"LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda"

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LUNAR:  Starship Andromeda

By Jeffery C. Branch and Daryll Pung

Episode Three:  Friendly Little Firefight

Rated: R

Listening Post Fifteen, on the southern border of the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

            Lieutenant Commander Jonette Archer, an attractive brunette in her late thirties, had a hard time believing what she had been told.  Because if she put any credence into the information she had been given, then a potentially dangerous problem was brewing in the region.

            As the commanding officer of the post, Archer’s job was to be the eyes and ears of the RSN, to be a watchdog for threats from the likes of the Dark Kingdom and other hostile races throughout the region.  And, given it was sparsely colonized and explored, and was the furthest away from Luna, dealing with unknown dangers was a daily concern.  Still, it was a job she enjoyed.  In this particular instance, however, the notion of dealing with political and religious intrigue was something Archer took no pleasure in.

            Seated at her desk in her office, Archer mulled over the information given her by the small, nervous looking Vegan man seated before her.  The man, nursing a glass of water, which shook in his blue tinted hands, was openly apprehensive.

            “Okay, Mr. Dyrstade, let’s get right to specifics,” Archer said to the man.  “Just how volatile is the situation on Pollus Four right now?  And how bad can it potentially get?”

            “It could become very bad if it continues to deteriorate,” the Vegan replied in a nervous tone.  “I’m a professor at the largest Hall of Learning on Pollus.  My field of expertise, as I already explained, is Sociology, so I know from experience that a planetwide state of chaos is close to erupting because of the ongoing power struggle between the Council, the military and the church.”

            “Who do you think has the upper hand in the struggle?” asked Lieutenant Kelley Doohan, Archer’s second-in-command, a stocky, balding, middle aged man with a southern drawl.

            Dyrstade shrugged.  “Hard to tell, sir.  The factions each have their legions of followers and have only been waging war in the press and via demonstrations.  But that won’t last forever.  With a population of over six billion, I fear that civil war isn’t far behind.”

            “If that’s the case, why hasn’t the Council petitioned Neo-Queen Serenity for help?” Archer asked.

            “Hubris, madam.  The Pollusians are very proud people, almost to the point of arrogance.  The Council would never admit to needing help and believe they can solve the divisiveness themselves.”

            “But you don’t think they can.”

            “I wouldn’t be here if I did, having risked imprisonment by stealing a long range shuttle for transport.  If order were to collapse, that would invite the possibility of invasion from the Dark Kingdom or another aggressor,” said Dyrstade.  “As it is, the Council has instituted a news blackout to prevent information leakages regarding the crisis.  I just managed to leave before the airspace was closed to space travel.  I can’t impress upon you enough the gravity of this situation as it currently stands.  It needs to be resolved, and quickly.”

            “I’m curious.  Why do you care?” Doohan asked, giving the Vegan a skeptical look.  “You’re not a native.  You just work on Pollus and can leave anytime you want.”

            “No, sir, I can’t.  You see, I’m married to a Pollusian, and my wife refuses to leave her homeworld, not even to come here.  And I will not abandon her to face the madness fermenting there.  You must inform your superiors about this.  Immediately!”

            Archer and Doohan looked at each other for several moments before the post commander made her decision.  “Kelley, have Comm get on the horn with Luna.  Regardless of if Pollus’ Council wants help or not, RSN Command needs to know about this mess.”

In Deep Space, in the Alpha Zone, 14 March 2740

Captain’s Log, Lunar Date 03-14-2006:  Andromeda is about to conduct battle drills with our Air Group, as this is a key part of our shakedown.  Holographic computer simulations in trainers is one thing, but it’s quite another to fly actual fighters in live fire exercises.  It’s crucial to know just what our Battlewings can do in the crucible of combat, and, at the same time, learn how efficient the crew is when it comes to defending the ship from enemy attack.  Once we leave GM space, we’ll be on our own in the most perilous sector of the Alpha Zone which precious little is known about, and where dangers lurk at every turn.  We’ll be furthest from home than any ship in the fleet, that means no RSN bases, no repair facilities, absolutely nothing to fall back on in case something catastrophic happens, nothing except ourselves.  We need to be ready for any and all contingencies.  This will be the important first step in determining our level of readiness.

            Like worker bees hovering over their nest, Andromeda’s Battlewings orbited the ship prior to the start of the day’s combat drills.  On the bridge, the tension felt by everyone was real as they prepared to begin the drill.

            In the command chair, Sailor Siryn, looking calm and collected on the outside while her stomach churned from anxiety, turned to the Tactical station.  “Tactical, weapons status?”

            “Blaster arrays are at five percent power, captain.  Just potent enough to give the fighters a good shake when hit,” Khatari growled back.  “Targeting computers active.”

            “Ops, are the damage simulations programmed into the main computer?” Sailor Siryn asked Ryvvius.

