"LUNAR: Tales From Crystal Tokyo"
LUNAR:
Tales From Crystal Tokyo
By
Daryll Pung
Episode
3-19: Ready, Steady...
Rated:
R
Edge
of the Sol system, 1 December 2740
The
SLS Yorktown
Sorcerer Derrelli frowned thoughtfully as he gazed out of the transparent
crystalline-duranium matrix of the windows of his quarters; he sighed, and ran a
hand through his hair.
His head turned only fractionally as a feminine hand touched his
shoulder; Hoshi smiled at him. “Something
bothering you?” she asked quietly. He
turned to face her more fully, briefly pausing to admire the way the dim
lighting within played across her bare breasts; her lips quirked slightly at his
regard, and a slight tint of color came to her cheeks.
“Enjoying the view?”
He smiled, acknowledging her double entendre, and then his shoulders
slumped as his smile disappeared; his thoughts once again resumed their previous
meandering. “You were right,”
he admitted, quietly.
She blinked, and drew the sheet up, covering herself.
“I’m sorry?”
“What you said, months ago, about the burden of starship command.”
Hoshi frowned. “Derrelli,
love, you’ve done one hell of a job to this point; and I am not
the only one aboard this ship that thinks so.”
Derrelli glanced up, meeting her dark, passionate gaze steadily.
She sighed. “C’mon,
what’s really eating you?”
“I think it’s called ‘stage fright’,” he responded.
“Or maybe it’s the reality sinking in.
The fleet is assembling; the assault will start soon.
Any time, even. It’s no secret. And
the losses…”
Hoshi nodded. “They’ve
been more severe than any of us initially expected.
Still, we’ve taken out six more supercruisers; they have one hundred
ninety left. And when we’re all
formed up, we’ll have one thousand thirty-eight ships- all
upgraded, which none of the ships
lost were- with which to engage them. I’m
not saying the fight will be easy; just that it should
be possible, and we should be able to
manage it with fairly light casualties on all fronts, so long as everything goes
to plan. At least, I hope so… no
one’s really heard much of anything from the DK since we gave them the
upgrades; their contributions to the fights have been minimal at best, and their
reassurances a little too glib, at points, but…”
She slid to the edge of the bed, and began sorting through her neatly
folded, clean underthings, prepared in advance; she slid into her panties as she
continued. “Look, we’re all a
little on edge. But if you’ll
take a bit of advice? It’s not a
good idea for the captain to show it.”
Derrelli scowled at the window. “Yeah,
I know. The cool, calm, collected
captain.”
Hoshi grinned slyly as she finished with her bra and pulled on her
undershirt. “Besides, it’s not
like you don’t have a way to alleviate stress when you need to.”
He smirked, briefly. “I
think that goes both ways.”
There
was a soft thwump, and his own fresh underwear dropped to the floor at his feet
after hitting him in the back of the head.
“You should make yourself presentable, sir,”
she teased as she began slipping into her uniform.
“We do go on duty soon.”
He turned, and a wagged a finger at her, even as he bent down to retrieve
his clothing. “Watch it, babe,
I’d hate to have to bring you up on charges of insubordination.”
Hoshi chuckled as she finished with her attire.
She moved to the mirror, and examined herself, pulling her long, lush,
and silky dark hair back into a ponytail, as Derrelli occupied himself dressing.
There was a companionable silence for a few moments; one that lasted
until just as they finished their morning preparations.
There was a beep as Derrelli checked his appearance in the mirror over
Hoshi’s shoulder. “Bridge to
Sorcerer Derrelli.”
“Go ahead,” he replied instantly.
“We have an incoming message from RSN HQ; we are to abandon our current
patrol routing and proceed to the fleet rendezvous point near L-point
immediately,” reported the duty com officer.
The two shared a look. “Showtime,”
murmured Hoshi.
Derrelli grinned as he grabbed his cape.
“You can transform in the lift. Bridge,
alert Wizards Duke and Orien and have them report to the bridge pronto; send
acknowledgement of the orders received to HQ.
Have Flight Control recover all fighters. Have helm lay in a course and engage at maximum sublight
after fighters are recovered. Alert
the rest of the patrol group and have them follow suit.
We’re on our way. Sorcerer
Derrelli out.”
As Orien entered the bridge of the Yorktown,
still fastening the collar of his uniform, he glanced about, nodding in
satisfaction. All was as it should
be; his ship was ready for war. Duke
was already in the first officer’s chair; and the view on screen one showed
their patrol group slewing about and heading in-system; the lights around the
edge of the viewscreen were currently off, showing they were uncloaked.
