Author Topic: Forum game: RP thread  (Read 12984 times)

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Offline Flak

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  • 123
Weapon fire and explosions fill the sky in Crux. The 1st and 2nd UGCR chased the Zy fleet into Crux and catching them off guard while they are busy fixing their damage from the earlier battle in Aldebaran.

"VLS battery reloaded, ready to fire!"

"Target Crocodile Four, fire!"

"Target is burning, Crocodile Four is going down."

Baron Markus' expression hardly changes as he watches the battle raging outside the ship. The way that another group of mercenaries nearby are fighting however, really caught his eye.

"What a rowdy bunch, I wonder how these guys can get organized in the first place."

"I have to admit, despite their 2nd Gen Fighters, those Berserkers still kick those lizards' tails real good."

"Any new order from allied command?"

"No, other than just destroy anything and anyone with a tail, and make sure none of them escape."

Captain Anders switches his communicator to the Fuego Sagrado. He gets put off by the way they start to get carried away by the Berserkers' bloodlust. He shouts at the display once it connects. "Damn it Ortega, stay in formation."

Baron Markus turns around and calmly pulls him back. "There ain't any particular objective here anyway, Anders. Let them have their fun."

Suddenly, the radar display shows something big is jumping ahead of them, in the middle of the Zy ships formation. A familiar Lord class ship jumps into the fray. A Duke and a Grazhdanin cruisers follows afterward. The cruisers immediately charges up their newest weapons and skewers an unfortunate Zy cruiser.

"Did they just rigged those beams into those cruisers?"

"Apparently they have"

The holodisplay opens and shows a familiar man.

"I hope you guys didn't miss us too much."

"Where have you been, Duke Nightwing? You just left without saying goodbye."

"Sorry, I had some appointment with Director Martyn of the Kobra Corporation, and some arrangement with the Prince. At least they paid me well for my services, as you can see. I assume you already received our little present as well. They ask only for performance data once you play with them."

"Right, the experimental drives. Are you sure about this?"

"Worry not, the Prince paid for everything."

Suddenly, the radar bleeps, the Zy flagship just launched from the docks, and apparently trying to escape.

"We can't let that thing get away."

"Have no fear, Markus. You see, I also brought some....friends."

Before Duke Nightwing finish talking, a pair of Cyrvan cruisers jumps just in front of the Zy flagship, along with a wing of Aestivals. They begin engaging the Zy flagship and the escorting fighters. The second communicator turns on and appears a blonde, slender, long haired man with very obvious pointed ears, in what looks like a Cyrvan captain uniform.

"Me know right you terrans no can do right with no Cyrvan guidance, so me follow Duke Nightwing."

"Elves? Here? What are they doing."

"Me am Deepseeker. We patrol skies, look for informations. But ze guns is better use for shooting Zy zis time, no?"

Despite the somewhat smug comments made by the Cyrvan, his somewhat poor grasp in Terran language brought some chuckle in the bridge crew. Though they are still wondering what they were doing in Terran space.

"Interesting choice of friends you have, Duke Nightwing. "

"Indeed, I was on Aquarius under order from the Prince. Admiral Santiago informed him that one of the Dynast fleet had to leave him in the front lines for some odd 'excuse' he said, he was worried that it was some internal political turbulence. I was there just to gather information, and ensure nothing bad happen to the one legged old man. He can't afford to let the CRF directly involved, so he sent me."

"And then?"

"Turns out he was alright. Instead, I met these guys on the way out. Their advanced intelligence gathering equipment also recorded all the Prince wanted to know, and they were happy to give the recordings to me as long as I let them tag along."

"And you trust them?"

"Well, what choice do I have. The Prince was happy, and these elves didn't look that bad do they. At least I didn't have to pay for them."

Baron Markus shakes his head. For once he thought it was just a dream, but neither he could complain about it.

"Fancy beam weapons, and now those elves, what more could we ask."


Offline Enioch

  • 210
  • Alternative History Word Writer
“I’ve got a lock! I’ve got a - *Crackle*’

Idiot, Grishenko grumbled, as the Гамма squadron leading fighter evaporated in a cloud of cooling plasma. The enemy Azure’s turrets were lethal in anything resembling a fair one-on-one dogfight, and that’s what his dead comrade had foolishly engaged in.

“Альфа Two and Альфа Four, I am painting a target. Go multivector, товарищи!”

His wingmates peeled off formation and slid into their attack vectors with practiced ease. Grishenko himself pulled his fighter in an inner-ear punishing thirteen-gee maneuver, straining his inertial dampeners to the extreme and screamed in a side approach. The Azure banked into an intercept course; its turrets swiveled to lock onto Grishenko’s fighter; and then the Zy interceptor vanished in a mighty fireball, as Альфа Four unloaded half his missile banks into it from the other side.

“Got ‘im!” the pilot cheered in the wing frequency, his Ural accent thick as syrup. “Anodder of ‘em lov’ly stickurs for me fuselage!”

“Quit that and form up, Misha!” Grishenko barked, clawing his fighter back into a vector suitable for a bombing run on the nearby Basileus.

The four Delest fighters screamed past the enemy warship, not more than fifty meters from it outer hull, emptying their secondary bays as they went. Turrets went up in flames; the Zy ship’s bridge was hit by no less than five high-yield warheads. But what dealt the death blow was one of Альфа Three’s missiles that corkscrewed wildly into a turret’s magazine. By some quirk of chance, the automatic blast doors of the wounded Basileus did not respond in time, and a plasma explosion ripped halfway through the ship. The Basileus fell out of formation, still in one piece but dead-in-space.

Альфа Three died fifteen seconds later, when a Zy capital energy lance speared through the fleeing squadron.


Olga swept her sleeve across her brow to wipe away her sweat and gripped the controls once more. Petrovich’s hand gripped her shoulder like a vise and she could hear his labored breathing.

“Fire,” he ordered, and Epsilon Battery roared to life.

The Zy carrier that was warping in was hit amidships. Its engines stuttered, almost failed; then they screamed defiance and pushed it fully into realspace. Its weapons came online and it started spewing fighters; Olga cursed, as her HUD blossomed with targets.