            “They are, captain,” answered Ryvvius with a nod.  “My board shows green.”

            “Engineering, your status?”

            “Damage Control crews are at the ready to repair simulated damage from blaster hits,” Topper called back.

            “Sick Bay, status?”

            “Med alert teams are standing by, captain,” Doc Ellie replied.  “We’re ready to tend to all simulated injuries.”

            Sailor Siryn nodded.  “Andromeda, are you ready to record data?”

            “Yes, ma’am.  My data recorders are active,” the ship’s AI responded.

            “Flight Control Center.  Mr. Schmidt, is your team prepared to observe the drill?”

            “Ja.  We are prepared, captain,” came back the guttural voice of Lieutenant Commander Helmut Schmidt, call sign ‘Blitz’, leader of the group’s ground-strike wing, which wouldn’t be flying in the upcoming drill.

            “Very Good.  Mr. Setar, overall ship’s status?”

            “All departments show ready, captain,” said the Vulcan who sat at Sailor Siryn’s right as he filled in as First Officer while Sailor Eldrea led the Seraph Knights in the drill.

            “Excellent.”  The Irish Senshi turned to her left and Lieutenant Ventura who stood off to the side.  “Well, Counselor Ventura, are you ready to watch us run around like headless chickens?”

            Ventura smiled ever so slyly at her captain.  While it didn’t show on her face, the gorgeous black woman’s heart was racing, as she was excited at the prospect of watching the simulated battle.  “I sincerely doubt that will happen, captain.  But, observing how the crew performs under the stress of combat, even a simulated operation will be of tremendous use to Dr. Saralonde.”

            “I’m sure it will,” Sailor Siryn replied.  Her brows narrowed as the oily tone of Ventura’s response mildly irked her.  Pushing that thought to the side, the Senshi of Sound activated the shipwide intercom.

            “All hands, this is the captain.  Today’s drill involves an attack on the ship by enemy fighters, and the ability of our Battlewings to repel them.  The Seraph Knights and our anti-ship fighters, the Buccaneers of the 162^nd, will portray the attackers while the Marauders and Nighthawks of the 160^th and 161^st intercept units will defend.  This drill will also test our ability to engage enemy fighters, repair battle damage and tend to wounded crewmen.  I don’t have to remind anyone aboard that this scenario might one day become a terrible reality.  Being prepared will help keep us alive out here.  Standby.”

            Feeling her stomach tighten from anticipation, Sailor Siryn turned to the communications station.  “Lieutenant Miriele, have the wings signaled their readiness?”

            “Yes, ma’am.  They have,” Miriele replied.  Even though it was a drill, the young Vegan woman was openly nervous.  Ventura noticed that.  “Their weapons energy output is at five percent.”

            “Very well.  Andromeda to attack wings, you may position for your run.  Defense wings, prepare for incoming fighters.  Setar, sound battle stations.”

            “Aye, aye, captain!  Red alert!  All hands to battle stations!” Setar announced.

And a moment later, klaxons sounded, accompanied by Andromeda’s automated announcement as the Andromeda prepared for battle.

            “All right!” grinned an excited Sailor Eldrea.  “All attack squads, form up and follow me.  Switch comm freqs to assault alternate; let’s get this party started.”  There was a beep as all attackers switched over to pre-designated comm bands.  “Hey, Long John?”

            “Yeah, Fullmetal?” replied the squadron leader of the Buccaneers, Lieutenant Commander Andrew Ryvvius, and by coincidence related to the Ops officer even now watching this drill on the bridge of the Andromeda.

            “That drill assault plan all squadrons agreed upon earlier in the pre-brief?  Let’s throw it out,” Fullmetal said, a definite hint of malice in her voice.

            There was a pause.  “I like your thinking,” Long John responded as the Buccaneers and Seraph Knights streaked out to the designated point from where they’d launch their attack.  “What do you have in mind?”

            “Let’s do it KISS-style and go with a single-vector attack; we’ll come in on Andromeda’s aft quarter, dead astern.  I’m thinking four flights of four, top two flights directly engage opposing fighters, and bottom flights, with the exception of the two of us flying caboose, will attack the Andromeda directly; we’ll spring a small surprise on the other two wingleaders,” Fullmetal proposed.

            “KISS?” queried Lieutenant Troy Whitaker, call sign ‘Surfer’.

            “Keep It Simple, Stupid,” laughed Long John.  “Fullmetal, you really are devious.”

            “You have no idea,” broke in Lieutenant Commander Karynn Venrais, ‘Darkrose’.

            “Well, it sounds good to me,” Long John continued.  “Flash, Cyclone, Icequeen, Surfer; you four take the top level and lead the Knights against the defending birds.  Impala, Blaze, Shark, you’ll follow the Knights’ Andromeda attack unit in.”  A chorus of affirmatives answered him.  “Sound good, Fullmetal?”

