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Chapter 1.0 Operation Cataclysm!

Space - FTL Transit to "Nearby" Distress Signal

"All systems nominal, Commander. I've triple check everything for you as you've requested and everything is within normal operating parameters. No signs of tampering or sabotage." Chimed the ACE AI Lilith, softly registering in Jayden's head despite not actually hearing anything audibly aside of the subtle hum of electronics and ship systems around him.

"What do you think of all this Lilith, everything that's going on? Is it really feasible for something like this to befall the Star Navy?" Jayden asked curiously, candidly.

"It's hard to say Ja... Commander..." Lilith offered before glazing over her casual response, "For all the facts we have, for everything we think we know, there are still a lot of unanswered questions. Everything points to us - and yet we haven't been relieved of duty while an official investigation has been conducted or even started."

"But what could... he stand to gain from destroying a base? Weakening the 78th? Is there some sort of connection between him and the 'NRF'?" Internalized questions bubbled up from within the young commander. "What information do we have on these Reds, Lilith?"

"The 'NRF' or 'New Red Federation' is a radical neo political terrorist group that has emerged within the last 8 months. Their attacks, while never being anything remotely close to the scale of Fort Sentinel, has been claimed to be in the interest of disrupting Nepleslian Star Military operations in order to 'expose the truth' to the people and incite a possible uprising against the Imperium." Lilith stated, having pulled the dossier.

"What's strange is that Naval Intelligence lists Yamatai as the only known area with a large confirmed gathering of Reds since their rout during the civil war. There's no way such a large force could be coming from Yamataian space without drawing attention from the Star Army as well." She added.

Jayden furled his eyebrows. "Yamatai doesn't turn a blind eye to any sort of military action within their borders, so I'm sure we can rule them out... for now at least." He noted of what he knew in his dealings with the Star Army of Yamatai. "The next piece of the puzzle is finding where the 'NRF' base is, and uncovering who is helping to keep it hidden."

"Commander, two things to note if I may. The flight isn't all on the same page, as far as what's been uncovered and what they should know. This includes the new Captain, as well as Ensign Cigaro. This situation should be rectified as soon as possible. The other is that... following this course of action could lead to extremely dire consequences including court martial and potential execution. You do understand that if things backfire..." Lilith trailed off, her concern evident.

"I understand... and appreciate your concern. Thank you Lilith." Jayden replied, beginning to realize there was more to Lilith than just being an advanced AI. "Compile the files and prepare them for secure transfer, I'll issue them out once we return."

"Yes, Jayden, right away." Came the response from Lilith, setting forth to assist him any way possible."

Over the comms, Jayden reached out to the others of the squadron. "We'll be reaching the mining ship in a matter of moments. Stay focused and alert, but do not engage any hostile presence - if any - unless ordered to do so." There was a momentary pause before he added, "Isn't that correct, Captain? Commander?" after remembering his place.
 
Edward sat engrossed in his conversation with Miranda while Happy seemed to have a look that could only be described as a cross between curiosity and horror. His attention was fixated on Help in a manner similar when one comes face to face with a person sporting a giant mole. You know it's rude to stare but you just can't look away.

"Really? You never heard of Happy the Squirrel and his Foresty Friends? It was a very popular cartoon growing up. I had first programmed his personality when I was in data analysis division out of boredom. Never would have thought I would be able to use the program on an actual AI," Edward said as he looked toward Happy with a nostalgic smile. He tapped a few commanss on his equipment and turned back to Miranda, "What do you think of this mission? People seem awfully bummed about it but I'm stoked. These types of low profile missions usually brought me the best puzzles back at my old station. Everything is connected you know. This will be totes awesome right?"

Edward looked at Miranda with a giddy intrigued look while Happy still stood there staring at Help.
 
"Ah, a children's show. The station intranet on the Blue Horizon was at a premium and a tad...irregular on Harmony Station, so I'm afraid I didn't have the chance to see it." Miranda admitted somewhat sheepishly, rubbing her head and bearing a good-natured grin. "Perhaps I'll bother you for a couple of reruns of the series sometime later, if it's not too much of a hassle for you? I'd really like to learn of Mr. Happy's exploits." Turning to glance at the gawking squirrel, she gave him a nod of acknowledgement, accidentally missing his expression in the process.

Help's digital "pupil" contracted as he matched Happy's flabbergasted stare with its own. The silent, scrutinizing gaze of the luminous eye spoke of an alien, unfeeling void of cold rationality untouchable by the cheer and joy generated by the cartoon mascot, a spectre of shadows that feasted on the squirrel's brightness like an evil fire.

"Intelligence Happy, you appear to be in distress." Happy's antithesis calmly intoned, seemingly unaware of the sheer wrongness of itself. "Do you require assistance?"

"As for the mission," Miranda continued, leaving the two AIs to their silent staring match, "I admit I'm not expecting much to arise from it. We often dealt with similar situations back in Knifehead Squadron," the young pilot recited, ticking off the various situations one by one. "it'd usually be either an asteroid collision, system failures or fighting among the crew for a ship to fail like that. It's likely to be the first given the location, but anything can happen out here in deep space. Best not to bank on anything yet."

"I dearly hope it isn't the last case," she added, shooting Virus an uneasy look. "those are always...messy, for everyone involved." Offhandedly winding a lock of ashen hair around her finger, she cringed at the memory of such an incident. "We had to rush a few crewmen back to the station for emergency treatment once, the crew were nearly charged with mutiny for a drunken brawl gone horribly wrong."

"Nasty business, that was." Miranda muttered, Opening her mouth to say more, the bombardier perked up as the comms flared to life with Striker's voice. Shooting an apologetic glance towards Virus, she quietly excused herself and shut off the private line. "Looks like time's up, Virus, we'll continue this later. Sorry about that."

---


"Help, activate the N-F2s in the bomb bays." Miranda ordered, expression dead serious as she began booting up the control software of the machines. "Initiate datalink handshake with Drei computer cores and sync master controls to the Hornet's system." Fingers flowing like a pianist of old, she began flipping various switches and typing in console commands in a well-practiced routine, in tandem with the ACE AI's rhythmic pulsing as multiple lines of text began appearing all over the cockpit HUD.

Mechanical Control Test - Pass
Software Check - Pass
Datalink Connection - Secured
System Data Telemetry - Running
Structure Integrity Test - Pass
Fuel Status Check- 99.7% Full
Armament Status Check - Armed
Armament List:
  • 30mm HEAP Mass Driver
  • 10mm Mass Driver
Main Engine Test - Pass
Camera System - Online
Radiator Test - Pass
Hyperspace Tap Status - Active
Drei AI Core - Online

System Status - GREEN​
Click to expand...
Master Arm. - Off
AI Autonomy - Low
Combat Protocols - Standby
IFF Data Download - Complete
Master Control Sync - Complete

NEPLESLIAN STAR NAVY N-F2 COMBAT UAV/RPA - ONLINE​
  • UNIT 01 - READY
  • UNIT 02 - READY
Click to expand...
"System check complete, Pilot Bannings. Drones are ready for deployment."

"Roger that, spec Units 01 and 02 for ISR operation." With a little flash, two little windows appeared on the Hornet's HUD displaying the camera feeds of the two UAVs, On-screen, the views showed the depressurized interior of the fighter-bomber's weapons bay. Keying in some final commands, Miranda nodded to herself and keyed the radio channel. "N-F2s are online and set to ISR, Units 01 and 02 are ready for launch. Virus, I'm initiating a datalink connection to your craft and handing over controls, standby for uplink."
 
My'ean was familiar with the Scythe and had flown it a few times but in all cases, within a set operational envelope - otherwise be forced to pile up mountains of paperwork to sign off the air-frame for surpassing a given speed or inertial threshold.

The thing was slated to be upgraded during its life-span, lines, regulators, converters, transformers, intersectors, pumps, cooling, backup, drivers - all of it slated for a future powerplant that wasn't even on the drawing-boad yet to extend her life-time, so she knew the hardware was good for a bit of a push.

For the first time, she was really opening the taps up -- and against her better judgement, dialing the Consortium energy regulation software she'd brought with her up into resident memory and hooking into processes; a brief flicker, a whiplash progress bar and a new and familiar piece of furniture in her helmet display.

Thumb along the menu-select scroll-wheel, she held down a hat switch on the left side and slowly dialed up available charge from the powerplant and declared a three quadrant setup: Energetics, raw engine output and energy weapons.

She knew every time she fed one of the three vertical bars, she depleted the others, which in turn could slowly dwindle if they fell beneath their minimum energy thresholds and start. She knew she had to know her next action before she made it so she wouldn't be jumped out of the clouds, so to speak and given the high number of objects surrounding them vigilance was key.

