The Tefeull Mining Field, 05G.

United Systems Mining Sector
Asteroid Zulu Foxtrot 3918, Codename 'Big Spud'
Surface Worksite


Another five minutes, another report; security on the base had been elevated since one of the missiles hit the surface of the asteroid a few minutes ago, mostly to make sure that it wasn't a distraction for a Zeleniyan boarding party to slip through, but thus far nothing out of the ordinary had come to the attention of Lance Corporal Evelyn Manning. And the entire situation was annoying her; not only had budget constraints forced her to use the outdated PA-18 powered armor, a very uncomfortable, sluggish machine that was never designed to properly operate in a microgravity environment, but she was made to walk around the rough surface of the asteroid with several of the suit's combat plates replaced with radiation plates because the PA-18 was so old its radiation coating had expired. Similarly, she was armed with only a standard sidearm and her 'ACMAS'. The only good thing about the gun was that it could fire at full auto, a necessary feature for 'pest control' duty; that was the euphemism for keeping the Nasari workers in line. It was comforting to know that she could gun down a full dozen of them with just a single pull of the trigger.

Taking another wide left turn at the next catwalk she looked back for a moment, making sure her partner was with her (because the PA-18 jammed on occasion and it took a few seconds for it to reboot with no notice), and then found herself comfortable enough with her boot's magnetic lock on the catwalk to reply to the radio operator's status inquiry.

"Echo to Ops, we are crossing into Zone Constellation, nothing new to report. Everything seems quiet. How's the match going, over?"

She was, of course, referring to the Mech combat that was such a popular sport in the USC. Good old fashioned war machines fought it out with real ammunition in a variety of terrains, with their pilots controlling them from afar with the help of a neural interface and a quantum transceiver; it was a very expensive sport to participate in, with teams usually sponsored by either PMCs, arms manufacturers or the US Military itself. The semi finals were on at the moment, with 'Fly Swatter', a massive BM-07 Rifleman class mech, chasing 'Road Runner', a much lighter LM-11 Ranger class scout. Last she heard, Road Runner had managed to score a devastating hit on Swatter's autocannon ammunition compartment. And Evelyn knew whose side she was on: Fly Swatter was the poster mech for the US Army 118th All-Terrain Mechanized Warfare Unit, the only military unit to directly participate in the games.

"Ops to Echo, Swatter's kicking some ass right now, it's got Runner cornered and is firing away all it's got. We might just win this. Runner's leg was shot off a minute ago, but the little thing is-"

And then everything blurred a moment after a terrifying bang echoed against her rear armor, followed a millisecond later by the screeching of carbon fiber interwoven with metal tearing apart. The soldier crashed face-first against the catwalk as the shock acted as a lever, and she was pretty sure she could taste blood on her tongue. The voice of her squadmate was the last thing she heard before she blacked out.

"ECHO TO OPS, ECHO TO OPS, WE ARE UNDER FIRE! MAN DOWN!"

---

There was a flash; it was an innocuous little flash of light, barely enough to register from a distance, but the x-ray spectrum emissions were off the scale; same deal with the gravimetric sensors. A tiny RADAR contact appeared in the middle of the asteroid field, or more specifically in the middle of the USC sector, and then the contact disappeared again in a similar emission of radiation and gravity distortion. And then suddenly, several dozen flashes followed; those were much larger, and the radiation emissions were heavy enough that anyone would be able to detect them even through the extreme jamming. Almost two dozen RADAR contacts appeared, idly drifting in the asteroid field for a single moment before powerful fusion rocket jets kicked in and begun to spew a radioactive soup of superheated hydrogen and helium and thus creating a distinct blue glow.

Two gigantic contacts stole the scene on the RADAR identification, confirmed by their IFF transponders. Several cruisers and lighter destroyer and support ships were present, but the two gargantuan ships were positioned at the center of the strike group, deep enough to obscure the ships' signatures beneath their jamming umbrella.

USC SUPERCARRIER
USC DREADNOUGHT

Not a moment later, hundreds of smaller contacts appeared, shot out of the side of the two titanic vessels at ballistic speeds before they quickly adjusted their course and split into formations. Fighters.

---

United Systems Mining Sector
USS Hastings, CVN-88 - Carrier Strike Group 2
Commanding: Rear Admiral Kelly Huxley
Combat Information Center


"Fighters are away, reserve squadrons are being loaded into the tubes now, Admiral."

"There's a lot of jamming going on sir, but half of it seems to be ours. We are picking up several contacts, including a Zeleniyan battlegroup and dozens of our own fighters."

The reports from all the console operators and communications experts and analysts would drive any other officer to suicide, but Rear Admiral Kelly Huxley was not any other officer. Unlike most of the flag officers she had fought her way through the fighter corps, securing a transfer from the Air Force to the Navy to advance her career beyond the 'dead end' that came with being a CAG with the help of some connections; the only way to go after that was directly into a desk job, and if there was one thing she hated more than communists, it was paperwork. And, being a woman of little patience for bullshit, she had shaped the crew of the Hastings into what most other ship captains called a parade detachment. Many joked that the short woman's lively red hair was kept that way by feeding on the souls of ensigns who dared laugh in the vicinity of CIC.

Her executive officer was a wildcard: the saying went that if a crew didn't hate the XO, he wasn't doing his job right, but compared to the vicious dog that the Admiral was, Commander Peter Griggs was well liked among the crew because he was willing to bend the rules far more often than Huxley. Still, the Admiral's policy was his policy, and the (surprisingly older) Commander wasn't one to go against his commanding officer. He was in the process of making the ship ready for combat after a jump, during which several key weapons systems had to be shut down to feed the energy hungry jump drive.

"This is the XO. All decks secure from jump stations, discharge FTL drives one and two. Stand by to launch reserve fighters."

The Admiral, however, was focused on something else. They had just begun receiving automatically transmitted data from the mining outposts that fell under USC control, and that data was being analysed by the ship's AI and displayed on a fancy little holographic three-dimensional image being projected over the command table with the help of negative refraction metamaterials and some fancy laser work. One of the asteroids near the border had been designated as 'rogue', presumably the source of the alien transmission she had been briefed about, which was being literally swarmed with gunships and fighter craft.

"Contact all of our units in the system, let them know I am assuming command. I want a sitrep from all units within the next five minutes. Oh, and keep it on an unsecured channel, lets see if we can scare the submission into the aliens. Make it sound threatening." she idly ordered at nobody in particular, and one of the available communications officers took over the task.

---

Unconventionally for the paranoid United Systems, a message was transmitted in the clear, lacking any encryption save for its identification, and on several available civilian channels; perhaps out of fear that it would be jammed if it was on a USC specific frequency, maybe because its content was of little use to anyone because the strike group was already announcing its presence by pinging active RADAR everywhere and making a mess out of the already jammed communications. Nevertheless, the voice of a young woman echoed through, after several tones that contained the encrypted identification code needed to register as authentic.

"All Coalition forces, this is the supercarrier Hastings. Regional commander Colonel Cassandra Riddick is relieved of regional force command, all units are to submit to new command authority. Rear Admiral Kelly Huxley is assuming command of all units in this and adjacent sectors. Prepare sitrep for command authority and transmit on secure channel within five minutes. Hastings over and out."

Leonid Rikidov, Burydi Class Carrier.
CIC.

There is a ruckus at the COMMs and the RADAR stations, the commotion of commands and reports drowning out the normal activity in the bridge. The RADAR officer yells out,"Sir, multiple contacts of varying size entering our outer patrol areas! IFF is CFP!" The COMMs officer reports the same,"Early Warning is reporting the same, sir."