            “Yet another wrench,” snickered Fullmetal.  “Sounds excellent.  Raptor, Void, Shockwave, Swift; you four are the Knights top flight.  Try to leave Gambler alone, fly evasive, unless he engages you directly; he’ll be easier to take down if we gang up on him.  Rage, you lead the attack element; naturally, Darkrose, Hellfire, follow him in.  Anybody have any questions?”

            “Nope,” chuckled Raptor a minute later.

            “Approaching checkpoint,” reported Swift.

            Gambler circled warily, eyeing the positions of his fighters; both squadrons reserved for Combat Air Patrol were flying in tight formation, divided into pairs.  His display showed the sixteen attackers nearing the muster point; he forced himself to relax and concentrate.  “ Stand by,” he ordered.  “And leave Fullmetal to me.”

            “If you insist,” snorted Lieutenant Commander Vanessa Falcone, ‘Falcon’.  “I think you’ll get her, ‘cuz she’ll be gunnin’ for you, sure as hell.”

            “Look alive,” advised Lieutenant Sayuri Fujiyama, ‘Geisha’.  “Checkpoint alert from Andromeda.”

            “Attackers have reached the checkpoint,” reported Ryvvius.  He paused, glancing at Sailor Siryn.

            “Begin drill,” ordered Sailor Siryn.

            “Raid warning!  Incoming fighters!” growled Khatari promptly.

            “Ready blasters on point defense!  Have alert fighters move to intercept,” ordered Sailor Siryn.

            “Bridge to Flight Control,” Miriele spoke up sharply.  “We have incoming fighters!”

            “Flight Control, aye,” came the voice reply from Newkirk.  “Alerting CAP fighters now.”

            “Right, then,” snickered Fullmetal.  “For the final touches… all attackers turn off your identification lights; let’s not let them know just which unit they’re engaging.  Also, shut off your transponders, and activate your ECM.”

            She moved her fingers over the control panel smoothly, leading the turn; in one thrilling maneuver all sixteen attackers tipped onto their left wings and shifted into the new attack formations, no one missing a beat.

            “Excellent,” commented Fullmetal.  “Let’s rock!”

            All sixteen fighters, now showing only position lights, rocketed ahead, a lengthening trail of red exhaust stretching behind them as they charged in.

            “Electronic Countermeasures detected; enemy jamming,” reported Falcon, seeing the sixteen blips on her display abruptly turn into a series of rotating spikes and random static.

            “Deploy among primary threat axis,” ordered Gambler, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

            The sixteen defenders of the CAP arrayed themselves in two v-shaped elements of eight, in the general direction of the ECM, pulling slightly away from the Andromeda’s starboard side to give themselves fighting room.  Anticipation was edged with nervousness in every pilot; the Buccaneers were a known quantity, if dangerous, but just how good were the Seraph Knights?

            “Getting some resistance,” called out Lieutenant Commander Vincent Rylridac, ‘Hellfire’.  “Looks like they’re attempting to break through the jamming… Andromeda ought to be able to any minute.”

            “Almost there,” smirked Darkrose.

            Fullmetal narrowed her eyes, noting how close they were drawing to the Andromeda’s stern; her sharp eyes could make out the pinpricks of the defending Battlewings… all facing the wrong way.

            “This doesn’t feel right,” commented Gambler.  “We should see them by now; my screen’s at maximum magnification and I’ve got nothing.  I bet Fullmetal isn’t following the attack plan for this drill.”

            “I’m not taking that bet,” commented Falcon.  “ECM remains the same.  What do you want to do?”

            “Remain as we are for thirty seconds more, to make sure; then we begin rotating patrols as wing elements until we find them,” replied Gambler after a moment’s thought.

            “Gotcha,” agreed Falcon.

            “Burnthrough!” called Khatari.  “We’ve beaten the incoming fighter’s ECM…  Shit!  Our defenders are facing the wrong way!  They’re attacking from dead astern!”

            “Relay that at once!” blinked Sailor Siryn.  She couldn’t help but smile slightly at Sailor Eldrea’s initiative.  “Point defense, mark your targets; fire at will!”

            Ventura raised her eyebrows.  “She isn’t following the drill?” she asked quietly.

            “Nope,” commented Sailor Siryn as Miriele relayed the info to Flight Control.

            Ventura bent her dark head and made a notation on her micrcomp.

            Gambler swerved the second he received the message.  He swiveled to look; he could barely make out the blinking red and green wingtip position lights.  “Damn,” he whispered, before raising his voice.  “Got ‘em!  They’re almost to attack range, directly aft of Andromeda.  All fighters engage!”

            The CAP swerved as one, tightening formation as they charged towards the attackers, who now clearly held the advantage; moments later, Gambler’s voice was heard again.  “They’re flying darkened!  Attack with caution, we don’t know who’s who!”

            “Tallyho!” called Long John.  “We’re in attack range!”