And yet her eyes never left the glass. Not interested in the outside world. The HMD told her enough. Nepleslian neural control software was 'tetchy', responding late to make up for what she inwardly considered a lack of pilot discipline or a willingness to plan given now impulsive Nepleslian pilots were -- evidenced by the slight shimmy as she let her right wrist shake, just to get a sense of the deadzone in her bones through what little G the inertial system let through that she'd dialled in, so so could feel it in her guts.

She heard her respirator hum through her ears - catching only keywords outside of her mothertongue and focusing on the overall situation, breath steady as she heard the chatter.

She was always searching, looking for a problem.

Something to be wrong.

Something to deal with.

Something to fix.

"...'Wolf, 01 to wing, Oracle actual, delay jump - 60 seconds, mark. Intentons to scout ahead, check conditions. We need eyes on station before we can proceed. Sit tight an' wait for motherbird, alright?"

Vogel carried up close and personal as far as she could manage - personal judgement taking her sixty thousand clicks into the field - judging the distance of the rocks. A shimmer caught her vision but she had everything on passive to begin with, everything quiet so she could watch. Debris clattered on the hull; barrier down in anticipation of this, engines dead in advance as inertia coasted her at high speed.

She whistled slowly, taking in the sights, running over basic radeologicals. Then something funny happened: The debris stopped, then started again. And again. And again. There was rhythm.

♫ Ecco: The Tides of Time - Tubes of Medusa (Metal Cover by DusK)

"01 to wing; Miss me? make that an extra minute: things just got tricky. Here's sitrep: We very very hypothetically lose our low observability advantage if we enter with energetics or gravitics protection ; ultra-dense microdebris setting off the defense reaction, emissions high enough for basic spotters. Given what I see on my hull and the placement of it, its artificial, possible metamaterial or armor dust, electrically charged so it wants to attach itself to your hull like glue." she said, giving a subtle motion of her stick: a high speed bank then correction out into a stiff flat had fragments flying of her hull that had been stuck.

"I'm afraid you little wings are gonna learn the hard way that this is a pretty common insurgency tactic amongst outlaws, particularly among pirates laying claim, specifically this exact style is used by some group who haven't affiliated with the Galactic Armament Organization who call themselves the Aexalli Centorius. Unlike the GAO, they play dirty and they wipe crews like rats, us included. They break down into four sub-groups who specialize in different styles: Sampson, Oevaesta, Kantyne and Uuvuourla though I've no way of telling who we're dealing with yet... Hang on."

More thought. Humming.

"So to explain, they put it down down a wall to prevent high speed entry or to make us reveal our positions. I don't spot radeologicals lighting up so its caltrops, not glowstick paintball for broadside from some bigger bird like a carrier or a technical. Its usually not used in these territories though, so something is very very wrong..."

More thinking.

"Considering this is a rescue mission, the odds are good this could turn into a hostage situation very very quickly. There'll be a big spherical wall around the area about quarter AU in size in layers, and then a collection of strategically placed pockets they'll try to drag us through. Winning conditions, children: the name of the game is to strip your enemy of their advantage and create winning conditions."

Another wait, clicking her tongue over the radio.

The Lorath sounded so much more serious out here than she did in the briefing room.

"I don't... See any craft so far, so I think this one's in the pantry for later. Hm.."

"Well then My call to you is this: be on the look out for mines, usually in the form of old high end high speed boarding-ops power armor on its last legs with a CPU override, packed and strapped with high grade mining explosives, used to protect high value targets like this: They'll rip your face off and play piano on your teeth so be weary. They tend to evade ballistics fire and will home in on you just like a missile, but they'll get five or six really sharp side-steps up to a kilometer laterally with acceleration you can't hope to match and they'll rush you if you don't spot them early: They're much easier to deal with in frames than fighters. My advice is unload missiles, set to proximity fuse. Even if you miss, manually detonate and the debris from the missile from a near miss should be enough to set the mine off safely, but it will also reveal your position if you do it too often in the same area, which is not what we want: These things have a safe half-life of several days and are measured in hours -- and they tend to go off in clusters of four or five or so, since they're improvised weapons: any more than that and it starts to look really really fishy. Also be prepared for a lot of lateral maneuvering in an environment like this, lots of stop and start. The rocks are far enough not to be a concern unless you really open up but the debris pockets are going to flay your skin off, really to ruin your day. Utter cunts but adored by the A.C."

All that just from unusual debris. How long had she even been flying?

"Anyway, proceed output down, shielding gone, flanking off-bore, pre five half above, post-five half below. Proceed from perimeter under inertia and converge both above and below her bow, about six hundred clicks off, taking it low and slow. Something here is sour. Hope whoever's supposed to be here, busy doing something else takes their time. Can't wait to see you. Wolf, out."
 
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Asteroid Field
♫ Ecco: The Tides of Time - Trellia's Bay (Cover by DusK)


Nero sat up as Cipher pinged him, letting him know they were arriving. "All pilots, brace for deceleration." Cypher chimed.

As Cypher finished, the Aquilas all dropped out of FTL at the same time. "Virus, you are go." Called Nero
Virus took control of the two drones which were housed inside the Hornet. As they dropped out, one flew upwards to get a to down view and the other went low to get a lower view. Edward expertly piloted them into position and gave everyone a live feed.

The Spring was in a small clearing of asteroids adrift. The Spring was only running emergency power at the moment. Several large scorch marks indicate that she was in a fight recently. All life signs were still there. Edward zoomed out to focus on the surrounding cluster of asteroids. At first nothing could be seen. But a switch to thermal showed the tell tale sign of recently lit engines. There were 10 Scimitar Starfighters plus 2 Kouken-Class Escorts lying in wait that Edward was able to identify.

"That is all I can at the moment Crux." Called Virus

"Roger Virus. Well this got a whole lot more interesting." Nero mussed aloud.
"Okay, well this is obviously a trap. Blackwolf, I have an idea. We will split into two groups. I will lead Striker, Guard Dog, and Banshee; and we will flank to our 3 o'clock. You take Smokey, Virus, Spirit, and Ermine; and flank to our 9 0'clock." He said.
"My squad will protect the Spring and deal with the fighters, while your squad deals with the two Escorts. Does this work for you?" He asked, trying to provide a tactical assessment of the current dilemma.
"Let's dissect game-plan first: they still don't know we're here and we can take as long as we need to plan. The joy of stealth Right?..."

"You're assuming there's only ten on station, five a piece" My'ean replied, un-easy. "Assumption is the father of all fuckups and pirates love to shadow. None of this is standard equipment amongst pirates.I don't like it." she bit her teeth, tapping something, data-sharing some visuals of expected units. "I was hoping to see this thing" a blurred image appeared on remote screens.

It was hard to make out but...

"Here's why I'd rather plan: I've been flying stick for decades. I splashed one out of luck, evaded the second. Third bit me, then they bounced FTL. I got really lucky; we might not: Its huge but the cross-section means nothing with the way it moves. Rare as hell, we don't even have a designation for it yet because the LSDF is hoping its a one-off fluke based on the dissection we made, but we encountered three of it and haven't seen any since."

She transmitted an image.

The photo was rough but any fighter worth their shit could see it plain as day: bastard child of the F/A1 Wolf, F/A2 Jackal, a Hoplite, a V9 Nodachi, a V6D and an NMX Battlepod and some Yam gear? Big gap between its engine nacelles. Y shaped, from above. Cockpit, some sleek armored extruded egg shaped pod inserted like a tampon down its throat. Smooth crisp flowing lines, variable geometry, movable engines, turrets.. Elegant wasn't even the word to begin with and in some ways they looked more like small gunships than large fighters. Pirates made this? It looked more like something that was born.

"That's the level of proficiency we're dealing with here... As for the Scimitars; they don't move right. Don't let them get too close. I'm thinking explosives. I'm going to think up an alt game-plan, then we pick the best of both worlds. We're both professionals and we both probably saw something the other didn't.. Mission success or not, I am a great fan of survival."

My'ean thought with great care, visualizing the battlefield in three dimensions as she eyed her sensors, panning slowly.

"Given... The area topology, its like we're in a big spherical net with layers of debris, then clouds inside it of debris. I say we fork along the vertical six and twelve then central in for pincer. They'll fish through the north and south poles where the minimal coverage is - their entry and departure points. If we're clever, we could leave rounds - bombs - there ready for when engines go hot and we engage and basically make a killbox out of it using remote detonation and we could probably reduce them from ten to about six or seven pretty easily without a lot of effort either through their desperation flying through the slow bake detonation, crippling them with the debris shockwave or keeping them within the confines of the debris net, so we always have the speed advantage or maneuver advantage since if they're pirate, bet your ass those are modified and the first thing they'll do is call for friends who'll tear us apart in open space, the fluke we saw earlier. The difference between us and them is our design is sane We'd like to come home at the end of the day but victory is all they care about. We're in low observability craft and to make our winning conditions, we have to work toward our advantages and minimize threats as we can."


