It was a rectangular room, small in comparison to a cargo bay but large compared to private quarters. Inside was a large, circular table, so that all the people were equidistant, promoting a feeling of unity. The only door was in the middle of the southern wall. At the table (going clockwise from 12 oclock) was Geoffrey Luciano, Fred Kingsford (the XO), Wynn Erickson (the chief engineer), Logan Nelson (the sensor operator), Regina Cason (the comm officer), and Russell Cazamias (the doctor). The rooms primary purpose was a place for the senior officers to meet and discuss important matters. Quite a few spaces were empty, as many officers had been killed. Quite a few promotions were in order, but not yet.
Geoffrey sighed, and began, first to Wynn: Get me a damage report, and estimated times for fixes. As the report was delivered, Geoffrey started rubbing his temple with both hands.
Well sir, the entire reactor blew during the jump. Several decks were decompressed and are still without oxygen, a few turrets were knocked completely offline, though are still attached thank god, as you know cruise engines are down, as is our jump capabilities. Nanobots are repairing the hull damage slowly, but we only have a finite supply, and when we run out we cant manufacture more from our resources at hand. Estimated time for the reactor to be back up about a week, and cruise engines should be viable at the same time, though theyll be patched up in a couple of days (they need the reactor to run). As long as the reactor is down, were out of shields, as well, but the generator was barely touched. As for the decompressed decks once the nanobots are done, we may be able to reinhabit them, but Im not sure: they might be decompressed for good.
I know youre doing your best, Wynn. Cazamias, get me a casualty report.
The doctor was an old man, snow white, shaggy hair covering his head. For a man of medicine, he had a fixation with Synthetic Marijuana, which was overlooked by most. At the moment, he was in his professional smocks, as if he had been hastily called from the med-bay. He began in even tones: Out of our crew of 854, we have 208 dead, and another 384 wounded to the point where theyre unfit for duty, sir.
Regina? Anything?
As far as comm activity, sir, were out here alone. No signs of even alien habitation, or at least no comm traffic to identify it.
Finally, he glanced at Nelson. Report.
First, sir, Ive identified 3 systems with habitable planets within sensor range, which may have the capability of supporting life, and if so, food sources. Now for the second part, sensors logs have shown that the Nomad battleship had successfully followed us through the jump hole, though something threw them off.
Though Geoffrey knew, the other senior officers didnt. A collective gasp emanated from them.
Thats right, the Admiral said, Theyre still out there. Now Wynn, make weapons and shields your priority, and get double-shifts on the reactor. Doc, I want people out of med-bay and back to work ASAP. Fred, organize three teams of two Eagles each to check out these planets: they can still jump and enter cruise, they can get there faster than us and point us in the right direction. Meanwhile, I want the course set to head back to Sirius, maximum speed. Thats all. With that, he stood up and walked out the room.
"They're repairing their damage Lord Raziel." said someone new at the console. The dark man remained sitting on his command chair rubbing his forehead. "It seems as if they took heavy damage to all systems and half of their decks are with out lifesupport. They're running on critical manning from what I can detect. They have no cruise engines or jumpdrives and are running on emergency power...They will be easy prey if we attack them now."
"That's why you're not the King." the dark man named Raziel seethed.
"Forgive me my leige, I was only suggesting."
The man waved his hand and looked out the side window of the bridge.
"I know you were only suggesting, and you are right, if we attacked now they would be destroyed with in minutes. However, you know what it's like to hunt something that's wounded. It's boring, too easy. I think you will agree that when something is running scared, looking for anyway to get away, it is...much more enjoyable to see what they do, do you agree?"
"Of course my leige. They're powering up their thrusters and heading towards their home system...shall we follow?"
"Follow with our engines but maintain out of their advanced scanners range. I don't want to be detected. Any news on that K'Hara ship that came through with them?"
"None Lord Raziel, it seemingly ran away scared, more than likely lost it's connection to the others in Sirius."
"I didn't think about that. You have a point, keep scanning on a wideband arc, if we find them, do not attack it, let them attack the humans. Then once the K'Hara have them weakened, destroy their ship and do not contact the humans after the K'Haras are dead, only jump away, scare them, make them think we're their allies..."
"Ingenius plot my leige, as always."
"Don't flatter me, you're still small to me."
----
Zoner Battlecruiser
1647 Hours
Swing Shift
"I've been working for hours, my shift was over hours ago sir!" Reynolds complained to his supervisor.
"Well I'm sorry there Captain, but we all have to pull our weight around here in these troubled times. Deal with it, you'll get to rest eventually." said the higher ranking man. He turned on his heel and walked off leaving Reynolds seething.
"It's ok Charlie." said a voice behind him.
"I know, but I just want to get some damned sleep you know?"
No one answered and Reynolds looked behind him to see nothing but an empty bulkhead.
"I'm cracking up." he said and walked off to start his next task.
On the flight deck, six Eagles were being fitted out and fueled up, pilots in flight suits mingling while waiting for the green light. The CAG (Commander of the Air Group), one Sharon Elms, had given her spiel about what the mission was about, when 'zero hour' was, who would be flying, and what everyone else should be doing. She was young, brunette, and would be called pretty by most. She was tough as nails and cold as ice, and didn't take nonsense from anyone.
