"LUNAR: Tales From Crystal Tokyo"
LUNAR:
Tales From Crystal Tokyo
By
Daryll Pung
Episode
3-20: We Are Ready Means... WAR
Rated:
R
Edge of
the Milky Way Galaxy, 10 December 2740
For long moments, all was eerily silent.
It was as if an invisible line had been drawn in the middle of space; for
a time, no one strayed across it.
Out here, it was dark: dark,
cold, and lonely. The warmth, heat,
and light of the various homestars of all those involved were distant pinpricks,
no more than the faintest of glimmers in the oppressive blackness; and if it
weren't for the dim emanations of the gathered combatants themselves, the
darkness would be virtually absolute. One
would have to rely on methods other than light to see; for there simply wasn't
any around to view by save for the light that one brought with you... and what
happened when that went out?
It wasn't something any of them wanted to dwell on, as they collectively
focused their thoughts on the task at hand, pushing even feelings of betrayal
aside.
Reckoning was at hand.
On one side, a virtual wall of starships, seven hundred twenty three
strong. These ships were of many
sizes, and many shapes. They gave
off many dim glows of many colors: white, red, blue, orange, yellow.
They were occupied by many different races.
Above all, they were fiercely determined to give everything they had to
defend their homes, their countrymen, their freedoms... but most of all, each
other.
On the other, a spherical formation of one hundred and ninety ships,
gradually breaking up to meet the incoming threat.
These ships were identical in virtually all respects, from color and
shape to their immense size. The
individuals aboard were much of a muchness, as well.
And though their opponents knew it not, the reason they were here was
actually rather simple: greed.
The question now was equally simple- was that a good enough reason to die
for? Their answer, of course, was
that defeat was quite simply out of the realm of possibility.
This was quite foolish; their opponents had lost almost five hundred
ships, numerous bases and colonies, and countless lives just to stop ten
of their number.
Above all, only three of the four peoples had united against them; and
after this obstacle was overcome, the last roadblock to conquest, resources, and
their homeworlds would be ridiculously easy.
The fleets closed.
The large ships charged their weapons.
Then, all at once, they stopped, and the first vestiges of doubt appeared
in their minds; they hadn’t faced anything like this before.
For the massed wall of ships, still charging in at a constant speed, had
just fired. Not just a beam here, or a torpedo there… and precision was
anything but; no, they had just launched everything they had in their arsenals,
and all at once.
Space was suddenly alight with color and blazing energy; a massive flux
of power and explosives ripped forth. Beams
of yellow-white, red, and blue led the way, and the amount was in the hundreds
of thousands; they were followed by staggered, two dimensional, sweeping orange
beams and fierce beams of fiery reddish-orange.
Behind that came a storm of energy trails of red, white, and gold from
torpedoes in various patterns… and swarms of purplish traces from thousands of
missiles.
The formation of the supercruisers broke apart as they tried in vain to
avoid some of the incoming fire… but that would be impossible.
Even as much of the initial beam fire ripped by them fairly harmlessly,
most of it missing, it was clear some of the weapons had, indeed, been aimed-
the more powerful variety.
Antimatter cannons smashed into their hulls; refined matrix effects swept
over whole areas, shocking the invaders further as the effects were actually
felt; whole areas were without power.
The torpedoes and missiles struck next.
Massive explosions and craters burst from the supercruisers; even more
areas lost power, and the refined golden spheres utterly deleted whole chunks of
their ships. Plasma and vapor issued in massive, billowing streams from
the injured hulls. Even more
worrisome was the sheer force of the impacts, especially from the missiles; the
vessels actually shuddered from the impacts.
As scowling captains directed repair efforts, the two groups continued to
close.
The supercruisers prepared to fire their weapons the same way their
enemies just had…
When they did it again; another massive salvo burst forth from the wall
of starships; this time, the fire was a little more precise... and the missiles
and matrices were notably lacking.
The damage was impressive, but the sheer bulk of the supercruisers meant
it was mostly superficial; and repairs were already underway.
But the twin bombardments meant that the alliance fleet was now within
knife fight range, and their formation abruptly broke apart.
The SLS
Yorktown
"And... execute!" ordered Sorcerer Derrelli to helm.
Wizard Duke smiled grimly from the first officer's chair.
"Time to see if this'll really work."
Sailor Cygni looked up from science.
"Sapphire, Unicorn, Ghen'rith, Fid’rechel,
Meersale, and Treseey are in formation with us as assigned; our
first supercruiser target, number zero seven three, is at bearing three two two
mark twenty three!"
"Target assigned to?" Derrelli asked quickly.
"Treseey," replied Wizard Orien at tactical.
"Right," Derrelli grinned.
"How many in our path?"
"Eight," responded Orien.
"Orien, discharge only port, starboard, and aft dorsal and ventral
weaponry as we pass the other ships. Keep
torpedoes and death rays in reserve; keep primary weaponry for the designated
target. Duke, TPA is yours first; fire at your discretion; try not to
wear yourself out. Helm, plot a
course, all ahead full sublight; but let's make it evasive, and prevent their
fire as much as possible. Comm,
alert flight control; deploy all fighters for CAP and have them set up for point
defense only; they are not to engage the enemy.
Alert formation; we're the bait ship for this target, and we all cover Treseey.
Let's go!"
The SLS
Sapphire
"Acknowledge, Akio," Sorcerer Rio said, excitement creeping
into his voice. He stood, and
flexed; his arm tattoo rippled. In
his mind, a single phrase echoed: Speculum
Gemini. A second later, an
exact copy of himself appeared on the bridge of the Sapphire; albeit briefly
nude, until the clone, Sorcerer Riio, activated the shared ability of the two
known as Shadow Veil; a blackness seemed to ooze over him before
solidifying into a black bodysuit, seemingly made of leather.
"All right, then," grinned Rio.
"Helm, cover the Yorktown; keep as much weaponsfire off of us
as possible. Tactical, indulge yourself on the ships we pass; keep the big
punch until we hit our first target. Number
Two, the first crack at the TPA is yours."
"Gee, thanks," Sailor Vega replied dryly, brushing her lavender
locks out of her face as she stood, and gracefully moved to the humming TPA
console. "So, which one of you
is supposed to be 'Number One'? Obviously,
one of you is zero, naturally..."
"Funny," commented Riio. "Just
hold your fire until absolutely necessary."
"Yeah, yeah," she muttered as she climbed in.
"I know; unlike someone on this bridge, I do pay attention at
the briefings." She leaned
forward in the console, her brow creasing in concentration.
"Standing by," she reported.
The SLS
Prometheus
As time flew by and the battle thickened, the main screen showed the
impressive firepower of the GM battlewagon, being dispensed across the broad
shape of the supercruiser designated as their first target as they swept along
at perilously close range; they were sweeping by the weapons ports so quick and
then ducking away it was difficult for the enemy to launch more than short
spurts of their lightning weapons, which were quickly absorbed by the upgraded
shielding, although the occasional burst of sparks showed the impacts were still
being felt aboard the Prometheus.