Alexei, in the crash webbing next to her hissed like a snake between his teeth and let his own weapons join the fray. Point defense clusters swatted some enemy fighters out of the sky as they sought to close with Katyusha; Alpha and Gamma batteries joined in; but it was not enough. This required the specialized point-defense weaponry of a Grazhdanin cruiser; an unescorted Volya capital ship was almost defenseless in that respect.

The first Zy fighters were entering close-range and Olga’s platforms were screaming desperate warnings into her ears when the sky lit up in apocalyptic flame. A firestorm washed over the Zy fighters; it lasted for only a few heartbeats, but when Katyusha’s sensors came back online, the enemy fighters and the Zy carrier were…gone. No debris big enough to register was left.

“What the…?” Alexei muttered.

“Ha HAAA!” Petrovich jumped to the ceiling, came back down and started dancing like a madman, legs kicking forward, hands crossed in front of his barrel chest. “Yrа! Yrrrrrrа! They did it!”

“They did what, sir?” Olga stammered, turning in her seat.

One of Petrovich’s flailing hands snapped forward with the speed of a snake…and dope-slapped her into her console.

“Ilieva, you horrible, horrible, STUPID woman,” Petrovich said, his grin almost splitting his face in two, “they managed to set up the bloody FTL TAG system! That was a long-range antimatter barrage, you idiot!”

“Uh…?” Alexei obviously was lost, but he didn’t want to risk a slap of his own. He got one nonetheless.

“Do you see any other missile platforms around, you fool?” Petrovich screamed into his ear. “Those were capital missiles – and they came from the 2nd Home Guard group! Comms sent them targeting information – and they just dropped a score of antimatter missiles from subspace right into the enemy formation! It worked!”

 He straightened up – and Olga could hear muffled cheers from all the nearby stations.

“May the Empress freeze my balls off – but I love them shiny new toys!” Petrovich concluded, his grin a predatory white crescent in the battery’s low light. “Now – git up! We’ve got maintenance to do!”


“My compliments to Admiral Veers, and he is to get the hell out of Draco!” Kalazonitov dictated to the frantic communications officer, as he pulled up a starmap on his holo-display. “I pray to the Empress he won’t be attacked in Vega by those godforsaken Zy, but if he stays in Draco he is Hertak food.”

“…uhhhh. Yes, sir!”

“Next, my compliments to Admiral Sparda and he is to form up with our fleet. Captain Urumov will handle the attack plan.”

“Yes, sir!”

Kalazonitov gave the officer a curt nod of dismissal and returned his attention to the display. A list of damaged ships flashed by; a suggested field promotions list (most of them immediately accepted); a casualty list. A report from his supply and logistics vessels, which were rotting uselessly in the rear, having no way to brave the Aquarius nebula now that the 3rd Zy were there, also came in.

Kalazonitov grunted.

“Fleet-wide Admiral’s call,” he instructed his communicator and, after a few seconds, intercoms sprung to life throughout Katyusha – and in every other ship of the fleet.

“Sailors of the 3rd Fleet,” Kalazonitov said, his eyes fixed in the small holo-cam that had risen in a stalk from his console and hovered a couple of feet in front of him, “we are about to do what we do best.”

He paused and grinned – and in every corridor and hall and battery of every ship in the 3rd Fleet, from the shining bridge of Chongmingdao to the smoke-filled engineering stations of the Amour, there were sailors who grinned back.

“In four hours we will transit to Draco, where we once killed a Hertak fleet. Once there, we will kill another Hertak fleet. And once that is done, we will keep killing enemy fleets. If they leave us free rein, we will kill them. If they hit us, we will pull back, resupply, and then kill them. If they run, we will kill them. If they stand and fight, we will kill them.

“You are the largest fleet the Motherland has ever sent to war. You are the best fleet the Motherland has sent to war. You are the Knights of Draco and you will be fighting in Draco and you will be piling them up until the Starlances are choked shut with the hulks of their ships and I will be right there at your side and Empress forgive any officer or sailor who spares himself or his ship when there is still Hertak to kill – because I sure as hell won’t.

“To my old comrades-in-arms: remember what I told you last time we jumped to Draco. To our comrades of the 2nd Homeguard fleet: this is where you prove worthy of that insignia you painted onto your ships when you joined us. Enter Draco as sailors; claim Draco as Knights.

“For the glory of the Empress and the honor of the Fleet, Kalazonitov, out.”


The Hertak’s armor was gone; atmosphere leaked from hundreds of gashes along its hull; yet it still fought like a demon, its beam emplacements savaging the Delest ships. Katyusha rolled to starboard in a desperate maneuver to avoid the incoming fire but it was too little, too late: the Hertak beams hit the flagship near the centerline, wiping out Beta and Delta batteries and carving a trench dozens of feet deep into the starboard nacelle.

Plasma exploded out of the damaged compartments. Secondary explosions ripped out two main thrusters and sent the ship spinning uncontrollably. And yet, the Hertak Armageddon finally died, Anastasia stabbing finger-thin, hyper-focused beams into its reactor cores. The resulting explosion wiped out half of the Hertak strikercraft in the area; Volga, staying by her bigger sister’s side throughout the fight like a faithful bodyguard blasted the rest out of the sky in a matter of seconds, its point-defense turrets overheating to the point where they glowed cherry-red.

A light-minute away, closer to the star, three Elephant capital ships of the 1st LSF and their entire fighter complement were savaging two more Armageddons. And further away, the Chongmingdao was leading a trio of Grazhdanins in a mad dash toward a fully-operational Armageddon, the Delest capital ship shielding its smaller brothers from the fire of the Hertak, its superior armor soaking up hits that would have left the cruisers damaged beyond repair.

“In short, a glorious mess!” Kalazonitov cursed, dragging himself back to his chair, as the Katyusha managed to stabilize. His comms panel was blinking red with dozens of incoming calls. Every nearby captain wanted to know the status of the flagship.