Another pause.

"Not your style I know, but I'm in the business of surviving, not adrenaline. But ultimately this is your call, not this old lady's."

Nero listened as My'ean gave her own evaluation. She was right, it wasn't Nero's way of doing things, but he needed to do what was best for the flight.

"We will do it your way Boss." He responded."I will take the vertical six, and you take the twelve."

Nero thought for a moment.

"Captian, let's set up your trap then I stir up the hornets nest? We would get a lot more targets to shoot at. Plus we will get a better estimate on the forces in there. This also puts only one pilot at risk." He asked as he observed the reconnaissance data My'ean provided them.

"Right up their backside. Target-rich. I like it." her voice chimed back, reverberating comms smearing her voice flat. "I like it a lot. Hope they didn't drop the soap. I want your word on this, not just mine." said, already spooling her powerplant ready to push throttle. "We good to execute?"

"Damn straight boss." Nero replied with a wicked smile. "Get the flight into position. Make use of cold jets as much as possible. I will go kick the hornets nest." He replied throttling up his engine and rocketing towards the 6 o'clock opening.
 
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Space - In Transit

As she held the new starfighter in formation with her wingmates, Sayoko couldn't help but raise a bit of an eyebrow as the voice of Alexandria Winters come over the comms as their new AWACs and transmitted the target's coordinates to her ACE for processing of course corrections. She wasn't aware the nurse dabbled in such matters, though officer training often included such things from time to time. Hopefully it didn't influence the judgement of the male members over much... this wasn't the time for too much bravado or distractions, as the mission profile still remained highly suspect. "Aquila 4, copies. Coordinates received. Entering FTL," she acknowledged, as the Scythe's Gravitic Centrifuge amped up and energized the Hyperspace Fold Module for a quick change in her position to match those of the Flight.

Asteroid Field

It was only mere moments before the CDD came back down again to sublight speeds, as the Jiyuuian at the controls scanned the local space near the target where they now found themselves. Jayden's orders not to engage sounded out and was soon followed by the drone of My'ean's lengthy observations and extensive array of recommendations preparing for various scenarios that may befall them. There was obviously a reason the Lorath woman was placed at the head of the command chain of the flight, seeing as her assessment came from what the ex-IPG agent perceived to be actual in-flight experiences and not just combat theory. Despite her own considerable prowess, the teacher's wisdom made Lt. Mochizuki realize that she had a lot to learn yet in the seat of a starfighter instead of a powered armor... but she did at least have some experience fighting pirates with the Peacekeeper forces, and knew that such tricks were certainly possible.

"Copy that, Aquila 1. Your suggestions are sound to avoid compromise of our stealth capabilities, if you believe such pirates to be our foes today. Underestimating the numbers of fighters is a rookie mistake -- according to spec data, the Kouken Escorts could be holding more Scimitars in reserve that have not yet launched and could reinforce quickly once their wingmates start dropping." She studied the grainy images being sent her way by the flight lead, a small slice of Sayoko feeling a shiver as she saw some hints of NMX influences in the design. Yet it certainly was something far beyond a Battlepod, a potpourri of the numerous fighters all moulded together in a way that was beautiful and yet aberrant. "I've never seen anything like this, though... the complexity of the engineering seems somehow alien, even though it uses familiar salvaged hulls. It almost looks like something an AI would come up with rather than a human..."

The green-haired pilot reached out with her mind and switched the CFS to a constant low-level just above standby, gliding on nearly momentum alone but ready to spool back up in a pinch. She trusted in My'ean's and Nero's leadership for now, as well as the passive Zanarium and Snakeskin coating on the Scythe to keep her un-powered stealth profile strong enough to not be readily detected by their foes while everyone moved into position.
 
"...Blackwolf ma'am, I'd like to note that I'm really not sure that this is a good idea." Miranda could be seen visibly sweating from the visual feed on the Flight's communication channel, her right eyebrow twitching minutely as she chewed on her lip. "You're ordering us to fly in a hazardous asteroid field completely unshielded, using reaction control systems to move at minimal speeds in the immediate presence of not only superior numbers of unknown aircraft and two destroyer-class vessels, all the while dodging dust clouds in unfamiliar starfighters." A flabbergasted silence followed as she stared at her Fyunnen superior wordlessly, her face running through a whole gamut of expressions in complete silence.

Slowly, Miranda's hand floated up to rest on her helmet's "forehead" as she let off a long-suffering groan. "..Aquila 6 copies, moving into position." Cracking her knuckles, Miranda reached forwards and pulled the throttle back. The twin engines on the Hornet died down with a gradually softening whine, amber-azure flames sputtering out of existence as the boxy craft drifted leisurely towards the asteroid field's perimeter. "...well, looks like we've got our work cut out for us, don't we?" she chuckled mirthlessly to the AI dutifully hovering above her right shoulder. "Lower reactor output to minimum levels necessary and cut power to all non-critical systems. Set RCS system to precision control."

Minute, candlewick-sized flames jetted out of tiny ports scattered across the Hornet's Nerimium-reinforced hull, pushing the hulking airframe into a gentle drift along the outermost border of the hazard area. Every so often, the bomber's tail would drag and send it in the beginnings of a spin, only to be quickly corrected by a quick burst of thrusters. "Anomalous yaw detected along aft section." Help chimed, luminous orb blinking as the AI processed the situation. "Engine refit has resulted in uneven distribution of RCS thrusters along the tail area of the craft, resulting in unequal thrust. Software has insufficient data on new thruster layout, RCS controls defaulting to manual."

"...bloody Perfect." Biting back a curse, the bombardier rolled her shoulders as she tried not to stare at the monolithic space rocks drifting bare meters away from her ship. I'm going to have to have to give this my all for this one, one wrong move and I'm toast. "This is Spirit, in position just outside the hazard zone." she announced, dimly noting the clammy feeling in her fingers.

Now, time to see if I can't make this brick dance.
 
Space, Near the "Spring"

"Aquilas, this is Oracle Actual. Not to add fuel to the fire, but..." Lexi's voice trailed off as she rifled through the new information pouring in. "Long range scanners are detecting additional fighters inbound toward the Spring. It doesn't seem as if they are aware of your presence, but they are coming in fast, quite possibly to finish off the Spring."

"Six Hoplites inbound, heavily modified... energy signatures reading significantly higher than normal. Heavily armed as well." Lexi added.

"Unless intercepted, the additional fighters will arrive in ten minutes." Jayden's ACE stated.

"Acknowledged Oracle. Captain, Commander, allow me to take Jaeger and Smokey to deal with the additional incoming so we don't end up pincered during our sneak attack. I just hope these aren't NRF fighters coming to join the fray." Jayden asked over the comms, hoping the situation was about to spiral out of control.

"Data analysis received from the Oracle, those inbound Hoplites are emitting energy signatures akin to newer/upgraded Nepleslian fighters. They must be equipped with new engine and power systems similar to those used one the Uno X and the Scythe." Lilith chimed in again over the communications link, shedding more light about the possible game changer.
 
Space, Near the "Spring"

As Nero kicked his engines up to full power heard the report from Lexi. "Good job Oracle Actual, keep us posted." He replied as primed his weapon systems. Next Nero heard the request from Jayden. He knew that a decision needed to made and didn't hesitate to make his response. "Roger that. Smokey, Jaeger, Striker; break formation and destroy their reinforcements. Good hunting." He replied

"Sir, I have plotted the course through their 6'0clock. Displaying overlay now." Cipher chimed as blue line traced itself across Nero's HUD. "All pilots, this Crux, I am beginning my attack. Make sure your ready. Out." He finished as he pull up and into the opening.
 
Space
"Aquila Flight, this is Alexandria Winters designation "Oracle Actual." I will be your combat controller for this sortie. I am now transmitting the coordinates to you all."

Mylo grinned as he heard the absolutely gorgeous voice of the equally-gorgeous Lexi Winters over the comm (Shit, this day keeps on getting better and better!) - then grinned even wider; as the Nepleslian moved to begin inputting the destination coordinates into the starfighter's navigational systems, the display for said navigational systems blinked as it refreshed.

<I've p-p-plotted the course t-to our destination, M-M-Milo...>

Apparently, the process of course calculation had become the latest "casualty" of automation - something very much appreciated by one Lt. Milo Frost, who'd always struggled with the never-to-sufficiently-be-damned topics of stellar cartography and astrogation. Now this I can dig! "Thanks...just an old habit from the past..." - a pause as the Raider-clad LT shifted in his seat - "from when I flew F/A-4s for a livin'. Fuckin' things had two computer systems, the Drei and the Precipice...so I always had to transfer everythin' manually from one to another."