Another shudder rocked the battlewagon at that very moment; a shower of
sparks rained down from overhead near the tactical station as a conduit took the
overload; there was a distinctly unpleasant smell of something burnt. On the main screen, multiple small explosions burst forth as
the Prometheus’ weapons banks again tore into the supercruiser’s
hide, accompanied by the occasional blast as other torpedoes and beams from
other randomly swerving attackers hit home; screen three showed a tactical view
as one of their HDE companions, the battleship, swerved away, angling back
around, though that ship could be seen streaming plasma on screen four from all
down its starboard flank, which was lightly charred.
Lieutenant Sonja Petrovich spoke up from comm.
“Ma’am, they’re ready to eliminate them!”
“Right,” spoke up Sailor Xocotl.
“We’re now the bait! All
weapons, point D! Let’s
deliberately stream a little plasma ourselves from the grids; make it look like
we took a bit too much of a hit. Helm,
direct us into line of fire for an active torpedo launcher!”
As the battleship turned back around, nearby space became bright as day,
and a massive shockwave slammed into all ships in close proximity, as a Zerm
cruiser was blown out of existence; all present scowled as screen five showed a
GM destroyer taking a lightning stream full on.
It emerged, blackened and scorched, with fragments of its armor trailing
off behind it, and no shielding to speak of, but still very much alive as its
weapons discharged and blew the offending lightning generator out of existence
in blazing beams of hot-white.
“They’re gonna fire torpedoes!” called out Lieutenant Commander
Phoeana Cythenia.
“Helm, break now!” ordered Sailor Xocotl.
Even as Lieutenant Timothy Henderson manipulated his panel and got the
battleship moving, six precisely targeted, high-speed purplish streaks blazed
from a launcher on the incoming HDE battleship before it, too, abruptly swerved.
A millisecond later, even as the first torpedo left the launcher of the
supercruiser, the Starburst Crusher missiles struck, exploding in an overlapping
pattern of six spherical, oddly purple fiery blasts.
“Comm! Signal to our group! Get
clear, now-“ Sailor Xocotl shouted, only to be interrupted by events.
A massive, purplish-golden mix of energy blasted from the impact point,
initially in the form of six spheres, but rapidly combining and expanding as
one, and utterly disintegrating the supercruiser’s side as it expanded
inexorably until the spherical tear of subspace radiation had consumed over half
the ship; the sphere then imploded on itself in a prismatic flash. What
was left was a portion of the bow and stern of the supercruiser; the entire
midsection was utterly gone. A
moment after that, as the front part went completely dark, the back chunk
exploded in a brilliant blaze of glory... and as a bonus, even as the allied
ships fled the expanding shockwave, it smashed into and completely destroyed the
front section as well.
The SLS
Yorktown
“Bring us about!” snarled Derrelli, a full half hour later.
“Tell everyone to get clear!”
The Treseey had just unleashed its focused and upgraded
Destabilitator Matrix on a lightning generator, right as it had fired upon the Yorktown.
The mighty battleship was already slewing hard to the right in as tight a
turn as she could muster, and the lightning already launched caught her all down
her port flank. The shields took most of the brunt of the attack, but the
ship shuddered viciously and lights flickered as power levels fluctuated as a
result. A red ionic trail led the
charge away, with all of the Yorktown group’s ships, including the Treseey,
in hot pursuit, even as crackling orange energy trails were already lancing
through all the visible weapons emplacements, engine grids, and sensor elements
on the targeted supercruiser; orangish spurts of plasma were erupting all over.
As the Yorktown group raced through an expanding cloud of debris
that moments ago had been a GM cruiser and an HDE light cruiser, heaving with
impacts of the shockwaves, an even larger one abruptly burst behind them amidst
the massive, blinding detonation of the supercruiser they’d targeted.
“Brace for impact!” called out Derrelli, as Ross sounded the
collision alarms.
A second later the whole ship gave a mighty upwards jerk, sending
everyone not already seated onto the deck and causing sparks to erupt from all
over. After a few hectic moments of
chaos, things settled down enough for Derrelli to drag himself upright.
"Report!"
“Minimal damage!” Orien responded quickly.
“All weapons, engines, and tactical systems are online, but we are down
to ninety-three percent of layer two in the aft shield arc.
Our fighters, amazingly, are all still with us; they ducked in close
inside our shields and rode it out there. Some
injuries reported amongst the crew; no deaths.”
“Engineering?” Derrelli asked quickly.
“Some minor shock damage to various systems; nothing serious, and
we’re working on it; all back-ups fully functional regardless,” replied the
bridge engineering officer.
Derrelli nodded. “Next
target! Let’s go!”
“Captain!” spoke up Sailor Cygni.
“No less than five supercruisers have just launched a
concentrated attack on the Oberon battle group!”
Derrelli spun. “What!”
He paused. “They’ll be
okay,” he muttered, though he sounded unconvinced.
“The Crystal and all that.”
“I don’t know,” Sailor Cygni came back, sounding worried.
“Oberon’s already taken
serious damage; the TPA’s offline, amongst other systems; most of the nine
escort cruisers aren’t much better off. If
she uses the Crystal now… she may live, but…”
She looked up. “And
we’re the closest allied help.”
Derrelli frowned, and clenched his fists.
He knew that the battle plan was vital… he knew that the survival of
them all could depend on it. And
yet…
What good that survival without Neo-Queen Serenity the First and King Endymion? Not to mention the Planetary pairs and thousands of other
lives…
He scowled as he made his decision.
“Helm, plot an intercept course! Tactical,
target two of the bastards’ engine cores; prep Banshee torps for launch!
Duke, get out of that console; take command!
I’ll deep fry the third ship; but to be safe, better park us in front
of it! Instruct our group to
proceed as per the mission-“
“Too late,” commented Sailor Cygni, indicating screen two, which
showed the rest of their group turning hard about with them.
“They’re coming with us.”
“Then, comm, please ask our allies to prepare their lethal shots and
deliver them to the last two ships. Helm…
sublight, all ahead flank. And
Orien… fire when ready,” Derrelli said as he clambered into the TPA console.
He leaned forward; fire sparked around him as the console hummed with the
energy being pumped into the system.
Much like its namesake from centuries before, the Yorktown,
her crew, and her allies raced defiantly into what most certainly was a
desperate situation, ready to risk it all.
The SLS
Oberon
Serenity gasped, and fought to climb upright; fires raged on the bridge
of the battleship around her. Much
of the bridge crew was incapacitated, slumped over their consoles or sprawled
across the deck. She grimaced as
she stood; her appearance was now quite disheveled, with hair hanging loose from
her signature ‘meatballs’ and smudge marks on her fair skin; she heard her
husband groan nearby.
Her mouth became set in a grim line; the screens, surprisingly, were
still active, though occasional bursts of static blazed across them, and their
five assailants were clearly visible, currently tearing into the cruisers, which
were valiantly attempting to protect them.