            “Break formations and begin assault!  Leave ECM on; it’ll still throw off weapons lock just that little bit that can keep you alive!” Fullmetal added as six fighters descended towards Andromeda, eight climbed, and Long John formed up on her wing.  In her cockpit, Fullmetal wore a huge grin.

            The six attackers spiraled, separating into three pairs, one Seraph Knight and Buccaneer each.  They were now close enough to see prefire charge racing along the blaster arrays, the few that threatened them; blaster fire began streaking past as the attackers swerved and dodged.

            Rage grinned fiercely, and opened fire.  Blaster energy streaked from his fighter, rapidly joined by five others; multiple hits blossomed over the shields, and as they closed, the frequency of the hits, all concentrated in one area, were enough to collapse the sector of shielding, both layers of it.  He knew it would normally not be so easy; but he also knew normally that he would have heavy weaponry to deploy as well.  He shrugged it off, timing his shots expertly so as to maximize firing output and minimize recharge and cool-down time; small impacts from the weakened blasters could be seen flaring over the Andromeda as the first shots nailed the fusion impellers; the red glow of the sublight engines died away.

            “Under the wings!” he ordered his attack squad.  “We’ll take out RIFT grids next, then start targeting weapons!  Watch that dorsal aft blaster array-“

            Even as he spoke, he swerved; the beam from that array barely missed him, but drilled the Buccaneer right behind him, Lieutenant Morris Obutu, ‘Impala’, who cursed as the impact battered him slightly, and flinched.  Several more blasts struck him; his cockpit darkened, weapons shut off, and screens went red, with the single message emblazoned on his primary display:  YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED.  PROCEED TO OBSERVATION HEIGHT.

            He sighed, flipped on his lights, and began a leisurely spiral upwards, noting the first flashes of weaponsfire amongst the now clashing CAP and attacking fighters; two fighters screamed along underneath and began to climb into the fray.

            On the bridge, the lights flickered and went dark as the Andromeda used the ship’s thrusters to give a realistic shudder; Andromeda also caused sparks to fly from several consoles by deliberately overloading a few circuits, though not enough to overly damage them.  The AI also heightened the sound of impacts to add a bit of realism; and there were a lot of them.

            “Shit!” cursed Khatari.  “Got one; but the rest slipped in!  Aft dorsal shield arc is down, both layers.  Losing blaster charge!”

            “I’ve got a problem, Keptin!” called Rostov from helm.  “Helm control minimal!  I can’t maneuver!”

            Lieutenant Veronica Cooper, at the bridge’s Engineering console, blanched.  “Captain!  Main and sublight engines offline!  Auxiliary power only!  Rerouting to keep blasters powered; damage control teams responding.”

            “Bridge to Engineering!” called Sailor Siryn.  “Topper, get me main power as soon as possible!”

            “Working on it, captain!  The damage is-“

            There was another shudder, and the message abruptly cut off; Sailor Siryn spun.  “Report!”

            Miriele raised her hands.  “Channel is still open, captain,” she whispered helplessly.

            Sailor Siryn spun again, glaring at the Engineering console.  “Lieutenant?” she asked, dangerously.

            Cooper swallowed.  “Plasma leak in Main Engineering,” she said softly, tonelessly.  “The area is sealed.”

            “No life signs remain in Main Engineering,” added Setar.  “Several weak life signs exist outside of it.”

            Ventura’s eyes widened slightly as Sailor Siryn clenched her fists, and glared at Miriele.  “Lieutenant, shouldn’t you be alerting the damage control and medical teams?”

            Miriele flushed and bent to her console, hurriedly working to rectify her mistake.

            In the now darkened depths of the ship, Lieutenant Daniel Hughes pressed his hand against the earpiece he wore; as he received directives via Comm and the bridge engineer, he grunted, and the turned to his troops.  “Teams Alpha, Bravo, proceed to fusion control!” he barked, sounding for all intents and purposes like an infantry drill sergeant.  “Charlie, Delta, Echo, Foxtrot, to each RIFT grid!  Golf, Hotel, India, and Juliet straight to main engineering; break out your protective gear, you’re gonna need it.  Rest of you, stand by.”

            In sickbay, Doc Ellie closed her medkit with a snap.  “Right, according to the bridge, it’s bad down in Main Engineering.  Teams two and three, proceed to the engine areas themselves; minor injuries reported there.  Team one, you’re with me; we have to set up triage.  Remember, divide into three case areas:  those who are injured but not immediately life threatening, those who are on the brink that we can save, and those on the brink that we can’t.  Hard choices, I know, but with so many injured we don’t have a lot of time to spare.  We’ll save as many as we can.  Let’s go!”

            Falcon heard the relays from Flight Control and snarled, especially as she noticed Andromeda going dark.  “Ronin, Midnight, Cossack, with me!  Let’s go after those attackers; between us and the Andromeda we’ll be able to get ‘em.  Let’s move!”