<Awawawa...>

<That doesn't make much sense, though...why would they install two operating systems?>

Milo shrugged."No idea, though I heard a rumor or two about there being a secur-" The fighter jock's reply was drowned out by the voice of Aquila 2 coming in over the cockpit's (well, Raider's, to be precise) speakers.

"All right ladies and gentlemen, we have our orders. Be prepared for anything. This might seem like a milk run, but one lapse in concentration might kill you so stay sharp.........Okay, all units prepare for FTL travel. Aquila Flight, go FTL in 3, 2, 1..."

"...'Wolf, 01 to wing, Oracle actual, delay jump - 60 seconds, mark. Intentons to scout ahead, check conditions. We need eyes on station before we can proceed. Sit tight an' wait for motherbird, alright?"

The fucking hell...... Aquila Flight's tenth member frowned, sighing in annoyance at the unexpected (and definitely unwelcome) delay - then sighed again as a brief search of the cockpit reminded the Nepleslian of the fact that the current environment was quite lacking in alcoholic beverages. Frakberries.

<Do you always fly into combat intoxicated?>

Shit...didn't Aiesu say she wouldn't bring this up or something? "Yeah, why?" was the jock's somewhat-gruff response.

<You don't have to be rude...I was just curious why you would do something that decreases your reflexes...>

Way to fucking overreact to her, you goddamn asshat! Wincing at the construct's harsh tone, the LT sighed yet again. "Sorry for jumpin' on you like that...as for your question, it's 'cause it.........shit, I don't know, makes me fly better or somethin'. That, and it's the one fucking thing that can keep the past in the past...

<*sigh* Apology accepted, though... *chuckle* ...I'm still waiting for you to tell me the real reaso-ah, transmission incoming. Siv?>
<O-On it!>

"01 to wing; Miss me? make that an extra minute: things just got tricky. Here's sitrep: We very very hypothetically lose our low observability advantage if we enter with energetics or gravitics protection ; ultra-dense microdebris setting off the defense reaction, emissions high enough for basic spotters. Given what I see on my hull and the placement of it, its artificial, possible metamaterial or armor dust, electrically charged so it wants to attach itself to your hull like glue. I'm afraid you little wings are gonna learn the hard way that this is a pretty common insurgency tactic amongst outlaws, particularly among pirates laying claim, specifically this exact style is used by some group who haven't affiliated with the Galactic Armament Organization who call themselves the Aexalli Centorius. Unlike the GAO, they play dirty and they wipe crews like rats, us included. They break down into four sub-groups who specialize in different styles: Sampson, Oevaesta, Kantyne and Uuvuourla though I've no way of telling who we're dealing with yet... Hang on."

To what? For real, though...I fucking called it!

"So to explain, they put it down down a wall to prevent high speed entry or to make us reveal our positions. I don't spot radeologicals lighting up so its caltrops, not glowstick paintball for broadside from some bigger bird like a carrier or a technical. Its usually not used in these territories though, so something is very very wrong...considering this is a rescue mission, the odds are good this could turn into a hostage situation very very quickly. There'll be a big spherical wall around the area about quarter AU in size in layers, and then a collection of strategically placed pockets they'll try to drag us through. Winning conditions, children: the name of the game is to strip your enemy of their advantage and create winning conditions."

Damn...and I thought the fucking Squids were devious little bastards...

"I don't... See any craft so far, so I think this one's in the pantry for later. Hm......well then my call to you is this: be on the look out for mines, usually in the form of old high end high speed boarding-ops power armor on its last legs with a CPU override, packed and strapped with high grade mining explosives, used to protect high value targets like this: They'll rip your face off and play piano on your teeth so be weary. They tend to evade ballistics fire and will home in on you just like a missile, but they'll get five or six really sharp side-steps up to a kilometer laterally with acceleration you can't hope to match and they'll rush you if you don't spot them early: They're much easier to deal with in frames than fighters. My advice is unload missiles, set to proximity fuse. Even if you miss, manually detonate and the debris from the missile from a near miss should be enough to set the mine off safely, but it will also reveal your position if you do it too often in the same area, which is not what we want: These things have a safe half-life of several days and are measured in hours -- and they tend to go off in clusters of four or five or so, since they're improvised weapons: any more than that and it starts to look really really fishy. Also be prepared for a lot of lateral maneuvering in an environment like this, lots of stop and start. The rocks are far enough not to be a concern unless you really open up but the debris pockets are going to flay your skin off, really to ruin your day. Utter cunts but adored by the A.C. Anyway, proceed output down, shielding gone, flanking off-bore, pre five half above, post-five half below. Proceed from perimeter under inertia and converge both above and below her bow, about six hundred clicks off, taking it low and slow. Something here is sour. Hope whoever's supposed to be here, busy doing something else takes their time. Can't wait to see you. Wolf, out."

Mylo blinked several times, then whistled in sheer amazement at the wealth of information Aquila 1 had been able to determine from nothing more then debris. "Hot fucking damn......" And I thought frickin' Maverick had been flying for too fucking long......shit, that was insane. Lorath or not......you've got my approval, Wolfie. "Alright, you-no, we heard the lady..." - a pause as the Nepleslian tried (and failed) to stretch within his PA - "...Siv, mind firin' up whatever this sexy beast has for FTL?"

<A-A-Aye! Ehmmmmmm......Ms. K-Kalmiya?>

The AI in question chuckled. <Cycling up the Gravitic Centrifuge...done. Jump initiated.>

"Aquila 4, copies. Coordinates received. Entering FTL."

Same for Aquila 10; going hyper...now!"

As he said this (and as the unfamiliar thrum of the Centrifuge transformed into a far more noticeable THRUMMMM), the LT mentally groaned; there was a damn good reason he absolutely dreaded hyperspace......



Asteroid Belt

Roughly five minutes after vanishing into the void, the pilot of the Na-YF/A-6X “Scythe" known as Aquila 10 let out a sigh of relief as the eerily-blue of the higher dimensions darkened back into the speckled black of "normal" space, then shuddered involuntarily as he struggled to get his frantic breathing (and equally-frantic heartbeat) back under control; the thoughts that had been running through the Nepleslian's during the past 300 or so seconds had, unlike most of his fellow wingmates, been extraordinarily taxing, both physically and mentally. F-Fucking hell......the clarity is getting better, which means that sooner or later.........sh-shit, fuck that line of thought.

"Virus, you are go."

<Milo, about what happened back there...I->

The fighter jockey held up his - well, the Raider's - hands in a conciliatory gesture as he interrupted Kalmiya. "After the mission's over, I'll explain..." - a pause as Milo closed his eyes, remembering what had happened the last time he'd promised a lady something - "...I promise. Right now..." - he gestured at the multitudes of 'roids outside - "...ain't exactly the best time."

<*sigh* Fair enough, I guess. Just...don't make a girl a promise you can't keep.>

Frost smiled. Believe me, Kalmiya......I learned that lesson a long time ago with a certain someone. "Noted."

<Got another transmission incoming...hmm. That's...unexpected...>

The Spring was in a small clearing of asteroids adrift. The Spring was only running emergency power at the moment. Several large scorch marks indicate that she was in a fight recently. All life signs were still there. Edward zoomed out to focus on the surrounding cluster of asteroids. At first nothing could be seen. But a switch to thermal showed the tell tale sign of recently lit engines. There were 10 Scimitar Starfighters plus 2 Kouken-Class Escorts lying in wait that Edward was able to identify.

"Unexpected?"

"That is all I can at the moment Crux."

<Yes, the enemy presence here is...weaker than I anticipated. They seem to have underestimated how much force we would respond with...>

"Roger Virus. Well this got a whole lot more interesting."

Milo blinked in confusion. There's that random-ass quirk again......shit, looks like I'll have to talk with the spook or something. "It's just a little more complicated then that, Kalmiya......"

"Okay, well this is obviously a trap. Blackwolf, I have an idea. We will split into two groups. I will lead Striker, Guard Dog, and Banshee; and we will flank to our 3 o'clock. You take Smokey, Virus, Spirit, and Ermine; and flank to our 9 0'clock.
My squad will protect the Spring and deal with the fighters, while your squad deals with the two Escorts. Does this work for you? Let's dissect game-plan first: they still don't know we're here and we can take as long as we need to plan. The joy of stealth Right?...

<Oh...>

"You're assuming there's only ten on station, five a piece......Assumption is the father of all fuckups and pirates love to shadow. None of this is standard equipment amongst pirates. I don't like it."

"I was hoping to see this thing."