Her eyes widened as the SLS Centaur
took a full broadside hit from a trio of lightning streams; it emerged from
the explosion limping, trailing plasma amidst a cloud of armor fragments.
“Raye,” she murmured; she knew the Mars pair was aboard that ship.
All of her friends were hurting now; they couldn’t last much longer,
but as always, they were ready to lay down their lives for her.
Resolute, she stood; her crescent glimmered to life as heat and power
coursed through her veins; she called her Crystal to life.
And paused.
Two of the supercruisers were suddenly slewing about; incredibly, massive
rents were appearing all over their vast bulk, marching forth inexorably in a
tattoo-like pattern, originating from the area of the engines; and their engine
elements abruptly shattered, huge clouds of plasma billowing forth, energy
crackling throughout.
The outermost one to port was being consumed in a purplish, massive
sphere, centered on its bow end.
The one furthest to starboard began blazing with orange energy,
shuddering and sparking, in an envelope of power that was spreading over the
whole ship.
And suddenly, oh so blessedly, the weaponsfire from the centermost
supercruiser was consumed in a massive, billowing blast of TPA-induced fire as
an RSN battleship pulled to a dead stop directly in between the supercruiser and
the badly wounded Oberon force; a GM destroyer and cruiser raced past after it,
accompanied by an HDE battleship and light cruiser, and a Zerm battleship and
cruiser.
She smiled as she read the registry.
“The Yorktown?” croaked Endymion, who’d pulled himself to a sitting
position.
“Yes,” Serenity nodded. “I
am going to see if we have anything left to fire.
Can you discover if we will answer the helm?”
“Gladly,” he responded, and lurched in that direction, even as the
supercruiser fired on their rescuers… and the other four exploded almost
simultaneously in glorious, massive blasts, releasing devastating shockwaves.
The SLS
Yorktown
“Point defense!” snarled Duke, even as the Yorktown’s
fighter wings swooped in to provide similar cover fire; a massive swarm of
glowing, golden torpedoes was now issuing from the charred supercruiser, all
centered on them.
Space was suddenly ablaze with blaster energy; but as Derrelli looked up,
something else caught his eye-
Four overlapping shockwaves of awesome power.
He glanced back at Duke, who was already reacting.
“All hands, brace for impact!”
The
earlier jolt was nothing compared to this one; the lights actually went out, and
Derrelli was forced to throw his arms up and shield his face as sparks burst
from the TPA console around him. He
was vaguely aware of similar effects all over the bridge; the wailing of fire
alarms added to the din. He scowled
as he heard Duke shout.
“Helm,
turn us into the strongest of the wavefronts; try to keep our bow into the worst
of it so we ride it out!”
The SLS
Sapphire
The little RSN destroyer had scrambled well clear, along with the rest of
the Yorktown’s battle group; but events were clearly displayed on
screen one, and Riio whistled as the impacts smashed into the battleship Yorktown. The battlewagon was slammed upwards and to the side, despite
attempts to turn into the worst of it; and it rolled through the mass of
explosive energy; the waves could also be seen impacting the supercruiser, which
took it well, and the Oberon battle
group, which didn’t… though the effects there were minimized, since the Yorktown
had bravely- or foolishly, he wasn’t sure which- taken the brunt of it all,
leaving eddies in which the wounded ships and all the fighters could try and
hide from the worst of it.
As the waves passed, doing little more than slightly rock the Sapphire
as it arced back around, Rio spoke up. “Damn.”
“Indeed,” agreed Riio. As
if the shockwaves hadn’t been enough… lightning was now blazing into the Yorktown’s
wounded flanks; the explosive impacts temporarily obscured the battleship from
view. When it emerged, hull
scorched, it was trailing plasma from its RIFT grids, and a cloud of duralloy
armor sheeting hung fragmented behind it… but it was still very much alive, as
a sudden salvo of Dragon, Ghost, and Phoenix torpedoes attested to, with
precision targeting that eliminated the weapons stations that could fire on it
and the wounded Oberon group in a
series of muted white flashes, brilliant explosions, and golden spheres of
hungry, matter-devouring radiation.
“Status of the Yorktown, and the Oberon
group?” Rio asked Lieutenant Commander T’riiv.
“Grievous, sir,” responded the Vulcan science officer.
“At this juncture, it is difficult to say which of the involved ships
is damaged the least. It is almost
a certainty that the next full salvo from a supercruiser will finish off any one
of the eleven ships in question; indeed, the only conjecture is the question of
which ship will be destroyed first.”
“Well, that’s just great,” growled Riio.
“This is not looking good.”
“No shit, sir,” a very worried Sailor Vega all but whispered from the
TPA.
The SLS
Tirpitz
Such feelings were also in excess aboard the bridge of the battleship Tirpitz,
as it arced in a parabolic curve around the stern of the supercruiser it was
currently engaging; a salvo of golden torpedoes narrowly missed her stern.
The battle was well into its second hour, and of the targets assigned to
the Tirpitz battle group, three had
fallen… two to the Tirpitz herself, to her Banshee torpedoes.
In the process, however, they’d moved into some of the thickest and
fiercest fighting, and the RSN battlewagon was now flying quite solo, its
companions long since reduced to expanding clouds of gas, plasma, and debris,
and the starship itself was isolated from any allied assistance by a wall of a
half a dozen supercruisers, including the one she was currently fighting.
It was quite fortunate indeed that only the one they were engaged in the
melee with was bothering to target them.
On the bridge of the ship, everyone lurched in unison as the battlewagon
shuddered; but Sailor Ivory at the helm was able to roll the starship to avoid
the worst of the lightning blast they’d just taken.
The
simple fact was if the majority of the bridge crew hadn’t been Senshi, it was
entirely likely the Tirpitz would also
have been destroyed some time ago. As
it was…
“Report!” snapped Sailor Magneta for what seemed the umpteenth time.
Sailor Ebony scowled, wiping her forehead, but merely smearing the smudge
marks present on her face. “That
tears it. TPA’s offline- again- and this time, unless we back off for
a few minutes, I just can’t give you an estimate of when it will be repaired.
Fact is, boss, we’ve run out of repair crews… there’s just too much
to keep fixing, and no matter how we prioritize, we’re all still only flesh
and blood and can only do so much. Hell,
I’m impressed we’ve kept up this long!”
At those words, Sailor Sirius grimaced and began climbing out of the TPA
console.
“Comrade Ebony’s engineers are
working wonders, keptin,” broke in Sailor Russia.
“We still have ten percent shielding of layer two, all arcs; roughly
seventy percent of our armor; half our blaster arrays; the port death ray- which
will be recharged in thirty seconds- and the transfer of torpedoes from
inoperative tubes to functional ones is proceeding well.
Casualties have so far been limited to sixty-one dead, fifty-three
wounded.”
“All engines still operating, though most are at less than one hundred
percent at this point,” continued Sailor Ebony.
Sailor Magneta glared at the screen.
“Sailor Cerebra… precisely what is the mass of that thing?”
