NationStates Jolt Archive

UCS. Prowler
Outer Colonies

The Prowler was an older style Frigate, 478 meters long, 151 meters wide. Her top speed, without the help of the Mass Relay technology, is 2.1 light years/day. A Deuterium Fusion Core powers the Prowler, and her main weapon; the Magnetic Accelerator Cannon can only fire less then 6 rounds. But put in the hands of 36 year old Commander Adam Reilly, she is a force to be reckoned with.

The Commander’s mission was to patrol a sector on the edge of the ever-expanding Commonwealth boundary, when long-range communications picked up a faint scrambled message. As they got closer to the source the message cleared up but still remained faint. The message was actually a distress signal, in the language of the Ancients. Commander Reilly informed command upon confirmation that it was Ancient language. A good-sized task force would be there in a few hours, but until then the Prowler was to investigate. He made full speed towards the origin of the call, pushing the reactors to 120% at some points.

Finally making it to the right system, which turned out to be extremely close, the correct planet was pinpointed. After making sure that there were no contacts on sonar, he made his way towards the planet.

“Scan the planet. Find the signal.” He ordered. The crew worked frantically, the idea of finding the Ancient’s made everyone weak in the knees. Not to mention make the crew renowned in the Commonwealth.

“Sir, scans indicate it’s a ‘winter’ planet.” By ‘winter’ the officer meant a planet covered in snow and ice.

“Distress signal is…” The Comm Officer looked at his screen again to confirm, “Under 120 feet of ice sir.” He continued to stare at the screen in disbelieve. The captain sat in his chair, head resting propped on his hand, thinking hard of what to do.

“Bring us in for a closer look.” He finally said. The Prowler because she was a frigate and ‘small’ enough she could enter most planets’ atmospheres without burning up or crashing, an advantage of a smaller vessel. Of course the Prowler would need assistance from the ship’s AI (named often after women), Venus, to come in softly so to speak. Being an older frigate it was bound to be a bumpy ride without the help of inertia dampeners. “Brace for impact.” It didn’t mean that the ship was going to crash necessarily, just warned the crew of a jerky ride and to secure them selves to something attached to the ship.

The Prowler rocketed into the planet’s atmosphere, Commander Adam bouncing wildly in his seat with a wide grin on his face. Finally she leveled out and the jarring stopped. Adam unlocked himself from the seat and stood up, walking over to look out the large viewing window. It was a white wall of snow, they flew into, or possible created a snowstorm. He sighed.

“Location of the transmission?” He asked.

“Venus put us right over top sir.”

“Excellent.”

“Expected less captain?” asked the hologram that appeared beside his command chair.

“No of course not Venus. I was merely curious. Can you ready a ground team? I want some reports on what’s going on down there. Venus, do you think you can set her down?”

The AI thought for a second.

“Scans indicate the ground is stable enough to withstand our force, so yes sir.”

“Alright, do so. Lieutenant Su Pattie you have the deck.” As Venus landed the Prowler on the surface, the Captain went to the loading bay, where a squad of marines stood by in winter equipment. He suited up; he was never one to not lead the way. “Open the doors Venus.” He ordered.

“Of course captain.” She replied through the PA system. The large doors opened, the cold already freezing him to the bones, cutting through all the clothing. The wind howled and created a nasty noise, too loud for the marines to hear his orders, instead just waved them out the door and down the ramp. The marines revved to their all-terrain hummers and raced out into the storm.

After an hour a small camp was made 100 meters from the ship, and scans were being made of the area. The captain had returned to the ship and was back on the bridge with a cherry red nose, and a cup of coffee in his hands.

“Son of a bitch. The entrance is covered. This place is bloody old to have the ice packed this high. I’m starting to loss hope here.”

“Can I suggest before you do we get down there?” Venus asked, appearing at his side.

“Options on how to do so?”

“Plant a bomb captain. Blow the ice away.”

“Your always have been a little rough, but I like it. Have the marines and mechanics break out one of the fighter’s bomb payloads. Dig down a few feet and set her off.”

“Aye captain.”

Thirty minutes passed and the bomb was set to detonate. All crew had been recalled back to the safety of the ship.

“Here goes nothing. Detonate the bomb.”

“5…4…3…2…1…” The ship’s decked jolted slightly, but nothing could be seen from the bridge window.

“Venus, status.”

“Scanning… little effect sir. Can I suggest we use the MAC sir? I have made calculations and it should suffice with just a bit more digging after.”

“By all means, you’re the brains.” The deck jolted more as the engine roared to life and the ship took off. The MAC gun was embedded into the ship itself, so in turn the entire ship had to be positioned to aim the gun.

“MAC gun charged sir.” The Combat Officer said.

“Remove safeties and fire on Venus’s count.”

“Safeties removed awaiting-“ The officer didn’t get a chance to finish.

“Fire.” The Prowler shook even more as the round was ejected from the cannon, hitting the ice below. After a few seconds Venus reappeared at the captain’s side. “Sir, it was a success.”

“Excellent. Let’s land and start digging.” Well there was to be no digging; Venus had just calculated the ship’s position and the MAC’s round power to end just short of the entrance. The Marines were inside the building with Commander Reilly at the lead. Venus was brought along in a portable pack. She was based off a ruined Ancient AI found in a crashed ship years ago, so she would be a lot of help. The compounds lights were out, as well as most of the computer interfaces. Venus suggested that the station be hooked up to the Prowler’s generator, and the captain took her up on it. Within the hour the station was hooked up and running with full power.

Refer to here (http://forums.jolt.co.uk/showthread.php?t=547068) for history.

ooc: crude for a first post but i wanted it up tonight as i won't have time tomorrow

0400 Hours, January 8, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Uncharted Territory

Colonial Authority of Bautizar Navy vessels rarely came into the uncharted territories. Military charts demarcated it with a thick red line, a slash through hundreds of unexplored systems that had never been visited by manned starships of the Colonial Authority. From time-to-time an expedition set forth from one of the outlying bases or frontier posts, small squadrons of converted merchant ships and old, cast-off military vessels whose crews were privately financed by corporations and private citizens. Most activity was focused on colonizing within the borders of the CA, though, so these were rare and almost never occurred.

Which is why our presence here is an exception to the rule, Commodore Edwin Winters reminded himself as he exited the summary of the results of the latest batch of survey probes. His command was out here hunting pirates and smugglers who were coming across the porous Colonial Authority border in increasing droves, presumably from isolated criminal bases and colonies out here in unexplored space. After a moment in which he rubbed his eyes, Winters' eyes traced - again - over the starchart floating in the holotank behind the command chair. Forty systems, only a few of whom had been visited or thoroughly explored by Colonial Authority vessels. The amount of missing data was enough to make him uneasy, even given the power of his command.

Gearing (http://i141.photobucket.com/albums/r67/S_Baxter2064/Bautizar/Gearing.png) class heavy cruisers had become a mainstay of the fleet over the previous eight decades. They were 1,700 meters long and 455 meters wide, a blend of the firepower carried by Atlas class carriers merged with the mobility of a lighter unit. A complex design whose complexity baffled the average engineer merged internal subdivisions and cross-bracings for structural support with stronger-than-average shields and powerful engines. But the Fair Weather's teeth lay in the 20 heavy turrets of varying calibers (the majority 120mm, but a few were heavier models), the pair of forward-facing MAC cannons, the seventy-five 50mm autocannons, and the 300 Archer missile pods that rounded off an armament rivaling anything previously fielded in Colonial military service.