            A spirited firefight had already broken out, with blaster energy flying haphazardly.  The defenders were being cautious, but it was proving difficult as the fighters mixed to pinpoint their targets; those engaged in the dogfight had flipped their lights back on, though not their transponders, so targets had to be identified visually and all the fighters were identical save for tail markings and tail numbers, which were hard to spot with such rapid maneuvering.  Thus, the defenders had scored no kills yet; although Gambler was now engaging a wing pair he felt certain were Knights.  The attackers had already knocked a few of his out, and Falcon’s bunch was down to five… four of which were now streaking down towards the attackers that were trashing the Andromeda.

On the Andromeda itself, small electrical discharges marked each impact point of the attacker’s weapons fire; the majority of the weapons arrays were now dark.  Three were still firing, frantically, almost; but the rapid discharges were forcing the five assault craft to maintain their distance.

Gambler scowled as he snapped over on a new heading; he watched Geisha get nailed as he closed to extreme close range; he smiled slightly as he read off the name… Swift.  He launched into a spiral, and bracketed the Knight; he let loose a flurry of blaster fire that caused Swift to spiral upwards from the impacts.  Slowly, the craft righted itself, and began to climb straight up, ignoring the fighting.

That’s one, Gambler grinned.

“Oh, hell,” said Fullmetal, noting Swift climbing; Gambler ducked away, looking for his next victim.  She next saw Falcon and three more of hers diving past, presumably towards the attackers.  Though she was not transformed, her Senshi-enhanced vision had no problem identifying the fighters.  “Long John!  We need to protect the attack element!  Falcon’s jumping them; follow me!”

“Roger that, Fullmetal!”

Both wingleaders tipped over on their left wings and dived after Falcon’s four, expertly swerving around the few blaster bolts that flew past them, Fullmetal with smooth, casual maneuvering that caused Long John to let out an appreciative whistle, though not over an open comm channel.

            Falcon grinned as she neared the five attackers, which were even now disabling shield grids and weapons arrays.  She dived behind one pair and fired; blaster energy streaked out, even as the attackers were flying evasive, she nailed the trailing fighter.  The one she missed snap-reversed and darted past, splitting the group of four.  Falcon shrugged as two of hers broke off to pursue; she turned to go after another as the one she nailed began to climb, straight up, with lights coming back on.  She frowned as she realized it was a Buccaneer.

            The next pair was weaving in and out of each other most erratically; Falcon locked on to the second fighter and began timing her pulses as the lead fighter pulled up and away, narrowly missed by several blaster bolts as the last attack Buccaneer was taken out.

            “Shit!” cursed Darkrose as she maneuvered.  “Almost got me!”

            “Hang on,” Fullmetal said coolly.

            A precise, direct, and sudden flurry of bolts of blaster energy abruptly slammed into Falcon’s fighters; Falcon herself was surprised at the speed and ferocity of the assault as Long John scored two kills on the members of her squad that had broken off; Fullmetal took out the remaining two, which included Falcon herself.  Falcon cursed loudly and fluently as she began her ‘death’ climb.

            “Damn,” whispered Fullmetal.  “That was close; a little determined, wasn’t she?”  The four defeated flyers could be seen climbing straight up.  “Back to causing carnage, you three.”

            “We have a dogfight to return to,” Long John commented.

            “Thanks, boss flyers,” Darkrose chimed in as the Knights three-craft element turned as a V to reengage the Andromeda.

            The two wingleaders arced around and climbed back to the fray as a Seraph Knight, Lieutenant Commander Grik’tir Mar’drek, an imposing female Thocqualian, call sign ‘Shockwave’, called out.  “Fuck!  Got one all over me; think it’s Gambler, and he already killed Swift!  I can’t shake-“

            The channel went dead as the two attack element wingleaders charged towards the melee; in his cockpit, Rage let out a low whistle.  “Fullmetal wasn’t kidding,” he muttered.  “That guy is fucking good.”  Which was, he reflected briefly, a very unpleasant admission for someone such as he.  Well, he’s Fullmetal’s problem for the moment, Rage thought.  Time to beat down the Andromeda a little further.  He raised his voice and toggled his comm.  “Right, let’s come in low and try to disable remaining weaponry.  Follow me!”  He arced his fighter low; the two other Knights followed right behind at shifting intervals, weaving to prevent a pattern of flying that would make targeting easier for the Andromeda.

            Gambler grinned as a second Knight flipped on lights and began to climb.  The Knights were good, a refreshing challenge, and-

            He blinked as he realized how few of his own were left, facing five attackers, and that only one of Falcon’s, Lieutenant Shari Thyssien, a Vegan with the call sign ‘Thunder’, remained; Thunder passed right in front of him and dived as two fighters streaked in from below; Thunder abruptly took a flurry of hits, followed by his own Lieutenant Logan Jackman, ‘Wolverine’.  He snarled, and throttled his fighter forward.  The fighter that had just killed the two, right in front of his eyes, suddenly flipped on lights, illuminating squadron crest and tail number.