The telepathic Asian Senshi didn’t miss a beat.
“It is guaranteed suicide for you to attempt to use your powers to
destroy it in one attack, captain,” she began smoothly, “especially without
TPA assistance. It is a far better
strategy at this point to take a page out of Sailor Cygni’s book and focus
Dragon torpedo fire on their engine elements with what tubes we can bring to
bear, using the rest of our weapons to smash what weapons emplacements we can. If we can no longer destroy them completely, then let us
render them not much of a threat.”
“I quite agree,” nodded Sailor Britannica.
Sailor Magneta slammed her fist onto the armrest of her chair,
splintering it, cursing under her breath. “So
be it,” she snarled finally. “Sailor
Russia, proceed. Sailor Ivory,
continue flying evasive, keeping us as safe as possible.”
Even their reassuring replies did nothing to assuage her mounting temper
as Sailor Magneta longed to reach out and crush these foes… but she’d
learned some hard lessons in her time as leader of Omega Force, and now was not
the time to back down, or even pointlessly sacrifice herself or her crew.
Far better to stay alive, and keep fighting… until there was no fight
left, however that may come about.
The SLS
Durandal
Sailor Vulcan narrowed her eyes at the screens, which were displaying
progressively more grim data on the course of the battle as it ground on, in
both time and casualties. The Durandal’s
battle group had suffered losses, as had most; but they were still fighting
hard, and the battlewagon herself had not yet unleashed her Banshee torpedoes on
their designated targets.
She displayed a frown for all to see as she turned her head fractionally.
“Helm, intercept course for our first
target, all ahead full, sublight. Comm,
inform battle group. We are going
to hit and run. Tactical, prepare
first Banshee torpedo; fire on my mark.”
As the battleship and her three remaining companions- all HDE- came
about, they separated slightly, and raced in, with one billowing red exhaust
trail and three blue. Energy beams
lanced out; a mix of white-yellow blaster fire and brilliant white-blue enhanced
disruptor fire, creating a pattern of dense explosions all over the hull of the
supercruiser on the approach vector of the four starships.
“Fire!” ordered Sailor Vulcan coolly.
There was a beep, and then a half second later, her tactical officer
started cursing in fluent Isbanni, before recovering his decorum.
“Misfire, ma’am!” he finally snarled.
“Excuse me?” Sailor Vulcan demanded, spinning to glare at tactical.
“For some reason, both Banshee torpedoes fired, though I only had one
selected… and they collided while still phased out.
They blew each other up, captain… and now we’re out of them,” he
reported bitterly.
Sailor Vulcan clenched her fists, fighting to control her emotions.
“Then we simply cover and bait for our HDE battleship-“
“Ma’am!” shouted science; but the notice came too late-
A tremendous explosion rocked the Durandal;
as the lights flickered and sparks burst from various consoles, the main screen
showed their flight path altering as the helm officer took initiative to
compensate. Only two HDE companions
remained; both the cruiser and the destroyer looked rather battered; and though
both did carry missiles, it was evident on screen four that the cruiser was all
out... and the destroyer had no launchers remaining, merely charred and sparking
sections of hull where launchers used to be.
“Report,” said Sailor Vulcan neutrally.
“The J’rechen was just destroyed by full-on lightning salvo; that was
the core detonation shockwave,” sighed science. “And our other escorts are out of missiles.”
Sailor Vulcan mulled her options. She
didn’t have many. “Very
well,” she said after a moment. “Bring
us about. Load Dragon torpedoes; target engines. Fire on my mark.”
Vulcan though she was, foremost in her mind was a quintessential human
expression.
Damn.
Damn damn damn!
The SLS
Hood
“Okay, that
sucked,” growled Sailor Ryujin as she pulled herself upright.
“What’ve we got?”
On screen one ahead of her, the expanding fiery gas and debris cloud and
slowly fading plasma traces which had been the light cruiser SLS Coyote
were still quite visible; the bulk of the supercruiser ahead, blossoming with
explosions from the weapons still impacting on it, was rather threatening.
“One Banshee torp left,” tactical reported.
“This supercruiser’s supposed to be the Reltessa’s
target.”
“Bring us in to bait; reinforce forward shielding,” growled the
blonde Senshi, pushing an errant lock of hair back behind her ear.
She glanced towards science; but that only reminded her of how bad things
were going as this mess wound into the fourth hour; the science station had been
consumed by an explosion an hour earlier, with her science officer killed
instantly. She frowned. Ops has enough to do…
“How bad is it out there, Hood?”
“Bloody awful, love,” replied the AI almost instantly.
“Although roughly forty percent of the supercruisers have been
destroyed to this point, losses are getting heavier by the second as our ships
run out of Banshee torpedoes, the fighters are now being heavily and
specifically targeted, and our adversaries are adapting to the tactics used by
the HDE and Zerm to take them out in one hit.
We’re rapidly losing that capability... screen three, captain, the Reltessa.”
The view there changed to show the Zerm battleship firing its focused
matrix, in a staggered, two dimensional, sweeping orange beam; but in the
process, despite the copious amount of red-orange laser sweep fire sent out to
intercept, it took a stream of golden torpedoes head on; the Zerm fighters in
the area were already little more than smaller explosions and expanding debris
fields as a result of lightning streams. A
millisecond later, the highly-polished spherical ship was temporarily obscured
from view in a collection of golden spheres of radiation; as they faded, huge
craters and pockmarks could be seen carved out of the hull, amongst the massive
plasma cloud. It then detonated in
a massive blast... and right behind it, in an even larger explosion, enveloped
in crackling orange electrical surges, so did the supercruiser.
“Oh, dear,” whispered Sailor Astraea from the engineering console;
her hands were already white with how hard she was holding on.
Sailor Ryujin grimaced, and then, in spite of the situation, grinned.
“All hands, brace for impact. Helm,
you know what to do. Surf’s
up!”
The SLS
Tournesol
Princess Serena gripped her armrests as the battleship shuddered from yet
another impact wave, some forty-five minutes later.
“Good shooting, tactical,” she commented.
“Next target?”
“It was assigned to our HDE companions,” frowned tactical.
“We sorta lost them,” Sorcerer Dramlyn snorted wryly.
“In rather big bangs.”
Tactical spoke again. “We
have one Banshee torpedo remaining, ma’am.”
Reeni nodded thoughtfully, ignoring her racing heart.
She knew the situation was getting quite perilous…
“Ask our Zerm friend if they’d like to take the next one.”
Comm spoke up. “That’s
an affirmative, ma’am.”
“Helm, lead the way; evasive action.
We’re the cover ship, but we don’t want to get pummeled too badly.
Tactical, science, how’s the reconfiguring of ECM coming?” Reeni
turned to look at her tactical officer.
“Still working on it, ma’am,” came the reply.
Reeni nodded. “It’s a
shame Sailor Mercury couldn’t develop an effective jamming measure
beforehand… but they do have some killer sensors.
