.

And they definitely didn't have long-range exploration in mind either the captain reminded himself again as he readjusted in his chair. "Time to weapons range?"

"Primary battery and torpedoes have firing solution on the capital ship. Ten seconds to secondary battery optimal range sir," the leftenant replied with another glance at his screen. There was a voice talking in his ear for a moment before he acknowledged the signal. "Flak turrets standing by to initiate enemy suppression barrage. RAM cells activated and standing by." Aft of the bridge two squarish panels of metal had slid aside as the officer spoke, letting the faint starlight bathe the imposing verticle walls that had been shielded until now. The point-defense missile launcher that covered the port side was unmoving as it silently tracked the incoming targets.

"Fire."

On either side of the main hull torpedo launchers disgorged their contents at the carrier, their crews ignored the sight of the long metallic tubes skimming off into the distance as they frantically began reloading procedures. Aft of them the point-defense launchers were rapid-firing their missiles at the smaller craft, pausing for a reload, and then firing again as the ship commenced a slight roll to port. The immediate effect of this gave the smaller flak cannons a better firing angle, as they commenced simultaneous bursts in an unending drumroll of fire. Through this came the main battery ordinance, larger shots that flew through the curtain of fire and began slamming into the force particle shielding.

Flack and missiles- crap. Davy held a switch with his pinky-finger (the rest were busy), reminding the pilots of what they already knew. "Flack and missiles, people! Flack and missiles! Break formations and scatter!" Instantly, the whole of the drone mob shattered back into fives and sevens. Flights and wings disengaged; every pilot was on his own, remotely leading his squadron independently of the others. They began to surround the vessel.

Immediately drones began to fall as the flack screen grew, each burst taking out parts of small groupings, leaving single and double craft squads. Missiles tailed drones, which frantically fled from them. Davy was one of the first to receive the missile chase warning. Quickly he dismissed the six other bombers to AI control while he shook it. Counter measures fell off behind it as he accelerated to maximum speed. Still it chased him. He sped toward the enemy vessel, knowing the missile's speed was insufficient to catch him in the distance between him and their foe- barely though. He counted down in his head. Torpedoes would be ready in 3... 2... 1... now! The large bodies attached to the inner sides of each hull pulled away and headed for the vessel ahead. They were not the torpedoes you'd find on a capitol ship or frigate, they were small craft torpedoes, but they were big enough to qualify as anti-capitol ship ordinance. Relative to the bomber they were huge. He knew this drone would not last- not with that missile behind it- so he began to empty its ordinance. First went the missiles, which were them selves meant for small craft. He might just get close enough to strafe with the plasma bombs, but that was an extreme. He dumped this lost cause to the AI and resumed his other six drones.

In the first minutes of the battle all surviving bombers had lost their torpedoes. It was unnecessary weight and had a long range. The heavy drone fighters, designation HDF, also packed two torpedoes. They were bulkier and slower than the bombers with a boxy shape. They packed heavy ordinance as well, differing only from the bombers in that they carried four rapid Zat energy cannons instead of two heavy plasma bomb launchers. After their ordinance was expended they were not given clearance to return and reload, so they began to try and shoot down the missiles and torpedoes of the enemy. They took the heaviest casualties due to their slow speed and lack of a stable target.

LDFs had no torpedoes and only one goal- take down the enemy ordinance. Their missiles screamed toward the torpedoes headed for the carrier, and their twin R-Zats ripped into the missiles which plagued the other drones. Their high speed and agility made them stand out in the crowd and offered protection from missile locks and unexpected flack.

The Kazeci military was not well suited for this type of opponent. They were suited to battle similarly equipped foes who did not rely so heavily on solid projectiles and flack. Drone numbers shrank rapidly. Bomber pilots knew their best chances were in close, staying at a constant strafe, but getting there was difficult.