The Eagles were modified for launch off a Battlestar, which didn't use traditional methods, but instead propelled the fighters down long tubes at high speeds into space. The Eagle, as-is, couldn't fit in such tubes, so they had had to change the model. The most obvious addition was that of 'hinges' on the wings. First they turned down once, then a 'hinge' in the middle turned the tip of the wing up, effectively making the wingspan zero. After launch, they were made for a quick redeploy to allow for normal flight.
As the Eagles were made ready, pilot after pilot climbed into the cockpit, prepped for launch. They were moved to the foot of the tubes, where the mechanics used heavy machinery to maneuver them inside and lock them to the clamps. The clamps would be the force that moved the fighters forward.
Green light after green light lit up inside the tubes, and a second afterwards they were thrown forwards, flying at ridiculously fast speeds. Outside in space, they all exited in a row, one after the other. Wings deploying, they formed up with their wingmen and set out to investigate the possibility of a planet that could support life.
He mumble dejectedly to himself and scrubbed the floor of the mess. 'join a good crew they said, see Sirius they said! ...Pah!'
He spat noisily into the bucket.
He had worked so hard to get this posting and had made one small mistake...
Penelope Luciano!
Lukas was a Gunboat Pilot. One of the best freelancers money could buy. His speciality was his natural aptitude for shield damage, a 'gift' his father had bestowed upon him by raising him on the 'Mercy', a Pirate Gunboat ironically named and ill fated.
Lukas had spent his life 'making right', and this posting was supposed to be his final leg.
Penelope Luciano!
Lukas shook his head in disbelief and sat on his haunches surveying his work.
'Oi! Prisoner! That floor aint gonna clean itself.. knuckle down boy!'
'Aye sir!' Lukas spat and got back to cleaning the already shiny surface.
'How was I to know she was the Admirals' wife?'
'You, my friend', said the guard; 'should think VERY carefully before you grab ANY womans' backside!'
Sir, flights 2 and 3 have reported back. Negative on the scans. Logans going over them to see if anything was missed, but I doubt it. Fred handed Geoffrey a few pieces of cardstock paper with images and a few words that could be referred to as jargon.
What about flight 1, the one Sharons on?
Overdue by an hour, and she wouldve checked in if there was a hang-up and she could. Freds analysis was dead-on, though any pilot would. They know what it feels like to have a lost patrol doesnt call in. Geoffrey thought a bit before speaking:
Right, set a course for the planet they were going to scan, lets hope theyre overdue because they found something, and not calling because of some equipment problems.
The great Battlestar turned slowly and plodded on.
Kitty walked around her Roc bomber inspecting the damage sustaind by that stupid run at the Nomad battleship and the hurried jump through the unstable hole. Her port missile tube had ben welded shut by some well placed shot from one of the Battleships turrets. Luckily all that tube held was Cruise Disruptors. Her SNAC was in the starboard tube. She spun around and snapped to attention when she heard the familiar footfalls of the flight deck coordinator.
Kitty Cade was a short girl with short hair spiked to hundreds of little points. But that wasn't the oddest thing about her, the left side of her hair was dyed a pale blue, and the right side was pitch black. she also had a tattoo going the length of her entire right arm. it started at her wrist with the black silouets of sharks swimming around her arm. The pattern repeated up her arm but as it did it gained more and more colour and at her shoulder was a fully coloured shark in every detail.
The squat, chubby coordinator waddled straight up to her, "OK, girl, what have you ruined this time!?"
"Well, sir, one of those Battleships got a good shot on me and fused my port torp modual clos-"
He interrupted her, "Figures! you always manage to break something, that modual is coming right out of your pay!" He spun and waddled off quickly, both to go fill out his report and to get away from the furious girl.
Kitty was almost going to floor the fat pig when an ensign cam sprinting up to her. "ma'am! Gold One has ordered that the entire wing get fixed up and be on stand-by. Apparently the second battleship followed us through the worm hole. But they were thrown off course. They could show up at any moment."
Forgetting the coordinator and the repairs to her ship she jumped in her Roc and taxied over to her launch tube.
"Gold Three on standby, I'm ready to rock and roll, I'd like to see those Nomad scum get past us."
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
Sir, were coming within sensor range of the planet, Nelson said, looking down at his console, analyzing information as it became available. No sign of the a beeping from his station took him by alarm, and soon afterwards he looked up in confusion.
Sir, sensors are detecting another ship.
What?
He gulped and said, Were having a hard time getting any readings, but its defensive capabilities as far as shields and armor go are way beyond our own, though if Im getting this right, their weapon systems are lacking.
Geoffrey looked taken aback. Aliens, it must be. This opened some problems: had they attacked the fighter scouts? Were they hostile, or peaceful? How would they understand each other?
He massaged his temple with one hand while saying Hail them. Surprisingly, they got an immediate response. It could best be described as a mammal. It vaguely resembled a ferret, but stood on two legs and was about seven feet tall. It had on a green uniform, but there was nothing that would seem to indicate rank; at least nothing the humans could pick out. Geoffrey swallowed and began:
This is Admiral Luciano of the Tirane, were looking for two of our
A series of clicks and whistles came while the ferrets mouth moved, and then: to make sure its working, which was said to someone off the screen.