And that didn't even touch on the marines, fighters, or dropships.

There was a flash of light off the vessel's bow, a pinprick in the vast array of stars that would have gone unnoticed except for the expectation of its arrival. Over at the operations station, Lieutenant Nykomi Hall's activity picked up, presumably as the drone fired off a report of its reconnaissance to the cruiser awaiting its return.

The self-indulgent reverie of the ship's commanding officer was interrupted as a swirling flash of light at his right fingertips resolved itself into the figure of a woman dressed in armor. Commodore Winters glanced at her momentarily before his hand fished a pipe from within his jacket, and he took to turning it over repeatedly in his left hand. Minerva, the Roman goddess of warriors, poetry, medicine, wisdom, commerce, and crafts, gestured to the holotank as her other hand rested on the sword and its scabbard that was a part of her avatar.

"Commodore, probe alpha-one-six has detected an electronic transmission. Point of origination is the third planet in the Remote system." On the holotank a single pip of light flashed twice, then expanded. As the commanding officer readjusted in his chair, brow furrowing in silent concentration he found himself confronting a starmap of a system. Several planets, an asteroid field, and very little else to speak of.

The commodore looked at the avatar that was standing at his fingertips, knowing full well that she had by now seen the pipe-movement activity. If she had anything to say about it, she was holding her tongue. "What do we know about the system? Any current inhabitants?"

By 'inhabitants' the commodore meant Colonial Authority citizens and corporations. He didn't have to explain it to the A.I. that had been with him aboard his previous command. She shook her head, a trace of a frown working its way across her face. "No sir. The system was charted and explored by a Sukuuvestaa Corporation expedition in 2483, and was deemed unsuitable for colonization. Nothing of value," she clarified. But clearly something was of value, or at least of interest. She turned to look at the system chart, seeing the single blinking dot to represent the planet they were discussing.

"Sir, should I send the probe back to Remote?" Lieutenant Hall inquired across her workstation and the bridge.

Commodore Winters tapped a finger on the pipe, glancing down at the old family heirloom that had been handed off to him long ago by his father, at the time a dying man on his deathbed on Fort Strathwick. Finally he gave a nod and looked over at the lieutenant. "Send it back lieutenant. Navigation, plot a course for the Remote system. I want us to come out of slipspace near the third planet. Initiate the jump when ready."

"Aye sir."

UCS. Prowler
Unclaimed World Bravo-932

“Captain, I have located the map of this facility. To the looks of it, it seems to be a military outpost. Nothing big. The cold environment seems to have preserved the building well. As far as I can tell, the message started transmitting hundreds of years ago. It shut down to preserve power, then when scanners detected a close space craft it powered up, the communications anyways.”

“Thank you Venus. Can you inform the Prowler of our progress? And see if you can get an ETA on backup?”

“On my way sir.” The hologram disappeared from its 3D image portable display pack. Commander Adam Reilly looked around. He walked over to what appeared to be a console. He activated it by waving his hand over it, displaying a holographic keyboard. This was one hell of a discovery, actual working Ancient technology. Up to this point, since the Commonwealth’s first discovery of these so-called ‘Ancients’ as the Commonwealth dubbed them, not a single piece of working technology had been found.

He grinned, as he just tapped the buttons. The navy had yet to incorporate holographic keyboards, but it wouldn’t be soon now. Reilly couldn’t read the language and in effect wasn’t really sure what he was pressing, but the feeling was great. The marines in the room were also looking around at the stunningly wonderful setting. They had just managed to breach the first set of doors, and had yet to get inside the actual complex, by the looks of it they were in a kind of airlock room. Probably meant to warm up the people coming in from the outside. Venus reappeared hovering above her pack.

“Can I suggest you don’t touch that Captain, if your service record is correct you don’t know how to read Ancient and what your doing could be dangerous.”

“Thanks for the update Venus, but I’m captain for the time being, and so far we are all alive. Now give me my real update.”

“Of course sir. Second Lieutenant Steven Torres, officer of the watch, has been informed. He also told me to inform you Lieutenant Su Pattie is in sickbay with a fever. She was relieved. The fleet has made their jump so they can't be raised until they drop out. ETA is anytime now.”

“Very well. Can you now try and open this door?”

“On it sir.” She didn’t disappear this time she just stood there, but just looked as though he was thinking. The two yellow lights on either side of the doors turned on and begun to rotate as the door slowly opened. “Done.”

“Excellent. Master Sergeant Collins, take your squad in. Secure the area.”

“Sir yes sir!” The group of marines readied their rifles and flicked on the lights on the ends and proceeded inside.

UCS. Vengeance
Outer Colonies

The Vengeance was the flagship of the 3rd Outer Colony Defense Task Fleet. She was the Commonwealth’s model of a carrier. It packed several hundred F-104 Crusader individual space fighters, and hundreds of space to surface troop transports, the C-250 Penguin. Not to mention the large compliments and room capable to handle regiments upon regiments of Commonwealth Marines. Her task fleet was on stand-by at one of the outer colonies, just doing her standard rounds of the outer colony planets when the call came in from FleetCOM. A small frigate on an expansion patrol caught wind of a distress call from what seemed like Ancient language. Orders were given to the Task Fleet to make best speed to the system and prepare to engage any possible threats to the Ancient ‘victims’. When it wasn’t as if the system was right around the block, and the carrier moved like a brick, making only 1.7 light speed/day. But nonetheless Admiral Carl Vissor made ‘best speed’.

At one moment the space above the unidentified planet was quiet and empty, the next a jump hole opened up and the Vengeance and the rest of the 3rd Task Fleet appeared, which included 4 corvettes, 3 frigates, 2 destroyers, 1 replenishment ship, and 2 cruisers. Immediately the Vengeance opened her bay doors, and swarms of the Crusader fighters flew out taking up positions ready to engage targets and defend the fleet.

The bridge of the carrier was huge compared to the conference-like-room of the Prowler. Admiral Vissor had a seat above and behind everyone, which was so the CO could look and see everything. Captain Jack Bell was the real captain of the Vengeance.

“Sonar, contacts?” Jack ordered.

“Negative sir!” the Sonar Officer replied.

“Where the hell is everyone? Comm, raise the Prowler and tell them the cavalry has arrived. Get the low down on the situation.”

“Aye aye sir.” The Comm officer replied, followed by ordering around his sailors.

Jack Bell walked along the large viewing window, much larger then the Prowler’s one. He could see much of the fleet as they stayed in geo-orbit around the planet with the distress signal.

“Captain, Prowler is on the surface. They have located a military instillation. Abandoned but of Ancient origin.” The Comm officer said. Admiral Vissor appeared beside the captain standing next to the window rail. He had a cigar in his mouth, another one in his hand, offering it to the captain, who declined claiming he detested smoking. Vissor just shrugged.

“Jack get me a transport to the surface. I must see this. Stand the fleet down from battle stations.”

“Yes Admiral. Make your way to G-Deck hangar and a Penguin will be ready.”