The Captain slams his fist on his chair,"Damn it! I knew we should have acted. Retreat the battle group and tell the mining ships to return to the original vector. Arm the missiles and aim them at the battle group. Pull back the fighters and early warning into a tighter holding pattern around us as we retreat. Get in contact with command and tell them we need new orders and reinforcements if possible, and tell those bastards to fuck off!"

The Red fleet retreats, their internal missile pods popping out of their hulls and aiming at the approaching CFP navy, the warships being painted with multiple radar lock warnings, a message is broadcasted,"Attention, Collective Federation of Prefectures, you are entering a secured Zeleniyan sector. Turn around now or we will be prepared to use lethal force."

United Systems Mining Sector
USS Hastings, CVN-88 - Carrier Strike Group 2
Commanding: Rear Admiral Kelly Huxley
Combat Information Center

"Condition one has been set, all stations are ready for combat. Weapons batteries are standing by for target bearing."

It was a relief to hear that the ship had gone from jump stations to battlestations on such short notice, but Admiral Huxley was too absorbed in the happenings on the screen to pay more attention to the XO than the most rudimentary. She watched as the fighter squadrons split off, each going after their separate assignments, most on patrol, and scoffed as the report came in from some of the forward observer craft that the Federation and the Zeleniyans were escalating an already tense situation. A battle between the two would be a lose-lose scenario; the USC's interests did not involve sparking a war with the Zeleniyans, but not helping the UCFP would be condemned by most United Systems citizens purely because the USC would appear to be letting communist aggression go unpunished. And there were the Zeleniyans, arming their missiles, trying to cut through the UCFP jamming. The USC was already having a hard time filtering through what was garbage, what was jamming and what was real data, but thankfully the UCFP didn't seem to be trying to actively jam Coalition channels.

But, as usual for any situation as tense as the one the ship was involved in, the Admiral's train of thought was interrupted by a voice on the speakers. "Conn, radio, receiving flash traffic from Zulu Foxtrot Base, the commanding officer reports that there's some kind of worker insurrection happening on the asteroid's surface. The Colonel says they are using Zeleniyan weaponry, no word on casualties so far."

Great. Not only were the Nasari terrible at timing, deciding to start an insurrection in the middle of immediate threat to the base, but they were also dumb enough to start it with a carrier strike group that could deploy an entire battalion to the surface of the asteroid within ten minutes. It made sense though: there was no way they could have smuggled Zeleniyan weapons past security, so the Zeleniyans were actively provoking a rebellion, perhaps a prelude to an attack on the outpost. It was no secret that the USC had hoarded a lot of its helium supplies in the center of its territory, mining asteroids near the border first, and Zulu Foxtrot was one of the richest rocks in the entire asteroid field.

She couldn't let its security be compromised. "XO, scramble the mardet rapid response unit, I want boots on that asteroid as soon as possible. Rules of engagement are shoot on sight." she exclaimed, and the executive officer muttered out an 'aye ma'am' before he reached for the phone on the command console, dialed in a few numbers and brought it against his cheek.

"Mardet Commander, XO. Scramble mardet R-R-U, insurrection on Zulu Foxtrot's surface. Orders are to shoot armed Nasari on sight. Yes, that is correct, no surrender protocol. Skids up in five minutes."

There was more, however: several flashes on the holographic map caught both of the officers' attention, and the RADAR operator confirmed it a moment later. The UCFP fleet had brought its weapons to bear on the Zeleniyans, a borderline act of war under any other circumstance. It was time to pick a side then; she exchanged a long look with the executive officer, sharing an unspoken conversation. She didn't want to do it; the XO knew how much the Admiral hated the Zeleniyans, but she seemed unwilling to take part in the almost inevitable war on behalf of the UCFP. What if the Zeleniyans escalated? What if they took it as a reason to launch their ISBMs? But at the same time, if the UCFP lost, there would be nothing to stop the Zeleniyans from attacking the USC territory in the mining field, taking most of the Coalition's helium with it.

In the end, she seemed to have made her choice. She grabbed the phone and switched it to 1-MC, the primary speaker circuit on the ship, speaking into it with a steady voice. "All hands, this is the Admiral. Set battlestations torpedo for nuclear missile launch. Spin up torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-four. This is not a drill."

The XO followed her moves, taking his own phone from the console; it took two senior officers to authorize the release of nuclear, chemical, biological or radiological weapons, and barring extraordinary circumstances, the XO and the CO were the only people capable of giving the order for a nuclear attack. "This is the Executive Officer. Set battlestations torpedo for nuclear missile launch. Spin up torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-four. This is not a drill."


United Systems Mining Sector
USS Hastings, CVN-88 - Carrier Strike Group 2
Missile Control

"Missiles, conn, this is a nuclear mission order. Spin up torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-four, this is not a drill, this is not a drill. Stand by for target package."

A nuclear mission order wasn't exactly how Major Sherman O'Neil wanted to start his day. Within the timespan of an hour, the Hastings had gone from rapid reaction patrol to preparing for war, and the effects of the sudden change in pace were obvious on the crew. One of the missile control operators had to be relieved because of a panic attack, and another would soon follow judging by how the man was barely capable of controlling his breathing. And through it all, one fact remained: they had to prepare for a nuclear missile launch, and they had to do it fast. The Major reached for the intercom on the wall and pushed the button before he addressed the person on the other side.

"Conn, missiles, nuclear mission order received. Spinning up torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-four. Missiles will be ready for launch in four minutes."

He tried to be brave for his men, but it wasn't helping. Perhaps a more cynical man would be grateful for the fact that Missile Control was dug deep into the ship's armor plating, near the reactor core, and so it would be protected from any attacks long enough for the crew to evacuate if it became necessary; but then again, the fact that they could be blown up, even a few minutes later than the rest of the ship, was terrifying on its own. He stared as the computers started the start-up sequence for the missiles, watched as the fuel indicators were elevated from zero to full as the hydrogen engines of the torpedoes were filled, and observed the crew forklift the devices of destruction from the storage bay to the launch tubes.

And then, the order came in: "Missiles, conn. Set target package for torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-two to three three six two five zero, shift targeting information for the Zeleniyan command ship. Set target package for torpedoes twenty three and twenty four to zero six zero one nine seven, shift targeting information for asteroid Oscar Zulu zero zero two niner. Secure warheads for launch."

---

Despite the fact that the Coalition strike group seemed to be redeploying itself in a combat formation, and that several radiation warnings only confirmed the fact that the Hastings was arming its nuclear armaments, the USC seemed unwilling to simply nuke everything out of existence for once: a few moments after the missiles inside the Hastings went hot, their targeting systems waking up the primary rocket boosters and pre-heating them for launch, a message was transmitted to all sides in the most raw form possible: an unencrypted text message, a signal boosted through all the jamming and interference on a civilian channel with the help of the strike group's electronic warfare cruiser. It had been stripped of most of the comforts of language simply so it wouldn't get lost in the jamming, making for a crude message that probably put the point across.