Keep at it; if we can come up with something, we’ll share it
immediately.”
“Goodness knows we could use something to help out…” Dramlyn said
grimly. “We’re on the verge of
getting routed.”
Reeni was silent for a long moment, even as the Tournesol
and her sole companion streaked towards their next target.
“I know,” she whispered finally.
“This is not looking good… and using the Crystal…”
She sighed. “I’ll do it
if I have to. I know Mother will as
well... even though the Oberon’s in
a bad way, according to last sensor reports we received, what, two hours ago,
now? I don’t remember; hard to
keep track. Anyway, the chances of
either of us surviving, considering what we’re facing… are practically
nonexistent.”
Dramlyn nodded solemnly. He
could think of nothing else to say.
The SLS
Yorktown
Derrelli cursed as the Yorktown
shook again. It was now over five
hours since the battle had started. The
supercruiser in front of them was maneuvering, slowly, and bringing more weapons
to bear, and the wounded battleship could barely make steerage way with
thrusters; that, and he still didn’t want to abandon the covering position the
Yorktown currently held, still buying time for the Oberon
group to recover. They’d been
going back and forth for damn near forever with this supercruiser- and it showed
in its heavily charred, pockmarked hull- hoping for allied help; but the battle
was not going well, and none could be had.
The rest of the Yorktown group
was trying valiantly to hold off the supercruisers; since three more had moved
in within the past ten minutes, and it was all they could do to keep them busy,
much less find enough time to trigger their precision fire and destroy them…
and the Unicorn and Ghen'rith
had both suffered massive damage, and were barely hanging in the fight, staying
mobile and resorting to random hit and run attacks.
That was in addition to the damage inflicted on Yorktown, herself.
And who knew what additional shockwaves would do to the Yorktown,
or those she was protecting.
He’d abandoned the TPA after the ship had stopped rocking and working,
some hours earlier, still wincing from the burns he’d gotten; but he’d
ignored that, and forced himself to concentrate on directing his ship in battle
as best he could.
The pain was still there, an ever-present companion.
He continued to ignore it; both he and his medical staff had bigger
problems to worry about.
“Talk to me, Orien,” he said, bringing himself back to present, as
calmly as he could muster; there was no engineer on the bridge at the moment, as
a relay had blown just aft of the bridge, and she was currently trying to fix
it.
“We’re trying, Pyro,” Orien replied quickly, after firing another
few precision-directed torpedoes to destroy the enemy weapons facing them;
fortunately, he was a marksman, since fire control was a sometime thing.
“Damage control is working on the conduits; another five minutes, and
the engines, TPA, and all beam weaponry should be back online.
Over most of the ship, we still have roughly thirty percent armor;
twenty-two along the port midships, where we just took that hit.
Shields back at minimal levels, hopefully, in another two minutes.
Full sensors and fire control should be up in another minute or so.
All engines still okay, integrity wise; they’re not at a hundred
percent, but we have sufficient power for the moment.
Casualties minimal; nothing further besides the score of deaths and one
hundred and three injuries reported thus far.”
Sailor Cygni scowled. “That’s
assuming we live that long,” she stated rapidly.
“They’re accelerating their ventral spin; I estimate roughly twenty
seconds before they can hit us with more weapons ports than we can possibly take
out. I’d do better, but the
sensors…”
“And no one is in much of a position to help,” Duke said grimly.
“And if we maneuver more than the little figure eights we’ve been
doing…”
“Yeah,” Derrelli nodded, resolve etched in his features.
“People far more important than us get killed… and lots of them.”
“About ten seconds,” Sailor Cygni sighed.
“Orien, do what you can to disrupt the incoming fire forward with a
wall of Ghost torpedoes, prox detonation; fire them in pairs, so’s to keep a
steady flow. All hands-“ Derrelli
began.
“Derrelli!” gasped Sailor Cygni abruptly, eyes wide, manipulating her
panel.
Screen one zoomed out suddenly, to show, amidst streaks of static-
A
single, massive purplish-black torpedo slammed viciously into their assailant,
and with frightening rapidity, began expanding and consuming the entirety of the
heavily scorched and damaged supercruiser in searing, dark fire.
Screens two through four changed to show similar sights with the other
three supercruisers; the final explosions of all four were curiously weak
shockwaves, with very little force to them.
And
on screen five, the Dark Kingdom battleship Wraith
decelerated in a graceful curve, pulling alongside the Yorktown.
Behind
it, a virtual wall of DK starships was racing in; and countless Negatorpedoes
had already been launched, abruptly breaking up the supercruiser formations as
they desperately tried to avoid certain doom.
“We’re
being hailed!” called comm.
“Screen
one!” replied Derrelli, delight on his face.
The
view there changed to the interior of the bridge of the Wraith; Lord Hirogex stood. “Our
deepest apologies at our tardiness. Our council debated far
longer than many of us deemed necessary about whether we should show up… in
the end, wiser heads prevailed.”
“Shit,”
Derrelli grinned. “Excuse me.
You just made up for that tardiness!”
Hirogex
returned the grin. “Shall we
dance?”
Derrelli
smirked. “Of course… but
you’ll have to lead a few minutes more, until we finish with some repairs;
then we can give you all the cover fire you need!”
“Gladly,”
Hirogex nodded. “Wraith, out.”
“Orien,
do what you can to provide cover fire. Comm,
permission granted to the group to break up and cover or engage as they see fit.
People… it’s a whole new ball game!” Derrelli exclaimed.
To hell with the battle plan anyway, he thought. It’s no longer viable.
The SLS
Sapphire
“I’ll be damned,” whispered Rio.
Even as he watched, the DK ships were beginning to intermingle with the
rest of the remaining allied formations; and Yorktown’s
torpedo tubes suddenly spoke again, sending out a full salvo of torpedoes as
cover fire, behind which the Wraith
moved and launched a carefully timed Negatorpedo.
“Hell, yeah!” grinned Riio.
“Move us into covering position,” Rio ordered suddenly, “of the
nearest Negatorpedo-equipped DK starship. Let’s
go hunting!”
The Sapphire responded instantly, snapping over on a new heading and
diving above a DK cruiser that was maneuvering to get a clear shot at one of the
supercruisers targeting a desperately evading lone RSN battleship... the Tirpitz. The supercruiser seemed to realize it was being hunted, as it
opened fire abruptly on that cruiser.
“Sailor Vega!” called Riio.
“On it!” she snapped tiredly, as indeed she was; energy was already
coruscating around her. “Vega’s
Protective Grasp!”
As she snapped out that particular phrase for a sixth time in this
battle, and grimaced against the drain, a finely manicured, feminine hand of
mostly transparent, light pink force, just larger than the ship it was
protecting, appeared abruptly in front of the DK cruiser; it faced the
supercruiser, palm out, fingers together, as if telling the enemy to stop.
Abruptly, the hand was obscured as lightning slammed into it; and Sailor
Vega gasped with the effort of maintaining the hand long enough to for the
lightning to end.
