NationStates Jolt Archive

Twelve years after the transition from Galactic Republic to Galactic Federation, the Federation Navy had started to build starships coming from designs retrieved from the Jedi Archives. These precious fragments of history would have been all but guranteed to be lost, if not for the valiant few who fought for the knowledge when Nova Kretani fell to the Galactic Empire. Millions died, as did the Republic itself.

This was the Exodus of Anagonia. The catalyst for change happened when they found a new area of space untouched by Imperial hands. They quickly founded a new galactic nation, what was left of the Jedi and Sith Orders coming together as one and forming a new, Grand Republic. Prosperity soon became commonplace, and threats of the Imperial Return put billions in fear of yet another displacement. The Galactic Republic stood firm and the military became first-rate. All eyes and hearts became tied into defense, into defending the new home.

Eventually, when no Imperial Aggression came, people became complacent, peaceful, and feared no longer.

The entire Republic turned on its heels. No longer was the Imperial threat in the minds of the populace. No longer were the eyes of worlds wanting for massive defenses, and their taxes turned to the military. They wanted more, they wanted to become more. So the Galactic Federation, over twelve years of transition, finally became a reality for the hearts and minds of the People. It was now something more.

Exploration, Discovery, and Peace. That was the motto of the Galactic Federation. And it still hadn't fully formed yet. Everything was an organized chaos. Central government was almost totally nonexistent, and the Military Organization was creeping into existence as something so disorganized that only one Admiral was actually in place to oversee the transition. Thankfully, the People of Anagonia were a patient lot, and as such took home to the World Governments until the Federation itself was fully in place.

Planet Alpha Ceti Minor / Alpha Ceti Solar System - Federation Border World - Population: Three Million Citizens

Alpha Ceti Minor was a peaceful farming world, lacking in the modern cities and skyscrapers, instead preferring modest homesteads and one central space port. Nothing significant ever happened here, never did in recorded history. It was a useless planet, to be blunt. The only valuable resource was the military training grounds on the northern continent. Other than that notable component, only Federation scout ships dared to venture this far out.

This was why it was the perfect place for the Federations newest commanders to learn and train. In orbit, around a happenstance world, where nothing took place, the Federations finest trained the next generation of Starship Commanders. Unfortunately, due to the disorganization, there basically wasn't much training to do expect waiting for the next assignment.

The Galactic Federation Starship Pathfinder had just recently left the construction yard after a year of toiling and boiling over the schematics found since the opening of the Jedi Achieves. She was built upon the Miranda Class (http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Miranda_class) Cruisers and was to be designated the Fleet Leader for the newer generation of starship being built. Her crew had just come out of the academy, straight from training, and had been assigned originally for training in the Alpha Ceti system. Due to time constraints and the lack of overall military leadership, she was instead assigned to long-range patrol for the time being.

So with only one ship, straight from the docks, having never been tested in combat, her captain never been under pressure, patrolling one insignificant system, things were bound to get quite boring.

BUMP for ADHD

....But things would become interesting for the captain of the vessle. A force was approaching, a force of unpredicable power. This enemy attacked you from the outside...as well as from inside. The races its dealt with have been absorbed into its unifying Alliance...be you young, old, weak, or strong, smart or dumb. They come from a world where light rarely shines where there are freezing tunnels and cracks. They evolved during a time of beauty, on the Islands of a tropical world that has become a popsicle of clear blue ice. So here they come, again searching for another home...always looking forward. Yet they do not wager on looking forward, or behind, the time is now in there minds. The ships lay cloacked, five Shredder class frigates and a Nova class warship, quietly sitting idle in space, waiting for someone to trip the wire.

OOC: Another TG for Anagonia

While the Frigates and Warship were approaching under cloak, they were not the only ones doing so. Not far behind them but completely oblivious to their presence, was a tri-engined ship with it's powerplant set in a triangle shape. It's nose tapered to a neat and elegant point while her phaser banks and rows of turbolaser turrets created no illusion to her original purpose. This was the APS Icarus and she was an Alversian I-Class Cruiser.