"Here's why I'd rather plan: I've been flying stick for decades. I splashed one out of luck, evaded the second. Third bit me, then they bounced FTL. I got really lucky; we might not: Its huge but the cross-section means nothing with the way it moves. Rare as hell, we don't even have a designation for it yet because the LSDF is hoping its a one-off fluke based on the dissection we made, but we encountered three of it and haven't seen any since."

Decades? That explains a few thi-The LT's jaw dropped several inches, his features that of shock and complete disbelief upon seeing the...thing that was now displayed on the cockpit's main screen. What in the actual fuck is that? Shit, that...that monster ain't even funny anymore-actually, fuck that...you just don't do that kind of thing to start with...

"That's the level of proficiency we're dealing with here... As for the Scimitars; they don't move right. Don't let them get too close. I'm thinking explosives. I'm going to think up an alt game-plan, then we pick the best of both worlds. We're both professionals and we both probably saw something the other didn't.. Mission success or not, I am a great fan of survival."

<You feeling alright?>

"Yeah, I'm fine. Just wondering who the fuck would design that monster."

<You and me both...>

"Given... The area topology, its like we're in a big spherical net with layers of debris, then clouds inside it of debris. I say we fork along the vertical six and twelve then central in for pincer. They'll fish through the north and south poles where the minimal coverage is - their entry and departure points. If we're clever, we could leave rounds - bombs - there ready for when engines go hot and we engage and basically make a killbox out of it using remote detonation and we could probably reduce them from ten to about six or seven pretty easily without a lot of effort either through their desperation flying through the slow bake detonation, crippling them with the debris shockwave or keeping them within the confines of the debris net, so we always have the speed advantage or maneuver advantage since if they're pirate, bet your ass those are modified and the first thing they'll do is call for friends who'll tear us apart in open space, the fluke we saw earlier. The difference between us and them is our design is sane We'd like to come home at the end of the day but victory is all they care about. We're in low observability craft and to make our winning conditions, we have to work toward our advantages and minimize threats as we can."

Shit, I fucking hate sneaking around like some Yammie bitch...

"Not your style I know, but I'm in the business of surviving, not adrenaline. But ultimately this is your call, not this old lady's."

Old? Frakking hell...I hope I age that fucking gracefully. That, or my eyes are fucking with me again - as she wasn't exactly ancient-looking back in the Briefing Room...

"We will do it your way Boss. I will take the vertical six, and you take the twelve."

Not a whole lot of room to fuck around in...damn.

"Captian, let's set up your trap then I stir up the hornets nest? We would get a lot more targets to shoot at. Plus we will get a better estimate on the forces in there. This also puts only one pilot at risk."

"Right up their backside. Target-rich. I like it......I like it a lot. Hope they didn't drop the soap. I want your word on this, not just mine. We good to execute?"

"Damn straight boss. Get the flight into position. Make use of cold jets as much as possible. I will go kick the hornets nest."

The Nepleslian chuckled upon hearing the Lorath's reference to a certain prison activity (Hot damn, I'm starting to like our new CO......shit, I might just have to actually ask her on a date!) - then had to bite his lip to squelch a sigh, the pilot's formerly-merry features vanishing as the voice of - and, to the fighter jock's dismay, the face of - the squadron's Jiyuuian member could be heard (and seen).

"Copy that, Aquila 1. Your suggestions are sound to avoid compromise of our stealth capabilities, if you believe such pirates to be our foes today. Underestimating the numbers of fighters is a rookie mistake -- according to spec data, the Kouken Escorts could be holding more Scimitars in reserve that have not yet launched and could reinforce quickly once their wingmates start dropping."

Fucking gorram ass-kissing Neko bitch...wait, why the hell am I surprised? This is a Neko we're talking about here.

<Ohhh... so that's what you were referring to earlier.>

It took the LT considerable amounts of effort to keep the animosity he was feeling towards Aquila 4 from affecting his tone. "Yeah."

"I've never seen anything like this, though... the complexity of the engineering seems somehow alien, even though it uses familiar salvaged hulls. It almost looks like something an AI would come up with rather than a human..."

<I...have no comment on the matter.>

Milo snorted. "'Course you don't." Only alien I know of around here is you, Neko.

"...Blackwolf ma'am, I'd like to note that I'm really not sure that this is a good idea. You're ordering us to fly in a hazardous asteroid field completely unshielded, using reaction control systems to move at minimal speeds in the immediate presence of not only superior numbers of unknown aircraft and two destroyer-class vessels, all the while dodging dust clouds in unfamiliar starfighters."

The pilot of Aquila 10 burst out laughing at the obviously-frazzled appearance of Lt. Bannings.

"..Aquila 6 copies, moving into position."

<Milo!>

"Alright, alright......" was the LT's response, followed with a chuckle.

"This is Spirit, in position just outside the hazard zone."

"Aquilas, this is Oracle Actual. Not to add fuel to the fire, but.........long range scanners are detecting additional fighters inbound toward the Spring. It doesn't seem as if they are aware of your presence, but they are coming in fast, quite possibly to finish off the Spring."

"Six Hoplites inbound, heavily modified... energy signatures reading significantly higher than normal. Heavily armed as well."

BOOYAH! Let's get this party started!

"Good job Oracle Actual, keep us posted."

"Unless intercepted, the additional fighters will arrive in ten minutes."

"Acknowledged Oracle. Captain, Commander, allow me to take Jaeger and Smokey to deal with the additional incoming so we don't end up pincered during our sneak attack. I just hope these aren't NRF fighters coming to join the fray."

"Data analysis received from the Oracle, those inbound Hoplites are emitting energy signatures akin to newer/upgraded Nepleslian fighters. They must be equipped with new engine and power systems similar to those used one the Uno X and the Scythe."

So I'm with the ex-XO (heh!) and Jo, the rookie? - a moment's pause, then a shrug (partially hindered by the M10 Raider currently encasing him) - Fuck it, works for me. We'll just have to wing this shit...and besides, it's not like I'll be dealing with that Neko's antics, so we're good.

"Roger that. Smokey, Jaeger, Striker; break formation and destroy their reinforcements. Good hunting."

Lieutenant Milo Frost - for the first time in three years - truly smiled. Granted, he wasn't drunk. Granted, what he'd seen during those five minutes in the realms beyond had scared him. Granted, he had to deal with the presence of an individual who (to him, at least) was practically identical to the "enemy." Granted, he was at the controls a starfighter he'd never flown before. Granted, he knew virtually nothing about the rest of his squadmates - or, for that matter, about the opposing side.


But at that moment, this particular Nepleslian could care less, for he was about to partake in the one thing he loved more then anything else (including, despite what others probably thought, lovemaking itself):


Flying.


"Kalmiya?"


All pilots, this Crux, I am beginning my attack. Make sure your ready. Out."

<Already...done. Uploading the Nav Point now.>

"Let's dance."

"Aquila 10 copies, and I'll try to leave a few for Strikes and Smokes!"
 
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Space near the Spring

Nero's craft rocketed through the opening of the cluster of asteroids. As he entered, his HUD began lighting up with contacts. 'Just as My'ean suspected...' he thought to himself as several more ships began to spring to life. Not only were there the scimitars, there was also 12 F/A-1A 'Wolf's that began powering up. "Well hot shit, looks like a true hornets nest in here." He said as all the contacts began turning towards him. Cipher pinged him and the rest of the fleet with his sensor detail. "Everyone, we have 10 Scimitars and 12 F/A-1As fighters. There is also the two Kouken-Class Escorts for a total of 24 contacts." Nero throttled up and began bringing his weapon systems online. He opened a broadcast on all channels. "This is Commander Nero James Vega of the Nepleslian Star Navy. You are to cease all hostitle action against the Spring and surrender immediatly. Comply now or you will be fired upon." He spat out, anticipating the answer.


A young sounding male came over the comms. Shrewd. Impatient. Stoic.

"This is the best your Nepleslian Star Navy can muster? Effective immediately, your ship and the Springareproperty of the Sampson sect of the Aexalli Centorius. You are outmatched and outgunned. We give you the option to flee immediately: This area is well within recovery ranges of the Nepleslian Navy. Bailout and we'll spare your lives. Do you comply?" The young man asked pointedly. Nero laughed. "Damn straight I'm not..." He said terminating the connection.

Nero's engines roared to life as he drove his craft ever faster towards the contacts. "Sir, all contacts are turning to engage us. Begin evasive maneuvers." Cipher chimed. Nero pushed his gravity dampeners to the limit as he continued accelerating. "Sir, they have weapons lock." He rolled deploying two tap flares. As he did Nero hit his afterburners and flew straight for the enemy formation. Several more pings notified Nero of weapon locks. The squadron of Wolves let loose a salvo of missles and plasma rounds. Nero's Uno X weaved and rolled through the incoming fire, expertly dodging the entire salvo. His body was pushed back into his seat as the G forces increased. The weight pressing down on his body steadlily increased as he reached the max acceleration the Uno X could preform. "Cipher..." Nero grunted. "shunt all power to the thrusters and disable all limters."