As the electrical nimbus faded, so too did the hand, abruptly; and Sailor
Vega slumped over in the TPA console even as the DK cruiser fired a lethal,
single Negatorpedo, which arced in and slammed home on the supercruiser’s
hull.
“Sailor Vega?” called Rio.
There was no answer.
“Leri?” demanded Riio.
“Still… here…. dammit…” the Vegan Senshi finally gasped out,
slowly opening her normally vibrant green eyes, which were dull and exhausted.
She took a deep breath. “I’ve…
never used the TPA… this much before.”
Clone and master shared a glance. “Okay,
that’s that,” Rio said abruptly as the supercruiser was removed from
existence in a curiously muted dark flash after being utterly consumed with
black, raging fiery death. “Sailor
Vega, out of the TPA. If necessary,
I’ll jump in; meantime, just try to recover your strength.
Tactical, full cover fire. Let’s
kick us some ass.”
Sailor Vega barely acknowledged as she struggled out of the console for
what she was praying was the last time; Riio moved in to assist her, even as the
Sapphire and her new friend sought
another target to engage.
The SLS
Tournesol
“Yes!” cheered Reeni as the main screen displayed another
supercruiser falling prey to a Negatorpedo, six and a half hours into the
battle. The Tournesol
shuddered as she took a hit; and the lightning generators from the flanking
supercruiser which had just fired upon them abruptly erupted in a massive green
explosion as tunneling beam fire smashed into it from the DK destroyer now
escorting them.
“Tell the Ammut thanks,” grinned Reeni.
“Tactical, stand by to fire our last Banshee torpedo, on that very
supercruiser; and comm, alert our allies.”
“Aye, ma’am,” tactical responded.
“Torpedo ready in twenty seconds.”
“ECM progress?” Dramlyn inquired.
“We might actually be making some, sir,” science replied quickly.
“Now that Durandal, Yorktown, and Triton are
out of immediate danger, we’re interfacing with them; and we may have
something here shortly… we need just a little while longer!”
“We’ll make sure you get it,” nodded Reeni, as tactical looked up.
“Ready, ma’am!”
“Target engine core and fire!” she ordered, her pink pigtails
whipping about as she quickly spun. “Helm,
any heading away, all ahead full sublight, evasive action!”
The Tournesol settled at its stern and began to spin, even as the
last Banshee torpedo in the fleet streaked forth towards its target.
The SLS
Durandal
Sailor Vulcan looked thoughtful as the battleship arced back around,
hovering over the Oberon group, the Wraith,
and the Yorktown, all of which were
just maintaining steerage, meandering and evading, but currently not in the
thick of the battle. The plasma
flows had stopped; and most of the injured ships once again had shields around
them. On two of the Durandal’s screens, data was being displayed, rapidly; her eyes
narrowed as she took it in.
“Get me Sailor Mercury aboard the Triton,
and Sailor Cygni aboard the Yorktown,”
she ordered brusquely. “Data
sharing is accomplishing nothing; we require direct communication to advance to
a rapid solution.”
“Aye, aye, ma’am,” her comm officer replied, swiftly moving to
comply.
Even as the channels were opened, the Oberon
herself and the other eight cruisers- as the Centaur’s
shields finally came back up- began moving, their formation breaking up as they
accelerated back into the fight; they picked up several more of their own, plus
DK, HDE, and Zerm escorts as they charged, with the first weaponsfire leaping
from their arrays in beams of brilliant yellow-white, green, blue-white, and
red-orange; explosions blossomed on the flanks of the nearest supercruiser.
It fired; a DK cruiser exploded in a gruesome blast of greenish gas and
black ichor and debris as the lightning tore through it.
The SLS
Hood
“Ma’am!” tactical spoke up, rather wearily; seven hours of straight
combat did take its toll. “The Tirpitz
is in trouble! They are again
completely alone, and now they have three different supercruisers locking on to
them!”
Sailor Ryujin smirked. “Even
Omega Force needs help sometimes. Right.
Hood, who’s with us?”
“Several DK ships, including the battleship Tarrasque;
the HDE flagship Fid’rechel,
several smaller Zerm ships, and we caught up a lone GM light cruiser, the Iguana,”
the AI replied quickly.
“Tactical, interface with all of their tactical departments; let’s
throw some cover fire the Tarrasque’s and Fid’rechel’s way,
and let them destroy two of the bastards, so’s we can plow a hole the Tirpitz
can escape out of. Helm, plot a
course and engage! Sailor Astraea,
how are we holding together?”
Even as she spoke, a lightning blast smashed into the Hood; lights
flickered and sparks flew as the crew staggered about.
“We’d be a lot better if we could stop getting hammered,” gasped
the blonde Guardian. “We are keeping up with the damage, and if that changes
you’ll be the first to know!”
Sailor Ryujin grinned. “Works
for me! Time to hammer back;
tactical, fire at will!”
The SLS Tirpitz
“Sailor M!” exclaimed Sailor Sirius, pointing at screen one, where one supercruiser had just been consumed in black flames, and another in a massive, purplish sphere; twin shockwaves burst from the explosions and then collided- one weaker, one stronger- and swept outwards. Several smaller DK ships attempted to flee the shockwaves; they exploded in its wake. As the waves passed, it was obvious what the ebon-skinned Star Senshi was getting at-
Safety. Allied reinforcements. A
way out of what was now a familiar predicament.
Sailor Magneta leaned forward. “Sailor
Ivory!”
“On it, boss!” Sailor Ivory responded almost instantly; the
battleship slewed about, sluggishly, from the massive amounts of punishment
they’d taken, yet the blonde stubbornly forced the badly wounded battlewagon
on to course, and increased speed.
Even as she did so, allied reinforcements, including the RSN battleship Hood,
the DK battleship Tarrasque, and the HDE battleship Fid’rechel,
swept towards them, targeting the supercruiser behind them all the while.
As point defense activated from all the allied ships to intercept the
freshly fired torpedo salvo from the supercruiser behind the Tirpitz, the
battleship finally found itself once again within the limits of friendly
support, and Sailor Ivory reduced speed and began turning the starship back
around. It took several tense minutes, with point defense firing
almost continuously on all ships.
Finally, the torpedo salvo dealt with, Sailor Magneta turned back to
Sailor Russia. “Coordinate with the other ships; fire at will!”
“My pleasure, keptin,” grinned the burly Senshi.
As she got busy on her panel, the Tirpitz’s arrays- those that
weren’t darkened- erupted in blazing white, and slammed into the offending
supercruiser. She was not alone;
and behind the intense, precision assault, a single Negatorpedo burst from the
nose of the Tarrasque.
“Time to get clear!” called out Sailor Britannica.
The Tirpitz and her new friends turned away to starboard as the
hungry, dark inferno punched home, and began consuming the sheer bulk of the
supercruiser.
As they sought a new target on the fringes of the renewed offensive, led
by the hastily repaired Oberon, a weak shockwave burst behind them,
marking the death of that supercruiser.