1322 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Uncharted Territories

If space could have roared it would have shuddered as the Fair Weather ripped its way back into subspace. Behind it was blazing light as the hole torn in her passage from slipspace appeared, sparkling for everyone in range to see. It shone more brilliantly than even a supernova, casting new shapes along her armored hull before it mended itself and vanished. Leaving the forty-one-million-ton vessel adrift in space, engines purring with faint light and thrusters firing to hold her in position.

Ahead lay the planet, and Commodore Winters rapped his knuckles on the armrest of his chair as he surveyed it. And the shapes that were in orbit. A check of the ship's status report showed that the ship had emerged a half-million kilometers from the planetary atmosphere, and roughly four hundred thousand kilometers from -

"Sensors detecting thirteen ships in orbit sir," Minerva remarked as she appeared above her pedestal. Winter's eyebrows went up at this. The last probe report before the slipspace jump had picked up no starships. Now this. "Classification unknown. By the number of fighters I'm detecting around the formation I believe at least one vessel is a carrier."

"Understood. Tactical, get me an assessment."

"Working on it sir," Lieutenant 'Tex' Avery responded from the horseshoe-shaped cluster of consoles on the portside of the bridge. He turned to consult with one of his departmental personnel after responding to the CO's order.

"Sir, picking up low-level communications from the planet's surface," interjected Lieutenant Hall. "Looks like a ship down there communicating with ground personnel."

Winters stood and made his way over to the operations station. It was an unusual thing for him to do. But the lieutenant dutifully rolled her chair slightly to the side, enabling him to see that part of the planet was highlighted. It was a very large grid, clearly the result of atmospheric interference and the Fair Weather's own range.

"Good work," the commodore responded with an appreciative pat on the back of the lieutenant's chair. "Communications, hail them. Request that they identify themselves and their intentions – politely. Ops, let's slip a probe around the backside of the planet and see what they're up to. Have it remain there for only a second or two before jumping back."

It took a minute or two, but finally the ship's ventral bay opened and a small capsule emerged. It was barely the length of a shuttlecraft, let alone the width of one. It stabbed away at the darkness of space with an engine that puffed to light before it vanished in an eruption of light that was far smaller than the one produced by the Fair Weather's arrival. As it disappeared the ship's communications array came to life.

<\ DCS.REG#CABNV.CAG441.FAIR_WEATHER
<\ FOR.REG#UNKNOWN

<\ BEGIN TEXT

<\ THIS IS THE COLONIAL AUTHORITY OF BAUTIZAR, COLONIAL NAVAL VESSEL FAIR WEATHER. THIS VESSEL IS ENGAGED IN A ROUTINE PATROL MISSION AND DOES NOT HAVE HOSTILE INTENT TOWARDS YOUR FORMATION. RESPECTFULLY REQUEST TO KNOW YOUR INTENTIONS AT THIS TIME.

<\ END TEXT

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

“Captain, we are picking something up. A ship has just jumped into the system. Classification unknown, hull number registration not in our databanks.” Warned the sonar officer. Captain Jack Bell quickly scanned the viewing window in an attempt to see the new ship, but couldn’t pick it out in the vastness of space.

“Bring it up on screen.” He ordered. The large window then suddenly changed to a zoomed in view of the vessel. “Designated Master-001. Order fleet into combat positions. Inform the Crusaders to move into formation at point. Hold fire.”

“Sir, we are receiving a transmission from the unknown target, the now designated Master-001.” The Comm officer said calmly.

“Display.” The window, with the zoomed view of the vessel, now appeared with a small window in the bottom right displaying the message. Captain Bell quickly read the message. “Reply; this is Captain Jack Bell, commanding officer of the UCS. Vengeance of the Delesian Commonwealth from Nova Earth. We are here investigating a distress signal. Declare your intentions.”

“Message sent sir.”

“Sonar, contacts?”

‘Just reading the one sir.”

“Comm, get a hold of the Admiral.”

UCS. Prowler
Planet Surface of Bravo-932

The Penguin transport carrying the Admiral had already landed beside the Prowler and Admiral Carl Vissor was already aboard on the bridge. He was looking out the smaller viewing window, waiting for the Prowler’s captain’s return for an escort down to the facility. Sonar on the Prowler informed the ship’s bridge crew of the new arrival in orbit.

“Lieutenant, message from the Vengeance for the Admiral.” Comm officer Sub-Lieutenant William O’Donnell said.

“Give it to him then.” Lieutenant Torres ordered.

“Admiral, Vengeance wishes to inform you that a single vessel was jumped in-system and confronted the fleet. Captain Bell is asking for orders. The vessel, designated master-001 is an unknown classification. Hails from… Bautizar, sir.” The Admiral continued to stare out into the wall of snow.

Lieutenant Torres spoke up, “Sir? Orders?”

Unchanged the Rear-Admiral said “Tell them to stand-by. Continue to interact with the vessel. Delay them if they seem hostile, engage if you have to, don’t allow them to enter the planet, unless I order otherwise.” He turned around and looked at the comm officer. The officer nodded his head. Admiral Vissor then proceeded to the elevator and down to the docking bay, where he would wait for Captain Reilly. A squad of marines stood in formation waiting to relieve the first squad on the Captain’s orders. The bay doors were open and the wind blew past, sending snow into the bay, the ramp already covered in snow. Out of the white wall four white combat dressed men walked into the shelter of the ship. Their masks covered their identity, but the four golden rings around the sleeves of the lead man told everyone it was the Captain.

“We don’t have long Captain Reilly. My fleet has picked up a contact, seems we are not the only ones who heard the distress. We could possibly even be in their territory. Time is short.”

“Yes sir.” Reilly said as he removed his mask. “Venus, our AI is downloading the facility’s database as we speak. Should be down soon. Orders?”

“Set charges in the facility. I don’t want it to fall into anyone else’s hands. As far as we know they don’t know the Prowler or the facility is down here.”

“Yes sir.” He turned to the squad of marines standing at attention. “C12, move out.” The squad jumped to action running for the armory. “Anything else Admiral?”

“I want to see this place.”

“Suit up sir, and follow me.” He grinned. The Admiral in turn smiled. After a few minutes the Admiral had a suit on, and the marines had their C12. They proceeded to walk down to the facility, where two marines stood, guarding the entrance, the remainder inside. The Admiral was in awe in the air-lock room. He touched the walls softly. The group then went inside. Captain Reilly signaled the second squad with swift hand movements and they moves out, placing C12 on the walls. The Captain and Admiral walked down what looked like the main corridor till they came to the room at the end, large blaster doors had been opened and inside a massive control room was empty apart from Venus’ pack laying beside what was presumed the main console. Her image appeared as the two closed in.

“Captain, I have-“ She stopped, seeing the Admiral, “Admiral. Welcome to Facility 487.”

“Thank you. You were saying something to the captain?”

“Yes… Sir I have almost finished. Just a few more moments, also I have hacked into the facility’s defense system and know about the contact. This place is equipped with an anti-ship cannon, much like a MAC gun, but stronger, and I can target the vessel if need be. But to power it up would require large sums of energy from the Prowler. Not to mention the gun is possibly under snow and ice.”

“It’s alright. We have the situation under control. I’m sure the fleet can handle one ship. I just want you to concentrate on getting the information out of here. Maybe even put in a virus for the next person to come along.” The Admiral said to the AI.