FROM: RADM. K. HUXLEY, USS HASTINGS
TO: UCFP BTLGRP CMDR, LEONID RIKIDOV CMDR

OUTCOME OF BATTLE CERTAIN: CASUALTIES MASSIVE, POTENTIAL STRATEGIC ESCALATION. MUTUALLY ASSURED DESTRUCTION SCENARIO. SURVIVAL OF HUMAN RACE AT STAKE. COMMON ALIEN THREAT. USC PROPOSES: ALL GROUPS WILL STEP DOWN TO CONDITION TWO, SRZ WITHDRAWS FROM TERRITORY CLAIMED IN LAST HOUR, NEGOTIATIONS ON NEUTRAL GROUND FOR RESOURCE ALLOCATION. QUARANTINE UNIDENTIFIED ALIEN-OCCUPIED ASTEROID, JOINT TASK FORCE.

REPLY ON SAME CHANNEL.

The three Zeleniyan ships continued backing away from the approaching UCFP fleet, broadcasting several warnings and arming their missiles. On the flight decks, the aged and experienced aviators, with their skulls adorned with many visible chips and uplink ports, climb onto their ZMiGs. The flight crews scramble around, throwing out old Helium-3 cores and slotting in new ones. Little motorized carts scurry about with payloads of 50mm HEIT, Igla-7rm missiles, and FAB-2000 guided bombs.

Inside the CIC, the COMMS officer called out to the Captain,"Komrade Kapitan, a message from the USC, displaying it now." The Captain squinted up at the screen, crossing his arms. After reading it, he scowls even more than before,"Send a message to that asteroid." He points to the RADAR group,"How far until they reach our territory?" A young cosmonaut replies,"100 kilometers and no signs of stopping, sir!" He nods once,"If they cross it, you are free to fire."

A second warning is broadcasted,"The 3rd strike group has full jurisdiction to eliminate any threats that cross Zeleniyan territory. Crossing the marked borders will be an act of war."

An encrypted message is sent to the asteroid,HOSTILE FORCES AT WORK. COMMON ENEMY. ASSIST US TODAY AND YOU WILL FIND YOURSELF A POWERFUL ALLY.

Inside the CIC, the RADAR group starts to get a lot of commotion, the commander yelling,"SIR! Several missiles inbound, ETA 30 seconds!" The Captain, acting immediately on instinct and training, responded,"Get the point defense on it! Launch the fighters, NOW! Get early warn in a safe zone and have them track all the tangos. Fire the anti-radiation missiles at the source of the jamming, now!" The CIC lit up, several cosmonauts yelling over each other, as the Captain took the 1MC phone and queued it,"This is the Captain, battle stations battle stations, all non essential personnel to damage control! Interdiction teams to your dropships immediately, launch all fighters, secure all living spaces and seal all airlocks."

As the point defense is activated, the several radar-guided autocannons lit up the front of the fleet with basket ball sized tracers, tearing some of the missiles apart. The missile cruiser took the most damage, having a very cheap point defense system. Next, the carrier took the second most damage, as it had a large array of point defense auto cannons, but not enough to cover every angle of the ship, and since its fighters were locked in combat, they could not intercept the missiles. Lastly, the patrul frigate, strictly outfitted for anti-fighter operations, took the least damage, as 70 percent of its weaponry was dedicated to point defense.

The missile ruiser's shield generators were hit, the large dual-generator bulb like protrusions shredding into nothing, only one slightly operational. The shields power dropped by tenfold and risked dropping, and at this state it could barely deflect much. Its life support was hit, the ship's power faltering and the gravity ceasing. Carbon monoxide production was quartered, and the cosmonauts floated about in their compartments. They buckled themselves in, strapped their gasmasks on, and continued to operate the heavy missile cruiser. The damage control engineers floating about, trying to get to the carbon monoxide recycler and do a jury rig repair on it.

The carrier's shield generator was clipped, halfing the shield output, but its life support remained intact. As for the patrul frigate, it dispatched all but two missiles, one which hit the hull and took out the mess deck, which was already secured, another which was heading for the life support, was struck by a wayward autocannon round, and careened off course into two point defense guns, taking them out.

The Red fleet immediately replied, launching their missiles in an indirect barrage of the UCFP fleet, having severed comms with their command ground they did not target any one structure or weak point, going all over the place. However, the carrier launched several anti-radiation missiles guiding themselves onto the source of the radio transmissions and jamming, attempting to regain clear Zeleniyan comms.



The fighters were catapulted out of the hangar bays, pulling off to engage the fighter jets and keep them away from the fleet and early warning ships. Though they had shoddy comms, the half machine pilots were one with their aircraft. They could see on every angle of their ZMiGs with uplinks hooked up the back of their cerebrum, showing them images from cameras on the underside and the behind of the fighter craft. These pilots are no joke, they are the best of the best, and they are the Red Fleet's number one weapon and defense. These aged pilots, often in their mid forties or early thirties, are extremely good at what they do.

1st Squadron the "Red Wasps", containing 8 ZMiG-75s, worked with Squadron 2, the "Shadowhawks", a squadron of 6 ZMiG interceptors, and Squadron 3, the "Zero-G Dogs", a squadron of 8 ZMiG-75s, to cordon off the approaching fighters and eliminate them.

Squadron 4, the "Ship-Crackers", consisting of 4 Sukhoi SU-646 Nakhut craft, armed with heavy anti-ship guided bombs, escorted by Squadron 5, the "Fly Swatters", flanked around a large group of asteroids, attempting to hook around the UCFP fleet and take out their command craft.

The Red Ace, Kommandant Namalya, was in his element. He wasn't just one step ahead of you, he was about two or three. He had already scored a kill for his squadron, when two UCFP fighters flew up behind him. He turned his head around, the camera uplink showing them closing in. He performed some basic dodging manuevers to keep their locks off, letting them close in. When they got close enough, he pulled up, engaged his nosecone thrusters, and performed a zero-G version of the Pugachev's cobra, letting the two over shoot him. He then levelled out his plane and engaged the afterburners, chasing after them. As his targeting reticule slowly fell onto the UCFP plane, he gripped the joystick, that ever familiar, deafening "BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZT" and the rattling of his cockpit following, with the UCFP fighter spinning out of control into an asteroid.

United Systems Mining Sector
USS Hastings, CVN-88 - Carrier Strike Group 2
Combat Information Center

And so it begun; the first few tracers of cannon fire appeared on the surface as the Federation battlegroup engaged the Zeleniyans, and with that, the war that had been brewing between the two factions for ages begun. The USC fleet had reluctantly stayed aside during the opening barrage of the conflict, focusing on reinforcing its defensive position on the sector, but it was clear that everyone was tense. Admiral Huxley repeatedly had to order the tactical systems officer to hold his fire, and he in turn had to constantly remind the battery leaders that they could not open fire without authorization from the Admiral. To stand aside would be political suicide, but the Admiral was conflicted; the Federation and the USC shared a neutral relationship most of the time, but they were obviously the favorites in the engagement.

The Zeleniyan missile launches forced her hand, however; a moment after the radiation missiles were launched, a handful of them changed course towards the most distant source of interference: the USC's strike group. The massive jamming devices on both the Hastings and the George W. Bush, the electronic warfare cruiser that was holed up in the middle of the formation, had become targets for the automated warheads. She could just ignore them, have the CAP intercept them before they posed a risk and stay out of the engagement while attributing the launch to accidental fire. A few seconds later, a squadron of interceptors caught up with the missiles and shot them down long before they had a chance to pose a threat.

But she didn't just shrug it off. For what seemed like the umpteenth time that day, the Admiral reached for the phone and dialed in 1-MC. "All hands, this is your Admiral. A few seconds ago, the Zeleniyan battlegroup fired self-guided radiation-seeking missiles with the full knowledge that our jamming equipment would become a target. We can not allow them to threaten our primary fuel source, nor can we let them destroy this ship without a fight. Stand by to engage."