"Sir, the limiters are there for a reason. Your body will be ripped apart. Are you sure?" Cipher informed. "Damn it Cipher... DO IT!" Nero yelled as he prepared himself for the increase in Gs. Cipher replied quietly. "Aye aye." Nero felt his entire body slammed into the back of his armor as the limiters were removed. That boost pushed his craft even faster towards the enemy contacts. Nero gruntes as the G forces increased, seeing that his body was experiencing 22Gs and climbing. Neo's Uno blew past the enemy formation before they were even able to react. He then cut his engines to preserve his power and fired his manevuering thrusters to spin his craft end over end. As he finished his roll, his HUD showed that he had achieved missle lock, and Nero fired two pufferfish missles right into the formation. "Crux, fox 2!" He called as the two missles lefted the racks and flew towards their targets. Nero continued his roll, pointing his nose towards his original heading and kicked the engines back to life. The pufferfish seperated and tried to find their targets, and were mildly successful. Four of the Wolves were caught in the explosions and two were clipped thanks to their tight formation.

A near blinding light caught the edge of Nero's vision; a thick ribbon of white heat through the unradiatable darkness of space that sliced like a blade through his vision. Every kind of alarm imaginable went off as the beam thinned down, visible to have been one of the Kokuen test-firing its main cannon: the shot less than a hundred meters off Nero's position.

A sword made for one-shotting other vessels of their class.

Properly placed, it could have taken out half of the flight.

One hell of a warning-shot.

As Nero pulled away from from the Wolf flight, the two Koukenescorts began arming thir own weapons. "Sir, the Escorts are breaking from their cover and are headed this way." As Cipher finished his warning, the young man returned. "Last chance; Final offer." as the escorts assumed position

"Well, I tried the diplomatic option" a sigh sounded over the comms - someone very tired almost audiably rubbing their brow with fustration. "I don't have time for this. Comms, signal our situation: This site may have been compromised. Let's get this over with: Gunnery, bring full batteries to position: flak solution widespread ... Commence fire" Called the young pirate captian. Nero smirked as he closed in on the exit. Nero opened his comms and yelled. "NOW!"

The 100 turrets of each Kouken came to life like soldiers moving, marching over the hull of the vessel into clusters, adjusting like compound eyes in the darkness, studded balls of metal within her hull: each starship grade lightspeed optics, designed to melt the hull of another starship of similar class. Immediately, Nero's HUD was flooded with warnings and estimated firing solutions - moving lines projecting the path of the lasers as they came to life. No beams, no light, no visible shot: all firing in a way that a stock kokuen-class couldn't dream of handling: a stiff bang as something caught the tip of Nero's wing, the expansion an explosion that sent metal rattling against his hull.

Nero began to evade and launched more flares. "Well I think they are throughly pissed off now." Nero muttered under his breath. "Cipher, shunt all avalible power to the aft sheilds and hold on!" As nero finished, he began racing towards the 12'oclock opening. The G forces that his craft was putting out was tremendous. Nero grunted as the force pushed him even deeper into his seat.

Nero smiled as he began deploying his tap flares, rolling as he did to ensure an equal spread. "Try this on for size!" Nero called. He turned around and began firing his guns into the nearby asteroids. He blasted multiple small asteroids into bits and cracked a few of the larger ones, sendind them into the space between him and the escorts.

The escorts did not care. Starship grade fire, did not care. The fragments scattered into more micro-fragments, rattling on his hull again as each went off like fire-crackers: rock bubbling and exploding.

Nero grimmaced as the ships tore threw his screen with little effort at all. He pulled hard on his flightstick pulling his craft around to face the enemyships. "This will be interesting..." He mumbled as he began accelerating. He pulled the Uno in a wide arc around the ships launching a few missles. He knew that this would do nothing, but he had an idea.

The missiles exploded the moment they got outside the Uno X's protective fields, the compression wave rattling his fighter. Whoever was gunning for him from the Koukens wasn't out to kill him. More like a child, picking the wings off a fly. The wolf-cardinal hybrids closed in, patchwork modern hulls nearly a decade newer than the Uno of gray and black like after-images as they swung their engines down the same way a hoplite was known for - a cluster of three splitting up into a formation almost like a pyramid in syncronization as particle-cannon roared toward him in the silence.

An indicator in HUD told him they were warming their main weapons: the fabled gammaton - a cannon known to shred fighter-bays and wipe the bridges of starships clean off the map if they were stupid enough to be on the exterior of the hull, rather than buried deep inside its guts.

One a piece, all on him. Nero was going to have a bad time.

"Fuck." Was all he said as he began evassive manuevers, which offered little against the hitscan weapons - only staying ahead of traversal not shot. His weapons were no good next to the Koukens. He tried returning fire with his cannons as he threw his ship to and fro with his manuevering jets. "Hey guys... anytime now..." He said over the comms as he tried to dodge the incoming fire.

Another half-power bang from the lasers of the kouken rattled him. Whoever had inspired his mercy was quickly losing their patience.

Nero started accelerating as fast as he could to try and make it a little harder to hit him. His body was feeling the stress of the fight already. "I don't have all day guys, unless you want me dead?" he scoffed as he zipped around the belt. Trying to put some more asteroids between him and the enemy. It was like watching someone impatient search a room, casting the contents of desks and shelves to the floor: each he passed behind semingly spontaniously exploding the moment he was eclipsed behind it. Another bang struck his hull: something serious this time: master-caution screaming as the cabin began to vent atmos.

"Damn it." Nero yelled as he checked his systems. "Sir, our atmo is venting. The ship will not be able to take another hit like that..."

Coolant was venting into space. ECM was fried. The Vogel was struck, though the system was still trying to work out the exact nature of the damage. The diagnostic never completed: apparently that had been struck too. The only reason he was alive was the power-armor he wore in the cockpit and the extra layer of protection it afforded him as the last of the atmosphere diappeared. Engines were still good, though output had dropped significantly making the same kind of fancy-dancing a lot less viable. Powerplant a miracle of engineering, still running.

The Uno X, while solidly built, was really showing its age. Especially with Nero's cocky hands. While they were out of hiding now, his fighter was almost crippled from the experience. Nothing ventured nothing gained, right?

"I will give it to them, they are pretty good."

"Good, nothing.." My'ean finally replied, dealing with problems of her own. "They're toying with us. The Kouken aren't supposed to be able to do that. Something isn't right. We need to get the bombers in to nullify that advantage: the wolves are trying to stay within range of the firing solution of them, to lure us in, to pick us off. Don't fall for it. Pick your battles carefuly. Nice work getting them out, though."

"Thanks Cap, but my craft is fried. Let me see if I can do something before I am forced to bail."

"Bail nothing!" My'Ean scoffed "Do you have any idea what they would do to you?"

"I figured as much, but..." Nero tried to answer but was cut off.

"What, that spheil about letting us go? It'll make what happens at Nepleslian penal colonies look like a fucking holiday. You're meat. Blood. Organs." cannon-fire filled her comms briefly, something rattling her hull "Stong legs, good shoulders and a nice backside. They're not GAO, Nero."

"Then what should I do?" He asked

"Not become nero-steak" she replied.

"Well no shit. But, my craft is barly staying together. I am venting atmo and Vogel is trashed." He replied

"The rated extraction on a Scythe is enough to get you back. We'll piggyback you. Focus on surviving." more cannon-fire. "Will provide cover."

"Damn it." Nero hated having to rely on others, but he really had no choice in the matter. "Roger that captain. I am pulling back.

"Nero. It was a mistake to bring an Uno. When your life is on the line, every advantage counts and every disadvantage matters."

Nero chuckled. "This Uno has brought me back from the brink on more than one occasion. I guess I am just being sentimental..."

"Something like that. In position."

Nero pulled up sharply. "All right kiddos. Kill these fuckers for me." He replied as he activated his engines again and making a break for the exit.
 
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"...compensating for excessive drift, sensors indicate that we'll dodge the clouds up ahead with meters to spare." Humming a short ditty to herself, Miranda gently guided her bulky craft on a winding path through the asteroid field, taking care to keep out of sight via convenient asteroid cover. Already a couple of klicks in without any issues, the little Aquila allowed her chest to puff up with pride. "Not to shabby, if I say so myself-"

"Alert: High-energy reaction detected!"