“I can do that sir. Internal sensors also indicate your rigging the facility with explosives. I have shut down emergency protocols that dictate the auto-cannons found on every level to open fire on our men. Just for your information this facility is also equipped with it’s own self destruction system.”

“Nice to know. If we have to, we’ll arm it with our charges.” Captain Reilly instructed.

“I really must protest destroying this place sir. I need much more time with the hard drive. Much of it is ruined or missing, allowing me more time might help me fix it.”

“No can do Venus. We have to go.”

“Yes sir, download complete.”

1331 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system, Flight Decks

"Well this makes two for two," the private second class remarked aloud as he checked something off the second crate of spare parts on the clipboard. This duty is boring. Why the hell did I draw this assignment? He swore that the staff sergeant had it in for him, ever since coming aboard. This duty assignment was hell, and for the fiftieth time today he regretted having volunteered for this mission.

His companion, a fellow private from the 112th company of the Colonial Marine Corps grinned and spit on the deckplates before speaking up. "Well shit. At this rate we won't have long to go. Only another ..." he paused, checking his inventory list. "Ten –"

The general-quarters siren started to blare, and both men's heads snapped around to look at the bulkhead. A prominent red light was spinning around there, just as it was supposed to whenever the ship went to action stations. The clipboards were slammed down on the crates before both men sprinted off down the length of the hangar bay. They collided with other marines pouring out of the alert barracks, a steady stream stampeding in the direction of the dropships.

Other men and women were already swarming over the transports. They were disconnecting cables, yanking chocks from under the wheels, closing panels, scampering out of the rear areas after closing open storage compartments, and a whole host of other tasks. A Bulldog BD-111 roared through, the four-wheel light reconnaissance vehicle's engine roaring as it gunned down a ramp and onto the bay floor below. Men and women continued to work after it passed, not even giving the Bulldog a second glance.

Below on the main deck of the hangar there was a roar, followed by more that built in a crescendo of sound. Tanks began to emerge from the storage bays, rumbling out into the center of the compartment. It didn't take long before dropships began descending to the deck, magnetic couplings aligned over the turrets of the heavy armor.

The ship was going to general quarters. For all every man and woman aboard knew it was going to war.

1351 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system, Bridge

"Commodore, all stations forward of bulkheads forty report manned and ready. Engineering reports they can give you eighty percent power on the main engines, one hundred in two minutes. First through ninth fighter squadrons ready for takeoff; all other fighters and combat craft ready for launch in four minutes. Shields at sixty percent of capacity and charging; MAC cannons at forty percent charge and rising. Two minutes to firing capability."

Winters gave a brisk nod to Minerva at the conclusion of her crisp and efficient report. "Launch the first through third squadrons. Tactical, open all missile ports and get me a firing solution for the MAC cannons on that heavy bastard." The latter said with a gesture to the carrier.

"Aye sir. We're well outside the firing envelope for the MAC cannons sir, but if they move towards us you'll have it."

The commodore didn't even blink. Of course the ships weren't in range: the Fair Weather was after all about four hundred thousand kilometers away. "Understood lieutenant. Just get me those solutions." His eyes were diverted to the screen on his chair, seeing a flashing note from Minerva that the fighters were being launched now. Replacements would be moved onto the launch catapults when able.

"Aye sir."

"Sir, incoming message," Ensign Winters reported from communications. It was unusual having father-son teams aboard Colonial Navy units, but thus far nobody was complaining about the overeager youngster fresh out of the Academy. He seemed to be doing a good job so far. "Text only."

This is Captain Jack Bell, commanding officer of the UCS. Vengeance of the Delesian Commonwealth from Nova Earth. We are here investigating a distress signal. Declare your intentions.

"Reply sir?"

His father's left hand tapped on the console, his right holding the pipe that he never lit but chewed on in more thoughtful moments. Satisfied with whatever he'd found he stood and moved a bit forward, looking out towards the distant planet. And envisioning the ships that were in orbit. "We're investigating a signal detected by a long-range probe. Originating from that planet," he said with a gesture to the planet ahead of the bridge windows. "Make it clear that we will take defensive action given their apparently hostile intent. And we will be calling for reinforcements. Get a probe off to Fleet HQ, while we're at it. Packet down a copy of the logs and all signals from the Delesians, as well as a mission report."

"Aye sir."

Shadows moved outside the bridge windows: fighters winging through the darkness of space. The Fair Weather had fourteen squadrons capable of deep-space or atmospheric combat. Here's to hoping we don't have to use them, the commodore thought to himself. Far beneath his feet, another probe silently jetted into space, then vanished into slipspace.

<\ DCS.REG#CABNV.CAG441.FAIR_WEATHER
<\ FOR.REG#UCS.VENGEANCE

<\ BEGIN TEXT

<\ THE FAIR WEATHER IS INVESTIGATING A SIGNAL DETECTED FROM THE PLANET OF 'REMOTE', CURRENTLY THE SITE OF ACTIVITES BY THE DELESIAN COMMONWEALTH. WE REQUEST EXPLANATION OF THE SUSPICIOUS ACTIONS BEING UNDERTAKEN AGAINST THIS VESSEL, NAMELY THE APPARENT OFFENSIVE POSTURING BY DELESIAN COMMONWEALTH MILITARY UNITS.

DEFENSIVE ACTION WILL BE INITIATED IF NECESSARY.

<\ END TEXT

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

Captain Bell continued to watch the screen, as the bay doors of the vessel opened up releasing swarms of what looked to be fighters. He looked at the ground and rubbed his face. Orders were to delay the contact from reaching the planet at all costs, and if it came down to it, he would order it, but he wasn’t willing to pull the trigger just yet. He then proceeded to rub his neck back and forth with is right hand, his left propped on his hip. The entire bridge crew of the Vengeance were silent, all fifty some. He cursed under his breath; the next several choices could me the difference between life and death on either side of the line.

“Sir, we are picking up energy spikes from Master-001. Probably charging their weapons and shields.”

“Son of a bitch. Have they sent a response yet?”

“Negative sir.”

“Tell the fleet to hold position. Tell the fleet to charge MACs if they already haven’t done so, set firing solutions for target designated master-001. Arm their missiles at captains’ discretion. Christ it looks as though it’s armed with a MAC. Raise shields and seal all unnecessary quarters.”

“Yes sir.”

“Inform the Prowler time is running short. We still might be able to leave without firing a shot if they hurry. The son of a bitch must have big balls facing these odds.”

“Sir message from Master-001.”

“Display.” Once again the message popped up on the screen, not obstructing the view of the vessel. He quickly read over it. He grinned widely. Fair Weather eh? What kind of name is that? He almost chuckled if it weren’t for the situation he was in, and when any vessel seemed to be charging weapons, one had to take precautions about mocking someone. “You call that defensive? My arse. Can you see if you can set up a real time video message?”

“We can try sir.”

“Record this for standard and typed message. You are standing witness to a defensive posture of the Commonwealth Navy. We have no intentions to engage, these are just precautions for the worse. Your display of conflict readiness is a sight of concern for us. Recall your fighters and power down your weapons. When we have first confirmation of your doing so, we will follow shortly behind. It seems we were called here on account of the same call. End transmission. We’ll take the first step, tell the fleet to recall fighters.” He started to walk to his command chair, halfway there he looked over his shoulder, casting a careful glance over the vessel. “Damn that thing looks like one of ours. Sonar are you sure it isn’t one of ours?”