She was in deep space for a reason, a simple reason. She was a part of the new Deep Space Fleet. The old one had been wiped out in a battle with a devastating race known as the SASM, a race that proved superior to many species and led to a great path of destruction across that part of the universe. Now the Icarus had been redeployed to the Deep Space Fleet and her mission was one of diplomacy and exploration.

The I-Class were far from the biggest vessels available to the Alversians but they were also far from defenceless. Each had a crew of only 600, but that was more due to the advanced AI controlling a vast part of the ship functions. The I-Class had proven superior to the Imitator Shredder before, although she was more of an escort than a Battleship.

She maintained her flightpath through the system, scanning the surrounding area while safe under her cloak. The only disadvantage was that she could not be hidden and fire her weapons at the same time, but that was not much of a setback for a ship of Diplomacy.

Captain Agamemnon sat without moving in the command chair of the GFSS Pathfinder, occasionally swerving his elongated head to oversee the bridge activities. He was constructed nearly fifty years ago, integrated with the combined information of his mother and father like all Droidekans. His creation was that of a singular chip, then placed into a B-1 Battle Droid Chassis that would roughly serve as his body through out his expected life span.

Placed almost immediately into the service of the Military, he learned the ways and traditions and languages of every race encompassing the Federation. All Droidekans were brought up this way, following the teachings of Father Prometheus, and expected to reside in the Federation as the center of logic and guidance. Just like Prometheus, they all served to assist the organics, not to rebel against them.

He took note of the bridge stations, gazing around. Located in the front was the ship's viewscreen, which Agamemnon had turned his attention away from. Side-by-side navigation and helm consoles sat before him. His Captains chair was directly aft of the aforementioned stations. At the center-rear of the bridge was the turbolift entryway. The primary stations, which were located along the rear of the bridge, included the tactical station on the port side of the bridge. Along the rear starboard side of the bridge were the primary science station and communications station.

Chief Science Officer and Second in Command Commander Zar'Rok sat at the science station, quietly gazing towards Agamemnon as his gaze fell on Zar'Rok. He was a Raptorian, roughly six feet and nine inches in height, with the inability to wear any footwear at all due to the killing claws that evolution kept at their feet. The station chair was well accommodated to his tail, and he maintained a rather un-Raptorian like posture. With his species known as a Warrior Race, Zar-Rok took pride in the fact that he kept his mind on his studies and emanated a rather social attitude towards everyone he met. A gentle giant, some would call him. His command capabilities were not hampered by this. Rather, his openness compelled others to be quite loyal, and Agamemnon saw that as a benefit.

Chief Communications Officer Lieutenant Elva Melton graduated from the academy with honors in transmission decoding, a minor in domestic languages. Her skills in foreign languages for First Contacts was roughly second rate, but her diplomatic abilities made up for this lack of experience. She always kept her brown hair tied up, and kept her uniform in perfect condition. She presented an atmosphere of authority around her, unlike Zar'Rok who only did so when in the position to.

Chief Tactical Officer Lieutenant Commander Takuun had graduated from the Academy to go directly into the Colonial Marine Corps, the new name of the Republic Marines. He had gone to training, served on a few mission, and was then transfered for duty on board the Pathfinder. He was a typical Elven, yet his piercing cobalt blue eyes and striking silver cut hair ensured that all who gazed at him understood how serious he was. His uniform matched that of a typical marine, which was acceptable under Federation regulations, and he commanded a detachment of Colonial Marines on the ship.

The Chief Navigations Officer and Chief Helms Officer were both human. Ensign Hugo and Ensign Pine were the only two who Agamemnon didn't personally know, and he never caught their full names on orientation. They were ensigns, being trained here to be prepared for duty on board a battleship. Agamemnon didn't see any value in getting to know them, only requiring they do their jobs.