And with that, her focus shifted to the Executive Officer: "XO, launch all remaining squadrons. Chief of the Watch, spin up torpedo tubes six through nineteen. Order all batteries to-"

The sensors officer, however, had another report to make: "Admiral, the aliens are broadcasting a signal from the surface, we have the coordinates. Visual telescopes are getting a fix now, but it looks like a mobile transmitter array. They have cut through the interference."

Oh, that was just perfect... The last thing Admiral Huxley needed was for the aliens to be able to breach the communications quarantine. For all she knew, they had more asteroids occupied like that one, and they couldn't be allowed to cooperate with the Zeleniyans; they had been the ones to respond with the most friendly message to the initial broadcast, after all. "Chief of the Watch, order nuclear ground-strike missiles into launch tubes one through six. Set battlestations missile for strategic warhead launch. Set ground zero for the alien hangar bay door."

"Conn, missiles! Torpedoes one through five and twenty through twenty-four are ready for launch, target package confirmed and locked." Finally, some good news: the Admiral let out a relieved sigh at the report from Missile Control, and grabbed the phone.

"Missiles, conn. Open launch tube doors for missiles one through five and twenty through twenty-four, release the tactical firing key." she exclaimed, and had barely put the speaker down when she addressed the executive officer again. "XO, insert your missile key into the firing console."

"Conn, weapons! All batteries have fixed target bearing, weapons are ready to fire!"

...

"Open fire."

---

There was a short delay as the hundreds of turrets on the hull of the USS Hastings finetuned their firing solution, adjusting for the minuscule inertial drift between the USC and Zeleniyan fleets. There was no sound in space, but the sound of the multi-ton devices rotating around reverberated through the hull, and then suddenly, they locked in position. The first shell was loaded into each battery by the auto-loader mechanism, straight from the magazine, each chosen randomly from a pool of 1:1 armor piercing and high explosive shells; some smaller batteries switched to flak instead, and the CIWS turrets did what they did best: point defense.

There was a spark between the capacitor and the switch as the electromagnets were powered, accelerating the rounds almost instantly through the maze of cable and super-conductive rails to speeds that could outrun the fastest of fighters. Dozens of shots were fired in the USC's opening barrage, all of them pointing at one target in particular: the Zeleniyan command ship, deemed the most important target in the battlegroup. They didn't even bother to target a specific subsystem: the USC was trying to take the ship down through sheer force, and it was not long before the dreadnought and the cruisers opened fire in turn, focusing their weapons at the general direction of the Leonid.

And then, a few seconds after that, the rest of the Hasting's fighters were shot out of the launch tubes to join the attack squadrons heading towards the engagement zone. Nevertheless, several squadrons broke off their attack, heading towards a wholly different target. Talla'Zouna. And judging by the size of the bombers, these weren't simple bombs they were carrying.

Hastings F-38 'Raptor 019
Pilot: Major Rebecca 'Halloween' Woods
Squadron Leader, 133rd 'Velociraptors' Squadron
A few kilometers away from 'Talla'Zouna'

"Hastings, Halloween, wilco. Commencing strafing run now, anti-radiation missiles locked and loaded. Alright Raptors, you heard the man, lets go splash some aliens! Dipper, Pancake, you're with me, the rest of you make a circle around and prepare to attack after us!"

The twenty-strong fighter squadron, along with its electronic warfare support craft, changed its course as three fighters split off from the formation. With their weapons locked at the radiation source, the Kal'Bavakorian transmission array, it seemed like a very simple job: make a few strafing runs, launch a few missiles, take the array and the aliens down and then assist with the attack on the Zeleniyan fleet. The trio of Raptors, fighters looking more like flying wings than aircraft, suddenly killed much of their horizontal velocity with a forward RCS burst and dipped their noses down to get under RADAR altitude.

And then, the afterburners kicked in. Navigating through the maze of canyons on the asteroid's surface, the three fighters accelerated towards their target, its position locked by the electronic warfare Huey. And then they saw the array: the alien object that looked like a small radio tower, and the source of all the radio signals. The computer reported a good lock, and the Major gripped the joystick harder than she had expected.

"Fire!"

Four small railguns on each of the fighters started firing, their shots appearing more like lasers to the naked eye: in reality, they were tiny railgun rounds accelerated to a meaningful fraction of the speed of light. The recoil was enough to slow down the fighters significantly before the computer compensated, a known flaw in the latest software version, and the hundreds of shots begun to shred anything, Kal'Bavakorian or machine, caught in their path. Two anti-radiation missiles were fired, achieving an instant lock on the signal intensifier.

Alliance MRF-01 Multi-Role Combat Fighter: Interceptor Loadout
Installation Defense Wing 'Unvaou'
Status: Moving to Engage Hostile Fighters


//"-...Got a good view on the Jugnu Nebula today. Would be a good one for flying, withholding present circumstances, Wing Leader."//

//"Tis' a given, Unvaou Three.."//

Wing Leader Turvan Uk'Nar always enjoyed the feeling of being slammed back into his seat when he jammed the throttle of his [ur=http://fc08.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2013/221/f/1/vulture_by_sttheo-d6hcxtf.jpg]MRF-01[/url] into full. The violet glow of the two twin-sublight engines at his rear, the sudden increase in velocity, and the adrenaline kicking in his veins; it made flying for the Alliance Navy worth every hour that he spent repairing and refitting the multi-role spacecraft for it's many duties. He and his flight had been waiting for a good five minutes on the dark side of the asteroid; hiding out of radar range from the enemy spacecraft, and using the tracking units from Station Alpha to watch and await the arrival of their new adversaries. Eventually, the time had come, as a text communication from the Svu'Kavsi's 'Big Boss' rolled across his helmet's HUD...

((ALIEN CRAFT ON APPROACH. KAL'MEESU OPERATION BORDERS AUTHORIZED.))

He grit his teeth; muttering directly into his helmet communication system,"Alright my brothers and sisters; we are Kal'Meesu Authorized. Engage afterburners, and move to contact."

A wave of warrior cry screeches filled his helmet for a moment; the sound of over forty Kal'Bavakorian's guttural, sharp sounding screams of death and despair unto those they faced. The adrenaline jumped through his veins, and without a moment to spare, he wrapped his hand tightly around the throttle lever. He slammed his hand down, boosting the fighter violently out of it's hidey hole and forcing his body straight back into his seat, not to mention throwing himself and his wing into direct view of the humans they prepared to face. He could see them now; the large alien bombers and their fighter escorts had just come into visual contact; their large and simple designs directly opposing the more artistic, yet smaller Kal'Bavakorian fighters, which was a factor that worried him slightly. It appeared his fighter wing could simply run laps around these bombers and their escorts, but what of their weaponry? He gazed down at his command hub; removing a hand from the control stick to flick two switches that hung above his head, both of which adjusted the ships combat readiness state. The switch on the right had activated sound-simulation for the craft, and he could now hear the 'hum' of his engines and, once the fight had begun, the 'sound' of rocket launches and his fighter's forward engagement weapons. The left switch, upon flicking it, began the ship's automatic tracking of vehicles without the Alliance IFF transponder and, within' seconds, his HUD was filled to the brim with flashing green circles that designated hostile craft, and the blue of nearby Alliance fighters.

