NationStates Jolt Archive

Most would consider an area full of ancient wrecks a pirate haven, and most of the time the assessment would be correct. However, in this case, that kind of assessment was wrong. In actual fact, the massive area of debris hid a great and powerful empire, and one determined to keep up the façade of being no more than a pirate haven. And to that end, not one ship of outside origins had entered the region left. And under this cover, the empire expanded, as beneath the outer layer of wreckage, there were many fertile planets just awaiting colonisation. So, over a period of some thousand years, this empire had expanded in complete secrecy. The population was extremely diverse, as many refugees and other ships had been incorporated, whether it was willingly or not, it did not matter.

But this secrecy could not last, and when it did, how would the peoples of this empire react? And then there was another consideration in how the secret would get out, would it be an exploration fleet of another power? Or would it be a great announcement to the universe as a whole? Oh the suspense. To bad the first anyone on the outside would know was when civil war broke out, and the great fleets that would surface from the sea of wreckage.

The first fleet to break the surface was the 15th, a loyalist fleet that had been ambushed and subsequently forced out of the Empires boarders. In close pursuit came the 718th and the 942nd fleets, both eager to destroy the better equipped and trained forces of the 15th. No large power that knew of the region would fail to notice the 3 fleets.


OOC: K, so that’s a new intro that I have created for myself, now bear in mind that the region is a supposed pirate hotspot, so a major fleet response would be considered appropriate for the situation.

Oh yeah, I'm using fatasy tech, so if ya don't like it, you have been warned!

OOC: Hooray, an intro where my gut reaction is acceptable!

IC:

The Solari forces nearby numbered nearly 100 strong, with 8 Battleships, and more than 20 cruisers, it was a force to be taken seriously. First to notice the emerging fleets was a small destroyer picket, followed rapidly by a Carrier Task Force, with 2 of the 10 carriers of the local fleet. Ships mobilized rapidly, sweeping towards the combat in tiny FTL hops, allowing them to assess the conditions before they jumped again. It seemed as though pirates, in greater numbers than ever seen before, had accosted a military fleet, and were managing to take it apart. That just couldn't stand, and the Solari guns began tracking the movements of the pirate(non-loyalist) vessels as they moved ever closer to the conflict.

The 718th fleet was making a flanking attempt, and in the process was positioning themselves directly in front of the Solari forces. There would be no warning that unknowns were approaching, and the reason was simple. Each ship was an old one, and incapable of running high power omni directional sensors during a combat mission, add to the fact that most crews were young and inexperienced, and you had a horrid fighting force. The only thing really going for them were numbers. In total, 12 battleships and over 30 cruisers, as well as numerous frigates, corvettes and other assorted gunships.

OOC: Out of time ATM.

The 8 powerful Batteships of the Solari Fleet opened fire in a concentrated barrage. Rather than target the enemy battleships, which, while more powerful, would also take longer to kill, they targeted lighter units, those that could be rapidly destroyed, before they were forced to engage the opposing heavy units, giving their supporting screen an advantage they would sorely need. Particle Beams and guided MAC shells split the void, the only announcement of the arrival of the vengeful Solari was the sudden terror and thunder of Iron Maiden, transmitted at such a level of power, on so many frequencies, as to render communications relatively inoperable, as well as destroying the morale of those they were attacking. The hatred and fear embodied in Montsegur slammed home as surely as the powerful guns of the fleet ripped into the enemy vessels. Destroyers, and packs of gunships targeted enemy cruisers, attempting to overwhelm the light warships with their cannon, before the enemy could bring their superior numbers and weight of fire to bear. The objective of the moment was not the common Solari tactic, to break the enemy formations and reduce it to individual battles where the maneuverability and speed of Solari ships gave them the advantage, but instead to kill as many of the enemy vessels as was possible in the first void shattering volleys.

For the first time in months, Johann Felfner felt alive. Since Jurai, it had been weeks of approving modifications, of signing dispatches, of mundane port administration. Now, finally, he was going somewhere!

