It littered Texas like children's building blocks on a playroom floor, with nebulae filling the role of the obligatory vomit. Not pretty, nor clean, but such was life in the expanse of the remnants of Liberty's golden age. The return to the expanse gave a sense of palpable dread for some, curiosity for others. You never knew what would end up in these fields, much less what to do with them.
Incursus drifted just outside the Pequena Negra, a wing of Heavy Lifters off her port beam, and an aging Judicator to her starboard. Scanner arrays active, lights beaming in, and the combat logs drew the ships towards the last known location of the last Naval group that gave chase, taking drift telemetry into account of course.
Five-hundred meters into the Negra, a slight glint shined back, the sensor suite picking up a massive hulk in range. Then two, then four, then seven, until the sensors were loaded with the wrecks of a dozen ships, the largest of which rivaled the Incursus in size, and showed heavy disfigurement.
"Cell B, move in and secure it. Mind the cloud, don't take any chances."
West eyed the operation from the bridge, ensuring the Incursus and her escort stayed their distance. Despite shielding, even departing Kansas left the ship with burns on her hull. Fitting burns, but not the ones West was fond of.
The lifters moved in, pushing aside whatever debris they could before making hardlock. The massive hulk groaned and ached, straining under the stress as the lifters began dragging it out of the nebula. With proximity to the nebula, detection was unlikely, which played to their advantage.
As the hulk was pulled from the cloud, the damage became clear. Direct hits to the bridge, weapons command tower, port command center, and the hangar bay seemed to be literally leaking fighter wrecks. The Dreadnought's iconic axe-head was dented, blasted with radiation, pock marked with weapon hits, and just behind it laid a massive crater where the remnants of the Incursus' long-range artillery slammed into the ship's hull.
"She's a damn mess.. Can anyone spell 'project'?"
West grinned, eyeing the beast. While a wreck now, and indeed probably the last thing anyone would even think of rebuilding, she saw it as an opportunity, a chance to see Liberty's warships in a new light. Her own tuned up squadron of personalized fighter craft was step one, her gunship step two. Now was the coup de grace of her arsenal. "Bring it in, Cell B. Prepare to move out. Let's get this thing to its new home." Turning over to her executive, she continued. "Gallows, prep Cells D and H, and have Davis move the Abaddon to provide support. These other ships here just became sovereign property of the real Liberty Navy."
West turned back to the large hulk before her, the lifters beginning their long journey back to Vespucci. As the ship began getting underway, a visible grin crested her lips. A good eye would tell that her work was only getting started, and that she'd have no intention of stopping.
"The truth's always harder to swallow than a simple white lie.." Join the Fight
"She's beautiful, isn't she?"
West gazed at the wrecked warship as it was secured into the drydock, her hands clutched around the edges of a lit up datapad. To her side stood one of Leniex's chief engineers.
"I'm not quite sure I'd call her 'beautiful', ma'am. She has a certain charm to her, though."
The long route back to Leniex was time consuming, though not without progress. While most of the crew had been sucked out into space, the rest were gathered up and boxed, each one prepped and ready to ship on out. For the ship, the repairs began long before she ever got to Vespucci. Repair ships approaching midway through Kansas to provide patchwork mending to ensure the ship could survive the rest of the journey, and heavier patches to the hull as she began her final approach to Leniex.
Many around the base bat a heavy dose of eyes towards the ship as it came in, with word spreading through the station that the former Lord Commander had finally gotten her Christmas present from 826. Just the arrival of the ship to the station gave each person aboard a grin for at least the first half of the day.
"Mendez, make sure the repair teams have the prints from the Harmony database. Merging forces may be the edgiest thing since the Mark Nine Arbiter, but damn those prints are gonna be useful here."
The engineer nodded. "Should I break out the champagne, ma'am, or do we wait for her christening?"
West grinned, shooing him off.
Work began nearly immediately as soon as the ship was latched in. A testament to the efficiency of the Legion, the ship's hull was already beginning to be patched, the etched word 'Invincible' being welded over and replaced with her new name, slowly patched on with each sheet of heavy duty durantium. Surprisingly, once the dreadnought was latched in, ranged scans read the approach of the ship's former escorts, the battlecruiser San Antonio being hauled in and secured into an adjacent drydock, work soon beginning on her as well.
West pulled her hand up to her ear, clicking the small communicator inside. "Broadsword, you are authorized the begin the transformation."
"Acknowledged, ma'am. Broadsword will proceed with Project Arcturus at once."
"The truth's always harder to swallow than a simple white lie.." Join the Fight
It was an early morning, though the personnel aboard her were far from rested. Many had been working day and night to bring the ship back up to operation, a testament to the Legion's, and now the Insurgency's, ability to push high priority needs into overdrive. Many of the returning task groups had either been serviced already or hadn't arrived yet. The window was convenient, coincidental, and abused like a five-dollar synth steak.
"We're reading green across the board."
"Good to hear. Bringing primary engines.. online. How're we looking out there?"
The bang and clicks began to jump into rhythm, the engines of the beast now engaging with full charge. Fueled and prepared, it soon began sputtering, trying to find the right balance. Didn't take long, many would admit.
"Launch is a-go." The central tower gave the green light, the bridge of the newly christened warship beaming as the ship began burning forward out of the drydock. The hull, scraped, scarred, burned and reworked, matched many of the ships that had come to Leniex recently, and over the old name burned into the side of the hull read the fitting moniker Arcturus.
West stood aboard the bridge, overseeing the whole operation. Shakedown of a new warship was a classic Legion exercise, and anyone overseeing the Legion's ops, be they a Lord Commander or an Admiral, was obliged to take part. Considering the effort she'd put into organizing the manpower and resources for this ship, it was well within her desire. No obligation needed.
"Power up the main battery. Let's see how well the weapon integration took."
The ship soon began wurring, the internals humming a deep wave as the Firelances charged. Soon, five heavy blasts poured from their barrels, driving into one of the asteroids that surrounded Leniex.
"Weapons test successful, ma'am. Power banks are stable. Electronics look good."
"Of course they do," she replied, "I designed their rework."
Without delay, the ship was returned to the drydock for a final check, and by the end of the day was likely to be cleared for release. The rest of the ships salvaged from the Pequena were already in the drydocks, being prepped for rework.
A new day was dawning, and Gladius had found it's energy.
"The truth's always harder to swallow than a simple white lie.." Join the Fight