Most interestingly, there was a second group of blue circles in the far distance; a group that had just now appeared from behind the right side of the asteroid. These were reinforcements from some of the nearby Alliance installations that had managed to remain hidden, and were now sending out fighters in a stealthy manner in order to remain so. It was Nakor Wing; a group of veteran pilots from the original Great World War, and the way they were using RCS to move their craft left to right in a threatening sort of manner displayed their battle readiness. The Alliance fighters had now ranged in the triple numerals; a good hundred and twenty interceptors.

Suddenly, Wing Leader Turvan received a message from the Nakor Wing Commander.

//"-...-opy Unvaou Wing. Prepare to receive target designation. Have all Wings report successful lock on enemy units, and prepare immediate engagement."//

He smirked.

//"Copy. Unvaou Wing has armed automatic flechette cannons and pebble rockets, and is preparing first volle-..."//

Suddenly, another voice rose from the silent channel; one of Unvaou Wing's pilots.

//"K'TANVA! I'm picking up a MIRV launch! Radar is picking up huge radiation waves from their payload!//

Wing Leader Turvan wastes not a moment. It was time to speed this up. He raised his voice into the comm..

//"All fighters, begin engagement. Fire missile volley and close space to hostiles... Unvaou One and Three; disregard engagement orders, and move to engage those nukes!"//

Quickly, he slammed his thumb down on the green switch that sits upon the rear of his control stick. The arming system for his interceptors SS Interception Missiles activates and, without a moment to spare, he shouts,"Wing Leader; Intercept Launch!" And slams his thumb once more upon the controls. On each wing of his fighter, the barrels for each of the rocket tubes begin to rotate violently. Within' a moment of the activation, the tubes begin to expel multiple small, yet highly explosive missile payloads, as if someone was firing a slowly rotating Gatling cannon. Twenty of these miniature, yet highly explosive rockets launch from the fighter, and begin to speed towards the distant, yet quickly approaching human bombers at rather high speeds. Beside the Wing Leader's MFR-01, as well as with their fellow fighters on the bombers right flank, his comrades follow suit. The 'small yet quick and deadly' doctrine of the Alliance military rings true, and soon hundreds of these miniature missiles are launched, and begin their stampede towards the humans..

Behind this quickly growing conflict, two fighters from the original wing bank hard to the left. They pull away from their formation and, igniting their afterburners, begin to chase after the MIRV in the hopes of intercepting it before it is too late.

---

---

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Outer Surface
One Klick Away from Main Hanger Enterance



Legionnaire Special Operations Sergeant Nalla'Zour breathed in and out very, very slowly. She had exited from the distant cavern near the hanger that housed a 'secret' entrance to the Alpha installation, although in reality it was used frequently by Kal'Bavakorian miners and Alliance personnel to reach the surface in an easier manner. The same entrance the humans had managed to find, and were moving a rather large force towards...

She didn't have time to focus on that, though.

For the last hour, she and her spotter had trecked across the kilometer-length distance from said entrance to this hilltop upon the surface of Talla'zouna. Their objective: Harass and gain intelligence on the human military forces that lay siege to the entrance of the installation's main hanger bay. After having climbed their way up the multiple-meter in height hilltop, with sweat, blood, and adrenaline their only fuel to meet this end, they managed to set up a camouflaged over watch point that had a rather good view of their siege point. Of course, there was the occasional rocky outcropping, valley, or deserted Kal'Bavakorian mining vehicle that lay in the way, but Nalla'Zour could still get a rather good view of the alien vehicles, and their soldiers through the crosshairs of her RSF-03 Long Range Rail Cannon. She kept note of their powered armor, their strange gyrating cannons, and..

//"Hold on..,"'// She suddenly muttered into her helmet's comm. Beside her, her spotter snapped his helmeted head away from his binoculars and gazed over at her.

//"What is it..?"//

She kept staring through her scope, her crosshairs centered upon the two power armor'd individuals carrying the strange device. They were bringing it over towards the hanger bay's central door... Shit.

She doesn't look away from the rifle, only speaking in a rather quick and hasty tone to her spotter.

//"What does that object look like to you.. The one those two inst'vatugnas are carrying?"//

He snaps his eyes back to his binoculars, taking a moment to survey the device far off in the distance before he speaks into his helmet comms.

//"...Nothing good. Could be a bulkhead breach. Should we alert Station Alpha?"//

//"Indeed we should. Raise them on the comms, I'll make contact at my discretion."//

//"Copy. Disengaging from spotting."//

The spotter slowly places his high powered binoculars down upon the asteroid's dusty surface before, with a gentle push, he floats away from the edge of the hill and retreats downwards in order to contact the installation safely. Nalla'Zour, instead, slowly lowers a hand down to the magazine pouch that is magnetically attached to the side of her armor. Removing a small armor-piercing tipped shell, she loads it into the drum insertion point on her weapon before snapping the intake shut. Tapping the side of the weapon, she activates the rail charge; vibrations resounding throughout the rifle's metallic body. She then settles the scope an inch or two in front of the first human carrying the device in order to compensate for his walk. No more was necessary, for the small yet powerful round would travel a fraction of the speed of light, and hit the target in seconds; especially in this vacuum..

She waited a moment or so, recounting the simple calculations in her head for the shot.. Before she slams her finger on the trigger. The buck is heavy, and only her tiedowns keep her from ejecting into space. The shell casing is ejected sideways, flinging off into space, while the round heads downrange for the head of the powered armored human..

---

---

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Outer Surface
Signal Intensifier Contact Point

//"No time to celebrate! Hazel Four and Seven, take the wounded back to the station's medbay. The rest of you, on me!"//

Hazel One didn't take time to inspect the wounded and dead. The female soldier who had her arm blown off horribly was writhing around in pain in the midst of the cloud of her own frozen blood; held only to the ground by the power of her mag-boots. It took a great deal of strength and patience for Hazel Four to manage to grab the woman and, for ease of transport, sedate her with a quick air-locked syringe to one of the injection slots on her shoulder. He grabbed her now limp body and, activating the magnetic weapon holster on her back, used a negative charge on his own and attached her; her back stuck to his. Hazel Seven had an easier, although more solemn job with the dead soldier. The trooper's blood and disintegrated internals lay all about the space he floated in. It was easy to simply sling the dead man onto his back and, with Hazel Four, the foursome began to move. The entrance from which Hazel entered was only a few minutes away, tucked safely away from the main combat positions near the main hanger bay, and they made their way towards it.

Hazel One immediately ran over to inspect the Signal Intensifier. A quick visual glance made sure it was operational, and he breathed a heavy sigh of relief. That left only one job for now...

The human pilot. He had seen it eject from it's spacecraft before the vehicle had crashed into the side of the nearby mountain. Capturing an alien for the Alliance might bring about an early end to this madness on Station Alpha. Although it meant defying his original orders, it was something worth investigating. With that thought in mind, Hazel One brings up his communication hub and barks out a series of orders over the channel..

//"Hazel Nine and Eleven, you're with me. The rest of you, set up defensive positions around the Signal Intensifier and await further command."//

A second voice popped up into the channel. //"Sir, might I ask why we are changing operational procedures?"//

//"That human pilot, Hazel. We get it, we could do some serious damage here. I only want two with me, though. The remaining four of you, stay."//

//"Aye, Squad Commander."//

Quickly, the squad re-positioned. The remaining four rocket troopers made their way to the Signal Intensifiers position; reloading their spent cluster rockets and setting up a new perimeter, away from the positions that had been decimated by the enemy fire. Hazel One, Nine, and Eleven instead unholstered their rifles and began the trek across the asteroid's surface to where the pilot was expected to fall. Her body was falling, abit slowly, towards the surface of the asteroid, and they needed to be there; ready to pick her up and retreat as soon as they did.