He took his place at the tactical officer’s console, relieving the
officer there and reconfiguring the controls as he liked them, admiring the
lethally gleaming displays of the new and improved systems at his command; he
glanced up as the doors to the captain’s ready room hissed open, revealing
Sorcerer Derrelli and Sailor Cygni.
“Captain on the bridge,” intoned Ross calmly.
“As you were,” Derrelli said immediately, even as the last syllable
of the AI’s announcement faded away. Sailor
Cygni was already making a beeline for the science console.
Duke grinned as Derrelli sat down. “If
you get any faster at saying that, Ross might as well keep silent.”
“That would be an improvement,” chuckled Derrelli.
“I am sorry, but there is no
way to improve upon perfection,” Ross broke in snootily.
“So perfect, I’d love to permanently remove the damn batteries and
shut this overgrown calculator down,” observed Derrelli, to the accompaniment
of grins on the rest of the bridge crew as Ross gave an appreciable electronic
approximation of a snobbish sniff of disapproval.
“I’m sure between Duke and myself, we could come up with something.
Just look at GIA.”
Duke
let out a snort of laughter.
“Really,
captain,” Ross stated acidly. “Is
this quite the time?”
“Never
is,” Derrelli responded. He
looked around the bridge. “Ah,
well, we can snipe at each other later, Ross.”
“I
look forward to it,” the AI replied in a tone that quite clearly stated
otherwise.
Derrelli
shook his head. “Status?”
“Passing inside Pluto orbit now, sir,” replied helm.
Orien spoke up. “The rest
of the patrol group is maintaining perfect formation.”
Derrelli nodded. “Excellent.
Comm, please bring up the full message on my seat’s arm console
screen…”
The
SLS Tirpitz
Sitting at patrol in the inner system, just above the asteroid belt, the
battleship SLS Tirpitz was monitoring
the surrounding space, serving as a relay point from various scout ships
scattered throughout the middle system. With
all of the upgrade work, there hadn’t been much time to repair sensor
platforms or defensive emplacements.
“I have them on four, now, keptin,” reported Sailor Russia, manning
the tactical console.
Sailor Magneta glanced at the display in question.
“Very well,” she said coolly. The
enforced wait, followed by the tenseness of impending action, had her slightly
irritable. She’d feel better when
battle actually commenced, she was sure.
“Confirmed,” added Sailor Cerebra at science.
“Yorktown patrol group now
approaching Gateway Monitoring Patrol Station at full sublight.”
“Damn, they sure responded quick,” spoke up Sailor Ebony at the
bridge Engineering console, in her position as Chief Engineer.
“Coming in right smart, too,” commented her twin, Sailor Ivory, from
the helm.
Sailor Britannica snorted. As
the most organized of all the Omega Force Senshi, she was in charge of ops; she
shook her head. “I’ve heard
rumors about that ship’s captain… wasn’t he the one who took on all the
Slashers aboard the Centaur single-handed?”
Sailor Sirius, serving as first officer, giggled.
“Oh, you don’t know the half of it.
Yeah, that’s him. He’s
even more pyro than Sailor Mars, and the boy is crazy
unorthodox, too. He took on the
Nebula Gate practically single-handed, too, and put together the Bahumat after that ship was nearly destroyed at the Alpha Zone
Gate.”
Sailor Britannica raised an eyebrow.
“You know him?”
“Sort of. Met him briefly
aboard the Destiny while dealing with
the Nebula Gate,” Sailor Sirius responded.
“Trust me; he’s a good one to have on our side; and his supporting
cast isn’t half bad, either.” She
paused. “Maybe you should see
about getting him on Omega, Sailor M. He
is ultra-loyal to the Royals, is a first-class hacker and fights like there’s
no tomorrow.”
“If they survive the upcoming
battle, comrade,” snorted Sailor Russia.
Sailor Magneta grunted. “We
shall see,” she said. “What of
the Hood patrol group?”
Getting back to business, Sailor Russia glanced at her display. “They will be passing GMPS in thirty seconds; rendezvous
with fleet in roughly twenty minutes…”
The
SLS Prometheus
“Report,” Sailor Xocotl said as she entered the bridge of the
battleship Prometheus, nodding to Sailor Persephone.
“On course, on time, destination is fleet assembly point near
L-point,” spoke up short blonde-haired, green-eyed human Lieutenant Timothy
James Henderson, self proclaimed ‘extreme sports fanatic’, from the helm.