Agamemnon stood then, metallic hands folding behind his chassis as the ceiling lights reflected off his newly furnished bronze plating. Every Droidekan had a certain style or color to their outer skin, both reflecting their personality and their parental heritage. He looked to Commander Zar'Rok.

"Anything on sensors," his asked in a mechanical tone.

Zar'Rock looked at the scanner screen before him, looking back and shaking his head. "Negative. Every thing's clear."

Agamemnon nodded, then went back to sitting in the chair. So far, so good. No happenings, and planetary scans showed negative expect for basic Federation Military exercises to the north. Orbital and deep space scans showed nothing, probably because sensors were still calibrating for deep space searches. But he assumed everything was clear.

They had just tripped the wire, the fleet decloaked around them and shields began to raise as well as alarms aboard the AIW vessles. They made there presence known to the Federation vessle, they awaited there reaction.

As the Icarus plodded on, Captain Mathias stared out at the vast expanse of space and sighed from his Chair on the Bridge. Mathias was middle aged by Alversian standards, which would place him in his 70's or 80's by Human standards. His hair was military short and, although he didn't look powerful, he was still one of the best fighters in the Alversian People's Navy. He also stood out on the bridge because he wore the old royal blue waist jacket of the APN while the rest of his young crew bore the brand new blood Red tunics.

Nicknamed 'Scar' by his younger Officers, Mathias came from a long line of Soldiers and shame. His ancestor, Sami Mathias had led the Republican Army during the first Alversian Civil War and that made him an enemy of the people. Like his ancestors he had tried to remove that blemish with bravery in action. Although the People's Republic did not smile upon his name, they were fair enough to promote him to Captain.

Mathias stared across and surveyed his bridge. Sitting to his right was his First Officer, a Xiscapian by the name of Tara. She bore the traditional traits of the Xiscapian Race, such as fox tail and ears as well fox eyes and quicker reflexes. She was also the polar opposite to Mathias himself. While Mathias had joined the APN because he had been forced to by his Father and Grandfather, Tara had joined because she longed for adventure, something that a job as a Shop Clerk could not provide. She was educated and smart, something Mathias also lacked.

They were sitting on the second of the three tiers that made up an Alversian bridge. The front of the lower tier consisted of the Flight controls, manned by the Flight Officer, Lieutenant Hillman. Hillman was the new generation of cheeky and dynamic Officers that used technology and ingenuity to solve problems as opposed to the instinct and experience of Mathias. The man was fresh out of the APN Officer's Academy but he was already a Lieutenant. Mathias had a grudging respect for the young Alversian, although he didn't like his cocky attitude and quick tongue.

The second tier was the one that held the Captain's and First Officer's chairs before the final tier which held the bulk of the consoles. Directly behind Mathias was Lieutenant-Commander Natasha Night who was the Communications Officer. She was a borne Diplomat, an Officer's Officer with a pristine Uniform and a determination to stick by Naval Procedures. She was smart and Mathias secretly wished more of his Officers were like her in terms of time-keeping and manners.

The other two Officers he was unsure about. Manning Tactical and the Sensory Panels were both brand new to his ship. A Xiscapian and an Alversian Ensign. Both of them had been drafted in to replace the dreadful losses that had been inflicted on the APN by the SASM War.

Still, it didn't look like there was anything in this area of space. Nothing he could see anyway. Mathias was exhausted. He was coming to the end of his 8 hour shift and the sooner it ended, the sooner he could go to bed and forget about the prejudice and hate that had followed him his whole life. Only two people had ever shown kindness offhand and both of them were Admirals. Admiral Reynolds, who commanded a lot of respect in the APN and Admiral Reyes, the talented young Half-Breed who had led Alversia to victory in the SASM war.

An alarm went off and the Xiscapian Ensign, whose name Mathias couldn't recall, gave a cry,
"Officer of the Watch!" He called stiffly
Mathias twisted in his seat so he could look up at the Ensign,
"Go ahead, Ensign" He sighed.