Felfner was one of the "new" admirals, although he had been in the service plenty long enough. His peer, Hilde Menkeln, had once described him as "the only man in this uniform with black hair and without a moustache like an albatross." This was no longer actually true, but it gave the right idea. A historicaly minded observer might have likened him to another, much earlier Johann: General von Scharnhorst.

His bridge-crew were almost a reflection of the man. He had picked them up across several campaigns, grabbing the officers who was in the right place at the right time and assembling them into a staff, of sorts. And there was the rustic-accented helmsman, Tobias Dethmar, who was practically a permenant fixture of the bridge, and indeed the ship. Middies joked that the logic engines would go on the blink if he were ever "unplugged".

"Sir, we're corresponding to a point near the Friedrich Wilhelm's assist message. Permission to drop out?"

"Granted, all ships."


"They're here! Send most recent report update."

Given the preponderance of albatross-moustached generals to bear the name "Friedrich Wilhelm", it might have surprised an onlooker to learn that the ship which had requested fleet intervention was named after none other than ancient Earth scam artist Friedrich Wilhelm Voigt, the "Captain of Köpenick". Let the army and the navy worry about the meddle-janglers. It was FWV's example that the J-Ships aspired to.


"Report in from the FW. Solari forces got here before us and have entered active combat with B1."

"Designate S1, attempt to open comms to all parties, assume wedge to engage B2. Comms as follows:"

A middie automctically flipped on the comms recorder.

"To newly emerged defender: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Identify yourself. We are prpeared to render assistance. To newly emerged aggressors: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Identify yourselves. We will fire. To Solari: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Do you have any idea whats going on?"

Normally the mere battle wouldn't stir the sleeping dragon, but when it was in close enough proximity to the nearest Dominion excavation and forays into various planets in several systems over, the feeling was mutual to squash the roughriders. Undue force was not undue at all, merely useful and well-deserved.
The Virulent-class Alpha Dreadnought Vendacious Spike led the closest War Armada to the detection of fire from long-range data ops and probe relay stations. Gathering at the allied planet Keldoon to rendevous with a local battlegroup, the Spike led its command, the 56-TH Strategic Armada into the system where the energy surges had first come forth. The area had been known before as a hotbed of mercs, pirates, and Sagitans-the scum and scourges of the galaxy. It looked fun for the war-happy Dominion.
Leading the armada, 65 capital ships and 24 bioships strong, Lord Ludo Kressh was an important person. The Spike was his personal command ship, and it reeked of the dark side that flowed through the Sith commander. The ship was a flagship, despite being designated an "Alpha Dreadnought"-it bore the distinctive markings of the Imperial Power, a blood red-black hued merging color tract, and about twice the weapon compliment (in terms of power output) of a standard Alpha Dreadnought-which, at over 15 km long, was bad enough.
Kressh was a bit of an eccentric. He liked power, and he liked killing-two things that matched well, and at the helm of his command, there was no feeling greater through the stars than being at the controls of one of the toughest ships. As soon as the oversized fleet had emerged from hyperspace into the system, he immediately began issuing orders.

"VID the aggressor ships pursuing that other fleet. Get me confirmations."
"Solari and Boozian fleets in system, on sensor, my Lord."
"ID'ed, my Lord. Unknown in origin, but trace patters and decay showing the pursuers opened this."
"Lord Kressh, we will need to increase thruster power to make our move."

Kressh took in all the information relays as cool as the other side of the pillow. He remained calm, soaking up the data and statistics.

"Advance the fleet. Hail the Solarins and Boozians on the issue at hand and any data they may have. Standard freqs. Full impulse, let's move."

Standard hail and inquiry messages were quickly pulsed out to the Solarin and Boozian fleets as the Amazonian group blasted their engines to full impulse towards the fight.

"Prep hangers to Alert-5. Deploy when we reach firing range," Kressh ordered.

The Amazonian fleet blasted closer, target locks going out as they neared opening ranges. Inside the hangers across the fleet, pilots jumped to their ships, fueling hoses disconnected, cockpits closed shut as hanger controllers prepped bay shield frequencies for launch.

For the first time in months, Johann Felfner felt alive. Since Jurai, it had been weeks of approving modifications, of signing dispatches, of mundane port administration. Now, finally, he was going somewhere!