Suddenly, as they began to move, Hazel Nine spoke up rather excitedly into the squad's comm channel; his howl growing in volume with every word.

//"SIR! SIR! LOOK UP!"//

Hazel One gazed upwards as he leaped slowly over a rocky outcropping, before activating his mag-boots again to send him falling back to the surface of the asteroid again. Beneath his helmet, he managed a light sigh of relief before he and his two comrades continued to move.

Above them, the space around Talla'Zouna began to glow with a vibrant violet color, with little bursts of powerful static electricity bursting to and fro on any grounding surface. The strange occurrence was the result of the strange Light-Stream technology used by Kal'Bavakorian warp drives... The Alliance Fleet was about to arrive.

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Outer Surface
One Klick Away from Main Hanger Enterance

The Alliance soldiers on Talla'Zouna were backed into a corner, there was simply no way to deny this. They had but two advantages, along with another item that put them on similar ground with their human counterparts; their ability to fight in zero-G environments, their technical prowess, and their ability to adapt while in combat. The Kal'Bavakorian people was one born of the ocean itself; they were bred to fight in battlefields that crossed all borders of the physical realm, with little to no gravity. Not only this, but the technologies of both sides were perfect opposites, many characteristics that dampened out the capabilities of the other. These abilities, mixed with the tactical prowess and intellect of Alliance troops, meant for a deadly siege for the humans that were striking. It also meant that getting into that hanger, no matter of it's now easily accessible state, was going to be hell.

Legionnaire Special Operations Sergeant Nalla'Zour had already moved before the fireworks began; taking advantage of the confusion of the human military forces in order to change positions. She, tailed closely by her spotter, leaped away from the comfort of the ground and high into the air; a good ten meters or so. She glided softly through the darkness, automatically retrieving a new round for her Rail Cannon and driving it home into the drum magazine, before her luminous eyes finally spot a landing point. After a good five seconds of this uncontrolled flight, she re-engages her mag-boots and, like with a trailer suddenly yanked along, she manages a controlled tumble towards the ground once more. She smacks into the ground; her armored knee digging heavily into the dust, followed by her spotter close by. Within' seconds of the landing, she manages to re-magnetize herself to the ground and sets up her rifle once more. Her spotter kneels into the dirt beside her, immediately snapping his binoculars up to take view of the human forces in the distance.

//"Alright Sergeant; One point Seven decibels to your front. Target has quad-weapon, and is aiming at our last position..."//

//"By that one we just dropped?"//

//"Aye M'Lady, that's the one."//

//"Copy. Taking the shot, and prepare to adjust to position seven."//

She snaps the cross hairs onto the head of the first target and, with quick precision, snaps off another shot. Should it impact it's target, it would so in a fraction of a second after the shot is fired. The soldier's head would be thrown back and, with the force of the deadly shot, would blow it almost clear off his body.. And within' seconds of the shot, the group has moved again.

Unfortunately for the humans, this is not the only incident. A second shot is fired, and another soldier flies motionlessly through the darkness over Talla'Zouna; his brains knocked clear of his head. Then a third, then a forth. Fifth. Sixth. Seventh. Eight..

There is more than one team, it is clear now; grouped on the many hillsides a kilometer all around the hanger bay's bulkhead. Having grown tired of waiting for an assault, they had made their ways from other protective bulkheads usually reserved for mining operations by Alliance personnel and indentured servants and had set up minutes before. They had originally awaited the signal of the first combat duo and now, with such the elimination of the first enemy infantryman, these fellow Alliance marksmen began their assault. The Alliance ground teams have now moved on the offensive and have made the perfect kill zone for the human Marines.

Even worse is the situation for the USC gunships that had taken off from the landing site. Nestled within' the canyons that lay around the main hanger's general area are the main defenses for the Kal'Bavakorian installation: The Alliance Missile Defense Grid. The missile defense systems of Station Alpha had been activated a minute before and, now with multiple recognized targets in their automated sights, they were set to kill. Without warning, the gunships lock-on klaxxons, should they have them, would undeniably begin to wail as, beyond the mountainous region in which the infantry battle for Talla'Zouna raged, five trio's of small, yet quick missile pods would appear. They zip over the hillsides and through the canyons that dig into the grounds of the asteroid before, with the utmost precision and speed, arc upwards to meet their targets..

---

---

Alliance MRF-01 Multi-Role Combat Fighter: Interceptor Loadout
Installation Defense Wing 'Unvaou'
Status: Under Fire and Engaging


//"Attention all Wings: The enemy hostiles have taken notice of us. Time to send them a First-Contact greeting, straight from Kal'Bavakor!"//

All one hundred and twenty pilots of the joint attack wings release an ear-splitting battlecry over their local communications channel; their challenge, while unheard, directed to the USC formation. Disengaging their afterburners, both the Unvaou and Nakor Interception Wings, engaging the right and left flank of the human bomber formation respectively, began their assault. A hundred and twenty fingers jammed down on the trigger guards of their flight sticks, and a hundred and twenty flechette cannons began firing with extreme prejudice; not towards the bombers themselves, but towards the incoming wave of human-launched rockets.

The AN-74 Automatic  Flechette Defense Cannon was an interesting weapon of choice for the Alliance Navy. Most air forces and space navies, both alien and Kal'Bavakorian, attached mass-driver or energized rotary rail cannons to their fighters; both of which had a quick, yet very direct field of fire. While these worked for targets that didn't move, or were slower than the craft that was targeting it, it became more difficult to make easy and relatively quick kills when engaging hostile interceptors that moved as quick. The AN-74, however, had none of these problems. Within' each shell of this twin-barreled, wing-mounted weapon was a huge amount of flechette pebbles that, when fired, would be launched at intense speeds towards their target in an expanded, yet still direct field of fire. These shells were perfect at eliminating enemy fighters, bombers or, in the most unnerving of circumstances, missiles heading straight towards them. Of course, they wouldn't destroy them all, but they would bring down quite a damned few of them...

The Alliance fighters continued their direct assault, heading straight for the bombers for around five seconds. The smaller interceptors moving quickly, and begin closing the distance between the two groups fast. Their flechette rounds tear through incoming rockets, blowing them to pieces long before they could make it close to the fighter wings they had targeted. A few rounds, should they make it through the rocket field unscathed, either fly past the un-moving bomber wing, left to eternally drift, or shred to pieces those who were unlucky enough to float in their path. The Alliance pilots, while skilled in evasion and sporting quick and maneuverable craft, do not make it out unscathed either. Some rockets make it through the formation and the return fire and, while the fighters attempt to pull an erratic evasive maneuver, or attempt to eject, the rockets manage to impact their craft. The explosions are violent, and the interceptors are blown to shreds; little remaining of their hulls except scraps, and their pilots' unheard screams.

//"All Fighters, prepare attack pattern Lask'Vaurnta! Go now!"//

As soon as this command is called, the two fighter wings suddenly 'explode'; many fighters breaking off into multiple directions. Some violently climb, others dive, and those that do not do either these manuevers or continue on a straight path towards the bombers break left or right with such sharp a turn that would make most pilots' brains sink into their stomachs. The craft attempt to create a spherical kill-zone around the human bomber formation; keeping reasonable distance between eachother whilst quickly enclosing the bomber squadron in their deadly grip. The fighters activate their gyrating rocket pods and, after managing to lock onto the human bombers, await a closing of the gap between themselves, and their waiting prey..