As enemy torpedoes reached the particle shielding they were bombarded from all sides by metallic debris. They left holes clear through the ordinance. In less than a fraction of a second one would find the 'sweet spot' and the torpedo would explode harmlessly distant from the actual hull. The pieces were swept up into the shield and used to make it more dense. It seemed to be impenetrable. The solid slugs, however, were smaller and passed through the PFS relatively unharmed. The energy shielding which clung to the hull, hovering only centimeters away, caught and slowed the projectiles, but was unable to repel them or render them harmless. It was not designed for this kind of battle either. Each slug slammed into the hull, leaving small craters in the thick armor. It was unlikely that these could do anything serious, however, since every ship in the Kazeci navy was designed to return home from every battle. They were very tough shells to crack.

Commander Schmitt sat powerless on his bridge. The SPPT batteries were out of range, and anything else ran the risk of damaging their own drones.

ooc: Notice that the PFS is based on obvious magnetic fields. Also remember that nuclear weapons radiate an EMP. You do have nuclear missiles.....

=()= Main Bridge, C.N.S. Centaur =()=

The ship continued to move forward as her guns lashed out at the drones and the capital ship, picking off her attackers one-by-one. Fireballs marked the few that were being destroyed, the streaks of her 250mm secondary ordinance shooting out in thin lines into the night sky. Occasionally the contrail of a torpedo could be seen as the triple launchers volleyed off another few, or the larger shells from the arbiter cannons lashed out from the 16-inch guns. Far more numerous though was the shimmering effect caused by hostile weaponry hitting along her shields. They had collapsed twice already under the intense fire that the ship was taking, to be restored only by last-ditch emergency transfers of power, and were on the verge of a third and final yield.

And then we see how good the armor is Captain Serling told himself with grim resolution. A moment later the bridge shuddered as the ship absorbed another blow of high-yield ordinance, hammering Captain Serling against the side of his chair. A sharp pain cut through his ribs as his mind simultaneously told him that a rib or two had cracked at the force of impact. From somewhere behind him an alarm blared, causing him to glance at the control monitor at his side. A flashing section informed him immediately that the shields had finally given out, causing him to pick up the handset. "Engineering, divert auxiliary power to internal damage-control stations. Let me know when you've got warp drive back online!"

Aft of the bridge hits were already landing along the heavy cruiser's armor, triggering explosions that rocked along her dorsal and ventral surfaces. A handful of fireballs erupted as secondary blasts of flame and heat curled and licked through internal corridors before being barred by hatches that slammed into position. Damage control crews responded quickly, but the mounting damage forced them into the most unwelcome of positions. None of them liked the idea of triage, but it was rapidly becoming necessary as entire compartments turned to solid red on the captain’s monitor.

"Shields down" the static-laced voice of the chief engineering barked through the handset to the captain. A particularly vicious hit interrupted their conversation and sent bodies tumbling. To everyone’s surprise the bridge tilted to an extreme angle before the internal dampers switched to backups and recovered. Somehow Serling had managed to hold onto the handset.

"- taking damage along the dorsal and portside surfaces. Warp drives are offline. Fires reported on decks nine and twelve, multiple hull breaches on deck three; emergency forcefields in place and holding. Main power down on deck nine. Damage control crews are working as hard as we can sir, but –"

"- lost maneuvering thrusters on the starboard quarter -" navigation interrupted. The deck shook again as if underscoring her words, as a curl of smoke started to come from an overhead ventilation tube. Serling heard a yell of surprise and pain from his right as a shower of sparks erupted from an auxiliary console. "- engineering, need more power to auxiliary drive shafts -"

Having both reached the same conclusion, the captain and his executive officer exchanged grim nods before pulling keys on chains from around their necks and inserting them into the base of the control panel that they shared. From bow-to-stern a new siren blared as the captain keyed the 1-MC to active status. "All hands, this is the bridge. Stand by for nuclear ordinance deployment … tactical, spin up launchers one through five and sixteen through twenty. " The alarm continued to insistently wail as the designated officer bent to his task with a nod, the 1-MC clicking off as it was disengaged.