Felfner was one of the "new" admirals, although he had been in the service plenty long enough. His peer, Hilde Menkeln, had once described him as "the only man in this uniform with black hair and without a moustache like an albatross." This was no longer actually true, but it gave the right idea. A historicaly minded observer might have likened him to another, much earlier Johann: General von Scharnhorst.

His bridge-crew were almost a reflection of the man. He had picked them up across several campaigns, grabbing the officers who was in the right place at the right time and assembling them into a staff, of sorts. And there was the rustic-accented helmsman, Tobias Dethmar, who was practically a permenant fixture of the bridge, and indeed the ship. Middies joked that the logic engines would go on the blink if he were ever "unplugged".

"Sir, we're corresponding to a point near the Friedrich Wilhelm's assist message. Permission to drop out?"

"Granted, all ships."


"They're here! Send most recent report update."

Given the preponderance of albatross-moustached generals to bear the name "Friedrich Wilhelm", it might have surprised an onlooker to learn that the ship which had requested fleet intervention was named after none other than ancient Earth scam artist Friedrich Wilhelm Voigt, the "Captain of Köpenick". Let the army and the navy worry about the meddle-janglers. It was FWV's example that the J-Ships aspired to.


"Report in from the FW. Solari forces got here before us and have entered active combat with B1."

"Designate S1, attempt to open comms to all parties, assume wedge to engage B2. Comms as follows:"

A middie automctically flipped on the comms recorder.

"To newly emerged defender: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Identify yourself. We are prpeared to render assistance. To newly emerged aggressors: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Identify yourselves. We will fire. To Solari: This is Boozian 2nd fleet. Do you have any idea whats going on?"

No flipping clue. We're sitting around getting ready to smash this pirate base a few systems over, and BAM alluva sudden there's a war going on next door. So I says to the scouts "Hey, what the fuck's going on?" And they says back to me "No fucking clue boss." So here we are, shooting the shit outta some pirates, with no idea where they came from. How about y'all?

The massive Solari Battleship North Carolina was a bit eccentric. Unlike the majority of the Admiral AIs, it had worked its way up from the bottom ranks, as opposed to ships like Mississippi, and its AI Sprague. The AI Evans, however, had been a destroyer, upgraded time and again for extraordinary skill and sheer balls. Now it commanded a fleet, and was in the proccess of smashing away at over a dozen destroyers, simply because it had the guns.

The shields of the 718th flickered for the briefest of moments, and then the Solari weapons impacted with full effect. Massive explosions ripped through many a ship, hollowing them completely, others simply snapped as their spinal supports were vaporised under the hellish blasts. In complete disregard to orders shouted over the coms system, squadrons of ships broke of their engagement of the 15th and turned to face the Solari fleet.

As more ships arrived in the area, the admiral of the 15th saw a chance opening. He opened a message to the unknowns, first off to those attacking the 718th and then to those further off.

“We are the fifteenth fleet of the Bloody Reaper Empire. We request your aid, as more will follow, and they may not be friendly.” It was voice only, as the admiral was not a person to look upon without feeling some disgust. His right eye was a pulsing red orb, and the right side of his face was mostly a metal/flesh hybrid. All of this was due to a faulty energy conduit that had exploded in his face some time ago. Now he sat in his chair, and waited.

The 942nd changed targets as the full extent of opposing ships was realised, and they made a simple course change to take them past the 15th to aid the 714th in their battle.

bump

Bump 2

"This is Lord Ludo Kressh of the Amazonian Dominion," Kressh bursted over the comm systems. "We will engage the enemy groups-take your course across the Solari vessels for protection, Bloody Reaper vessels."

With that transmission, fighter wings began boiling out of the hanger bays of the fleet en masse, a tidal wave of metal and electronics. The bioships hit firing range, their long-distance energy-electric cannons shooting out vibrant beams of splitting energy strands at nearby vessels of the 718th that was engaging the Solari vessels.

Having heard the Solari, Amazonian, and Bloody Reapers messages played in close succession and watched the manouvres of the 942nd, Felfner stood pondering momentarily before giving his orders.