"Ship detected ahead, by the looks of it, it's a warship of some kind."

Mathias frowned, "Type? Race?"

"Both unknown, we have never encountered them before, Sir" The Kitsune dutifully reported.

Mathias sighed, the instinct that had kept him alive for this long was telling him that the threat was not the warship in front but something else. Another menace in the area that he couldn't quite put his finger on.

"What do you think?" He asked Tara, hoping to use her more logical approach to help him decide.

She shrugged, throwing her long purple hair in all directions, "They're unknown" She stated, "We won't know until we ask"

Mathias nodded, "We shall wait in position here until something comes up. I want to watch my new friend here until I know he's not trigger happy" Mathias lent on his entwined fingers and sighed again.

Then another siren and this time, Mathias did jump,
"What was that?" He demanded from his chair.

"Imitators, Sir, several Shredders and a Nova-Class Warship" The Kitsune replied.

Mathias groaned. Against a 'Shredder' as the Alversians nicknamed Imitator Frigates the I-Class were easily superior, even two or three if the Cruiser was well handled. But against a Nova-Class, she had no chance. The I-Class were escorts, not frontline warships.

"Remain cloaked for now, Lieutenant," he signaled to Hillman, whose hand had been hovering over his controls, "I want to see where this goes"

That made it sound harsh but, in truth, Mathias did not want to sacrifice his 600 crew so quickly for something he knew nothing about. He would wait and see the reactions of both races before he reacted himself.

Agamemnon had retired to the Captains Quarters, which were quite similar in construction to the new Constellation-Class crew cabins (http://memory-alpha.org/en/wiki/Constellation_class#Crew_Cabins). Spartan in comparison, and basically lacking in most leisures that organics seemed obsessed with, the newer generation of warships the Federation was constructing was intended to ensure to save space for more vital equipment and utilities. As such included more technology at the cost of personal pleasure. These ships, in his droidekan mind, were a blessing to training the newer generation of space adventures for the rigors and demands of Naval service.

His personal cabin had been altered. Since he did not require a bed, the wall was replaced with two information consoles dealing with scientific and military applications. His personal Computer Console had remained, and the spartan bathing unit had been replaced with a repair unit should his mechanical chassis require it. When he did sleep, he would do so in that unit.

He had been monitoring the sensor readings from the bridge from his computer console, instead shifting his attention to an incoming priority transmission. As Captain, he had the ability to deny the request and respond when he felt like it. As a Droidekan, service and responsibility came first. He answered as soon as the message popped up on his screen, and an image of an aged Komodren appeared. He knew the female well, she being the Grand Admiral assigned to the new Federation Fleet.

"Grand Admiral Zeltess, it is an honor." He inclined his head in a mock bow of sorts for respect, then straightened in his chair. "I was not expecting you."

You could actually see the creases along her muzzle form a smile of sorts, her eyes welcoming towards Agamemnon. "Come now, I'm full of surprises."

Indeed she was. It was because of Zeltess' pull that Agamemnon was in this command position. She found him fit enough for duty, despite his age and growth. He was forever in her debt for her trust in him, and found his loyalty to her not misplaced. "Indeed," he placed both metallic hands on the console in a very human gesture of being comfortable. "May I inquire to the honor of this conversation?"

"Of course," she said while retaining the smile, somehow to exposing the reptilian teeth. "I wished to inform you that I am now Grand Admiral of the Federation Starfleet. The decision was finalized today on an entity to oversee these new starships being produced."

"That is something good to know," he nodded. "What about the political arena?"

"Oh," she tilted her head sideways and chuckled, "We have a formal Congress of the Federation, but the only thing holding it together is Drakomis and his presidency."[i] She shrugged, "[i]Were halfway through the transition, so give them time."