Aft of the bridge a series of previously-unremarkable hatches slid aside, revealing the black-tipped noses of nuclear-armed torpedoes. Racked until now in silent vertical-launch silos, the missiles had bode their time and waited. But now gases curled and eddied inside the tubes as engines puffed to life, personnel running through their checklists. Faces blanched white from the stress of battle and the uncertainty of the moment methodically prepared for the first offensive nuclear strike in known Commonwealth history.

Davy was nearly screaming at the bay master, his second immediate superior. What he didn't realize was that Tactical was invited to the party, and tactical had made the conversation public on the bridge, seeking the captain's decision. "I've got no ordinance left! Nothing! Were fracking target drones out here for star's sake!"
"Bombers still have their plasma bomb launchers..." the bay master offered, weakly.
"A fat lot of fracking good those will do us! They take forever to recharge! Nobody out here has anything! Let us return!"
Tactical suddenly interrupted, at the same time making the channel public to all pilots. "What's the status o LDF and HDF wings?"
"We're out, sir, nothing left but RZ's."
"Same here- all gone. We're with Davy on this one- we need to get back to the bay."
"You're an essential torpedo screen." another voice from tactical offered.
"Don't gimme this shat, James!" Davy had recognized the voice. "That's what this is! Shat!"
Captain Schmitt ended it calmly. "Bring them back. Initiate direct battle. Move us in, and let loose on the way."

Suddenly the drones all changed direction, heading home at maximum speed. It was clear that they no longer had human pilots- they were too organized, too directed. The AI docked all that remained and made it home safely. There was a momentary pause in the assault.

"Torpedoes detected. Reading nuclear devices!" Nuclear weapons were not common in space- after all, their most dangerous part was the shock wave which simply couldn't exist in space. This lead to another oversight by Kazeci military designers. While the vessel and components were mostly shielded from EMP, their main defense against missiles and fighter craft was not. This defficency was listed in the text books, and the crew understood its implications here. Schmitt rested his head in his hand, speaking quietly to the man next to him. "Shove generators aren't operable?" He knew the answer, and his tone implied it. An engendering crew was tampering with them trying to improve yield nearly a month ago, and had ended up frying critical relays. The ship, moments ago so mighty, now stood defenseless. "Sir, the best defence-"
"Is a good offense. I know." Suddenly he raised his voice. "ETA on drone recovery!"
"Thirty seconds sir!"
"The minute they're out of the way..."
"H-LIC, sir!"
"Yes."

=()= Main Bridge, C.N.S. Centaur =()=

Captain Serling had long since given up hope about seeing the cavalry charging in to his rescue. Fervent prayers for the sight of one of the elite Unity class battlecruisers appearing in their all-too-familiar flashes of jump drive deactivation had often gone unanswered. It was a common sentiment in the fleet; when the need was dire, the heavy capital ships weren't around. And right now I could use those 90 CMCs he grimly told himself as he surveyed the center panel again.

Fully a third of his command was either outlined or shaded in red, and he didn't have to look twice to instinctively know what that meant. Fires were raging throughout the vessel, some of them sucking atmosphere from compartments. It allowed them to rage outside the hull, small cauldrons of intense destruction that were trying to tear this ship to pieces. Heroic damage control teams were racing to try and restore some semblance of order, but it would take time. Carlisle class cruisers had been an emergency construction program intended for short- and medium-range patrol with assistance and tactical support from shoreside facilities.

"Looks like they're pulling back sir," tactical interrupted with a bark through the haze of smoke on the bridge. Someone coughed off to the captain's right. He ignored it and focused on the voice that was coming to him. "Showing fighters and bombers now docking with the hostile contact."

The haze was suddenly backlit with light and flame, a terrific roar and explosion of sound drowning out everything. Aft of the bridge the first of the nuclear missiles emerged from their vertical-launch silos as it rode on a column of fire into the sky. Smoke billowed across the hull from its propellant as the weapon nosed over, aiming squarely at the hostile carrier. More followed in its wake, accelerating from their silos before angling onto the preprogrammed course and vector. "Go little girls go," tactical muttered at his station as he watched the readouts on his console.