“Still in the fight,” Kalazonitov reassured them. “We need to restructure the division formation, though. Captain Fiodorovna, Anastasia takes point. I don’t know what you did to your energy batteries, but keep it up.”

“Aye, Sir!” came the reply, and the ships ponderously shuttled into their new positions, Katyusha hiding her wounded flank behind the screen of the Volga. Kaspia, still untouched by enemy fire remained to cover Anastasia.

It was the worst possible moment for an Armageddon to jump in. Two did.

The first one came from below, its frontal cannons firing with pin-point accuracy. Volga died instantly, its armor vaporized like tissue paper in a furnace. Anastasia was hit, thankfully not badly, although one of her turrets jammed and remained inoperable.

The second was a cripple, running from a joint force of 3rd DD and 1st LSF capital ships. It was only barely making way, most of its thrusters having been destroyed, and its pursuers jumped in almost immediately, in hot pursuit. The LSF Concordia and Alliance led the way, their forward cannons firing almost continuously; the 3rd DD Amour was limping behind them, its energy batteries gone but its missile launchers in rapid fire.

There were hits and the Armageddon died before it could fully emerge from subspace – but not before it had the opportunity to fire once. It hit Katyusha and the flagship once more failed to respond to her helmsman’s desperate commands. Instead, it drifted back into the first Armageddon’s firing arc.

Which charged up its frontal batteries – and got a faceful of Anastasia’s beams for its troubles.

Beam emplacements blew. Secondary explosions ripped along the Armageddon’s ‘claws’, claiming hundreds of Hertak lives. But the ship itself was largely unharmed and its thrusters were fully operational. It maneuvered ponderously, ignoring the almost unarmed Amour who approached it from above, and turned to present its broadside batteries to Katyusha and Anastasia.

That was a mistake.

The Amour was a constant metaphorical albatross around the 3rd DD’s neck. The ‘Limp Warrior’, as it was called, was wounded, slow, had only limited anti-ship capability since the day of his launching and was a pain to resupply and repair. But his captain had always insisted that one day he would prove his worth.

The Amour was never meant to fight toe-to-toe with other capital ships.

It was a planetary siege unit.

Poor armor and poor anti-ship energy emplacements he had, true; but his long-range missile launchers were awesome in the volume of fire they could unleash. Still, that was not his main weapon. That would be the six static planetary-siege laser emplacements strapped to his ventral side. The ones that could output more energy than three standard Volyas. The ones no sane captain would dare use in a ship-to-ship role, as they were bound to the ship and impossible to target by any other means than by turning said ship as a whole.

That is, unless one’s target was a massive Hertak Armageddon, maneuvering in place, directly below one’s ship.

Amour fired. Once.

And all was quiet in the Draco front.


All but the Nordera that is.
'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent'  -Salvor Hardin, "Foundation"

So don't take a hammer to your computer. ;-)


Offline Flak

  • 28
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Sol System
Kobra Darkmoon Factory Alpha, Europa

"Good day, gentlemen." Director Martyn walks into the meeting room. Professor Heinkel and Chief Engineer Mark Gardner were already waiting inside. "I trust the latest improvements have been working well for our factories."

"Of course, Herr Direktor." Professor Heinkel replied, in a rather excited manner. He takes off his lab coat and hang it on the back of the chair, before sitting down. "If zere are no other problems with ze new production lines, ze other factories can start using ze new methods."

"Though, we have some bad news as well, Director.", Engineer Gardner said, though oddly there were no negative feelings in his words.

Director Martyn only smiled at upon hearing the statement "Well if there is any bad news, then lets hear it."

"You see, Director. Some representatives of our leaders, both from the Sol council and even Her Highness herself, expected us to share our technology with other companies. They want better supply for the front line as a whole."

"That is a hardly a bad news. In times of war, we have to put aside our competitive pride sometimes, like we weren't already making profit from this war already." The Director then turns to Professor Heinkel "You also sounds somewhat excited, Professor. Anymore interesting experimental weapons, or any report about that bug spray missiles of yours?"

"I already told him, Director. I was sure that Admiral Soryu meant it as a joke, so that this war doesn't sound so hopeless. He chose to went through with it anyway."

"As you can already see, Herr Direktor. Some of Ze Cordi surrendered after some display of its power. I have tested on some of ze captured Cordi ships, vhen aimed right, it can flood ze internal of ze Cordi Gunship. Ze bad part however is zat ve need to take down ze shield before zey can be used effectively. Vhile not as effective as, say, destroy ze ship outright, however, ze effect is, demoralizing"

"And I've heard you also were somewhat successful with that new beam weapons of yours, professor?"

"That actually has been successful quite sometime ago, Director. What we lacked back then was willing subjects. Those experimental beams sounds a bit like putting bombs on their ships. But as you can see, it was successful."

"And ve actually managed to design smaller versions of zose beams. I originally designed it for ze Duke and Challenger 2 cruisers. But, as you can see, ve have successfully mounted it on a Grazhdanin cruiser as vell, vith some modification."

"So Duke Nightwing indeed allowed you to mess around with his ships as well. I guess I shouldn't had expected less from Britannians, or even Black Knights."

"Yes, as you already knew, he was very satisfied back then when we mounted the C-436 beams on his ship, even though we need to remove some of the point defenses to make room for them. And then, just a while ago, when we showed him the smaller C-434 beams, designed for smaller vessels, we didn't even have to ask. He was happy to be our guinea pig, I mean test platform. He first ordered it installed on the Duke cruiser, the Sparkfist or whatever it is called. Then we saw his other cruiser, the Khrizantema. I don't know how he got one of those Delest cruisers. So, we got it installed on it as well. Their ship design is rather modular, so we have no trouble installing it."

"And ze test report from ze front line has been promising as well. Zey tested them against ze Zy in Aquarius and ze last time I heard vas in Crux. Ze most important part, is zat it is as reliable as most capital ship weapons ve have. If zere were nothing else, it can be mass produced even sooner."