BZEEEEEEEEEN

"AH! Bugger!" Miranda spat as her head whipped towards the coruscating lance of energy spearing off into the distance, biting her lip as she clamped down on a startled jolt. All of Hell had apparently decided to break loose as starship-grade warheads and lasers went slinging off into the abyss as the two Kouken-classes did their level best to swat the comparatively tiny Uno starfighter with overwhelming force. Her eyes could barely track the chaotic mess of sensor blips whirling across the radar displays as Crux decided to tango with the entire enemy battlegroup on his own, pulling off high-G maneuvers through the storm of enemy weapons fire nonstop as he threaded his way through the onslaught.

Gazing silently at the chaos unfolding, a tiny part of her mind screamed that an Uno simply does not move like that.

"Help, distance to target!" Miranda commanded as she gunned the throttle, taking the opportunity presented by Crux's lightshow to slink in closer to the escort ships. Distracted as they were by the Uno tat simply would not die, it was almost laughably easy for even the chunky Hornet to slip in unnoticed. "Raise shields and ready weapons on my mark!"

"Distance to target: 5.2 kilometers." Excellent.

"MARK!" The Hornet darted out from behind a goodly-sized chunk of spacerock with an actinic flash, luminescent shield bubble already forming even as its frontal plasma cannons glowed with power. Onscreen, the magnified viewfeeds from the Monoeye sensors were already displaying point-defense turrets turning around in their mountings to face the unexpected attacker. There was no way they would not make it in time, not at this distance. "Aquila 6, Rippling!" Miranda muttered into the mic as she depressed the firing trigger to the tune of multiple target locks, briefly shivering as she felt the concussive thumps of a quartet of paired K1-W3102 and Pufferfish missiles detaching even as she watched them streak off towards the enemy vessel. " Help, delay Pufferfish launch by two seconds, have them enter the hole the K1s will be making in that Kouken's shields. Get them inside the shield and airburst over the hull."

"With luck, we'll bring down the shield emitters and leave them wiiide open." she finished, allowing herself a small smirk of victory.
 
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Space, Near the Spring

♫ Epic Japanese Music - Shadow Ninja

Sayoko flew silently through the asteroid fields, dancing through the scattered debris with her Scythe with nary a trace left. To the Kouken's sensors, it could just be dust generated by collisons of space rocks, or the wake of the first firing of the massive Gammatron weapon across the nose of the fleeing Nero who had stirred up quite the nest of hornets for his wingmates to swat. The green-haired Jiyuuian smirked a little bit to herself as she worked the Kraken flight controls effortlessly with her digital mind, as somehow the Nepleslian got the Uno to the other side of the ambush zone in one (albiet flaming) piece. For all his gaffes, it was unmistakeable that he was a survivor like her... and she could respect that. However, the commander was no match for the firepower employed against him, the escort's guns designed to carve holes into starships very likely going to be fatal the next time they fired. They had to be stopped.

Having called up the Kouken's original specs in Shiori's database beforehand when My'ean first gave her imagery, Sayoko realized that even these modified gunships seemed to still be protected by the stock overlapping port and starboard side shield emitters... one gravitic and the other electromagnetic. Each had its own strengths and weaknesses that combined to form substantial full-spectrum protection. The only starship-assault weaponry the Scythe she was flying had aboard was the Nepleslian version of the Ayana's Xeneth cannon. If fired in beam mode with a focus on the starboard side's gravity-heavy shield profile, they would have a greater chance of penetrating (being particles rather than projectiles). It was the best plan she had, and she only had one shot at an alpha strike before having to go on the defensive.

Sayoko banked to the side and dipped below a large asteroid, as she began initiating the neutron transfer through the spinal firing chambers and drained the stored power from her capacitors in order to avoid turning on her CFS on fully until the last possible second to dodge a counterattack. As Nero's Uno retreated to safety, and Spirit came out of ambush from her own direction with the missile swarm, the shadowy form of the reconnaissance expert's cutting-edge craft appearing from the blackness as the starfighter's nose glowed with an ominous energy pointed right at the starboard side of the Kouken that suddenly had a lot more than a Spirit to deal with. There was no warning and no dodging it.

"Aquila 4. Zenith cannon... firing."

The Banshee's scream cut through the blackness with a subspace encased howl, heralding 9 seconds of unceasing death focused to a dagger like edge on that single point of failure, as she fearlessly strafed the superior foe from a vicious short range.
 
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Space

<CFS onlin-well, hello there...>

"Everyone, we have 10 Scimitars and 12 F/A-1As fighters. There is also the two Kouken-Class Escorts for a total of 24 contacts."

Milo winced. Damn, that's a fuckton of bogies...and they got capitals? "Well, at least there'll be a few for me to play with..."

"This is Commander Nero James Vega of the Nepleslian Star Navy. You are to cease all hostitle action against the Spring and surrender immediatly. Comply now or you will be fired upon."

"Somethin' tells me they ain't gonna listen..."

"This is the best your Nepleslian Star Navy can muster? Effective immediately, your ship and the Spring are property of the Sampson sect of the Aexalli Centorius. You are outmatched and outgunned. We give you the option to flee immediately: This area is well within recovery ranges of the Nepleslian Navy. Bailout and we'll spare your lives. Do you comply?"

Outgunned, sure...but outmatched? Fuck me what? "Fuckin' called it..."

<Apparently...ah, it looks like the fireworks have star-whoa!>

The LT whipped his head to the side just in time to catch a glimpse of a lightning bolt's afterimage. Shit... "The fuck was..."

<Analyzing. Based on the residue, energy signature and ships present...I'd say that was a shot from a Medium Positron Array, the main armament of the Kouken-class Escort. Looks like they weren't kidding.>

"Yeah...but we aren't, either."

"Last chance; Final offer."

"Well, I tried the diplomatic option...<sigh>......I don't have time for this. Comms, signal our situation: This site may have been compromised. Let's get this over with: Gunnery, bring full batteries to position: flak solution widespread...Commence fire"

"NOW!"

The actual fuck is he doing...?

"Hey guys... anytime now..."

<Is the Commander......suicidal?>

"I don't have all day guys, unless you want me dead?

A shrug. "Askin' the wrong guy. Only joined a few-"

A distant explosion - made much closer thanks to a combination of the cockpit's volumetric displays and the starfighter's visual sensors - cut the Nepleslian's reply short. Oh, fuck...

"I will give it to them, they are pretty good."

Said Nepleslian let out of a sigh of relief as the voice of Aquila Flight's former CO could be heard over the comms.

"Good, nothing.........They're toying with us. The Kouken aren't supposed to be able to do that. Something isn't right. We need to get the bombers in to nullify that advantage: the wolves are trying to stay within range of the firing solution of them, to lure us in, to pick us off. Don't fall for it. Pick your battles carefuly. Nice work getting them out, though."

"Thanks Cap, but my craft is fried. Let me see if I can do something before I am forced to bail."

"Bail nothing! Do you have any idea what they would do to you?"

"I figured as much, but-"

"What, that spheil about letting us go? It'll make what happens at Nepleslian penal colonies look like a fucking holiday. You're meat. Blood. Organs......Stong legs, good shoulders and a nice backside. They're not GAO, Nero."

"Then what should I do?"

"There's always, you know, survivin'..."

"Not become nero-steak."

The LT laughed; Kalmiya, in contrast, merely looked......confused.

"Well no shit. But, my craft is barly staying together. I am venting atmo and Vogel is trashed."

"The rated extraction on a Scythe is enough to get you back. We'll piggyback you. Focus on surviving...... Will provide cover."

"Damn it...Roger that captain. I am pulling back."

The pilot of Aquila 10 chuckled. Pulling back? Please......a real man never pulls out!

<How is......food related to this?>

"Nero. It was a mistake to bring an Uno. When your life is on the line, every advantage counts and every disadvantage matters."

<chuckle> "This Uno has brought me back from the brink on more than one occasion. I guess I am just being sentimental..."

Definitely talking with that fucking spook after this. That's the third time that wierd-as-fuck glitch has happened...

"Something like that. In position."

"Remind me, and I'll explain after we're done partyin'"

"All right kiddos. Kill these fuckers for me."

<Got it...ah, more fireworks. Also......thirty seconds until we enter effective missile range.>

"Aquila 6, Rippling!"

"Aquila 4. Zenith cannon... firing."

Milo felt his jaw drop a centimeter or two at the ensuing display of gratuitous destruction (Not too bad, considering you're a fucking Jiyuuian bitch) - then grinned upon hearing the second part of the AI's message.


Four long years of waiting were about to pay off - even if the opponents facing him weren't Mishhuvurthyar. It's my turn, motherfuckers!
 