The assessment seemed to be shared by Alpha turret, which shook the vessel as it volleyed off another salvo from the until-now-silent barrels. A handful of blackened and scorched faces shared nods of pride at the sight of the defiant weapon mount spitting fire. [[Alpha Turret to bridge. We are back in business.]]

"Sir -"

"I heard tactical," the captain barked over his shoulder. How could he have not, when it was broadcast on a shipwide frequency? Violation of every standing regulation on the use of neurocomms in battle situations was the least of his concerns now though. "Let those bastards have it. All weapons, target the carrier and fire at will. Secondary armament included. Navigation, commence a full lateral axis rotation to port." From bow-to-stern the ship began twinkling with lights, a hail of fire erupting from the damaged and battered port side before it swung out of sight. The Carlisle rolled over as she continued on her course, and a moment later she presented the relatively undamaged starboard side to the enemy vessel.

Your turn Serling thought with grim amusement as he eyed his nemesis on the viewscreen.

Again the tactical liaison's voice artificially rose above all others. "Nuclear torpedoes inbound!"
"Lock us down! Max the energy shielding!" Doors and bulkheads throughout the ship closed, structural support fields came on line, and damage suppression fields received power for the first time in a long time.
"Five seconds to particle fielding!"
"They're grouped, they might just take each other out!"

As the torpedo entered the magnetic field it wavered in it's direction. The sudden pelting of debris shredded it. One unfortunate piece struck a trigger. The whole thing went off, a bright orange ball of radioactive fire. As the EMP wave rushed out, it's position was clearly visible. The particles in the shield were flung from their controlled orbits. An inviable bond had been broken and a once beautiful chaos now was shattered, never to be repaired. Even after the pulse wore off, the shield had no material to use.

"PFS down sir! No damage reported to vitals. More inbound!"
"Open up on the bastards before they actually do some damage!" His command worked like magic. The ship surged forward, toward close range combat situations. The ominous turret mounted on her dorsal reveled its deadly secret. A thick golden beam of ionized particles exploded fourth, aiming to mar the back end of their foe; perhaps critical damage could be done to their engines.

Another nuclear strike. The ship shuttered, her shields lit up as the energy surged out across them. A temporary and late-explosion lapse left the hull scorched, but not seriously damaged. The shields did not buckle, yet. "We can't keep taking these!"

Through it the golden beam surged on. It would continue to do so for 2 minutes, unless interrupted. Chances that they could use it again after that were low, considering the nature of the battle, but by then they hoped to have other successes. Comparatively tiny, the sparse rapid zat point defense systems issued burst after burst of quick energy pulses, trying desperately to intercept the incoming nukes. Their accuracy was astounding, but with such low power levels it took a lot of them to do the job. Their larger brothers had another occupation, the vessel ahead. Purple bursts of energy of differing powers and sizes rained down on the 'primitive' ship like hail. They weren't designed for maximum structural damage, they were meant for overloading shields. As that task was already complete, it was their job to wreak havoc on the ship's surface and keep their enemy on their heals.

There was a roar of engines firing that echoed through the bridge, drowing out the sound of battle as the last battleaxe class nuclear missile roared away. Its engines shone in brilliant fury, casting new shadows and light across the compartment and throughout the vessel, even lighting her hull in sheens of white and blue before the missile angled over and commenced its run at the enemy carrier. Below it ran the occasional streaks of the conventional magnetic cannons, the smaller dots and traces from the three-inch guns twinkling their way across the void of space to detonate and ripple across the hull of the Kazeci ship. Heavier twelve-inch ordinance was plowing into the armor of the carrier, but it was coming in slower and more erratic bursts.