“Positive sir.”

UCS. Prowler
Planet Surface of Bravo-932

The two squads of marines worked frantically to rig the facility to blow. The Captain took care of Venus, unplugging her and putting her pack into his chest pocket. It wasn’t much larger then a deck of cards. Master Sergeant Collins and his radioman ran towards the Admiral and Captain.

“Sir, that vessel has just launched fighters and is charging weapons. Vengeance suggests we hurry the hell up. They are trying to talk peacefully with them. They might have bought us enough time to get out alive.”

“Very good Master Sergeant. Are the charges ready?” The Sergeant nodded and handed over a small remote. “Excellent, move your men back to the ship. Admiral if you would be so kind as to follow them?”

1402 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system

You are standing witness to a defensive posture of the Commonwealth Navy, the figure on the screen said again. We have no intentions to engage, these are just precautions for the worse. Your display of conflict readiness is a sight of concern for us. Recall your fighters and power down your weapons. When we have first confirmation of your doing so, we will follow shortly behind. It seems we were called here on account of the same call.

With that, the transmission ended. Commodore Winters was left rolling the pipe around in his left hand, leaning to the right-hand-side of the command chair as he thoughtfully eyed the planet far ahead. "Tactical, have you got that analysis yet?"

Lieutenant Avery grimaced and nodded to the commodore. "Odds aren't good sir. We're outnumbered fourteen-to-one. In terms of firepower we're evenly matched with those cruisers but nowhere near the carrier's capabilities. Power signatures seem to indicate that they're armed with an equivalent to our MAC cannons."

At this the commodore frowned. MAC cannons in Colonial Navy use were a classified state secret, or so he'd been told. Not even he knew the exact design specifics, but he'd of course heard the rumors that they were ancient weapons brought from Ganymede by the original settlers of the Colonial Authority. That had been over three hundred years ago. Now that he thought about it, maybe other settlers had escaped from Ganymede during the war.

Question for the historians, Winters told himself as he went back to eyeing the tactical plot. The holotank behind the command chair showed all the contacts in yellow now. A sign that their intentions were unknown but suspicious. Then he went back to what he'd been reading before the message arrived: Colonial Navy Directorate 14-1.03/5.

... In the event of a first-contact situation, every effort will be made to engage person or persons in peaceful diplomatic dialogue. Colonial Navy captains are expected to uphold official government policies to the best and utmost of their abilities, and will regularly maintain contact with the government in order to be kept apprised of these developments. Military conflict is to be specifically avoided if at all possible, and will only be exercised as a means of final resort in the event of a diplomatic breakdown ...

Fine words, the commodore thought to himself as he eyed the text again. Colonial Navy captains referred to the Admiralty Directives of the 14-1.03 series, which dealt with a host of topics including confidence-building measures, trade negotiations, hostage situations, peacekeeping operations, and other like-minded topics, as the 'words of wisdom.' Privately, most rejected the documents as too broad and all-encompassing, for they seemed to have been written by someone with no first-hand field experience.

Unfortunately they were all the commodore had to go on. The Fort Ash River Military Complex was over two weeks away at best speed. It would take twice as long to receive a reply, probably longer if the request for instructions was forwarded to New Port Allansberry for input from the diplomatic corps. That was the major downside to slipspace: no matter where you went, the distance factor increased exponentially.

"Commodore, the Delesian fleet is recalling its fighters," Minerva reported. It caused the commodore to nod ever-so-slightly.

"Stand down."

"Sir?" Lieutenant Avery turned around to look at the commodore over the top of the workstation. Lieutenant Hall at operations also looked to the commanding officer.

The commodore was unfazed. "Lieutenant Avery, recall our fighters and take the missile pods offline. Minerva, status of the MAC-cannon charging?"

"Fully charged sir. Delesian vessels are still outside the firing envelope," the A.I. reported. "Do you intend to go along with the Delesian offer?"

"Yes I do. It seems to be the best one on the table right now," the commodore voiced around the stem of the pipe. He'd taken to chewing on it thoughtfully as he eyed the viewscreen. Minerva gave this the briefest moment of thought as she cross-checked several files, including the commodore's service history, his medical history and last routine psychological examination. Then she compared that to a history of the few first-contact situations that had occurred in Colonial Authority history, the directives from the Admiralty, and the psychological and medical examinations of the bridge crew.

Her subroutines quickly reached a conclusion, which she copied to the commodore. She knew what his reaction would be. However, the A.I. was also well aware that Winters was arguing with himself over this situation. The Delesians had been the first to display hostile intent. The first to power weapon systems. Her subroutines and logical sequences argued against the rashness of standing down from general quarters, but she overruled them.

<\ INT.REG#MIRANDA
<\ INT.CO#WINTERS

<\ Projection: First contact with the Delesian Commonwealth can still be made peacefully. Chance of success: 62% +\-5.

Winters gave a nod as she flashed her projections to him. "Tactical, continue with previous directives."

"Aye sir. Fighters being recalled now."

The commodore rapped his knuckles on the armrest of the chair, thinking. "Navigation, plot a jump course out of the system and update it every five minutes. If they fire I want an escape vector."

"Plot an escape vector, aye sir. Working on it now."

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

“Sir sensors indicating a power drop. And sonar indicates the fighters are returning to the vessel.”

Captain Bell looked at the screen, watching the small fighters returning to their bays. He sighed, the high collar on his uniform was tight around his neck, and he undid the button allowing himself to breath easier. He rubbed his face, and then rested his head on his hand. “Order the fleet to stow weapons, power down MAC guns, secure missiles. Stand down, I repeat stand down.”

“Sir?” The entire bridge crew stopped to look at their captain. “I don’t believe master-001 has powered down their main weapon.”

“Do it. That’s an order.” His voice a little more stiff, “Don’t make me say it twice.”

“Yes sir.” The XO officer said, then relaying the orders to the appropriate stations.

“Send a message; requesting your new intentions.”

“Yes sir.” Slowly the fleet around the carrier fell back into line, as if forgetting about the contact designated master-001.

UCS. Prowler
Planet Surface of Bravo-932

Captain Reilly stood just inside the frigate’s cargo bay doors. He looked into the storm where the entrance to the Ancient complex was, the detonator in his hand. He looked around, the Admiral standing beside and behind him, Venus safely secured in his pocket. Venus spoke,

“Sir, think about what your doing. The opportunities lost with the press of that button.”

“Venus, it’s the only way. Who knows more contacts might arrive, may destroy the fleet. Loss a lot of men and women over one building.”

“How do we know they aren’t friendly?”

Reilly stopped, and thought for a moment. Then looked at the Admiral for a suggestion, he offered none, just shrugging his shoulders.

“It’s your choice boy.”

“Captain, you must give the fleet more time to reason.” Venus said through her pack’s speakers, without the AI body the voice was sort of eerie with the body. The Captain stood for several minutes, which seemed like hours to everyone.

“Your right.” He said softly, shaking his head, “Your right as usual Venus. I’ll give them fifteen minutes, then I’m blowing it, and we are getting the hell out of here.

1425 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system

"- confirmed, sir. Delesian units appear to be standing down from combat status. Looks like their fighters are heading back to the barn, and their weapons are powering down," Tex reported with a grin on his face as if saying we did it. He was a bit overeager for the commodore's liking, always looking for a scrap with some hostile species.