"All CA and upwards form a wedge in mutual support, get the engines on full, let your torpedoes role out the red carpet. CL and downwards form probing groups and hit-and-run from multiple directions, but same general axis as the line ships. Small craft commence escorted raids on enemy screeners and stragglers. Once the little ships let them know we're here, we hit them in the flank with absolutely everything."

This began the long and complex process of turning orders recieved into actions executed. Getting the commands through a long web of communication channels was just the start. Individual admirals had to form up their ships, co-ordinating with others to assemble the "battering ram", while commodores and Rear-Admirals were selcted for the commands of the probing groups, which of course had to be assembled on a ship by ship basis with innumerable factors considered.

It was a small miracle of modern military science that 2nd fleet formed up on the... well, on the assumption that they had a stern and bow to calculate by, port of the twin enemy fleets.

"Solari, Amazonians we're going to hit them with a trafalgar. all my big stuff is going to come at them in one big attack. Fifeenth... hold on out there, okay?"

...is akward.

As isolationist and small the Cassiopeian Commonwealth was (seven planets?!), they did venture out... occasionally. Though it was only for two reasons, exploration and trade. Mostly trade. Exploration was taken care of by the AirHippo class Battlecruisers, no need to risk an entire fleet, oh no. Well, at least not me. Of course there was that rare occasion when a fleet is sent out of the safety of the Commonwealth.

And this is one of them times.

Apparently a very large mining planet was discovered by one of the battlecruisers (CNS Hamptonshire) far aways from here. The Cassiopeians enjoyed mining, in fact it was their lifeblood. It was the only thing that foreigners wanted, their vast resource of minerals. But this was not for foreigners.

It was for them!

The Cassiopeians, as futuristic as the multiverse is these latter days, enjoyed uranium. It powered their cars, their civilian ships, and it was what caused their missiles to go boom. Indeed, this is where one would consider the Cassiopeians eccentric, nuclear missiles? Ah, but it hasn't failed them yet. But I'm rambling.

There was a large trade fleet flying the void, 20 transport ships (that looked like those Rebel ships from Star Wars in the Battle of Hoth, and stuff) were flying, delivering the first of this shipment of enriched uranium. There was even a fleet protecting it (the 1st Expeditionary Fleet, which was really just a fancy word for the 21st Cassiopeian Fleet) just flying through the void going WEEE and WOOSH and all sort of fancy space things that you lot enjoy, sans the explosions.

And then, TROUBLE.

RTS Bariga

"Sir... something's wrong with the engine."

The RTS (Royal Trade Ship) Bariga was the one at the head of the trade fleet, it was the most important one in fact, and now, chaos. Even worse it was a Royal Mining Coporation Vessel, they don't like that sorta thing.

The Director turned to the poor sap of a sailor. "What do you mean something's wrong with the engine?!" He shouted. "Lies, lies and slander!"

Another sailor chimed in. "No sir, seriously. Sensors are picking up... urine?"

The Director's head vein popped up. "WHO PISSED ON THE DRIVE?!"

And then, a gunshot.

The first sailor shrugged. "Who knows, but sir, if we don't stop now the ship is going to explodeand we'll lose all the uranium, not only that the other ships might get affected by the explosion and then there'll be a nasty chain reaction... should I tell everybody to stop?"

The Director sighed, he gave up. "... sure."

CNS Seaburg

The CNS Seaburg was the Cassiopeia class battleship in charge of protecting the trade fleet. Its leader was Fleet Admiral Marcus Ray, he was a big of an oldy, in his 50s, but he was smart, and he also enjoys commas.

"Man, I, like, commas."

See?

"Admiral!" An ensign shouted. "We have a message." He paused. "It's the RTS Bariga, they have engine troubles. They need to stop or else they'll blow up and wipe out the fleet."

Marcus shrugged. "Let, them, stop, then. Darn it."

The large fleet stopped. But it didn't exactly stop where it wanted to, actually, quite the opposite. They appeared right over where the battle between the Solari, Amazonian, Boozian, and Imperial fleets were occuring. Indeed, now a large fleet of defenseless trade ships and a small fleet were stuck, not only that they were now in danger of being attacked.