The two fighters moving to intercept the two MIRVs, on the other hand, fare not as well. The MIRV activates and, as it speeds towards the closest fighter, it performs a valiant act. The first fighter activates it's afterburners and, with an unheard cry to his wingman, speeds directly towards the first MIRV. He pulls the ejector seat on his craft and, as his canopy blasts violently away from his MRF-01, the pilot himself is blown clear from his fighter at intense speeds. The MRF-01, with no pilot to control it, simply continues its straight flight towards the quickly approaching MIRV, with the tumbling pilot's hope of it having garnered the attention of the incoming nukes. As the ejected pilot tumbles towards Talla'Zouna, the second MRF-01 prepares an arc maneuver. Hoping to evade the targeting of the incoming MIRV, he performs a half-circle maneuver around the MIRV as soon as he comes within' reasonable range to do so, and instead focuses directly on the first MIRV; still a good two kilometers away or so. If he manages to escape the blast radius of the first MIRV, he would slam his finger upon the missile pod controls on his flight-stick. The rotating rocket pods on his interceptors wings would begin to spin and, after a moment to lock on, three duos of these quick firing rockets speed towards the MIRV on an intercept course..

---

---

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Outer Surface
On Route to Contact

Hazel's One, Nine, and Seven were doing something of a light, cumbersome jog at this point; slamming their mag-boots into the dust of the asteroid before pushing themselves off the surface once more. They were moving quickly through the cratered surface of the asteroid, with their sights still centered upon the occupied chair floating high above their heads. It was getting closer by the second, and they had no time to waste if they wanted to reach it first..

It would touch down soon. Not much longer now.

---

---

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Main Hanger Bay
First Defensive Line Status: Engaged


...She couldn't think. Couldn't move. Couldn't breath. She tried to inhale again, and again, and again, but there was no air coming to her lungs. She grasped for her throat, trying to find some sort of damage, trying to see if her throat was even still there...

Then something grabbed her hand, forcing it away from her neck. A moment later, air began to rush to her lungs; someone had simply manually activated the atmospheric systems for her suit, which had become damaged in the.. During whatever had just happened. She couldn't quite remember what had transpired. She had been asking her tracking officer about the situation outside and had been adjusting her squad's set-up in her teams position when there was an explosion, or something of the sort. The air had been ripped from her lungs, and she had been thrown violently backwards before being yanked yet again, although in the direction of the bulkhead this time. This was most likely due to the explosive decompression of the hanger bay... Oh shit. The hanger bay had been breached. She had. To. Get. Up.

"LADY SQUAD LEADER.. GET UP! GET UP NOW!"

Seems she wouldn't need to on her own. With a loud groan and a harsh round of hacking coughs, Squad Lead Lanoi'Ta pulled her arm free of the rubble it was trapped beneath. The female soldier standing above Lanoi'Ta quickly grabbed the Squad Leader's newly freed hand and pulled her out from what little metal scraps she remained trapped under. As soon as she was free, the soldier stuffed a THAR Kinetic Rifle into Lanoi'Ta's arms. The Squad Leader, still a bit dazed from the extreme tumble she had just experienced, took a moment to gaze down at her rifle, although her mind remained blank. Her visor, smudged and cracked from her impact with the floor, made it difficult to see, and further added to her dazed state. Her suit remained unbreached, and there was no decompression; thank the Goddess.

It took her a moment more to gain her bearings, as she couldn't hear anything but her own breathing, and the sound of her fellow squad mate. The sound had left the hanger bay with the oxygen that carried it, leaving the simulated combat sounds that her suit provided, as well as her combat radio.

"Lady Squad Leader, you need to re-take command! Half of our squad is not combat-able... Dead! What are our orders?!?!"

Lanoi'Ta, upon hearing these words, immediately snapped out of her daze, although with some difficulty. She, as well as the remaining fifty or so Alliance Legionnaires in the bay, were now centered at the rear of the hanger. Whatever had impacted the hanger bay door had blown clean through it and had decimated the area to the rear of the center of the hanger.. There were a good twenty Kal'Bavakorian bodies strewn around in that general area, not to mention damaged defensive turrets, kinetic barriers, and destroyed cargo containers. A situation that was originally terrible had dropped to hellish.

Wasting no more time, Squad Leader Lanoi'Ta took command. She immediately shouted into her local squad channel; her voice filling the helmets of the remaining ten Legionnaires in the team.

"All units in Blue Squad, re-position on my IFF, and prepare what ordinance you have left!"

She and her fellow squadmate kneeled behind the rubble she had just picked herself out of; both lifting their rifles in preparation for the incoming human assault. Around them, the dazed Alliance defensive forces struggled to regain their lost footing. Turrets were being reconstructed, launchers were being pulled out of the rubble, and marksmen attempted to reset themselves in their original overwatch positions. The Lord Commander of the defensive line was hard at work; assisting in resetting kinetic barriers while barking orders to her surrounding subordinates. The only other good news was the fact that the MK.19 suit and it's pilot had managed to remain unscathed, and it was now providing overwatch for the surrounding troops as they settled back in after the attack.

Lanoi'Ta settled the scope of her rifle against her visor; scanning the entrance to the hanger bay as her squad settled in behind her. Another automated turret was re positioned beside her, and her team was resettled into a, if somewhat rugged, defensible position. With her HUD's infrared scanners activated, she could view the human forces outside preparing to move into the now pitch-black hanger, as well making their way towards another location, although where the location was, she was unable to tell.

---

---

Alliance Mining Facility 'Alpha'; Kal Sector
Asteroid 'Talla'Zouna'; Orbit
Alliance Intervention Fleet; Frigate 'Resolve'
Status: EMERGENCY RETREAT


Lord Admiral Ralla'Than had been told of the possible hostile situation around Station Alpha when she and her Admirals had been briefed before the hours long trip to the Talla'Zouna installation. The intel gathered by the Svu'Kavsi, gathered over a collective Un' System Year, depicted these 'humans' and their forces as splintered, and at eachothers throats, although the reasons why were still struggling to be understood. Different ideologies, perhaps? Splinter governments? It was not her position to wonder these things, at least, not while she was prepping her crew for possible battle stations. She was fresh from the Alliance Naval Academy and, while she had fared as one of the best of Alliance Admiralty Cadets, she would be the first Alliance Lord Admiral to truly command a fleet in a tactical situation against another fleet. She had tact, she had skill and an adapting mind, but fear still rang true in her inexperienced mind..


She was focused on the report, still plastered on her personal command console, that focused on the tense atmosphere in the field, and how the humans had a high chance of reacting negatively to the transmission the installation had launched. Because of this vital information, the Empress herself had personally intervened, and had instructed Alliance High Command to pull the freighters back and keep them in the Un' System for now. Instead, the Empress demanded the investigation fleet be upgraded to an interception fleet; a combat ranking that had not been used ever before. The fleet was given six 'Elena'-Class Assault Frigates and, with a bout of good luck thrown upon them, was launched into the stars.

Lord Admiral Ralla'Than was about to have the largest Kal'Bavakorian fleet in recorded history, with a total crew of over five thousand Alliance naval and infantry personnel, warp into a possibly hostile environment.  It was a situation that made her, and her many subordinates marching about the large command bridge that was nestled deep within' the hull of the ship, uneasy...

Her Navigation Officer suddenly glanced up from her console, gazing up to meet the eyes of the Lord Admiral, whose command chair sat high above the rest of the bridge crew as to allow her to survey the operation. "Lady Admiral, the fleet is ready to exit the light-stream!"