The Centaur was crippled, a damaged beast brought down less than two years after being commissioned. Fires were exploding from compartments along her hull now, more of her internal structure being ripped open to space with each passing shot. Her few remaining communication antennas were transmitting a steady RRR distress call for any Commonwealth ships, long shot that it was. There was no hope of rescue, no new shadows to be cast by the eclipsing sight of a Unity-class vessel flashing to subspace and launching her fighter wings. The light cruiser's impulse engines were flickering intermittently, stilled to a slow crawl as additional shots hammered into the damaged engineering section, causing secondary explosions that rippled and flashed their way through the compartments, knocking down bulkheads and battering aside the few personnel that were caught in these vital spaces.

On the bridge, Captain Serling was confronted with this knowledge as a metal support beam collapsed behind his station, crushing the tactical post as the officer sprang back. Face pale from his near encounter with death, the leftenant looked at the commanding officer across the smoking wreckage. There was more damage here though, as panels flickered with the interruption of main and secondary power, smoke curling across the compartment from half-a-dozen injured areas. A fire was flickering in one corner, despite the effort of a pair of engineering personnel to put out the flames.

Another strike on the cruiser ripped open alpha turret, casting bodies into space and blasting the formerly-defiant twin-barreled conventional magnetic cannon into silence. The personnel on the bridge glanced up at the sight, seeing the uncontrolled flames licking into space from the curled-back metal and the secondary explosions from within the wreckage. At seeing this the captain made his way forward, until he was leaning against the operations panel and raising his voice to be heard over the din that was all around him. "Fire off a drone. Packet down the ship's logs into a file and get it off immediately."

With a nod the leftenant turned back to her duty, tapping quickly on the few controls that weren't flickering on her panel. Aft of the bridge a single shape came into sight, whistling down the crippled length of the vessel before flashing into warp velocities. Serling watched its disappearance, face grim as he knew the tale of destruction and chaos that it would bring back to the Commonwealth. Another explosion rocked the bridge and brought him back to the present, seeing his executive officer staggering across to join him. "Sir, we've lost! We have to get as many personnel off the ship as possible and try to escape these bastards!"

It caused a sigh and a look of sadness around the bridge, seeing bodies tumbling to the deck as another screech of metal announced a collapsing bulkhead. "SIR!"

"Agreed" the captain finally barked back, moving around the operations panel and tapping at several other keys. The leftenant and leftenant commander watched in grim resolution as a new code was entered. Suddenly a new and harsh siren began to blare across the bridge, its distinctive whooping tone unmistakeable for anything else as a computer voice came into the air.

"Abandon ship. Abandon ship. All personnel proceed to escape pods and rescue craft. This is a general order. Abandon ship. Abandon ship ..."

Throughout the vessel men and women exchanged looks of sadness and despair as they began to head for the telltale hatches. Even as they joined their fellow comrades at the escape craft, other similar concealing hatches were blowing open all down the stricken cruiser's length, the squarish emergency vehicles jetting into space and using their ship as cover as they began to maneuver away. A handful of reconnaissance drones on independent A.I. command emerged from the wreckage, tractoring some of them into warp as a shuttlecraft swooped in to capture several more. From the bridge Captain Serling watched this madness, eyes sad and tears running down his face as he watched the death of his command unfolding around him. His eyes were blinded by the explosion of the last nuclear missile, robbing him of his vision as the unattended-to viewscreen controls malfunctioned and shorted out.

With every missile went more lives. It was a naked ship, without protection and marred by the scars of weapons. Her last shielding had failed several strikes ago, and now every impact violently rocked the ship.

The bridge was a dismal scene. While the massive blast shingles which surrounded it had folded shut, they only served to separate two identical worlds. Lighting had gone to the dim emergency backups, single pulsating colors that carved long shadows out of the darkness. The holographic pillar no longer functioned, though most consoles still glowed. Three of the suspended decks had shattered like pains of glass, raining down upon those below and crushing many.

Those elsewhere in the ship were trapped- lock down partitioned the corridors and sealed the doors. Anyone unfortunate enough to be caught in the way of enemy ordinance perished without notice. many cowered beneath furniture and stations for protection.