The same ensign shouted again. "Sir! We're on top of a giant battle occuring between unknown forces, recommendations?"

Oh this...

(Basically, my fleet stats are in my sig. Also, the fleet is arranged as such, the trade fleet is in a straight line and the fleet defending it is on top of it, space being three dimensional and whanot. You're more then happy to attack it, that's the point. I hope you enjoyed my post!)

Each squadron that turned to engage was met by hellish fire from the main batteries of every ship, and waves of deadly missiles lashed out to hammer at shields and armor alike, their laser warheads set to detonate 25,000 kilometers out from their targets. The secondary guns, in a seemingly foolish move, continued to hammer away at the ships engaging the 15th. Packs of Gunships sped towards the confrontation, dancing in and out of the enemy ships, occasionally taking hits and dieing, but for the most part dodging the enemy fire. Missiles rippled at short ranges, their massive warheads containing something in the realm of a ton of antimatter, enough to cause a multi-megaton explosion. Guns licked out to swat at lighter vessels, or to hammer blows out into vulnerabilities already left open by the impacts of larger shells.

The 8 Battleships were choosing heavier targets now. Anything CA or heavier was their goal. The tightly held fleet formation scattered suddenly, like a pack of sharks diving into a school of fish. Cruisers and Battleships, the great whites and bulls, used their size and heavy guns to break up concentrations of lighter ships, while the lighter destroyers and gunships surrounded heavier enemies, and attacked in packs, chipping away at defenses that they would individually be unable to scratch. The idea, now that they had the enemies attention, was to reduce it from a fleet battle, to a swirling dogfight, where Solari speed and maneuverability would matter more than the enemies ability to deal out damage. Most would think it odd, to watch Battleships darting about as though they were fighters, until they realised that "hey, this is space. We CAN!", and saw the devastating effects of a Solari melee first hand.

"Affirmative, Boozian craft," Kressh commented as he paced the long bridge, "we'll contribute fire on the attacking ships."

Turning, he addressed his weapons officer. "Have the fleet concentrate fire on the heavier craft. 700m and above-main guns, and have the fighters attack with heavy weapons. Full batteries."

The fleet manuevered in, turning all batteries that fired forward (which was considerable) to the heavy, dominant vessels of the rebels. A massive barrage of fire ensued, the blue turbolasers of the Dominion ripping forth a giant spike of energy, a sea of pulse and energy fluid racing forth to meet contact with the enemy. The slower Positron torpedoes and Ion rockets of the fleet followed, streaming in on violet and aquamarine tails that propelled the high explosives at incredible speeds across the stars. Plasma Driver rounds supplemented, the energy/ballistic shells, filled with an explosive baradium/collapsium core, shunted forth to wreak seismic explosions across the hostile craft.
The fighters and gunships of the fleet also closed, dodging point defense fire and closing in for attack speed. The heavier bombers, lining form with gunboats and droid gunships, let loose with every heavy weapon. Thousands of torpedoes and rockets tasted the ice cold desert of space, licking heat across their metallic bodies as they pursued their massive prey, prepared to suicidally drive forth antimatter or ionizing charges into their metal bodies.
The bioships that had already closed were using their greatest advantage now-speed. With almost the speed of a gunship, the bioships weaved in and out of the enemy cruisers, spitting their energy-electric cannons and letting loose heavy plasma with their meteor cannons at close range for maximum damage.
Aboard the Vendacious Spike, Kressh smiled. He loved the sight of so much Death spewing across the waste of space! It was a glorious sight for any Sith, and it filled him with passion, drove his anger, wracked his hate to end the miserable lives of these rebels-and drive his spear against their electronic and technological hearts.

The 942nd was doomed from the moment they broke formation, after all, their composition favoured tight, concentrated fire on individual targets. And so, with out order, for each ship that was brought down, two would fall. But no commander ever fails notices 2 fleets perusing a target, especially when the target is such a significant fleet. And so, there were reinforcements inbound, namely, the 2nd fleet. Now to say this fleet was strange was an understatement, each ship was a specially designed ‘blade’ ship, capable of multiple rift jumps a minute. Most frigate class ships mounted 3 of these massive blades, each one shimmering in ungodly energies. And so, with engines flaring into life as soon as real space was achieved, they shot down towards the newly arrived Cassiopeian ships. And then there was the 279th fleet, which was going to appear somewhere close to the Amazonian ships. Mostly, boarding ships, the 279th was an assault fleet, specialised in boarding hostile targets.