Space Near the Spring

The second of the Koukens, completely enthralled with eliminating Nero, did not notice until the last moment when the surprise attack was sprung. Spirit's K1s struck the Kouken, now dubbed Foxtrot 2, in the aft shield array. The emitters were weakened due to the fact that the pirates had pulled energy away from the shields to power their massive cannons. The k1's knocked out the aft shields. The overload knocked a few of the emitters offline, however the pufferfish strike tore the ship's aft emitters to shreds. Multiple explosions rocked the rear of Foxtrot 2 which was only compounded by the attack from Banshee as her Zenith cannon struck the port main thruster. This caused multiple secondary explosions to erupt through storage room which were quickly died down as the oxygen was sucked out of the room.

The ship began listing hard to starboard to get its new weak point away from the incoming ships. Nero smiled as he passed through the opening, watching the others race past him. "Damn fine shooting Banshee and Spirit. Keep up the pressure." He said watching his displays as the chaos ensued.

The enemy Wolves turned to engage Spirit as she finished her attack run. Nero flipped his craft around to watch and issue commands. "Okay, keep those bandits off Spirit and let her set up for another attack run. Banshee and Jaeger work with Spirit to take down the Koukens. Virus, try to see if you can't take out their communication or better yet take out their eyes. Ermine, Guard Dog, Striker, and Smokey follow Black wolf in and take care of the enemy fighters." He said as he looked down from his vantage point.

"Aquilas Execute!"
 
Throughout all of the ongoing battle, Jo remained behind. Why? Was she scared? Was she going to turn tail and run? No and again no. She was neither of those. Smokey may be an ace pilot, but she knew that she was not as seasoned as the others. She still had a lot to learn when it came to fighting for one's life. It didn't make her any less aware that she had a job to do. She knew that she needed to keep the enemy fighters from ambushing the others, at least to the best of her ability. And that was what she did.

Smokey stayed near the back of the formation and, when the battle took place, veered off to protect the backs of the rest of the flight. She knew that with using her nickname, and the cause for such, she could sneak up on any stragglers or individuals that were thinking of trying to come in from behind.

Smoke. There's a bogey on our six. Jethro warned her just in time. She nodded and did a barrel roll before maneuvering with a burst of speed to fly in behind the bogey. She had used the last of her defensive explosives, so now she was on her own. She took down the one that was trying to tail her when she got the call from Nero and responded, "Yes, sir. Coming in now."

She joined up with the others to continue with the dog fight of the individual fighters and got the warning signs of another one coming at her six. "Shit!" That's all that was heard as she tried to dodge and weave in an attempt to lose it, but this one seemed to want to stay with her.
 
"I'm on it Crux," Edward said as he dropped speed slightly and began punching in commands to his keypad. "Happy, bring up packages 'Idiot Emergency', 'Illusion Mob' and 'Party on Happy'. It's time these fools got schooled."

As the pre-coded packages came up Edward tailored them briefly to the type of ships they were facing and the probable operating systems they would have.

He released 'Idiot Emergency' which would send a text communication to each of the enemy fighters;

Subject: Emergency Tactical Change ---Open Immediately!

Chances are not many would actually follow the command but there are always those few morons that did, in return they got one of Edwards worst Worm virus'. It gladly opened a never ending stream of furry pornography (mostly squirrel related). This did wonders in basically crippling the computerized hardware on board

Package 'Illusion Mob' used particular frequencies related to the the Aquila ships. It basically sent out a multitude of pings that copied the flights signatures effectively tripling their numbers on sensors. This made it a lot harder to computer target individual ships. Again, a pilot who knows anything about sensors could easily filter through and cancel them out but even that would give a moments respite.

Lastly, package 'Party on Happy' was Edwards go to for communication disruption. It was Happy's greatest hits set to a high decibel. All the funny all the time!
 
"Thanks, Crux!" Miranda shouted over the channel as her Hornet rocketed past the injured Kouken, its port "wing" bleeding smoke and vented plasma. Eyes alight with exhilaration, the diminutive pilot yanked hard on the throttle and shut off the inertial dampening systems.

Abruptly, the Hornet's main engines cut off with a dying whine as its thrusters flared, putting the bulky spacecraft into a hairpin turn that had it facing the pursuing Wolves whilst still moving in reverse. "Surprise!" Miranda cheered as she slammed the throttle back to full, clenching her teeth to not bite her own tongue by accident as the rapid deceleration/acceleration all but squashed her smallish frame into a seat. With a roar of cannonfire and the scream of full-power engines, Spirit unleashed a volley of plasma shells at the nimbler craft and blasted right through their formation.

"Banshee, I'll need your help for something!" the bomber pilot announced as she weaved around a particularly dense cluster of micro-asteroids in an attempt to shake off the regrouping Wolves. "I'm going to try to widen out the breaches we've opened up in Foxtrot 2's hull with my cannons in a bit, can you try to take out its bridge through that hole with your Zenith Cannon? Be careful not to hit the crew quarters, please!"

Scanning the battlezone for a bit, Spirit caught sight of a Scythe fighter being tailed by a ratehr persistent fighter. That's Smokey, if I remember correctly, she mused as she started to pitch her craft over on an intercept course, quickly glancing over her shoulder at the three fighters still tailing her.

Wait a minute. I've got an IDEA.

"Smokey, this is Spirit! Do you read me?" she barked over the channel, pitting the Hornet into a hard turn that placed it on a head-on course with the friendly Scythe. "I'm thinking of pulling an head-on pass with you, hopefully allowing us to sweep each others' pursuers off with our guns. Do you think it's viable?"
 
"I read you, Spirit. Let's do this!" Smokey smiled to herself as she pulled the throttle towards where Spirit was according to her sensors. She muttered, "Alright, Jethro. We're gonna play 'chicken.'"

"What?!?! Smokey, you've got to be joking!"

She shook her head and said softly to him, "Nope. Just let me do the flyin'. Once past Spirit, we open fire on the ones tailing her as she opens fire on the one tailing us. You get those weapons hot and ready and just let me know when to hit the button."

"Roger, Smokey. Just try not to hurt me!"

"I make no promises I can't keep. Spirit, bank left. Now!" The two were just about nose to nose when Smokey said that to the other pilot. She waited for the indication that targets were acquired and hit the button to fire off her rounds at them.
 
"Help, please give me a countdown to Smokey's approach!" Spirit cried out as she grasped the controls, her grey eyes frantically oscillating between the microscopic silhouette of the Scythe in front of her and the rearview monitor displaying the whole pack of pursuing enemy fighters. A little voice in her head politely reminded her that she was trying to pull off an aerobatic maneuver in a bomber.

And everyone was traveling in far excess of the speed of sound.

The little voice in her head politely suggested that she might not have thought things through.

"Acknowledged, Pilot Bannings. T-minus 4, 3, 2..."

Feeling a trickle of sweat crawl down her spine, Spirit gulped and kept her eyes fixated on the little fighter-shape that was getting bigger oh so very quickly-

"...1, Mark."

"Spirit, bank left. Now!"

"R-ROGER!" Spirit squealed as she yanked hard on the flightstick for dear life, pitching the ungainly Hornet into a violent barrel-roll, the fat fighter-bomber seemingly flinging itself out of the approaching experimental fighter's path. Inside the cockpit, the little bombardier wailed as sudddenly up became down and down became up and left was right and fighter FIGHTER FIGHTER-

Time stood still as a boy and a girl locked eyes, on a chilly spring evening.

The enemy fighter tailing Smokey had been caught off guard by the maneuver and had inadvertently strayed into the Hornet's trajectory. A young NSN bombardier and an older pirate mercenary stared at each other in mute horror, their respective Hornet and Wolf spacecrafts less than a klick apart.

"PROXIMITY ALER-"

"YAAAAAAAAA-" Emitting a cross between a wail and a screech, Spirit held down the firing stud and blindly flailed, prompting the fighter-bomber to spew out a poorly-aimed cone of plasma bolts. A horrific thunderclap rang out as the two vehicles' shields collided at high speed, rocking the Hornet to its core and hurling it to the side in a violent firework display of crackling energy. Behind it, the smaller Wolf fighter tumbled on-end off into the distance, its wing clipped by a lucky shot and its chassis all but shattered by the collision with the much larger jet. Frantic shouts of "WHAT THE F-" could be heard transmitting from its cockpit, cleanly decapitated from the rest of the craft and careening out of the battlefield.

"Collision damage, frontal shields are have been reduced to 35% capacity. Moderate hull damage incurred along nose area." Help helpfully announced as Spirit doubled over, a hand firmly gripped on her chest as she vainly tried to slow her jack-hammering heart. "Pilot Bannings, are you well?" the AI continued, finally noticing the unhealthy pallor on the shivering girl's face.

"I-I'm alive..."
 
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