"The last message from Duke Nightwing was from Algol. I personally can't wait to see how it fares against those Hertak scum, as well as  the Frangle, Furyangle, Furgangle? How to say that, nevermind. The new beams did great job against the Cordi and Zy for sure. Last I heard though, someone saw bigger beams in some of the Delest ships, maybe their rumored Siege Laser, they haven't been that open with their technology."

"Probably a planetary bombardment weapon? For long time we used Nuclear or Antimatter based weapons for that purpose, though its use in anti capital ship purpose is limited since the shielding technology improved significantly in the last few decades. Looks like those Dynasts have another idea for planetary bombardment. I can only imagine how large can that be."

"Seeing how large those Hertak ships are, using planetary bombardment weapons do make sense actually, if it is a beam based weapon that has no problem dealing with the shields."

"Zhen perhaps zat experimental jump drive ve develop from ze Zy technology can help zem for zat purpose alone."

"I almost forgot that part, professor. How are the tests for the jump drive coming along?"

"Ve have yet to be able to replicate ze Zy ability to bypass starlances. But at least, ve can derive some of zheir technology for our drives, allowing a short range jump with very fast recharge time. Ze reports from ze front line indicates it has ze tendency to breakdown after around 3 jumps, but can be fixed with some minor repairs."

"That's pretty good news, and a little more homework for us. You still don't want to be rushed for repairs when you really need to escape."

"Unfortunately, we haven't managed to get our hands on one of the Volya class ships, so compatibility is still unknown. We may have to design something special for them, if they ever considered using our technology."

"That's for another day to discuss. I guess I'll leave you guys to it, I need to have the arrangement with the other companies."


Offline Lorric

  • 212
Vice Admiral Lorric is deeply moved by the loss of the 4th CRF.

I'm sure some of you will know where the edited voiceover comes from.

(ooc: owing to spoons offer to allow me the third CRF fleet, i throw my hat in here)

the camera snaps into focus on a young woman, one fans and on lookers quickly identified as lady Hilda Alcott, vice admiral and the CRF. the room fell to dead silence as she approached to podium, a look of pure focus and drive etched on to her every expression. whispers faded into murmurs and then silence as she held up her hands to the onlookers.

"to day i am here to announce that you have no reason to fear, the loss of the men and women of the third fleet was a sad footnote for new Britannia. today, i give you the blade that will cut away the shadows of dispare!"

in that instant with military precision, 8 warships jump into view behind the viewing dome the microphone stand was set up in front of.

"today i introduce you to the warships of the rebuilt third Commonwealth Royal Fleet, these warships stand as a testament to the our strength of will and our resolve of mankind's continued freedom in the face of the hertak oppresses and there minions, the will of the men and women crewing the finest ships of mankind stand before you unshakable, and we will be victorious."

with the end of that sentance the lead ship flew over the viewing dome, its massave 2.8km hull eclipsing the son and sending minor shutters through the station as it and its 7 attendant warships and several of its fighters flew by in parade formation.

"now my government has authorized me to respond to some questions but i caution you that i may not be able to answer all of them."

*Alcott rests her hands at her sides taking a deep breath for the questions to follow

(ooc: so yea spoon told me that he had a slot open with the 3ed crf as he was not able to get in contact with the player who had it before and at the time of this posting that was unchanged, so given the freedoms to fluff up my fleet as i will i whent for small in numbers but hightech and well armed(my 8 ships is lower than the 20-30 that i was told made up a normal fleet) keep in mind that this is all fluff and the stats are still the same, but i felt i should throw my hat into the ring along with my avatar for this forum game with some style so here it is. the questions that she stated you could ask are ment for you the players, to build some background lore and build in character interaction



Offline Lepanto

  • 210
  • Believes in Truth
    • Skype
A thin male reporter with glasses and slicked-back black hair stands up. "Rear Admiral Alcott, this is Paul Heathcliff for ETN. Given the rumours of recent Delest political intrigue involving Rear Admiral Kalazonitov of 3rd Fleet, and the fact that they held back their Home Guard fleets until late in the conflict, do you believe that the Delest Dynasty is a reliable and fully committed ally in the war effort?"

A barely-audible murmur of unrest swept through the room. ETN was well-known for its editorial jingoism, but few of the attending dignitaries thought that their reporter would make such a politically incendiary remark.

All eyes turned back to Rear Admiral Alcott.
« Last Edit: December 14, 2013, 11:14:03 pm by Lepanto »
"We have now reached the point where every goon with a grievance, every bitter bigot, merely has to place the prefix, 'I know this is not politically correct, but...' in front of the usual string of insults in order to be not just safe from criticism, but actually a card, a lad, even a hero. Conversely, to talk about poverty and inequality, to draw attention to the reality that discrimination and injustice are still facts of life, is to commit the sin of political correctness. Anti-PC has become the latest cover for creeps. It is a godsend for every curmudgeon and crank, from fascists to the merely smug."
Finian O'Toole, The Irish Times, 5 May 1994

Blue Planet: The Battle Captains: Missions starring the Admirals of BP: WiH
Frontlines 2334+2335: T-V War campaign
GVB Ammit: Vasudan strike bomber
Player-Controlled Capship Modding Tutorial

*rear admiral Alcott looks at the reporter and begins to speak not missing a beat.*

"the decision of the Delest Dynasty to withhold its home guard fleets was a sound tactic, it avoided overcommitment and the chance that there elite forces would face a enemy completely unprepared, there delayed deployment allowed them the time and opportunity to have the enemy tactics studied in detail and proper counter strategy developed. my own government had done something similar with the delayed deployment of the  CRFS hood, warspite, and renown which allowed them to have there armaments and systems tuned to face our enemy.

although your accusing tone about our allied forces  to mankind's survival in such a time when we all stand united is utterly sickening and bordering on sedition. you should be ashamed of yourself for attempting to stir up decent for the sake of ratings."

*Vice admiral Alcott looks back towards the gathering*

"any further questions?"
« Last Edit: December 15, 2013, 12:19:45 am by Hartzaden »


Offline Spoon

  • Moderator
  • 212
  • ヾ(´︶`♡)ノ
This time a burly man stood up, while his appearance gave off the impression that he was living in a cardboard box under a bridge, the badge on his chest revealed that he was a qualified reporter. Mark Southriver, This man was a known critic of the royal house.