"Oh noez!"

The Cassiopeian Combined Trade Fleet (which I just made up) was in deep doo doo. Not only were they stuck in the middle of a battle which was occurring below them, they were now in the battle. Nobody knows why, not even me, okay I know because I joined the thread but that's besides the point, the point is, hats.

CNS Seaburg

Alarms went out since they were cruising under your radar and watching from the... wait no, wrong song. Let me try again, alarms rang throughout the ship (there we go) and in fact throughout the entire fleet. Ensigns were taking positions, gunners were sitting down to take care of the computer system that aimed the darned things, engineers made sure nobody pissed on the drive, and the Admiral?

Marcus. "...oops."

An Ensign coughed. "Sir." He said. "A new fleet's moved in. They look, and I say look, like frigates. We're still not sure."

Marcus shook himself out of a daze. "Eh wha?" He said. "Errm... umm... move in! Move in, to, defend the... fleet. Trade fleet." He paused. "Wait no! No! Tell the fleet to go into reverse, and get one of the transports to drag the lead ship out... and stuff."

The Ensign sighed. "Yes sir."

The transports began to turn, well, almost all of them. The poor sap that was behind the poorer sap with the broken engine had to go extra slow since he was tractoring a broken ship.

Marcus, out of being shocked and trying to control his comma compulsion, finally gave orders. "All right." He said. "Activate retrograde rockets, we gotta keep distance. After we're far enough fire a barrage. And stuff."

The fleet of twenty five warships and twenty transports did indeed move back. And when there was enough distance the fleet fired exactly 324 hypervelocity thermonuclear missiles of nuclearness, I know the exactly number because I used Microsoft Calculator. It rawks I know.

(Errrm. I noticed in the post in response to this you seemed to have forgotten to mention damage, now I don't wanna seem rude or anything but can you state damage? >_>)

OOC: No, they are not all frigates, I was just using them as an example. Number of ships is about 100 ships. I'm being vague at the moment due to the war, and thus no person knows the exact number of ships fighting.

IC: The smaller frigates changed their vectors to intercept the Cassiopeian ships, whilst the larger ships drooped down to engage the highly maneuverable Solari ships.

The ships immediately noted the appearance of these new opponents, and yet there was no panic. Enemies were allowed to close to ranges where the Solari could have blown them away long ago, taking hits in the process. All for the single purpose of utterly breaking the enemies morale.

An observant enemy might note that ships maneuvers were now tending to leave their arbitrarily labeled Ventral aspect uppermost more often than their dorsal guns, which continued to fire unabated. Finally, as the new opponents reached a mere ten thousand kilometers, knife fighting range in space, missiles rippled in deadly waves from the undersides of the ships, directly into the face of the advancing enemy. Almost immediately they deployed their multiple warheads, and started terminal attack runs, upping the number of targets from a few hundred, to over 3,000 in seconds. Each warhead was individually relatively weak, only a few dozen megatons, but in such numerical superiority, they would hopefully devastate the ships barreling down upon them, and show the remaining forces the futility of opposing Solari warships in a freewheeling battle.

"New vessels sighted, not interfering with us, though. Some of these new guys aren't consistent with previous observations."

"No change. Let's keep going. Have FW head into the nearest system these guys could've come from and start compiling a report. And send back records to HQ."

The fleet wasn't going to be drawn off-task by these new arrivals: the support of the Amazonian had certainly be welcome, but they could make do without. The ships were past torp-range now, and the wedge was tearing straight into the enmy fleet, guns blazing away to either side, small-craft pilots indulging themselves in amongst the bigger enemy ships. Smaller ones would be batted aside by the sheer weight of the fire they wer recieving. Like a cavalry charge of old, the tactic was dependant mostly on coherence and sheer, unstoppable momentum.