The SLS
Yorktown
“That should do it,” Sailor Cygni commented after a half hour’s
frantic analysis and work. “Routines
altered, and loaded.”
“How sure are we that they’ll work?” Duke asked.
Sailor Cygni sighed. “Ask
GIA or Ross for the odds. Frankly,
there’s only one way to find out.”
Derrelli grinned wryly. “And
that would be to pull in front of a supercruiser and provoke it, deliberate
like.”
On screen four, Sailor Mercury nodded solemnly.
“That could be rather dangerous, you realize.”
On screen five, an impassive Sailor Vulcan spoke up.
“I will gladly take the Durandal and test the routines, given
the damage the Yorktown has already taken.”
Derrelli snorted. “Oh,
really? Tell me, Sailor Vulcan, of the four ships here, which one
does logic say should be the testbed?”
Sailor Vulcan’s gaze softened. She
bowed her head slightly. “A
battleship can survive the attacks of a supercruiser far more readily than a
cruiser, and the Durandal is less damaged, and hence more capable in
battle; and the Wraith is the only starship that possesses the one-shot,
one-kill weaponry. Therefore, if a
ship is to be lost…”
“Especially since that cruiser has the brains behind all of our most
important advances for the past how many centuries on it?
Yeah, that’s what I thought,” Derrelli said coolly.
“Look, thanks for the offer. The
whole fleet knew what the end result could be before we RIFTed here; we
certainly did. We’re ready for
it, okay? Now, we will keep the
link open; if the jamming doesn’t work, hopefully you can make the changes as
necessary so that it does.”
“Roger that,” Sailor Mercury said softly.
“Good. Helm, find us a supercruiser, all ahead full sublight;
don’t bother with evasive. Orien,
standby to activate ECM, max power. All
hands, stand to,” Derrelli paused for a second, looking around the bridge.
“Everyone, you are the best. We’ve
proved that here today. I know
I’m asking a lot. I know we’re
tired. I know we’re beaten up.
But we are damn sure not finished. Now, let’s go bell the
fucking cat. Helm:
engage.”
The Wraith, Durandal, and Triton trailed slightly
behind and at a subtle upward angle as the battered and bruised battleship
surged ahead at its current maximum sublight velocity; not bothering to alter
course, with a straight red trail of exhaust as it charged in.
The SLS
Tournesol
“Ma’am!” alerted ops.
Reeni stood. “What the
hell are they doing? Committing
suicide?”
“Testing the new ECM subroutines, actually,” science spoke up.
“The Yorktown volunteered.”
Reeni’s fists clenched as the wounded battleship rapidly drew within
the supercruiser’s weapons range, not bothering to slow down or change course.
“C’mon,” she whispered. “Work…”
The SLS
Yorktown
“Now, Orien!” ordered Derrelli, as the Yorktown drew within
weapons range.
“ECM powered up, maximum output, on supplied protocols,” Orien
reported a second later. “And, surprise, surprise, they’re preparing to fire.”
“Indulge yourself,” Derrelli said in response.
Weapons lanced out and began pounding into the supercruiser in brilliant
flashes.
“TPA repaired!” called out the bridge engineer.
“Duke, it’s yours if you want it,” Derrelli offered, eyes narrowed
on the screen. A sheen of
perspiration was on his brow.
Duke nodded, and scrambled to the console, which still bore char marks
from earlier.
Seconds later, he activated his Corrigest; and the first aerospark accompanied
the various blasters and torpedoes towards the supercruiser; the port antimatter
cannon suddenly blazed to life, cutting a massive swath across the
supercruiser’s hull, leaving plasma, debris, and flickering fires behind force
fields in its wake.
The bridge remained silent, except for the sounds of beeps from panel
presses, and the hums and various machinery noises.
Finally, the supercruiser fired. Lightning
burst from multiple ports, and golden torpedoes streamed forth.
All seemed to fly directly at the Yorktown.
Sailor Cygni sucked in her breath, eyes widening.
Derrelli gritted his teeth.
Duke let fly another aerospark.
Orien launched another Phoenix torpedo salvo.
Derrelli spoke, a nearly silent and surprisingly calm command.
“Evasive action. Come to
heading oh four seven mark two two point six.”
As the Yorktown slewed to port, climbing slightly, rocking and
weaving…
The weapons launched at them continued along on a straight-line path,
aimed at nothing in particular.
“It worked!” gasped Sailor Cygni.
“The routines work!”
Derrelli grinned slightly. “Let’s
make sure-“
“No problem,” Orien broke in. “They’re
firing again.”
“Continue evasive and jamming,” Derrelli said.
“Keep firing.”
As explosions blossomed in another sector over the surface of the
supercruiser, the lightning crackled just aft of the Yorktown; no torpedo
came near her.
“Comm, signal Wraith: destroy
this fucker,” Derrelli said, a note of unholy joy in his voice.
“Sailor Cygni… pass on the ECM protocols to the fleet; recommend the
entire fleet begin widescale, hardcore jamming.”
“Yes, sir!” comm replied with relish.
“Damn straight!” added an enthused Sailor Cygni, already hard at work
at her station.
The SLS
Tournesol
“Yes!” exclaimed Reeni, pumping her fist, her red eyes wide with
excitement; the results had been clearly displayed; the Yorktown was
maneuvering clearly, and every shot fired by the supercruiser…
Was missing cleanly. Abruptly,
a Negatorpedo erupted from the Wraith, and streaked in past the Yorktown;
it slammed home, and rapidly began devouring the supercruiser.
“They are completely failing to lock on,” murmured Dramlyn in
delight.
“Confirmed,” science spoke up. “They
can still get lucky with straight shots or prox detonation, but their weapons
lock is unable to function on the Yorktown-“
A beep interrupted her. She
glanced down, and looked back up, as she pressed her panel.
“And now, it can’t function on us, either,” she finished.
“Tactical, you have the new protocols.
Sailor Cygni aboard the Yorktown recommends immediate activation
of that jamming, and that’s endorsed by Sailor Mercury and Sailor Vulcan; Durandal
and Triton have already powered theirs up.”
“Do it!” ordered Reeni.
“Done,” tactical said a moment later.
“ECM at full power.”
Reeni smiled. “Now,
let’s end this!”
The SLS
Oberon
“Activate jamming!” ordered Serenity.
“Helm, continue flying evasive. Do
we have TPA?”
“Yes, ma’am… it’ll finish charging in about thirty seconds,”
the bridge engineer reported.
Serenity exchanged a look with Endymion, who nodded slowly.
“Be careful, love,” he whispered.
“I will,” she replied softly. She
raised her voice. “You have the
conn.” She moved purposefully
towards the TPA, and climbed gracefully into the console.
A second later, her crescent burst to life, and the raw power of the
Crystal began to surge into the system.
The SLS Tournesol
“Ma’am… detecting a signature matching that of the Silver Imperium
Crystal in the TPA circuit aboard the Oberon,”
commented science slowly.