            “Fullmetal,” he breathed as she ducked sideways, cleanly splitting two of his remaining three.  Their blaster fire missed her completely, and she effortlessly curved back to starboard.  Gambler grinned, flexed his hands, and charged after her.

            He didn’t see Long John and Void take out the two that had just fired at Fullmetal.

            “Damn!” cursed Khatari.  “They’re now flying low profile, on the deck; I’ve only two arrays remaining!”

            Sailor Siryn whirled, her temper beginning to get the better of her.  “Lieutenant!  Status of repairs?”

            “They’re trying, Captain!  The continuous hits are making things rather difficult!” Cooper replied nervously.

            “Well, of course they are!  In the heat of combat, the enemy isn’t going to take a break to let you repair yourself!  The whole point is that these teams are supposed to fix damage during fighting, and rapidly, so we don’t get killed!  Tell them to get this ship fixed!” Sailor Siryn all but snarled.  She whirled back.  “And Khatari, I thought you’re supposed to be good with targeting and point defense!  Why the hell else are you my head tactical officer?  Hit those damn attackers already!”

            “Sickbay reports triage and medical response is going well,” broke in Miriele tremulously.

            “Well at least our Chief Medical Officer knows her job,” scowled Sailor Siryn, looking towards Miriele as Khatari growled in frustration.

            “Report from flight control,” continued Miriele after a gulp.  “Two defenders remaining; ten attackers remaining.”

            “Great,” sighed Sailor Siryn.  “Besides the CMO and those attacking this ship, can anybody do their jobs right?”   Her glare swept the bridge.

The atmosphere on the bridge was rapidly degenerating; tension was apparent in most.  The crew attempted to complete their tasks rapidly; people staggered with each impact and ducked as sparks burst from consoles and seams.  Confidence was quickly waning; more mistakes were being made.

            Ventura bent her head and made notes on her microcomp with great industry, hiding a small, supercilious smile.

            Fullmetal smiled as she dived towards Andromeda, directly towards one of the remaining blaster arrays, flying apparently effortlessly and occasionally swerving to avoid blaster fire.  The beams streaking past also had the effect of backing down Gambler slightly.  He fired a short burst; but instead of correcting like he hoped, she simply snapped hard to port and dodged the fire, off on another tangent, heading towards the dorsal port wing of the darkened Andromeda.  Three streaks whipped past; bursts nailed the array that had just fired as Gambler pursued her.  She ducked under the leading edge, and Gambler climbed over it, accelerating rapidly.

            Fullmetal glanced at her screen showing aft, with no sign of Gambler.  She looped casually around the darkened RIFT element, and was bracketed in blaster fire as Gambler charged in head on; she abruptly snapped upwards, causing his blaster fire to miss and barely missing his fighter by a gap of less than a meter, collision alarms sounding in both fighters.

Fullmetal grinned.  He is good, almost reckless.  Even my pilots don’t give me this much of a challenge.  She opened a comm channel.  “Nice, Gambler.  Now, engarde!”

            In rapid succession, Fullmetal switched maneuvering to manual and fired her thrusters full force:  front, dorsal forward, ventral aft, dorsal aft and ventral forward; she then slammed open the throttle.  The end result was a sudden brake, flip, and charge, putting her squarely on Gambler’s tail with a lengthening trail of red exhaust behind her.  She fired a few bursts, boxing Gambler in; in response, he raced towards the six spiraling attackers, who broke formation and charged, putting a storm of blaster fire in the path of both Gambler and Fullmetal.

            Neither took a hit, although Gambler had nurtured a small hope that Fullmetal might be taken down with friendly fire.  He smirked to himself.  She’s too good for that.  He maneuvered, dodging blaster fire in short, sharp, precise taunts; Fullmetal weaved easily in and out, fluid and majestic, occasionally firing bursts to keep Gambler on his guard.

            I can’t shake her, Gambler frowned to himself.  Is she toying with me?  Why hasn’t she killed me yet?  He executed a tight port curve, parabolic, attempting to break loose from her and get on her tail, and then he doubled back on himself.  He blinked.  She wasn’t there.  Some instinct made him flinch to the right; pulses of blaster energy shot past, and followed by Fullmetal; she abruptly spun again, in an extremely tight flat spin, and then straightening and shooting directly underneath the charging Gambler, blaster bursts zipping by.

            Fuck, he’s quick, Fullmetal thought to herself, a touch of awe combined with sheer exhilaration as she spun around the six attackers, who were once again filling space with blaster fire in Gambler’s direction as he ducked under and through their group, plowing his way with bursts of energy from his own arrays.  She resisted the urge to transform, wanting a victory based on sheer skill.  She slanted down, splitting two of the Buccaneers; she burst through, spiraling tightly.  Damn, he is a superb fucking pilot.  Wonder if I can convince him to join the Knights?