He'll get his wish someday, the commanding officer of the Fair Weather thought to himself, concealing his moment of thought with some thoughtful chewing on the end of the pipe. "Let's follow suit. Power down the MAC cannon and shields."

"Aye sir." Was there a hint of disappointment in the lieutenant's voice? Winters wasn't sure but filed it away for further study at a later date. On long missions, such as this one, it never hurt to be aware of how one's junior officers felt and acted during tense situations. The commodore was almost convinced that another incident like this one might come up again at a future date and time. He was almost willing to put money on it.

"Navigation, let's move in towards the Delesians. One-quarter sublight speed, and make it a gradual intercept," the CO finally directed, after shifting in his chair to lean more to one side. In other words: no charging straight in. The type of charging that might make them nervous and jittery again. "Communications, as soon as we're in range I want to get a real-time vidlink set up with the senior military officer over there." That was the damnable handicap to this vessel: while her communications array was powerful enough, Colonial engineers had long struggled with the problem of signal degradation over long distances. Text and audio weren't problems. Video was, and it was an irritant right now.

Minerva re-appeared at the commodore's fingertips, evidently thoughtful about something. "Sir, I have been re-examining the ship's library over the last few minutes. I may have found something of interest." She waited for approval to proceed from the ship's CO.

"Go ahead." Now seemed as good a time as any, given the easing tensions. Indeed, the performance and behavior of the bridge crew seemed to confirm this.

"The energy signature from the third planet is a match with another in Colonial Authority space. Twenty-six years ago a privately-financed survey expedition charting spacelanes to New Madrigal reported picking up a similar signal from a supposedly-deserted world in the E51 system."

She paused as the commodore withdrew the pipe from his mouth, rather than talking around its stem. He was clearly interested. "Was there anything done about it?"

"No sir," Minerva reported with a shake of her head. "Atmospheric fluctuations prevented the landing of a rescue party, who thought it might be a distress call. The survey mission remained in planetary orbit for two weeks before abandoning their attempts. They noted no sign of wreckage on the surface: the DCS (Department of Commercial Shipping) thought that it was a pirate trap. So no further missions were sent."

"Interesting," the commodore muttered as he sat back in the command chair. By the thoughtful look in his eyes and his steady chewing on the pipe, Minerva knew he was thinking of something.

Just what he was thinking about, though, was anyone's guess.

OOC: Any limits on the semi-open? I didn't see any details. I'll delete if this is out of line.

IC:

The ship appeared, there wasn't much fanfare, but it was undeniably there. 15.7 kilometers long, it was a carrier of the Imperial Andermani Navy, one of exactly three of its kind. Designed as front line weapons of destruction, they were largely a flop, and despite their massive size, they had been relegated to the backbone of the exploration fleet. The spike in activity had been noted by one tiny assault boat, and now the mother ship, along with the majority of her complement had come to investigate. It was a quet investigation though. There were no messages of hostility, no demands for identification. Just the silent eyes of the behemoth, watching the events unfold before it.

ooc: well if you do want in, Bau and I agree that you must repost something with a little more... padding. If you have been reading ours, we have more depth and that's what we want to see.

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

"Would you look at that..." The sonar officer mumbled.

"Don't just talk to yourself man, give me a status report.” Captain Bell yelled furiously.

“Sorry sir… Master-001 has powered down shields and main weapon. Looks like they listened. Congratulations sir.”

“Stow it mister or I will relieve you of your duty!”

“Sorry sir.” He turned back to his screen, head down. It shot right back up, “Sir?”

“What is it sailor?”

“Sir, Master-001 on the move. Projected course…”

“Interception of task force fleet sir.” The ship’s AI spoke quickly, appearing beside the Captain’s chair. Ares was a transparent red, and looked like the Greek god, dressed in toga and battle armor, he carried his helmet under his arm, and bared no weapon. He grinned, “Should we charge the fleet’s weapons? Send out the fighters, sir? And crush them like the slaves they are.” He made an open fist in front of him and then squeezed it closed.

“Negative Ares. They are not going to try anything they are outnumbered. If that truly is a MAC gun mounted on it, well it will have to charge. And we can fire rockets if necessary. Let them come close, they maybe trying to establish better communications. Comm, any luck on the video uplink?”

“Not yet sir.”

2100 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system

It was a meeting of different groups of humans. A strange deep-space rendezvous that the casual passerby would have looked at and gone what the ...

On the one hand were the thirteen ships of the Delesian Commonwealth, and their fourteenth compatriot on the planetary surface. A sleek carrier, long and wide with prominent engines on either side of her hull. She dwarfed her escorts in silent majesty, the kingpin of a formation comprised around sheer hitting power and flexibility. Her attendant escorts were in a tight formation, clearly centered to defend the flagship if it became necessary. At best, they were clearly wary of something.

That 'something' slid into orbit ahead of them and a few thousand kilometers away, vulnerable stern and oversized propulsion drive towards the Delesian warships in a gesture of trust.

The Fair Weather was close enough in structural similarities to prompt a re-examination of both groups of starships, for it could have been easy to mistake her for one of the Delesian vessels at a distance. But the similarities in outward structural appearance are where it stopped. A MAC cannon at the bow, her hull and armor liberally covered in turrets and autocannons alike, communications masts, Archer missile pods, flight hangars, and other points of interest. Small wonder that most foreign intelligence services mistook the Gearing class heavy cruisers for pocket battleships or battlecruisers.

Sometimes the commodore wondered if the expense of maintaining the Gearing class was really necessary, the trillions of credits spent each year on maintenance and logistics for the fleet. The military of the Colonial Authority was over a million strong, spread between marines, navy, and colonial militia personnel. Commodore Winters couldn't help but feel that maybe it was like walking through a troubled neighborhood with a shotgun. It was like standing out and asking for unnecessary attention.

"Sir, this is Lieutenant Hawks. Squad assembled in hangar bay five. We're ready to roll."

The commanding officer glanced at the overhead screen, then keyed the communications system. For a brief moment he let himself forget about the squad that would be accompanying him to the surface if this went well. It was a nice hope, at least: professionally he remained curious about the nature of the distress call and what had caused the Delesians to so vehemently screen this world and their surface expedition from the Colonial Authority heavy cruiser shortly after it had arrived in the system.

The pad on the left-hand side of the command chair captured a wide-angle video shot and image to send over to the Delesian Commonwealth vessels, in what he hoped would be a real-time vidlink. "This is Commodore Winters, commanding officer, Colonial Authority of Bautizar Naval Vessel Fair Weather, requesting to speak with the Delesian officer in command of the formation approximately two thousand kilometers off my stern. Please respond."

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

“Well I’ll be damned. He’s moving in yet. Anything comm?” asked the Captain, a sign of confusion on his face. How in there right minds would go against these odds. Oh, I guess I would too… He grinned.

“Sir… I think… yes sir; it looks like a video uplink. Different, but close enough to ours it will work. Patching through to the big screen sir.”

Captain Bell turned his attention to the screen, as he was looking at the Comm Officer. A large view of a human appeared. Bell almost jumped out of his chair; it was like talking to someone from the Commonwealth. His grin broke into a smile. He listened to what the man had to say. Commodore eh? He fixed the front of his uniform and stood up, wiping the smile from his face.