Agamemnon nodded once more. Previously Zeltess and him had a long conversation about worries concerning the Federation and the formalization of a political entity for the People. By her words now, he concluded that things were improving better than expected. He took comfort in that. "Hopefully we shall become a true Federation within weeks, if not days?" He had to ask the question.

"Hopefully," she responded. "You have it right on the mark, I'm led to believe."

The twinkle in her slitted eyes said it all. Things were finally coming to a finish. The transition was almost over, and full production of these new ships- Starfleet ships, he had to correct himself -would be underway. No longer simple training missions with no purpose. Within days, they would be underway on a true mission. One of exploration and discovery. He looked forward to this also.

"Good," he finally said after a long moment of thought, "and what shall become of the Pathfinder now?"

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On the Bridge, Commander Zar'Rok took the Captains chair with little to no comfort. His tail had to be positioned sideways along side the arm rest and down the front just so he could sit. His chair had a place to allow his tail to slump comfortably out the back of, the Captains did not. He suspected that soon enough these modifications would be in place, so for now he would endure.

The entryway parted as someone led themselves on the bridge. He gazed back, his slitted eyes taking note of the Chief Engineer making an appearance. Zar'Rok knew him as Lt. Commander Victor Cheznok. From their experience in the academy together, Victor had presented himself as a genius in science and mathematics. He could have easily had chosen thousands of positions anywhere in the fleet with that qualification alone, however he chose Starship Engineering and made how ships work his life's devotion. Nothing on this ship, no sound, no groan, and no part went over his notice. He had spent weeks in drydock as the construction was being completed just researching the Pathfinder. Already he had overhauled the Hyper-Warp drive with spare parts alone, making him the most experienced new Chief Engineer to date in the Federation. Such qualifications hadn't gone unnoticed, and Zar'Rok was well pleased to find his experience staying on the Pathfinder instead of the new Starcarrier being constructed.

With a gentle nod he greeted Lt. Commander Cheznok, who handed him a PAD with information on it. Going along with standard procedure as acting Captain, until the Captain returned, he looked over the specifications and found that Cheznok had overhauled plenty more systems than Zar'Rok had realized. After a few moments, he signed off on it, and thanked the Chief Engineer as he gave a graceful bow and left the bridge.

Zar'Rok crossed his reptilian legs in a human fashion, tapping his clawed fingers on the armrests as he contemplated the view of space presented. There was no activity whatsoever. Sensors had finally been calibrated according to the Chief Engineer's report, and still found nothing interesting other than the occasional stray signal. He had even ordered those signals scanned, but nothing came up.

Uncrossing his legs and sitting firmly up in the Captains Chair, he sighed softly, making sure it was unheard. Then a klaxon erupted from the Science station, and he looked to the ensign taking over for him there. Zar'Rok knew what that signal meant.

"How many," he demanded in a low growl.

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Agamemnon came from the entryway seeing the Red Alert lights running across the barren walls of the bridge. He looked to the Captains Chair, seeing Zar'Rok vacate it and relieving the ensign at the Science Station afterward. He placed himself in the seat, and listened as reports came from all around.

"We were surrounded by cloaked vessels," reported Zar'Rok from his station. "Sensors weren't calibrated to detect the cloaking signals."

"Shields are raised and weapons are ready," Ensign Hugo reported from Navigation.

"Communications on all Foreign Language channels are now open, Captain." Lieutenant Elva Melton swiveled in her chair back to her station, ready for the Captains response.

Agamemnon nodded, and began a sharp diplomatic response.

Attention to unidentified ships:

I am Captain Agamemnon of the Galactic Federation Starfleet Vessel Pathfinder. You are currently in Federation space, and I kindly ask you to retreat from your attack formation. I assure you, should you pursue an aggressive course of action, I will respond in force. Do not, I repeat, do not attempt hostilities.

As we speak our Federation Starfleet Command is being notified of this encounter. It is my hopes that this shall be a diplomatic arrangement, and I offer you the chance to back off your forces to engage in peaceful negotiations. The Federation wishes to get to know all alien races, and yours is no exception.