“Supercruiser count?” Reeni wanted to know, as she stood.
“They’re regrouping; down to thirty-seven vessels.
They are possibly preparing to retreat.
Location is almost directly ahead of the Oberon at this time,” tactical reported.
“Not alone, Mother. Not
alone,” whispered Reeni. “TPA?”
“Ready,” replied tactical.
“Conn’s yours,” Reeni said to Dramlyn as she scrambled to the
console; she quickly got in, inserting her arms into the special sleeves; her
crescent ignited into brilliant light on her forehead; the power of her Crystal
flowed into the TPA.
Dramlyn thought for a second, and then grinned wickedly.
He turned to the comm officer. “Hail
all RSN and DK ships; recommend full salvo of TPA and EFA fire on these
bastards, twenty seconds and counting.”
“Aye, sir!”
The SLS Yorktown
Sailor Cygni was already trading Duke as the message came in; she nodded
in determination as she leaned forward, allowing her power to flow into the
circuitry.
She counted down mentally.
Derrelli spoke. “Target
same vessel as Wraith, Durandal,
and Triton.”
“Done,” Orien replied quickly. “Ready
to fire; five seconds.”
“Amuse yourself in the meantime,” Derrelli ordered.
Screen one showed ample evidence that virtually every ship had received
that order; the combined beam firepower of roughly eight hundred allied ships
was streaking through space at the supercruisers.
“And, NOW!” Orien shouted.
“Cygni Gravimetric… DISTORTION!”
The view was nothing short of awe inspiring.
The invaders were, indeed, attempting to turn and flee; and every weapon
they were attempting to fire was currently failing to hit a target, since they
were surrounded on all sides by hundreds of powerful jammers courtesy of the RSN,
whose ships were extending that protection to their allies.
Beam weaponry was streaking amongst them, and thousands of smaller
explosions were billowing up all over.
The tide had surely turned.
Then, two massive, blinding, purest silvery-white
thunderclaps of power erupted from the battleships Oberon
and Tournesol.
A millisecond later, every other starship with a Senshi,
Sorcerer, or DK Elite aboard- and a functioning TPA or EFA- added their input,
creating a massive conflux of power, and a very lethal crossfire.
Power of every sort imaginable coursed across space;
darkness mixed with light, water with fire, sound with vacuum, air with shadow,
lightning with force, earth with love, and more. Myriad combinations tore forth, and the invaders could do
little more than stare, and curse.
Their ships were too large to evade. They had no shields to block with. And their own disdain for such fields- immense physical bulk
and overwhelming strength of weaponry was their forte, but that could be
overthrown, as it was being proven on this battleground amongst the stars- was
coming back to punish them.
They were now all but helpless.
The silvery, brilliant beams struck first.
Carnage ensued as the rest of all that mass of power
struck next.
As if that wasn’t enough, each ship then borrowed a
tactic from the Royal Star Navy… and launched a precision-targeted Omega
Strike.
There weren’t enough targets to go around.
As the stupendous explosions of its brethren
supercruisers getting blown out of existence surrounded it, exactly one
supercruiser managed to energize its engine grids, and it surely looked like it
would escape the carnage.
And then it found a single starship in its path, followed
by three more.
They split, in a starburst pattern, and the lead ship
fired its TPA again; a trade had been made.
Fire slammed into the engine elements of the supercruiser,
and as the badly-banged up but still fighting Yorktown
pulled away, plasma exploded forth with debris following as the engine grids
burst outward like glass; the glow faded from all the supercruiser’s engines.
And the
Wraith
spat one final, crackling, lethal Negatorpedo.
A final shockwave raced through the darkness…
And weapons fell silent.
All was quiet.
Victory.
The
SLS Oberon
“Report,” Serenity ordered tiredly as she slowly climbed out of the
TPA, amidst the cheers.
“All supercruisers destroyed. The
fleets, with the exception of the DK, are still combined.
We’re all holding position at the moment,” tactical responded.
“With the exception of the DK?” Endymion queried.
“Yes, sir; they’ve separated, and reformed their fleet.
Right now they’re just sitting there, but… all weapons are still
armed, and they do have the most ships of any of the four of us,” tactical
said slowly.
“Uh, oh,” ops whispered.
Serenity stood, composing herself; she took several deep, calming
breaths. “Open a channel to the
flagships.”
“Open, ma’am,” replied comm.
Screen one changed to show the bridges of the Wraith,
the Fid’rechel, and the Treseey.
On the bridge of the Wraith,
Hirogex stood.
“A hard-earned victory, Fleet Admiral Serenity,” he said coolly.
“With many casualties.”
“I would think it was worth it,” Serenity replied smoothly.
“What would the cost have been otherwise?
What price would all of us have paid for failure?
No, those who gave their lives today, mourned though they shall be by all
of us, gave them for the best reasons possible.
We honor them all… and we shall honor them together.”
Hirogex slowly nodded. “I
see,” he said, cocking his head. He
paused. “You intend, then, to
continue sharing technological advances gleaned from the captured supercruisers
with us?”
Serenity inclined her head. “You
were worried about that… I believe I understand why.
There is much history between our peoples, and much violence.
And yet… look at what has been accomplished as of late.
Look at what we accomplished this day.
I have promised you, and still promise you, that you will have access, as
shall our Droylian and Zerm friends. We
shall schedule another summit, whereupon the exact details and arrangements can
be established; I am quite amiable for a permanent mission- perhaps an embassy,
as well- to help facilitate that.”
Hirogex nodded again, and gradually smiled.
“This is good. I should
tell you, Fleet Admiral, that some of our people are most unhappy with
arrangements; some wanted an immediate attack following the battle to, as it was
said, ‘destroy the weakened fleets of our enemies’.”
He paused. “I tell you
this, as a sign of honesty and faith; we stand down, now.”
He waved his hand at someone off screen before continuing. “It may be the Dark Kingdom is on the verge of a civil war,
for those people are currently in the minority.
It is for sure that all of us face a difficult time of rebuilding, and an
uncertain time.”
Serenity glanced at tactical, who nodded. She
smiled. “Cancel Red Alert, fleet
wide,” she said. She turned back.
“That may be, Lord Hirogex, but I guarantee you this:
we face it, together… and as friends, so long as all of us will
have it that way.” She glanced at
all of the captains. “Yes, we
have all been, if you will pardon the expression, great enemies… but I think
we will find, if we all put forth the effort, that we can be great friends,
too.”
There was a moment of silence as they all digested that statement;
finally, Hirogex nodded.
“Fair enough, fleet admiral. We’ll
keep it in mind,” he stated. He
glanced around, and spoke again.
“We’ll be in touch. Wraith,
out.”
With that, the remainder of the DK fleet turned about, and in a series of
green flashes, jumped into FTL.
The other captains said their goodbyes; the screen blinked off.
Serenity sighed, and sat down. “All
RIFT capable ships find those that are not; they are to lock tractors and sync
fields.”
She shared a final look with Endymion, and leaned back, closing her eyes.