His deep voice rumbled through the area, without even bother introducing himself he started "Admiral, you speak of not overcommitting forces. But isn't the CRF under committing here? A mere eight ships to make up a fleet? It looks to me that Arc Victoria is holding back a whole lot more forces and resources than the Dynasty is doing. And why has the CRF still not given any details concerning the fate of Admiral John Harkness?"


[02:42] <@Axem> spoon somethings wrong
[02:42] <@Axem> critically wrong
[02:42] <@Axem> im happy with these missions now
[02:44] <@Axem> well
[02:44] <@Axem> with 2 of them

Alcott looks over at Southriver, a look of annoyance yet slight amusement grips her face.

"who are you??? OH its you, figured you where lurking around here, but to my shock you present 2 valid questions for once."

*Alcott looks at the ships in the distance*

"i can see what you mean, its hard to judge scale properly in space, and your also right for once, if the 8 ships here had been of the same make as other terran ships you would stand correct that this is a under commited ploy, but these are not normal ships. ton per ton there the most advanced, well armed, and defended ships mankind has ever made. each of them is capable of going blow for blow versus anything in its weigh class and winning outright. our flagship is more than a match for any vessel in space. even the hertac should fear her.  these facts alone put the reformed third fleet to be at the very least equal to any other fleet we have fielded. they are the future, and a end to our enemy's"

*Alcott turns around to face the gathering again*

"as to the fate of Admiral John Harkness. i cannot comment on that at this time."

*Alcott looks to the crowd with a slightly bored look on her face. dealing with the press never did anything but waste her time*


Offline Veers

  • 29
1st Commonwealth Royal Fleet
Virgo System
Supply Platform 3

Admiral's Log, Stardate.... lulwtf no

Sitting just behind the front lines currently in Aldebaren, the 1st CRF was taking on desperately needed supplies, and her crews receiving a much needed rest. Alq didn't even recall their last break, it seemed so long ago, not to mention the recent engagements had not only punished the CRF, but the entire Allied War Machine.

Our losses had been severe and yet we continued to fight, as true Knights of Britannia, we held the line even against all odds to avenge our lost brothers and sisters, to protect those we love, but to allow our Allies to succeed where we could not. Virgo was only a temporary respite from the war, which Alq would soon have the 1st CRF rejoin. Their last offensive annihilated the 3th Her'tak, the combined firepower of the 3rd Delest and 1st League Star Forces provided the punch needed to bring the Her'tak down, with the 1st providing support and assistance when the Her'tak tried to gain momentum during the battle.

Draco remains contested however, regardless of the sacrifices made there, the enemy was still probing into the system and the Battle for Hydra resulted in a withdrawal against the impervious Doom Stack, a fleet with enough raw firepower to annihalate any Allied Fleet with a single attack. The Commerce Guilds stuck hard and deep into the enemies supply lines, buying valuable time for a general retreat from several allied fleets, however their attack into the stronghold of Kardoen, has drawn the full attention of the Her'Tak Flag Fleet.

Alq threw down the reports and began to pace,

"How long until we are fully resupplied?"

Captain Fel looked up from his data-pad, "Well.. the last of our reinforcement vessels are transitioning the lance as we speak, we could be ready to move on the offensive again in..." He paused for a moment..., "36 hours. It will take that long to fully equip everyone to full combat status, not to mention the upgrades we are receiving are taking more time than anticipated"

"36 hours is too long Nick, you know that. We are receiving many luxuries here, time is not one of them..., look at the state of our fleets." The map rotated slowly, it's three dimensional form expanded to take up the entire room. "The 4th SF is holding Aldebaren by the skin of their teeth, and the Nordera are trying to chase the 1st CSA into Tamy while the 3rd Zy continues to wreak havoc amongst our rear lines in Aquarius and Vega"

"Also, tell me again why our long-range comms are down?"

"System upgrades, elements from the 2nd Sol Force are nearby and they are relaying any intel to us as it comes through", Fel said calmly before tapping something else out.


Fleet-Wide Message to the 1st CRF

" Attention Knights of Britannia, This is Admiral Veers.

We have fought well in our last engagements, the destruction of the 3rd Her'Tak has brought the enemy a step closer to defeat. The 3rd was the command source in the Draco Sector, and enemy resistance has since collapsed, at long last. Draco will finally be liberated, all thanks to your dedication. Our brothers and sisters will be remembered for their sacrifices, and they shall not have perished in vain.

Our current reports suggest we shall be combat-ready within 40 hours, we may be entering into combat before this however due to the enemy breakout from Crux into Aldebaren. All vessels currently able are to stand at alert and assist in the resupply of the fleet and training of the Virgo defence forces where possible.

Once we are ready to march again, we will receive our orders from Allied Command. The war is now in it's closes stages, and we shall soon be victorious.

Hail Britannia"
Current Activities/Projects: Ideas and some storyline completed.

ArmA 2&3 Mission Designer and player.

WoD - I like Crystal. <3


Offline Lepanto

  • 210
  • Believes in Truth
    • Skype


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Stand Fast


Tomorrow, the reconstituted 4th CRF will engage the Special Fleet. Our new warships are operating at near-peak fighting efficiency, thank the Lord. We both face the Hierarchy's strongest champions. I trust that we will both stand fast, and do our duty. If we both make it out of the war alive, let us stand on Earth's surface, remember our fallen, and toast our victory.

Perhaps, then, I can be happy again.

All Hail Britannia!