“This is Captain Bell of the United Commonwealth Outer-Colony Fleet, of the UCS. Vengeance. I am acting commander of this fleet for the time being. You have something to say?”

2110 Hours, January 10, 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system

Gearing class DDSCGNs (Destroyer, Cruise Missile (Guided), Nuclear-powered) were known throughout the fleet as "Old Reliables." Their impressive masses had become sights that the average citizen was accustomed to seeing in backwater ports and on the major spacelanes alike. They were homes-away-from-homes, places of sanctuary and at the same time places of war. Small wonder that some called the class, the majority of which were over twenty years old, the "Colonial Queens."

The Fair Weather quietly swept into orbit without so much as a whisper, profiling her blocky lines and military appearance to the Delesian Commonwealth vessels. Sunlight glinted for a brief moment on her armored plates before it was extinguished as she glided around the planet, engine purring in the darkness of space. Below clouds scudded across the atmosphere and a harsh dull-white surface, a sight that some belowdecks in the hangar bays stopped occasionally to admire. Despite being out here all this time, new planets were always fascinating to look at.

Up on the bridge Commodore Winters was about to respond when Minerva flashed a message to him. Sensors reading two Delesian vessels, ~40 personnel on planetary surface. Nearby power generator not consistent with Delesian signatures: could be source of distress call.

"I think our meeting got started on the wrong foot captain," Winters finally replied, looking at the man who was waiting on his screen. "Sensors aboard my vessel are showing a ground facility of some kind, one that I believe may have been responsible for the distress call the Fair Weather is investigating. Did your fleet pick up the same signal?"

OOC: Edited, as requested.

OOC: Bump.

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

“It would appear so. You should excuse our rush to arms… you have been the first… race we have ever encounter… that’s living anyways. And yes, we had a ship on patrol nearby and it picked up the call. She reported to HQ and this fleet was dispatched, preparing for the worst. We recognized the call; it was of a language and technology we honed from. I can presume you are not the instigator of this facilities current condition?”

It all happened so quick, the slaughter of millions that would follow, the years of terror and pain. It all happened so quickly.

UCS. Prowler
Planet Surface of Bravo-932

Captain Reilly had moved up to the bridge to get in on what was happening up top in orbit, along with the Admiral. He was quite held back at the scene of the new humanoids. He crossed his arms and leaned on his chair. He had sent Sergeant Collins and three squads with Venus back into the compound to do some more investigating.

The storm that had been raging outside the hull since they arrived had calmed down, not much, but you could hear the difference. He looked out one of the portholes, as the large window had a clear image of the bridge of the Vengeance. The snow was more of a curtain then a wall now, could almost make out what was out there, if anything.

“Captain…” The sound of a broken transmission filled the room. Reilly whipped his head around looking at his comm officer for answers. She shrugged, shaking her head. It was Venus’ voice for sure, but why he could her it, she must have bypassed the ship’s PA system, or communication. Suddenly Venus, the background the command area in the facility, replaced the screen of the Vengeance. Around her marines had their rifles at the ready. Something was wrong. “Captain, do you copy? Venus here, we have an issue. I uncovered something while searching in the archives. We can call off the search for the ‘Ancients’. They are gone, wiped out. Killed off.”

“Killed off?” He was suddenly frightened, the tone and choice of words froze him. “Explain.”

“Well as it turns out sir, the Ancients were a prosperous people, their civilization spanned all over the galaxy, possibly the universe. Records are pretty beaten up. Anyways from what I can recover something, or someone attacked them. Overwhelmed them, destroying them. It, or they hunted them down across their lands. They tried to find a way to destroy them, and they were close to finding the way, but… I can’t make out the rest. It doesn’t matter anyways time is up.”

“What do you mean up? Spit it out Venus!”

“Sir those things, I believe are here. Who ever it is, they attacked us. We lost contact with second squad. And now we are hiding in the command bunker. I have activated the auto-turrets, but they are slowly breaking through. Time is short Captain. Assessment of the situation, 18% survival rate for marines and myself. And there is more.”

“More?” Now the Captain was truly scared, his hands were cold, his chest thumping.

“Facility scanners indicate vessels on the surface. All over the surface, hundreds it seems like… 183 vessels sir. Ranging from fighter to frigate size. Reactors are powering up. Your survival rate is… 63% if you leave now. I suggest you do that sir. It gets smaller with ever moment the reactors get to-“

“Sir, problems in the cargo bay. Marines are encountering something. Heavy fighting going on down there.” Lieutenant William O’Donnell cut her off. Captain Reilly looked at the Admiral who just shrugged his shoulders, offering no help.

“Damn it. Scramble everything we got. Defend the cargo bay. Start the engines and activate the auto-defense turrets. Arm missile pods A-F and remove safeties. Charge the MAC.”

“Sir, the facility is draining the power we need to do that.”

“Cut the power then.” The Captain turned back to the screen, “Venus, I’m coming to get you.” He turned to the Admiral, “Sir, you must take the Prowler and get out of here if I’m not back in ten minutes.” He nodded his head. “Lieutenant O’Donnell have a marine platoon meet me in the bay in two minutes.” Everyone went to work; Reilly took the elevator to the cargo bay, where his platoon was waiting for him. He took an assault rifle offered to him by the platoon’s CO. He pulled the bolt back, loading the weapon and waved the men out the doors down the ramp. Fighting had ceased; the enemy had left as quickly as they had come. Signs of heavy fighting were evident, blood, weapons, uniform was everywhere on the ice, but no bodies.

He didn’t have time to look around people were counting on him. As the platoon raced through the halls and corridors of the facility, he noticed the turrets had popped down from the roof when Venus activated the defense grid, and they were smoking from overheating. Blood covered the walls, guts thrown everywhere but again no bodies. All right this is fucking weird he thought to himself. They finally reached the command room’s doors, and he knocked. It opened with a screech, revealing a darkened room, the only light coming from Venus and here holographic body and the green tint from the soldiers personal HUD on their helmets. The remaining men let out a small cheer at the sight of the platoon and their Captain.

“Alright, saddle up, and move out. Our time is way over due here. I got Venus.” He ran over to her.

“Thank you sir.”

“Oh it was nothing, really. I need you to run my ship.” It wasn’t true, even though an AI made the crew’s job easier; it could be done without her. But Venus had grown on Reilly, a man who once hated the idea of AI help. He packed her up, placing her pack into his pocket. ‘Ok let’s get the hell out of here!” He led the way, running at full speed, the lights flickering in the halls, making the bloody smears eerie. Finally they broke the surface, the storm had lifted. And all around him for as far as the eye could see, ships lay. He couldn’t stop though he kept right on running. When he reached the ramp he stopped, and urged his man to move quicker. “Run you idiots! RUN!” When the last man was onboard he smacked the large red button that lifted the ramp and closed the doors. “Admiral, get us the fuck out of here.”

“Thank you Reilly” Venus said softly.

“Like I said, no problem.” He whispered back, he was out of breath but still had the energy to run to the bridge.