Lord Admiral Ralla'Than blinked her luminous eyes only once; keeping a calm and confident look on her face. The only clues that dare express her fears was the occasional rustling of her mandibles, as well as the way she played with the many earrings in her right ear; nervously rolling the spherical beads in between her fingers. In a voice cold as icy steel, she replies,"Of course. Bring us out of the stream, Officer."

She looks away, and her gaze meets that of the Combat Officer below her,"Combat Officer, is the fleet prepared for engagement?"

Her gaze is met by a nod in return,"Yes Lady Admiral, the fleet reports positive on all weapon systems, and emergency navigation systems are prepared. Engineering is also reporting a positive on the anti-decompression foam systems.. Appears they repaired those in flight."

"Very well," replied Ralla'Than,"Prepare to Hush the Flame."

And, thus, the Flame was Hushed; a phrase used by Kal'Bavakorians of all walks of life to express the shutting down of a ship's Light-Stream Core, and the immediate return to real space afterwards.

A heavy shudder suddenly thunders throughout the Frigate 'Resolve' as the Light-Stream Core deactivated, and a second thunderous noise resonated through the hull as the ship entered realspace...

Almost immediately, klaxxons and alarms immediately begin to wail throughout the hull from every station; declaring a threat level increase that was set in place by automated tracking systems. Immediately afterwards, all combat crew began to rush to their stations, and multiple howls began to fill the bridge was commands were issued by superior officers to their subordinates... All demanding the crew to initiate combat readiness. They knew the drill, of course, but what was the threat that pervaded them almost immediately after leaving the Light-Stream??

"COMBAT OFFICER, I REQUIRE A SITUATION UPDATE!" barks Lord Admiral Ralla'Than over the howling alarms.

"LADY ADMIRAL; TRACKING IS PICKING UP MULTIPLE ALIEN CRAFT IN OUR GENERAL AREA. IFF FROM STATION ALPHA IMMEDIATELY PLACES THEM AS HOSTILE... THEY'VE ALREADY OPENED FIRE! RADIOLOGICAL SCALES ARE GOING CRAZY!"

She doesn't think; immediately howling,"SEND ALL PILOTS TO THEIR FIGHTERS; PREPARE FOR IMMEDIATE RCS BOOST TO THE REAR! WE CAN USE THE ASTEROIDS AS COVER."

She snaps her gaze over to the Tracking Officer below, whom is frantically attempting to make sense of the scores of unknown alien craft flying a few thousand kilometers out, as well as the friendly fighters engaging them,"TRACKING OFFICER; SEND A VISUAL LINK TO MY COMMAND SCREEN!"

Within' seconds, the Lord Admiral is given said visual link; a three dimensional image of the madness happening beyond the fleet. The six frigates of the Interception Fleet were in the center of the large image directly before her, surrounded by asteroids of many sizes that the Resolve's onboard computer was struggling to show on the hologram. Before them were hundreds of smaller dots, both of the green and blue variety. Green dots were targets that allied IFF had marked as hostile, while the blue dots represented fellow Alliance personnel. Talla'Zouna was at the edge of the map, with it and several other massive asteroids colored a distinct blue, although Talla'Zouna itself was pocketmarked with green hostile dots.

Even worse was the massive green cylinders in the distance: Enemy capital ships. Even worse than these, though, were the multiple smaller dots that were blinking violently on her command screen, and moving straight for the fleet with horrid speed..

Nuclear Weapons. Weapons the Kal'Bavakorian people hardly used anymore, except for some anti-ship weapons, and even these were only used in the most horrid of situations. Lord Admiral Ralla'Than couldn't focus on combat yet, though. If the Alliance Fleet could retreat behind some of the surrounding asteroids, even if only to buy them a few dozen more seconds from the dangers of being attacked, she could think of a plan of defense, as well as analyze what she and her fleet were truly up against.

Quickly, she circles her small index finger around the fleet and traces a line to their rear; ending behind a large circle of asteroids behind them that would hide the frigates from view of the aliens. Although she issues these commands, the Navigation Officers of each ship would personally begin the maneuvers. She immediately authorized the use of all available emergency RCS bow thrusters, as well as authorizes the use of the Alliance's elite laser point defense systems. If they could disable or destroy the incoming nukes, she could then focus on coordinating with allied forces. Just before she issues the command, she howls one last order throughout the bridge; her mandibles opening as wide as possible to reveal rows upon rows of her razor-sharp teeth.

"BRACE FOR IMMEDIATE RCS THRUST!"

---

The Alliance Fleet exits the Light-Stream moments after the purple haze appears to those participating in the combat. The ships, sleek and clearly alien in design, are smaller than most of the human craft in the area; easily classified as an Assault Frigate to other navies, if anything. The six frigates, immediately upon entering the asteroid field, become aware of the incoming nuclear missiles, as well as the explosive battle happening around them. This is clear, because as soon as the fleet warps in, the ships begin an immediate dispersal maneuver to increase distance from one another, while keeping their bows pointed towards the incoming missiles, and the alien craft they had been deployed from.

A mere ten seconds later, the Alliance Fleet reacts. The humans would witness an interesting feature of the Kal'Bavakorian frigate design: Their rather extreme maneuverability. As the nuclear missiles close in, the six frigates suddenly release a violent explosion of RCS thrusts from their bow and wingspans; launching the frigates backwards at an almost back-breaking speed, and using up a great deal of their emergency RCS thruster fuel in order to do so. With these six frigates retreating backwards, they now attempt to disperse between the asteroids around them; maneuvering in an attempt to literally take cover behind larger rocks.

At the same time, these alien craft attempt to destroy the incoming missiles with furious displays of desperation; firing high-energy, accurate point defense beams from multiple sections of their hulls, as well as firing off a few missile pods as well. All the while they perform their quick RCS maneuvers to hide among the asteroids around them, hoping for any delay in their destruction, although a few of the nuclear missiles already make it within' a few kilometers distance from the lead frigate...

Greater Imperial Mining Sector
'Henry Townshent' Trading Post
Docking Bay 1A


Commander Thiers stood, giving a firm salute to the Colonel who had just arrived at the head of an entire platoon of Imperial Guardsmen.

"A bit ambitious of our General don't you think, mon Colonel?" he gestured and they slowly made their way to the Command Deck.

"It's not my place to guess policy, but it appears security is becoming increasingly important outside the homefront, and please call me Quitard."

"I see, but don't you think it'll raise some eyebrows, what with us turning into an armed camp overnight?" they ascended the stairs.

"Certainly, but it is purely precautionary. After all one should take a look outside if they truly believe this is overzealous."

"Good point, in that case I trust we will be working closely together?"

"Naturally." they gave each other a mutual salute before moving to attend to their own affairs.

Thiers doubted this innocent tale of self-defense, the badge he saw on one of the men was a sabre over a laurel wreath. The symbol of the Special Reconnaissance Group one of the best trained black-ops units under direct control of the Imperial State. The situation was heating rapidly from open warfare in this supposedly neutral zone of space to unrest back home it was definitely going to be an interesting year.

// will post tomorrow

-snip-

((If you wanna edit it a little bit so I can reply... I'm actually gonna do the Kals again. <3 ))

((And you couldn't have said so BEFORE? What edit, I'd probably have to delete the entire post and rewrite it...))

(( When the creativity flows it's hard to stop! I'll make it up to you with some cool scenarios 'ere ))

((Well you'll have to wait for a while, because my exams are in a month and I could barely spare the time to write THAT post.))