Pax vobiscum,


1217 hours, Bridge, CRF St. George, Docked at Luna III Station, Earth Orbit, Sol

The bridge of the St. George, Britannia's newest carrier, still retained its air of factory-fresh cleanliness. The surviving veterans from the original fleet, almost all of whom had stayed on with the reconstituted 4th CRF, missed the lived-in feel of the St. Louis IX and her erstwhile compatriots. CRF officers clung fiercely to their traditions and habits, even though they now served on cutting-edge warships which, ship for ship, easily outgunned their predecessor designs twice over. But any crewman who'd seen footage of the Hertak Special Fleet's savaging of the 2nd DD was well aware that, as powerful as the CRF's new warship designs were, the Special Fleet's Aluyerian weapons could vapourize them with ease. Though the CRF's fighting spirit had held firm in every battle to date, every crewman on the bridge, veteran or not, went about their duties with a hushed air of fear or resignation. Many otherwise-agnostic men and women had been seen visiting the ship's chapel in recent days, ever since the orders to engage the Special Fleet had come down. The CRF had come to Earth, a sight many would have thought unthinkable. They came, not to make war on their erstwhile rivals in Sol, nor to gaze upon the majestic sight of their homeworld, but to shed their blood in its defense. A few of them, including the freshly-minted Admiral Santiago, had already passed through the fire when the 4th CRF had been shattered in its last engagement, merely to march straight into the inferno.

The bridge doors calmly whooshed open, and Admiral Carlos Santiago quickly strode onto the bridge of his new flagship. The new crewmembers, most of whom were fresh from the academy, didn't notice, but Captain Kerr noticed the subtle changes in his commander's mannerisms. Santiago's eyes no longer met each bridge crewman for more than a second; having served with Santiago since the Kurohagen campaign, Kerr guessed that his CO saw still saw the St. Louis's ghosts manning the bridge stations now filled by fresh-faced ensigns and lieutenants.

The Admiral acknowledged his Captain with a nod, took his seat, and spoke in clipped tones. "Patch me through to Jellicoe and Tryon-" he hesitated for a second, barely averting a sob- "no, Hewitt and Saunders." The faces of Santiago's new battlegroup commanders appeared on his screen; neither of them tried to hide the anxiety on their faces. "Battlegroup commanders, report ready op."

"2nd BG reports ready op. Our engineers have fixed the Lion's fire control issues; she is now fully operational."

"3rd BG reports ready op."

"1st BG is ready op. Comp, patch me through to the fleet." The St. George's auditorium was still incomplete, so Santiago elected to give his pre-battle address from the bridge.

"Men and women of the 4th CRF, this is your Admiral speaking. We are all that stands between the twenty-four billion citizens of Sol, and the wrath of the enemy's mightiest weapons. We have blown the horn of Roland, and our allies are on their way to relieve us. But, make no mistake; like Roland, we will likely be cut down before Charlemagne and his host can arrive to save us. I know that many of you have never seen combat before, much less against the mighty foe which we face today. Nonetheless, I have confidence that you are all CRF, and that you will stand fast. Our mission is clear, and our cause is just. Our deeds today, for good or for ill, will go down in the annals of the CRF's history. All of humanity is watching us; still, your true courage will be known only to you, and to the Almighty. We shall not be found wanting. Admiral Santiago, out."

The bridge erupted in a ragged cheer.

The Admiral got up from his chair, as quickly as he had sat down, and headed to the turbolift. He had tried to inspire his men; now, he could only fight the battle, and hope in Providence.

St. George, pray for us. St. Jude, Patron Saint of Impossible Causes, pray for us.


Spoon, if you're reading this, and it's not too late, I'm switching my Attack order to Defend.

The RP thread's died. With the finale on the way, how about we revive it?
"We have now reached the point where every goon with a grievance, every bitter bigot, merely has to place the prefix, 'I know this is not politically correct, but...' in front of the usual string of insults in order to be not just safe from criticism, but actually a card, a lad, even a hero. Conversely, to talk about poverty and inequality, to draw attention to the reality that discrimination and injustice are still facts of life, is to commit the sin of political correctness. Anti-PC has become the latest cover for creeps. It is a godsend for every curmudgeon and crank, from fascists to the merely smug."
Finian O'Toole, The Irish Times, 5 May 1994

Blue Planet: The Battle Captains: Missions starring the Admirals of BP: WiH
Frontlines 2334+2335: T-V War campaign
GVB Ammit: Vasudan strike bomber
Player-Controlled Capship Modding Tutorial


Offline Lorric

  • 212
The RP thread's died. With the finale on the way, how about we revive it?


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Stand Fast

I apologise for my silence. I know you too have been very busy old friend, but much has happened that you do not know of, and I know I can trust you to make sure no one else does.

When Tauri died, I was overwhelmed with emotion. My blade was a blur of speed, and just centimetres from my throat, but thankfully so was the rock hard fist of my XO, which was just a little bit faster in reaching my jaw first. I owe him my life. Again.

My plans for the immediate future were already known at that point, so the ship was able to carry on without me for a bit. Tauri will haunt me forever, but it was just a surge of emotion. Do not worry, I have no intention of ending my life now.

It took me a while to recover enough to be fit to return to duty, though there was also the internal enquiry to deal with. The rest of the senior staff needed to be sure of my ability to lead the fleet, but it did not take long to let them see that the Lorric they know is back.

The arrival of the special fleet has brought me a strange peace of mind. I’ll never be free of Tauri, but seeing what destroying the system meant to the enemy has helped me. You see, we all wondered what it was, psychological warfare? Some sick game? Did they just want to kill us all? Now we know. For victory. A play to win the whole war by striking at our heart with their very strongest. The peace of mind comes from knowing how important this objective was to the enemy. From that, and from seeing what we’ve faced, there is no doubt in my mind that they would have somehow blown up the system, or another suitable system at some point, that we would not have been able to stop them, as we never knew they wanted to do that, and I very much doubt we’d have been able to prevent it even if we did.

I am telling you all this, as this could very well be my last battle. The whole fleet is saying goodbye to their loved ones. I want you to know that it’s me you’re talking to. I’m not suicidal, I don’t have a death wish, I’m not looking for repentance. Simply someone must stand here before the enemy, and we are here. As is the same situation for you. I have no intention of dying. I have every intention of escaping alive with as many men as possible if further resistance becomes impossible. If I die, it has nothing to do with Tauri, I will simply have fallen in battle. Our darkest hour is now upon us, and all that is left is to simply engage the enemy as true knights of the CRF. Stand Fast indeed, my friend. Good hunting.