“Receipt of orders acknowledged to Royal Star Navy Headquarters,
ma’am,” Lieutenant Sonja Petrovich at comm piped in next, her Russian accent
pronounced as she glared at the helm officer for cutting her off.
She flipped her long blonde locks over her shoulder, sniffed, and bent
back to her station, secretly hoping the impending action would work out better
for her than for her sister-in-law, who’d died aboard the original SLS Draco
near the beginning of the Nebula War.
“Patrol group in formation,” spoke up Lieutenant Commander Phoeana
Cythenia, her light blue complexion, light purple eyes and dark purple hair
marking her as a Vegan for those who were fooled by her excitement at the
impending battle… which was no one, of course.
“Ship’s systems ready and waiting,” commented Commander Mitchell
Riyarik, a red-haired, purple-eyed half-Cygnian blend, a bit on the tall side.
“Hef is all go, and Flight Control reports all five wings standing
by.” Everything on his panel was
laid out neat and orderly… just the way he liked it.
“That so, Hef?” grinned Sailor Xocotl.
“Lost your voice, have you?”
“Of course not, ma’am,” replied Hephaestus, the AI sounding amused. “I was simply following protocol.”
“Can’t argue with that,” the Starfire Senshi replied.
“C’mon, Hef, it’s not like Mitch has enough to do; you could act
out a little to keep him on his
toes…”
“An intriguing idea, ma’am,” Hef responded, deadpan.
“Great,” groaned Mitch to no one in particular.
“I hate it when they do
this…”
“Right,” Sailor Xocotl continued, noting the slightly amused
expression, green swirls in her irises, and raised eyebrows of Sailor
Persephone. “Science, Lieutenant Commander?”
“No problems to report, Sailor Xocotl,” responded the addressed
officer, a dusky-skinned Vulcan with that race’s usual black hair and eyes.
Lieutenant Commander T’linith’s composure was stoic and blank; but
her eyes indicated mirth. Unusual
for a Vulcan, she truly understood and enjoyed humor, and Sailor Xocotl loved
indulging that taste. Even more
unusual for a Vulcan, she was downright hilarious in her own right.
Mitch sighed. “ChEng and
CMO are standing by; their departments report full readiness.”
He referred to Lieutenant Commander G’rat Z’deth, whose imposingly
tall dark gray bulk and ice-blue eyes were not all that unusual for a
Thocqualian; nor were his engineereing talents; and the highly talented
Lieutenant Commander Qui’poest’hox’tyip’fitz’penelope,
or ‘Doc Penny’ as she was usually called,
who was a Miraxic, with a
light purplish exoskeleton that had slight reddish and pinkish highlights to go
along with a phenomenal skill at healing... or art.
“Well, then, it would appear the gang’s all here,” smiled Sailor
Xocotl. Her smile faded slowly.
“And that we’re ready… to go to war.”
“Aye,” agreed Sailor Persephone solemnly, the traces of green
disappearing, leaving her irises a solid purple as she schooled her emotions
into a careful neutrality.
“So be it,” whispered Sailor Xocotl, her expression hardening.
Fleet
Assembly Point, near L-Point, near the orbit of planet Mars, Sol system, 2
December 2740
The
SLS Tournesol
“Orders received, Admiral,” spoke up comm as the fleet began to
divide and maneuver into their assigned slots.
Princess Serena nodded, clad in a formal uniform, and glanced at her
first officer. “We ready?”
Sorcerer Dramlyn allowed a slight smile to creep across his features. “We are, ma’am.”
“Then let’s get moving,” Reeni said coolly.
“All ahead full, RIFT, to designated coordinates… and sound Red
Alert.”
“Red Alert, Red Alert, all hands to battle stations,” intoned
Tournesol strongly as the flashing red lights and warning siren went off. “All hands prepare for RIFT transit.”
The
SLS Hood
“Engineering ready, ma’am,” Sailor Astraea reported from her bridge
station.
Sailor Ryujin leaned forward in her seat, and took a deep breath. “Then we’re code green… and that means it’s time.
Red Alert. Helm, plot course
to designated coordinates; all ahead full on the RIFT.”
“Red Alert, Red Alert, all hands report to battle stations,” spoke up
Hood in a British accent as the red warning lights flashed and the alarm went
off. “All hands stand to for RIFT
transit.”