The ship's AI fell back to protocol immediately, having recognized the enemy's situation, then notified the crew.
"Sir!" a voice called out on the bridge, its owner shrouded by shadow and debris. "The enemy vessel has ceased fire and is evacuating. Our weapons are silent sir."
"It's over!" another shouted with a nervous and relieved glee.

One of the few things still fully functional was the PA system. "This is your Captain, commander John Schmitt. We've won the battle, the enemy is evacuating their vessel. In accordance with code, we are now engaging in rescue operations. Technically they are POWs, but they are to be treated with respect and given all hospitality due. Their loss is greater than ours. Remember that."

With it's one functioning thruster, the crippled ship edged toward its opponent, preparing rescue procedures.

The escape pod was crowded and filled with the sounds of coughing and moans of pain. Those bodies that weren't on the floor shifted in their seats, what few were still there, as the pilot up front tapped on a control to adjust something of interest. From the extreme aft of the ship came an occasional sound of hissing as a bit more propellant was expelled.

The good ship Carlisle, their former home, was breaking up nearby as the escape pod jetted forward and away from the wreckage. It joined a fellow convoy of the pods, which were scattering in all directions now as they sought the quickest way back to the Commonwealth. At some point during the evacuation their vessel had snapped in half from a series of explosions, leaving twisted metal and scorched bodies as a lasting legacy from some unknown explosion. Even now there were occasional puffs of light and clouds of metal that blew off the hull, explosing fires that were eventually snuffed by the cold and silent vacuum of space.

Captain Serling listened carefully to what was going on around him, eyes glancing at the floor and across the bodies laying there. Nothing seemed to register on his face, the light from the nuclear blast having robbed him of his eyesight. He did hear the sound of someone sitting down next to him, the words confirming the presence of his third officer. Nobody had seen the executive officer since the order to abandon ship. "Just spoke with the pilot sir. The enemy carrier is in pursuit. They'll overhaul us in about twenty minutes."

"Understood. Noninjured personnel are to transfer to the shuttlecraft. Leave the wounded behind. Myself included. That's an order!" he barked out as a wave of protests began to arise from within the craft. The would-be opponents fell into silence as the pilot quietly relayed his orders to the remainder of the convoy. A moment later there was a muffled bang and hiss of air as the overhead hatch became connected to the underbelly of one of the stubby shuttlecraft. At least some of the survivors would have a better chance making their escape aboard the far-faster shuttle.

ooc: Hows about some dredging?

Ic: "Can we get a tractor beam lock on any of them?"
There's a lot of debris and it's not like we're in the greatest of condition ourselves, sir." came a voice buried inside a large panel, attempting to restore connections in the area.
The captain spoke again, sounding defeated. "Do we have any working tractors or transporters?"
Another nameless voice responded, this time on comms from engineering. "One tractor beam, sir, no transporters yet. Their main circuit is blown, re routing controls and power will have to be split on multiple fragged channels. We're creating a Frankenstein down here, sir."
The navigations officer anticipated his next question and answered before he asked. "We're gaining, sir, but we're limping. If they have FTL on those pods/shuttles we won't get them."
"Sir- we're in range of one for a tractor test. Initiating..."

A blue beam sputtered fourth from the lower forward port side, grappling for a hold on the nearest shuttle. It flickered. Once, twice- it was gone. A second of silence passed, everything seemed to stop. Somewhere on the ship a small reactor came to life, dumping power into the grid to support systems not yet repaired. Beautiful coincidence, desasterous accident, unavoidable fact. The feed to the faulty tractor beam emitter had not been severed, and the surge overloaded the entire device and supporting local infrastructure. A small cloud of fire rushed forth from the emitter's former location and suffocated. Simultaneously extinguished were 17 lives.

For a moment, everyone on the ship paused, suspecting the truth. Other things had to be dealt with first, but that was not an easy task.

Silence on the bridge was broken with the comms officer's voice. It had been soft, but it's effect was shattering, and afterward he wished he hadn't spoke. "I think I've figured out what they were using-"

Fleeing vessels: we're commencing rescue operations. We intend no harm. Our bays stand open.