Offline Lorric

  • 212
The war is now in it's closes stages, and we shall soon be victorious.
This is Fleet Admiral Lorric to the bridge crew of the CRF Silver Arrow. Please could someone give my esteemed CRF colleague and fellow Fleet Admiral, Veers, a slap for me? Thank you. ;)


Offline Flak

  • 28
  • 123

Virgo System
Virgo Orbital Station 2

The shipyard has been busier than ever. It is filled by military personnel of various origins, supply workers, arms dealers, volunteers, and many others. Virgo has been a stopping point for sending supplies for the front lines.

Baron Markus was on a lounge looking at the various battle reports on a laptop. Various other mercenaries were also taking a rest there. "How was that, just like old times." said a man with familiar voice. Baron Markus looked up to see the usual 'culprit'. "To hell and back they said. Coming face to face with that Hertak monstrosity and return to tell the tale, what more could you ask".

"Unfortunately, my ships are badly damaged. The Silver Falcon and Thunderhawk won't be seeing action anytime soon. The Tranquility and Fuego Sagrado also needs repairs. Can't believe that Captain Ortega chose to ram that Adasya that got in the way. I wonder how he got that idea."

Duke Nightwing lies back on his chair, a big smile on his face, clearly showing that he enjoyed watching the action. "From the Berserkers no doubt, they like to do that just like you have seen. At least his ship survived. I would love to see those pansy Fura'ngle's faces when they saw a ship literally flying right into them."

"He made a correct decision, I'd give him that."

"By the way, those Kobra guys contacted me earlier. You see, since your ships won't be going for a while, they wanted to ask you if you want their experimental weapons on your ships. Not that 'new', just like the ones in my ships."

"And why would they do all these for free?"

"Suffice to say back then they needed more of....ahem.... willing test subjects, or rather test platforms. This time however, it looks like they want to use you for 'advertising'. Don't worry, you and me aren't the only ones, I just heard it in the Cafetaria that some Berserkers and Corsairs are getting it as well, looks like they really went heavy on the marketing this time around. You see, the SF and CRF higher ups are often skeptical when it comes to purchase of new weapons, especially in times of war. They need a more persuasive approach."

Baron Markus paused for a moment, though he finally agreed "All right, better than sitting around in this pile of space junk and waiting for doom to come."

Sol System
Kobra Darkmoon Factory Alpha, Europa

In the central control room, Chief Engineer Gardner looked at the report of the tests of the experimental drives. "Looks like the problem is just blown capacitors on drives' internal computers. Who the hell ordered crappy parts like these?"

Foreman Edwards answered him "Sorry sir, I thought it was just experimental equipment meant for testing, I supposed we could cut the price a little"

"You should have told me at least before you do something like that, save us a lot of time instead of doing all these goose chase."

Suddenly, an explosion rocks the scene. The alarm flares up and the emergency warning lights lit the scene with flashing red glow.

"What the hell? I hope we didn't pushed our machines too hard."

Foreman Edwards who was in the control computer however, noticed nothing wrong. "All systems are working properly. Unless there is a system malfunction."

"I personally don't think so." Professor Heinkel said. "Zis looks like an orbital bombardment."

"All non-combat personnel to the shelter! Activate the shield, hopefully it is still working. Call for help."

"Already done, the DD fleet is coming to help."

"Edwards, can you check the camera outside?"

"Yeah, it is right here. Patching it up to the main screen now."

The footage showed some Hertak ships, but they are accompanied by a new kind of fighters that didn't look Hertak at all. Everyone stared in fear and amazement. Director Martyn enters the control room and carefully watches the scene.

"Heaven forgive us, what the hell are those? I have never seen those ships before."

"Damn it, I swear I have seen one of those fighters before, or at least something that looked like that. I just can't remember where."


Offline Lepanto

  • 210
  • Believes in Truth
    • Skype


To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Stand Fast


I am thankful that you're still alive. You can trust that I believe you are ready to fight again, and that I will share none of your secrets, unless I find that I absolutely must. Tauri was a hard blow for me as well, but I have resolved to mourn all of our losses later. We cannot let our souls be crushed by the weight of our enemies' evil, that for which we are not ourselves responsible.

We have faced the Hertak's special fleet firsthand, like you have already faced the Flag Fleet. My men performed well; though they were inexperienced, no amount of battlefield experience would have saved them from the power of those weapons. We had no time to set up proper defensive perimeters, whether or not that would have been effective. As CRF, we die standing. Fortunately, allied reinforcements are on the way, and I have confidence that our numerical superiority will eventually wear the Special Fleet down. We will win the victory, or so I hope.

Fight honorably and well, old friend. Somehow, I think you'll make it out alive.

All Hail Britannia!

Pax vobiscum,


1722 hours, CINCSOL's Briefing Room, Luna III Station, Earth Orbit, Sol

"So, Admiral Santiago, let me get this straight." The haggard voice of Vice Admiral Manuel N'Mani, commander of Sol's Garrison Fleet, was tinged with a faint note of bemusement. "You want me to evacuate AND sacrifice this base, and risk my entire remaining fleet, to distract a hostile fleet wielding the most powerful weapons ever seen by humanity, so you and your CRF chrome-boys can escape Sol and leave us to die?"

The two admirals sat at a mahogany desk in N'Mani's ostentatiously-decorated briefing room, flanked by their senior staff. The hologlobe in the center, displaying known fleet positions in Sol, looked rather incongruous against the room's classical stylings. A magnificent chandelier hung above their heads; for a moment, Santiago thought back to his country estate and his family, but he refocused himself on the task at hand.