The
SLS Durandal
Sailor Vulcan nodded emotionlessly, though anticipation for the coming
fight was filling her; she knew, soon, that revenge would be had, and her rage
would be sated. “Red Alert,”
she ordered brusquely. “Helm,
designate course to acknowledged coordinates, all ahead full RIFT.
Engage when ready.”
“Red Alert, Red Alert, all hands proceed to battle stations,” stated
Durandal powerfully as the red alert lights burst to life and the warning siren
screamed. “All hands stand by for
RIFT transit.”
The
SLS Oberon
“Engage,” ordered Neo-Queen Serenity the First calmly after the
sirens ceased and the AI fell silent. Like
her daughter on the bridge of the Tournesol,
she was, for once, formally clad in the uniform of the fleet, the insignia of a
fleet admiral glistening on her collar. The
same went for King Endymion, seated next to her.
The views on the forward screens were impressive, as the totality of the
Royal Star Navy leapt out of normal space in a massive white blur, with the
mighty Oberon leading the charge.
In
FTL transit, 2 December 2740
The
SLS Sapphire
“Well,”
muttered the usually easy-going Sorcerer Rio as the forward screen showed
rotating starlines. “Time to kick
some ass.” He was on the tall
side, lightly tanned, trim and cut; he was very much in shape and worked to stay
that way. Of his features, perhaps
his eyes- light blue for the left, gold on the right- were the most unusual.
His hair was, for the most part, short, spiked, and light blue; a single,
twisted lock trailed off the back of his head, dropping down to the back of his
upper thighs when he was standing. White
eyebrows highlighted his eyes, and on either side of his smoothly angular jaw
were three slightly darker toned stripes, almost like birthmarks.
If he wasn’t in his normal uniform, one could also see the curious
armband-styled tattoo on his upper right bicep; one that reacted to his
emotions, changing as he did. He
was currently in that mentioned uniform, all black, with the colored sections
white to denote command.
“As opposed to just sitting on it all day?” inquired his first
officer innocently. Her name was
Llerima Phelmarin, more properly known when she was transformed- as she was now-
as Sailor Vega, former Academy rival and now close friend of Rio.
Good-natured needling aside, she was actually the more serious of the
two… but not by much. She just
figured that somebody had to enforce discipline around here… and as first
officer, that somebody was she. Well, it makes me look better than the captain, anyway, she thought
to herself, hiding a smirk.
She
was, no other way to say it, drop-dead gorgeous… even to those who didn’t
appreciate the beauty of a Vegan. Her
light, smooth, pale-blue complexion was absolutely flawless; she possessed waist
length, silky lavender hair, with tendrils framing her face and slightly curly
bangs; that hair was bound in a long ponytail, currently held in place by
alternating white metallic ribbons tied into bows, with a diamond shaped as a
heart in the center of each. Her
eyes were a beautiful shade of green… and inevitably burning with the
enthusiasm and intensity of her Vegan heritage.
She was a shade shorter than she liked; but nicely curved, and damned if
she didn’t fill out the fuku very nicely indeed, with a slender yet athletic
build that was trim and firm, but not overly muscled; there wasn’t an ounce of
extra fat on her exotic, sensual frame. Her
outfit was apart from the usual; but then, unlike the vast majority of Senshi,
she was one of the few who bore a golden, upturned crescent on her right palm,
so she was apart from the usual… and she was the only Vegan Senshi. Her
fuku was black where the
usual Senshi’s fuku was white; her collar was solid silver, with no white
stripe; a metallic white skirt with a thin silver-braid belt hung from her hips.
She wore a silver choker, with a white metallic ribbon on a bow on her
chest, a diamond heart in the middle of each; and earrings of silver, with the
top pair being round diamond studs, the middle pair silver heart studs, bottom
pair silver star studs, and fourth earring a dangling silver version of her
symbol- an ornate silver V, with two white five-point stars connected in an
orbit around it, at a five-degree tilt from level- on a short silver chain. Her tiara was silver, with a diamond in the middle of her
forehead. She also had the lower
back ribbon bow, in silver; her wrists bore wide, smooth silver bracelets,
connected to her black satin gloves. Her
long, sexy legs were bare down to her black high heels.
“Well, isn’t that what the captain’s chair is for?” snorted Rio,
a half-smile on his face.
Sailor Vega shook her head. “Actually,
I’m pretty sure that chair is for the commanding officer to sit in and direct
the ship’s actions. Last time I
checked, that did not include propping one’s feet up on the armrest of
whichever adjacent chair is unoccupied.”