2115 Hours, January 2591 (Military Calendar)
CABNV Fair Weather, Remote system

"We're not even familiar with the facility here, captain," the commodore assured the man. "If the Colonial Authority or its agents had found something of interest during its explorations out here, there would have been a permanent contingent on the surface, and not a single heavy cruiser investigating a distress call." He glanced at the viewscreen and then to the planet visible on the starboard side. For a quick moment he wondered if he was going to get to see the -

"Excuse me commodore, but we have a situation developing. One that you need to be made aware of," Minerva said, interrupting his thoughts. A check confirmed that the communications line was still open ... so what was so damned important that it couldn't wait until after the courtesy call was finished? Before he could say anything the commodore looked at the holotank over his shoulder.

"Well now ..." he finally murmured aloud. "This is interesting. Ahem ... tactical, let's go to general quarters, again. Communications, start hailing the new contacts. All frequencies please. Captain, are those ships yours, by any chance?"

CABNV Fair Weather

It was only a matter of seconds before sirens again began blaring throughout the ship, from bow-to-stern. Red lights spun on bulkheads as personnel dressed in uniforms, marine armor, and civilian clothing scrambled through bulkheads that were slowing being sealed. A few individuals were still pulling on articles of clothing as they ran to their duty stations, the bleariness in their faces being quickly extinguished by the fact that the ship had - again - gone to general quarters. As usual the suddenness of having been called to action stations on what was supposed to be a day of rest and routine activity was ... well, not exactly entertaining.

More than a few hoped this new GQ call was a random occurrence, a case of mistaken identity or some random shit. News had only just started to get out from the bridge that alien ships that called themselves "Delesians" had been sighted nearby.

The P.A. speakers crackled to life with a hiss of static, soon replaced by the voice of the ship's A.I. Her usual flirting-like nature was gone, replaced by what seemed to be all business. Those that knew her or at least interacted with her knew that this wasn't a good sign. "Attention all combat personnel. Please report to your action stations. This is not a drill. Fourteenth platoon secure airlock on deck 11. 14th platoon rendezvous with 22nd tactical at bulkhead Charlie-14. This is not a drill. I repeat, this is not a drill."

In the hangar bays pilots were again scrambling into their ships, or were sprinting from the ready rooms to their ships. Engines were rumbling to life as munitions bays closed, filling the compartments with a terrible screech of hydraulics and metal-on-metal. Exhaust fumes billowed from more than a few ships engaged in engine pre-start sequences. Gas and deuterium fumes filled the air as ground crew in yellow jerseys scrambled away from ship after ship. Occasionally a dropship roared down the length of the bay before vanishing into the port-starboard/bow-stern access tunnels.

CABNV Fair Weather, Main Bridge

"Battle two manned and ready. Auxiliary damage control station four, manned and ready. Still with me?" an ensign inquired of his neighbor at the operations consoles. His "partner" scowled at him and put his hands on his hips. The cowboy hat on the purple-colored avatar only made it more entertaining. Only the red lights flashing in the ceiling put a damper on the comedy of the moment.

"Son, ah was born ready," the A.I. announced with a stamp of its holographic boot on the console projector. "Lemme git mah six-guns and we'll have ah good ol'-fashioned shootout."

"Not if we can help it Samuels. Get back to the status check," Lieutenant Hall interjected. Chastened, the "dumb" A.I. nodded and went back to consulting in a low voice with his partner.

Communications was still at it, with all her usual efficiency. "Attention unidentified vessels, this is the Colonial Authority of Bautizar, Colonial Navy vessel Fair Weather, requesting to know your intentions at this time. I repeat ..."

In the center of the bridge Commodore Winters was still on the line with Captain Bell, despite the gravity of the situation. "- sensors showing over a hundred starships on the surface, and a few already in the air. There's been no response to our hails as of yet, but I'm hoping it'll change. Are you sure you're not familiar with these contacts?" He glanced outside, looking for the familiar metal triangular shapes of the ship's Longsword fighters. Instead all he saw was the planet disappearing at an angle as the Fair Weather banked hard to port, alarms clanging away. Orders had already been given to take the ship out of planetary orbit. Winters was a paranoid man, and he didn't like several hundred ships suddenly showing up on sensors.

Far below through the clouds, alien starships were emerging from caves and chasms that until now had been covered in ice and snow. Entire gullies were shattered and cracked wide open, pieces as large as houses falling down far below into darkness as new shapes with all sorts of spikes, strange red glaring parts, and bodies visible briefly through windows lifted into the air. And joined the armada that was continuing to rise in wave after wave into the stars.

OOC: Bump

UCS. Vengeance
Orbit above planet Bravo-932

Son of a bitch! What the devil is that? Although Captain Bell was still on the line with the ‘alien’ vessel, he had strayed over to the sonar station to observe what the other captain was talking about. The screen was lit up with contact signatures.

“I can assure you, that those are not mine… or the Commonwealth’s. Just what the hell is going on?” Bell turned to the Comm officer, “Contact the Prowler and just see what the hell is going on down there!”

“Sir ground communications are being interfered with. It might be from all the activity or a jamming device. We can’t reach the Prowler.” The last sentence hung in the air, ringing in the ears of the sailors on the bridge. Bell rubbed his forehead he felt a little lightheaded. The man named Winters continued to talk, saying the new fleet wasn’t responding to hails. Bell was willing to give the new contacts time to respond instead of having another stand off. One day the Commonwealth is alone minding their own business in the universe and suddenly they run into several races. He grinned at the irony. Suddenly the Combat Control officer was shaking.

“CAPTAIN!” He yelled, a hint of fear, “The… they… incoming fire from the surface!”

Bell’s grin disappeared; it was back to reality, “Bring the fleet to battle stations. Charge the MACs, disengage safeties and arm the missiles. Launch fighters and sound for collision. Rig ship’s for charges.” With those orders the crew understood the shit was going to hit the fan. “Get me a visual!” The large viewing window suddenly had another video window, this time towards the surface, small figures breaking orbit, in front of them smaller projectiles of all sorts. “Evasive maneuvers and return fire!” The Vengeance was now in the AI’s ‘hand’s’ as the brain of the AI would be able to handle the massive ship easier and more precise then humans in this situation. The floor slightly jolted at the reactors powered up to 100% throwing the carrier into a hastily retreat to a safe distance to engage the new threat from relative safety, a maneuver well drilled into officers’ head’s at the Naval Academy. The rest of the fleet could be seen spreading out and firing missiles and the occasional MAC round. MAC rounds are powerful but few in numbers, in many of the ships in this fleet and needed to be used sparingly. The fighter’s on the other hand blasted towards the targets engaging in close quarters. Suddenly a corvette stopped, for no apparent then imploded on itself.

“Sweet Jesus that was the Velocity…” she just imploded sir.”

“I can bloody well see it! Are we recording this? Make sure this crap is being sent to FleetCOM!”

The UCS. Assail was one of the three frigates and he was in the thick of it, she was surrounded by enemy vessels. Then small plums or balls of fire erupted all over the hull; she was hit repeatedly and quickly exploded into one giant plum of fire.

“Captain another ship down, this time the Assail.”

“Damn it we are losing the fleet.” He didn’t even stop to think about it, it was just instinct what told him what to do next, “Beat the retreat. Pull back, all ships retreat. Jump out of system. Regroup at a given sector, Navigation can you find a good spot and send the coordinates to everyone? Including our new found friends.” At some point the in the intense initial seconds communication had been lost with the Colonial ship.