Please do not pass up this opportunity. Agamemnon out.

"Message sent to Admiral Zeltess of Starfleet," Elva said calmly. "I'm awaiting their reply."

"Sir," Zar'Rok spoke up from the bridge commotion. "If they engage in hostilities, our ship will be no match."

"Agreed," Lt. Commander Takuun finally spoke. "It is advisable to get as far from their ships as possible."

Agamemnon thought for a few moments, then raised his metallic hand to point at the Helm console. "Ensign Pine, take us back slowly." He looked back to Takuun, "Keep our shields full forward, and activate secondary EM Shields for beam protection." He looked back at the viewscreen. While no emotions could be shown from his droid form, inside he felt something quite new to him. He was unsure of the situation, unsure of himself. Would they respond peacefully? If so, how would they take the obvious stance the Pathfinder was taking to back off yet keep them in weapons sights?

He would sigh if he could. Such things were the weight of command. Hopefully reinforcements would arrive to assist. Looking down at the armchair console and the schematics that sensors were picking up, these new alien ship designs looked ready for war. The Pathfinder, built by a generation in hopes of averting war and embracing peace, was less qualified to deal with such heavy numbers.

Time would tell. Hopefully time could be an ally.

The fleet uncloacked and began charging weapons and raising shields. After a few moments it replyed in kind .

" We are the Alliance..."

"Their charging weapons and raising shields," reported Takuun from behind.

Agamemnon leaned against one metallic arm as he considered, in record time, all possible outcomes. The shields would hold against normal phaser and beam weapons, while the EM shields would literally bend particle weapons away. Anything physical, and the shields could only take so much, while the EM Shields remained useless. The Pathfinder was equipped with six Fusion-class Laser Banks, and four photon torpedo launchers. These weapons alone were not enough to combat this enemy fleet, only hold them off. Scare them.

That was it! Scare them. Perhaps if he averted their attention elsewhere.....

"Mr. Takuun, give me a photon spread across their bow. Ensign Hugo, I want as much power to fusion drives, full aft. Keep us at a respectable distance, by their configuration they can't match our speed."

Zar'Rock would have spoken up about some unseen worry, but he kept his eyes on his station as Takuun and the helmsman acknowledged the order. In space, the Pathfinder began a fast pace retreat style, maneuvering easily backward to avoid any collisions. Immediately following, four red orbs shot forth from the torpedo roll-bar at the top of the Miranda-Class, arching intentionally to miss the huge Nova-class and streaming aways from the other ships.

He opened communications once again.

Attention: This is your last chance for a peaceful resolution. We have fired warning shots, and will not hesitate to aim true next time. Back off, or be destroyed. Your actions are presented as hostile, you will be defeated.

"They all themselves the 'Alliance'," spoke Elva Melton from Communications after the message was broadcast. "They sound....emotionless Captain."

"Perhaps they are," Agamemnon responded. "Either way, we gave warning."

The fleet follwed them as they retreated backwards in space. The ships acting like sharks, begining to circle.

" Lower your shields and surrender your ships, life as you and your companions know it will be adapted to service us, defiance will be met with violence."

"They're following us," reported Takuun.

"Incoming transmission," said Elva from her Communications station. Agamemnon ordered it on bridge speakers, and a responding, emotionless voice filled the already panicked noise level of the bridge.

Lower your shields and surrender your ships. Life as you and your companions know it will be adapted to service us. Defiance will be met with violence.

He sagged in his seat, defeat filling his posture as he gazed about the bridge. Everyone was looking at him, while he gazed helplessly at the viewscreen of the circling ships. They were outnumbered, probably out gunned, and now they were dealing with a hostile enemy fleet. Such things were not supposed to happen on a shakedown mission. Such things shouldn't happen to a rookie crew. The sad fact of it all was that it was happening, and no matter how much Agamemnon denied the mathematical odds of this happening, no amount of logic or hope could deter the situation at hand.