“Well, if you’re not using it, Number
Two, why can’t I?” Rio retorted with a leer.
“Such sniping is hardly in regulation, sir, ma’am,” commented the
rather stoic Thocqualian who served as the destroyer’s operations officer, the
white-eyed, stone gray Commander Zhla’kit Kac’skha, who stood a mere seven
foot one… which was still enough to qualify him for shortest of his race to
serve in the RSN. “Especially
given current circumstance.”
“Perhaps not,” returned the amused feminine voice of the AI of the Sapphire, Allundra. “But
it is certainly entertaining.”
“I must agree with Lieutenant Commander Kac’skha,” spoke up
Lieutenant Commander T’riiv from science.
A rather rare half-Vulcan, half-Cygnian blend, with gray-streaked blond
hair, she outwardly possessed a calm demeanor and excellent emotional control.
“Spoilsports,” giggled the Sapphire’s
Chief Engineer from the bridge console, Lieutenant Commander Aryanna D’lanneye,
a human with Isbanni heritage mixed in, as evidenced by her mocha complexion,
lush dark brown hair, and furry-tipped ears.
Unlike the rest, she was clad not in a uniform, but a standard-issue
mechanic’s jumpsuit, and instead of jewelry, an old-fashioned notebook dangled
on a thin chain around her neck, with a similarly old-fashioned pen stuck behind
one ear.
At comm, Lieutenant Akihito Kigaino, a dark complexioned, brown-haired,
and pale green-eyed young man who could only be described as a ‘chick
magnet’, shook his head. His hair
was braided into three long locks, hanging to his mid-back; and he thoughtfully
rubbed his goatee as he monitored the communications traffic amongst the fleet,
and internal to the ship. He spoke
up. “Sir, CMO reports that she
just had a pair of injured casualties; apparently two security officers got into
a physical confrontation.”
Rio smirked. “Just a
couple troops relieving tension, I bet. Bridge
to Sickbay; how bad?”
The voice of Lieutenant Commander Melyanna Raeldorr, a rather voluptuous
and beautiful raven-haired, pink-eyed Amaran, came back.
“Let’s just put it this way, sir; these morons really ought to be
court-martialled for such idiocy at a time like this; as if we don’t have
enough on our plate. They’re
fine; bumps, bruises, and hairline fractures.
All patched up. You should
really tell that giant furball to discipline his department better.”
“I’ll keep that in mind. Thanks,
doc,” chuckled Rio. He turned to
his tactical officer, a massive, tall, almost-black furry spectacle.
“Trymian?”
“They disciplined before,” growled Lieutenant Trymian, the dark,
cobalt-blue furred Ronsari. His
indigo eyes glistened. “Will make
sure learn this time.” He growled
to punctuate that statement.
“You do that,” Sailor Vega said, rolling her eyes.
“Gee, one wonders where they pick that behavior up?
You should really try to set a better example, sir.”
The way she emphasized the last word, it was clear it was not respectful,
and that she was spelling it c-u-r. “After
all-“
“Yeah, yeah. Hey, I swear
it wasn’t me… it was my evil twin,” grinned Rio.
“Or rather, my evil clone.”
“You mean one of you is good?”
blinked Sailor Vega in mock surprise. “Wow,
news flash for the rest of the galaxy…”
Allied
launch point, near Galactic Edge, 10 December 2740
There was already a copious amount of ships present in what was normally
an empty, featureless patch of space; the combined forces of the Zerm Alliance
and Holy Droylian Empire had begun arriving and moving into their designated
spots within the last twenty-four hours. Two
last pieces of the puzzle were still missing…
The
Fid’rechel
Amongst the four hundred odd ships was the designated flagship of the HDE,
the recently upgraded Fid’rechel. Bishop Commander Keligh Dreh’chen frowned as he examined
his displays. “Last report?” he
asked impatiently.
“The RSN should be here any minute-“ his comm officer began.
“Sir! Massive RIFT drive
signatures, just acquired on long range sensors!
It appears to be the entirety of the GM Royal Star Navy… and they’re
coming in fast. Estimate ten
minutes to arrival!” reported Denthlagh from tactical.
Keligh nodded in satisfaction. ‘Well,
to be honest, I wasn’t really worried about the GM forces; when all is said
and done, you can definitely trust them
to keep their word. Status of their
ships?”
“Looks like they’re coming in hot and primed for battle, sir,”
Denthlagh replied. “But their
formation is already breaking up; they’re already maneuvering into their
designated positions; no sign of betrayal or hostile intent towards our
alliance.”