            “Shit,” breathed Long John.  “Do you see these two?  Just… wow.”

            “I can’t believe this,” replied an openly awed Lieutenant Reggie Brooks, ‘Flash’.  “I am not seeing this; it’s like something out of a fantasy.”

            “Amen,” chimed in Blitz from observation height.  “Talk about skill…”

            “Captain, you have to see this,” spoke up Ryvvius on the bridge.  He had already changed screen two and was zooming in on the duel between Fullmetal and Gambler.

            Sailor Siryn turned to look.  “Is this relevant…?” she trailed off, her expression clearing in awe of the sheer piloting skill now being displayed on screen.  Even Ventura was staring in rapt attention.

            Sailor Siryn shook herself, and looked around, considering how bad the drill situation was…  Their morale is taken enough of a beating, and will take more later, she sniffed to herself, when I chew their collective asses.  Let them enjoy this.  I know I am.

            She gave the screen her full, undivided attention, basking in the pure thrill of the battling fighters.

            Hot damn, blinked Gambler as he heeled over and swept upwards, attempting a half loop, twisting, trying anything to throw off Fullmetal.  He knew he’d already lost the bet, though maybe he could wrangle a concession because she’d thrown out the battle plan.  This girl can fucking fly!  I knew she was good, but damn!  This is one bet I am glad to lose…  He let off a few bursts of blaster energy, watching Fullmetal slide sideways, flip upside down, and streak straight upwards toward him, spiraling, blasters spitting energy at him.

            At the last second, both fighters inverted and flipped away from each other.  Again, neither had scored a hit.  They circled around, casually, and then swerved abruptly to reengage.  Once again, blaster fire punched through the void, and both ships flipped, swerved, climbed and dove in an awe-inspiring dance of death, neither giving an inch, both praying for a mistake that neither was going to get.  And still they danced.

            “Time limit reached, captain,” said Ryvvius finally.

            “Acknowledged, Ops.  Comm, signal all squadrons that the drill’s over and return to the ship,” said Sailor Siryn, still irritated over the poor reaction times from the crew.  “All hands, this is the captain.  The drill is now over.  I repeat the drill is now over.  Secure from battle stations.  Andromeda, combat information during the drill recorded?”

            “Yes, captain.  I’ll disseminate the information from all departments involved and have a finished report ready for your perusal in a three minutes,” the ship’s AI replied.

            “Good.  Mr. Setar, have all department heads muster in the meeting room for debrief in one hour.”  Sailor Siryn expected her crew to have done better and was frustrated because they didn’t respond like she wanted.  She would let the department heads know how she felt in the meeting.  She then turned to Ventura.  “So, Counselor, how would you evaluate the performance of the bridge crew?”

            Ventura was silent for a moment before she spoke.  “If it’s all the same with you, captain, I would prefer to go over my findings with the Doctor first, then give a detailed report at the briefing.”

            Sailor Siryn, her mood already stormy, pinioned Ventura with a harsh, withering stare.  But the black woman stared right back, her icy cool demeanor unchanged.  “I don’t need the full bleeding monty, Lieutenant.  You can save that for the debrief.  Short and sweet, just give me your overall impression.”

            Ventura gave a small shrug.  “As you wish.  Short and sweet, my overall impression was of what used to be jokingly called, ‘a Chinese fire drill’.  You were right, captain, the bridge crew did indeed act like headless chickens.”

            Nearly everyone on the bridge, save for Setar glared at the woman.  She paid them no mind.

            The Senshi’s eyes narrowed while her temper soared.  “Were you trying to be funny?” she demanded in her most menacing growl.

            “Not at all, captain.  You asked for my opinion, and I gave it,” the black woman calmly, but firmly replied.  Standing her ground, her dark eyes never left Sailor Siryn’s.  “I apologize if that wasn’t the answer you sought, considering your current temperament betrays your own displeasure with the results of the drill.  I don’t believe in sugarcoating anything.  Better to be truthful, even if to a brutal degree than to give praise where it isn’t deserved.”

            Sailor Siryn became incensed with the patronizing tone in Ventura’s voice, and the haughty expression on her face.  Who the hell does this snotty bitch think she is, she wondered angrily.  She then took a long, deep breath to calm herself down before she said or did something embarrassing in front of the bridge crew as their eyes were fixed on her.  She was a Senshi and had to set a proper public example.

            “You’re right, Lieutenant.  I did get what I asked for.  I can’t blame you for not liking what I was told,” the Irish Senshi said in a slow, measured tone.  “Thank you for your honesty, such as it was.  In the future however, I insist that you temper your bluntness.  After all, we’re people, people with feelings that don’t have to be trampled on.  Is that understood?”