He sat straighter in his captains chair, everyone responding by doing the same. A moment ago, everyone felt as hopeless as he did. Now, something had changed, something had taken over. In his Droidekan mind, he had a responsibility to ensure the survival of himself and the one-hundred and fifty odd crew on board this vessel. If this was a hopeless situation, if they had to fight, they would give them one helluva beating before they would consent to surrender. Already he felt pride for the Federation, and felt honor in defending the values it stood for, even if they had to die to ensure it stood another day longer.

All this going through his mind in a matter of nanoseconds. He nodded towards the helmsman. "Ensign Hugo, make ready for battle maneuvers. Mr. Takuun, fire at will, and make damn sure our shields hold."

The Miranda-Class starship thrust forward at unimaginable speed. Only the inertial dampeners protected the crew from the huge velocities being put on the ships. Forward, the Pathfinder tilted thirty degrees on its axis to start a pass by the Nova-Class ship, firing four photon torpedoes directly toward it. Two fusion lasers banks charged across the saucer of the Miranda, firing their powerful bursts towards the smaller ships. Another two charged, then a third, firing towards the Nova.

At this speed, not much could hit it. Only particles and beams. The EM shields would protected the hull from them. So long as they remained fast, they would avoid their only weakness.

The fleet engaged immediatly at there fleeting enemys. They fleet focused there Anti-air plasma-rays as well seeing as the enemy had no fighters, space was lit up with blue plasma streaking out, trying to connect with there enemys. The incoming photon torpedoes damaged the Nova-class heavily, resulting in some hull damage, shields dropping to 50%, and life support damage.

"The larger ships shields are down Fifty-percent, with minor hull damage." Takuun was silent for a moment looking over the report, "Life support is damaged on their ship."

"Good," Agamemnon spoke with authority, "Let's give them hell."

As the Pathfinder flew past the Nova-Class ship, beams arched towards it from the enemy fleet. The Miranda's shields were struck, nearly buckling for a short second before the EM Shields deflected the shots towards the planet. The Miranda tilted another twenty degrees to turn, majestically like a fighter plane turning for the killing shot. The Miranda returned to the normal axis, she flying straight towards the Nova as all six Fusion banks charged across the saucer in rainbow-ish light display.

The Pathfinder had maneuvered so as to get at least a ten kilometer distance so she could turn around for a killing strike. That succeeded, she quickly made the distance and, with her photons reloaded, fired two towards the Nova. Finally, at nearly one kilometer from the Nova, all Fusion Banks opened up in a volley of intense power, aimed directly at what critical points were detected on the Nova.

With all this action, a few plasma bursts were ignored, and two slammed into the aft shields of the Pathfinder to create a light display that finally ended with the aft portion buckling completely. The only thing that saved the ship was the backup Electro-Magnetic Shields, which disappointed the plasma by deflected the power directed towards it. A few more hits like that and the EM shields wouldn't be able to compensate.

On the bridge, stations sparked at the electrical strain. Elva Melton had to jump from her station to avoid an arch of electricity, while Hugo at the helm was slammed onto his console. He recovered, thankfully.

Agamemnon received a message from engineering via the inter-ship communications, looking at nothing in particular as the voice echoed on the bridge.

"Captain, Fusion generators are at ninety-three percent! The strain from those plasma bursts could buckle the containment fields!"

Again, if Agamemnon could sigh, he would. "Mr. Cheznok, I do apologize, but were in the middle of a battle here. Keep her contained."

He closed the channel as Victor Cheznok was about to rebuttal his command. He would have allowed it, of course. The Chief Engineer was the soul of the ship, keeping her steady. Right now, unfortunatley, he couldn't deal with that. He had to concentrate on surviving.