Hello? Geoffrey asked, puzzled at the sudden switch to English.
Ah, yes. As I was saying, this is Commodore Polestay of the science ship Fremta. I was hoping youd keep talking until the translator started working.
Translator?
Indeed, it is a most clever device that can translate your entire language into our own, then trick our ears into understanding what you say. After so many first-contacts, Ive perfected my explanation to a non-science level, Admiral.
Quite he said, losing his train of thought. Quickly reboarding, he began again, Were looking for two of our ships, Im sure we could transfer the data to you and you can tell us if youve seen them?
Ah, no need, we have seen your two Eagle class ships, are they?
Where?
They were taking scans of this planet, much like ourselves, but disappeared on the far side. They never saw us, and we never made any pretense at first contact.
Jayko Orlitz was worried. His Eagle was drifting; no power, no shields. It was only a matter of time before the gravity well of the planet claimed him. He pounded his fists in frustration; tried, and failed, to hold back the hot tears. His wife would have heard by now. Tristia...Forgive me! He wept bitterly. His wife was back home; wherever that was. They were expecting their first child...
He broke into sobs as grief wracked his slender frame. His green eyes shone like fire in the reflected light from the star. Tristia...I would give anything to hold you one last time... He was not afraid to die. He had died a little each day since the Triane had misjumped. He knew that he would never see his wife again, or hold their unborn child. His duty was all that drove him; kept him from going insane from the incredible pain of loss. He could not bear this waiting....Waiting to die. He straightened. He knew what his wife would say to him. "Jayke...You're too strong to die. Stay alive, for me. I need you..." He reached under his console and pulled up a bundle of wires. His fingers fumbled; his eyes could not well see through the brimming tears flowing freely. He undid the first cable, and then the next and the next. He reached for the last one, paused, and then screamed.
The pain was unbearable, but he bore it. He could not live through such agony, yet he did...For Tristia. He vowed that as long as he had breath in his mouth he would never cease fighting to survive, to live to see his wife and child. He groaned through the pain as he moved the live cable away from his arm. No one in their right mind would ever try to plug a reactor core directly into the engine...But he was not in his right mind by any stretch of the imagination. He was a man born of desperation, of faith. He completed the connection and braced himself; drying his tears, he pushed the throttle open and prepared to lose everything he had; all he was...
Zealot Wrote:Just go play the game and have fun dammit.
Treewyrm Wrote:all in all the conclusion is that disco doesn't need antagonist factions, it doesn't need phantoms, it doesn't need nomads, it doesn't need coalition and it doesn't need many other things, no AIs, the game is hijacked by morons to confuse the game with their dickwaving generic competition games mixed up with troll-of-the-day.
"Sir, their ship has entered orbit of an M class planet, seems the Yak'tap have made first contact with the Humans. What are your orders sir?" said a short man seated at the comm station, small traces of shadows swirling around him. He looked to a man who had the shadows fully around him.
"Don't attack yet, continue to watch. The K'Hara?" he asked.
"Just around the other side of the planet my leige, they have detected the Humans and are on an intercept course."
"Flawless. As soon as the K'Hara ship comes in range, jump inbetween the two ships and totally eridicate the Nomad ship, and then jump away as quickly as possible."
"Excellent idea."
"I know, I made it."
----
U.S.S. Triane
Unknown Space
Unknown Sector
In Orbit of an M Class Planet, Name Unknown
"Nomad battleship detected. All hands to battlestations!" The comms squaked. People manned their posts and prepared to engage the enemy. Reynolds looked out the ships window and saw the blue mass heading straight for the two ships. Just then, a ship jumped out of hyperspace.
It's hull was black, and the lights around the ship in places illuminated the hull an eerie bright and blood red color. The entire ship was sleek in design and the only part of the ship that stood out was the bridge which was cast in the shadow of the rest of the ship. The very sight of it sent chills up Reynolds spine. Before the Nomad ship had time to react, the strange vessel fired on the Nomad ship, and the very heavens shook.
Kittys Roc was launched almost a second after the order was given over the intercom but she barely had time to zero in on the blue mass. A huge black mass came out of nowhere and in less than a minut it had obliterated the Nomad battleship. She and the rest of her squar along with a few fighter escorts that had had time to launch sat there floating just outside of the docking bay with their mouths agape, wondering about this new shift of power.
And just as suddenly as the ship appeared it was gone, leaving no traces except the floating remains of the battleship behind it.
"OK, gold squadron lets get back inside. The brass is gonna want to hear about this. Green squad, you go scan those remains, see if you can find out what kind of weapons that thing was using. then report back imediatly."
As Kitty turned back towards the docking bay she was both horrified at the power just displayed in front of her, and over joyed that it's wielders where apparently on her side.
Some say that he is allergic to a fungus found only between the toes of Corsairs,
and that he is oblivious to 98% of Liberty Law. All we know is... He's called the Busdriver!
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