            Ventura nodded, her expression stony.  “Perfectly.  May I be excused now, captain?  I need to compose my report.  I wouldn’t want provide you with anything less than… the full monty.”

            “I’ll be expecting it,” Sailor Siryn replied curtly.  Ventura’s definitely a cool customer.  And she’s calculating as the Devil.  I can’t remember the last time anyone pushed my buttons so fast, and so easily.  Did she do that on purpose, I wonder?  “You’re dismissed.”

            Ventura turned and strode off the bridge.  Once the doors closed, a smirking Ryvvius shook his head.  “Quite an interesting girl, eh, captain?” he asked.

            “That goes without saying, Arthur.  What really annoys me is that Ventura was right about everything she said,” a frowning Sailor Siryn muttered.  “She reminds me of Sailor Cassiopeia, my combat instructor at Tsukino.  Part haughty know-it-all, part caustic smartass, she was the poster child for the overbearing arrogance the public perceives the Senshi as having.  Rubbed me the wrong way from day one.  Why is the universe full of people like Ventura?”

            “Fate?” Setar suggested.

            Sailor Siryn rolled her eyes while Ryvvius grinned.  “That was a rhetorical question, mister.”

            “My apologies.”

            “Captain.  There’s an incoming message from headquarters for you.  It’s from Sailor Neptune,” Miriele called out.  “Coded priority one, for your eyes only.”

            The Irish Senshi rose from her chair.  “Thank you, Lieutenant.  I’ll take it in my ready room.  Mr. Setar, you have the bridge.”

            Walking into her ready room, Sailor Siryn sat down at her desk and activated her console.  “Sailor Siryn, security code:  Banshee One Nine Seven Five.  Screen on.”

            The screen winked open showing the serene face of Sailor Neptune.  “Good morning, Fiona.  I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

            “Not at all, ma’am.  We just finished a drill with our Battlewing squadrons.  What can I do for you?”

            “You are to divert at once to Listening Post Fifteen and meet with the post commander.  She’ll brief you on a disturbing situation brewing on Pollus 4,” the teal haired Planetary replied.

            The Irish woman frowned. “Pollus 4.  An Earth-sized world twenty-three parsecs within the Alpha Zone, in a six-planet system if memory serves.  What sort of situation are you referring to, ma’am?”

            “According to a visitor to the post, a potential insurrection which must be quelled before the planet succumbs to anarchy, or worse, invasion,” Sailor Neptune grimly replied.  “Pollus 4 is the most technologically advanced planet in the region, and its proximity to the GM border makes it a prime target for the DK to overrun while in the midst of chaos and take control, giving them a foothold in the southern sector.  Your mission will be to restore order there and prevent that scenario from happening.”

            Sailor Siryn rubbed her chin as she mulled over what she had been told.  “Not to mention the obvious, Lady Neptune, but if we’re talking about a political problem, wouldn’t this job be better suited for someone from our Diplomatic Corps?”

            Sailor Neptune sighed, and then nodded.  “Yes.  Unfortunately, the closest attaché is two weeks journey from your current position.  I don’t want to go into specifics, not even on a secure channel, but from what I’ve been told, the situation on Pollus is disintegrating.  The flashpoint could happen at any time.  We can’t afford to wait that long.  I’ll dispatch a full diplomatic team at once via RIFT speed shuttle, but until they arrive, you’re it as the nearest ship in the sector.  You’ll have to deal with the problem, and get it resolved by any means necessary.  Is that clear, captain?”

            “Absolutely, ma’am.  I’ll get underway immediately.”

            “Excellent.  Fiona, I’m sorry to have dumped so much on your plate so soon, especially since you haven’t even finished your shakedown, but it can’t be helped.  We’ve got one hell of a thorny mess on our hands that needs to be taken care of right away.”

            “Don’t worry about it, ma’am.  I can handle it.  And more.  After all, this is what you pay me the big bucks for,” Sailor Siryn said with a broad, confident grin.

            Sailor Neptune returned the smile.  “I admire your positive attitude.  That’s why you’re among the very best commanders we have.  I’m sure you’ll be able to resolve this crisis.  Good luck, Fiona.  May Serenity be with you and your crew.”

            “Thank you.  Andromeda out.”

            Once the screen went black, Sailor Siryn’s smile widened from excitement at her first mission as Andromeda’s captain.  Ready or not, she would accept the challenge and tackle it head on, like any Senshi would, boldly and confidently.  Rising from her chair, she strode quickly to the bridge, eager to get started.

            By the time the Irish Senshi emerged on the bridge, her smile was gone, and she was all business as she sat down in the big chair.  “Flight Control, expedite retrieval of Battlewings.  Topper, ready RIFT drive; we’ll be jumping momentarily.  Helm, set course for Listening Post Fifteen.  Get us underway the minute the Air Group is secured.  Make it happen, people!” she barked.

TO BE CONTINUED...