The Icarus continued to hover over the battle, watching as the little cruiser fought admirably against the Imitators. The Crew watched the battle tensely, they were itching to get in and join the fight, to help that brave ship fighting for it's life, even Lieutenant Commander Tara was desperate to get her teeth into the enemy ships.

But Mathias waited. He knew what he was looking for, an opening. Any opening. He knew that charging like a bull elephant would only aggravate the situation and put his own ship in the firing line as much as that Cruiser down there already. He had his height advantage, now he needed something else. He tapped his fingers on the edge of his chair and hummed a little song to himself. This was something, the bridge crew noticed he did when he was nervous, or under stress. None of them dared admit it to Captain 'Scar' though. He could be as nervous as he liked, so long as he brought them home.

"Battlestations, Commander Tara" He said quietly to his First Officer who jumped slightly, startled by the sudden order.

She tapped a button on her little side console and the lights on the bridge dimmed, to be replaced by a deep blue that bathed the crew in a surreal, almost mystical light. This ambiance was frequently interrupted by the flashing bars of red ingrained into the corners of every wall, between the roof and the top of the wall itself.

The ship was silent, save for the mechanized voice that cried out,
"Red Alert. All crew to Battlestations." every few moments and the Turbo-laser turrets which were filled with shouts and calls as the men loaded the canisters that would charge the ions and thus create a large bolt of destruction to be thrown from the twin guns. Other than that, the ship held it's breath in anticipation.

The bridge was silent as well. Six hundred minds waited for one man. Mathias continued to stare straight ahead, hoping he could time this right. His instincts were why he was alive today, they had guided him though five full wars and countless skirmishes in his career.

Now he had the usual moment of panic and self-doubt. There was no basis for his 'instinct' the newer generation dismissed it as nothing more than mere superstition, while his generation believed it was what had guided them through some of the toughest battles in Alversian history. They were a dying breed. But they were stubborn and they would stick with their instincts until the day it got them killed.

Then Mathias snapped out of it. He had seen his chance! The Nova-Class had maneuvered to the side in order to bring as many weapons as possible to bear on the nimble little cruiser and was now below and ahead his own cruiser and he knew what he could do. He would dive down, use the element of surprise and tear into the Battleship. With luck, his concentrated fire would destroy it and he pull up and target another frigate from below. The shock of that should be enough to force the Imitators to withdraw, if only temporarily.

Although Alversia was not officially at war with the Imitators and would not be so for quite a while, a secret communique from the APNHQ had described that Captains could use their own discretion when engaging them as to wither it was a good idea or not. Mathias was about to use his own initiative here.

"Decloak Commander!" He called, "Hillman! Bring us down onto that beauty at the end of their line! Keep her straight and let Tactical blow her away!"

Hillman saluted and pressed a few commands into the control panel in front of him. He flexed his fingers, making each of his knuckles crack before he settled them down on the panel in front of him.

The Icarus emerged above and behind the Imitator force, pulling from her cloak like one would pull a blanket off a car. With that, the tri-engined warship was in a screaming dive tearing straight for the Nova-Class. Mathias clung to his seat, even though the advanced AI would compensate for the G Forces that would be pulled and preventing the crew being thrown from their feet.

He watched his view-screen as small dots of light on the Engine support struts at his stern began to glow a fierce red. He wasn't even shocked when four beams of bright red light were flung from his ship and connected with the Battleship. A few seconds later, the beams were back. This time they were joined by a small convoy of torpedoes dispatched from the launchers on each 'wing'.

They flew as one into the Imitator vessel. I-Class would be no match for a Nova-Class in a head-on fight but this time, he had the element of surprise, her shields and hull were already damaged and Frigates too spread out to offer an effective screen.

So the Icarus plowed on.

"Ships decloaking!" After a few short, tense moments Takuun spoke again, "Their firing on the enemy vessels!"

"Good, we can use all the help we can get." Agamemnon continued the course for the Pathfinder, determined to get as much damage done as possible.