“Good,” Keligh replied. “Keep
me informed, and keep looking for the DK.”
“Yes, sir,” replied Denthlagh.
“Communications, any word from the DK?” he asked next.
“No, sir,” comm replied quietly.
Keligh frowned, his feelings of foreboding increasing by the second. “Why do I get the feeling we’ve been betrayed?”
The
Treseey
Aboard the designated flagship of the Zerm fleet, the also recently
upgraded Treseey, Permecht Amisere
Newelsed glared at his holographic central display.
“I don’t like thisss,” he muttered to himself in Lunarian.
“I don’t like thisss at all. The
DK ssshould be here already.”
“Agreed, sssir,” nodded Kentais.
“I can’t help but feel we might be fighting without them.
The GM and HDE are ready to go; at leassst we can count on them.”
“We’ve been double-crossssed,” growled Amisere.
Kentais slowly shook his head in grim agreement.
The
SLS Oberon
“All stop,” ordered Serenity.
“Answering all stop, aye,” replied helm instantly; and with a press
of his panel, the battleship responded like a champ, all thrusters firing and
braking the massive ship, bringing it to a standstill precisely where it was
supposed to be.
A view on the bridge screens showed that all of the RSN ships were
following suit, and precision and professionalism were the order of the day.
Every ship was right where it was assigned; every ship was ready for war.
“No DK starships?” Endymion asked.
“None, sir,” tactical reported promptly.
Serenity frowned thoughtfully. “Ask
our allies if they have had any word from the Dark Kingdom.”
After a few busy moments, the comm officer looked up.
“No, ma’am. Not a
peep.”
Husband and wife shared a look; Serenity nodded slowly.
“Pass on that we shall delay the attack for up to twelve hours.
If they have not shown by then, we shall close formation, reassign their
targets amongst the starships present, and begin the assault without them.”
“Aye, ma’am,” replied comm, and set to work, her curls bobbing.
Endymion grimaced. “Betrayed.”
“Come now, love… perhaps they merely had some logistical issues
amongst their various generals, or some disagreement as to who is in charge.
You know how they work,” Serenity replied softly, a hint of humor in
her voice.
“You don’t really believe that,” commented Endymion, raising his
eyebrows.
Serenity was quiet for a moment, the picture of serene calm and composure
as she settled down to wait, as befitted her name.
“I want to,” she answered finally.
“And I will, until I see proof to the contrary.
Even the Dark Kingdom, longtime enemies though we have been, would not
foolishly throw away this chance to rid ourselves of this overt threat.
After all, if we fail, and we fall… they know who is next on the
chopping block.”
The
SLS Yorktown
“And I thought Sailor Cygni was a pacer,” chuckled Duke as Derrelli
wandered around the bridge for the umpteenth time since the wait had begun some
eleven hours plus earlier.
Derrelli paused midstep. “Yeah,
yeah. Look, just because I’m used
to the whole ‘hurry up and wait’ thing, doesn’t mean I have to like it. Besides, captain’s prerogative.”
Duke chuckled. “I’m just
saying. You in that much of a hurry
to nuke things?”
“Of course he is,” spoke up Sailor Cygni.
“C’mon, Duke, you know him better than that.
He’s not happy unless something’s on fire.”
Orien snickered. “Or
exploding, especially at a lethally unsafe close range.”
“All the better to see it and admire the pretty fireworks,”
deadpanned Derrelli amidst the chuckles.
A beep interrupted them. The
comm officer spoke up. “Captain,
we’ve received modified orders, as there’s still no sign of the DK.”
Orien grunted as he examined his console; his portion of those orders was
even now being relayed to him via ops. “Yeah,
and do you want even more good news? We
now have more targets where we are the focus than we have Banshee torpedoes…
and I’m guessing that goes for much of the fleet.
Not too much of a surprise, I guess; we only have two aboard.”
Derrelli shrugged. “Guess
we’ll have to improvise. Those
orders say when it all begins?”
Sailor Cygni pointed at screen one, where the Oberon
had begun to move forward. “Right
now.”
“So be it,” Derrelli said calmly.
“Helm, proceed now as per briefed parameters.”
“To the pain,” muttered Duke quietly as the allied fleet began to
move forward as one massive wall towards the galactic edge.
Derrelli’s expression quirked into a rather nasty half smile.
“Yeah. Theirs.
Nuke ‘em if you got ‘em.”