Santiago's face and tone remained impassive as he responded. "Mostly, yes. However, Admiral, trust me when I say that I have no intention of sacrificing even a single SolForce ship in Operation FALLING ICE. If your fleet pretends to be massing for a final stand in front of Luna III, the Special Fleet will attack this base with their Aluyerian-technology-equipped battlegroups, leaving the Lyrae Starlance unguarded during our departure. We've run our plan through the latest Hertak commander psych simulations; they won't resist the opportunity to smash your fleet and your main base with a massive show of force, even if they lack reliable intel on our fleet movements. If Luna III is mostly evacuated, and your ships withdraw immediately when the Hertak fleet arrives, you should suffer no casualties-"

"IF? Psych simulations? Mostly evacuated?" N'Mani's eyes were bloodshot, and his breath came in gasps; the casualty lists and sleepless nights had caught up to him. "Even if we wanted to bail you Britannian idiots out, and I personally don't, your. Plan. Is. Simply. IMPOSSIBLE!" Even N'Mani's own staff were taken aback at their CO's burst of temper. "We can't move twenty thousand men off this station in two days, no matter how many civilian ships we requisition! We don't have intel on the Hertak fleet, and neither my ships nor my men have the coordination to pull off your insane gambit! I-"

The haggard admiral took a deep breath, and rested his forehead on his hands. "I- I'm sorry. It's just that- it's just that I can't risk the lives of my boys on a plan full of half-baked assumptions. Not on the word of a CRF admiral. They're not warriors, Santiago. When we signed up for the Garrison Fleet, we thought it'd be all fancy uniforms and cushy naval reviews;" he gestured to the ornamentation around him; "not . . . not fighting these monsters! I can't go in front of my men and ask them to risk their lives just to save Britannians. They all just want to give up and die. I just want to give up. I know that you're trying to do right by your boys, and that help's on the way. I'm sorry, Santiago, but we're just not the heroes you're looking for."

The tension was thick in the air. Both sides turned expectantly to Santiago, awaiting his response. N'Mani's aide fetched him a glass of water; the worn-out SolForce admiral gulped it down.

Santiago paused for a few seconds, collecting his thoughts, and muttering a quick prayer. When he began to speak, he chose his words slowly and carefully, speaking with as much gravity as he could muster. "I know. I can't order you to cooperate with us, and I won't try to guilt-trip you. Convincing you won't work, so now I'm begging you. The men and women of 4th CRF are at your mercy. All I can do, N'Mani, is ask you to trust us. Please, ask your men to trust us. I'm not expecting to wipe away their decades of mistrust in a few days, but . . . please, try to make them see that we can accomplish so much more by working together. I . . . "

At that moment, Carlos Santiago let the weight of a hundred burdens, from a hundred and one days of war, crash down upon his shoulders. "I understand what you're going through. We're all at the end of our rope. I've had my men die around me, helpless to save them, because I threw them into the meat grinder. But I'd do it again, if I knew that it would save even more lives. We're all paving the way towards a brighter future with a trail of our own blood, and I'll ask you to share humanity's burden for just a little while longer. Please, on behalf of the CRF, and of humanity . . . save my men."

Santiago fell silent, his own emotional floodgates spent. He brought his eyes back up to regard N'Mani, and waited for an answer.
"We have now reached the point where every goon with a grievance, every bitter bigot, merely has to place the prefix, 'I know this is not politically correct, but...' in front of the usual string of insults in order to be not just safe from criticism, but actually a card, a lad, even a hero. Conversely, to talk about poverty and inequality, to draw attention to the reality that discrimination and injustice are still facts of life, is to commit the sin of political correctness. Anti-PC has become the latest cover for creeps. It is a godsend for every curmudgeon and crank, from fascists to the merely smug."
Finian O'Toole, The Irish Times, 5 May 1994

Blue Planet: The Battle Captains: Missions starring the Admirals of BP: WiH
Frontlines 2334+2335: T-V War campaign
GVB Ammit: Vasudan strike bomber
Player-Controlled Capship Modding Tutorial


Offline Lorric

  • 212

To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
Subject: Re: Stand Fast

And I you, my friend. And thank you. I was able to mourn Tauri while I was unfit for duty thankfully, so that’s a weight off my shoulders. There’s enough responsibility on there as it is. But the wheels are turning. Even with the enemy in Sol itself, it is turning our way. We held here. We held against the odds. The anvils stayed in place, and the hammers are now ready to fall on these warmongering animals.

You know, I was reminded of a story I read once. Where a group of unlikely heroes rose up to defend their kingdom, where they fought their way through the goblins and monsters and other assorted nasties that came against them. But they knew these were just puppets having their strings pulled, and of course the confrontation eventually came with the puppetmaster. That moment, the moment where the dragon reared up from it’s pile of treasure, where the heroes looked into the eye of the dragon, and understood the malevolence of the creature before them and the magnitude of the task ahead of them. I ended up thinking of that staring at the Hertak Flagship. The same colour as the enormous red dragon in the story, the scale of the flagship compared to the scale of our own ships. And when the lead protagonist pointed his blade at the dragon and screamed “You are the one we must kill!”

I nearly did the same. I imagined myself doing it anyway. It’s certainly how I felt. I’ve been leading the fleet into battle against slaves, and now I finally got a chance to take a shot at the masters. It would have been confusing for the crew though since this was not a pitched battle if I’d done that. The Hertak Flag Fleet is powerful almost beyond comprehension, but it is slow and clumsy. We played cat and mouse with them until our reinforcements could get in position, but still lost well over half of the fleet. There are so few ships left now that were here at the start of this war. Not as bad as what happened to your fleet, but I’m starting to know how you must feel now.

The 2nd SF fared much worse. It was almost completely eliminated at the hands of the 4th Hertak and 1st Fura’ngle. A lot harder to stall against a combination like that. I’m showing you a shot of the Swift. It’s all that’s left of the 2nd SF and a handful of fighters. Just look at it… I’m amazed it’s still in one piece. I think if I were to brush it with a feather it would break apart. And I thought I had a set of balls on me... Fremont must be the bravest SOB we‘ve got. You should have heard him screaming his defiance the whole time. Not one step backwards until we got the word that we’d held the line long enough. Just another chapter in the glorious history of the Sol Fleets. I’ve had a lot of experience fighting alongside the men and women of the SF now and I am very impressed. Who could have imagined we’d fight alongside each other so seamlessly, especially with the jockeying that was going on between the SF and the CRF right before this invasion. Of course you know what I think of such petty posturing, but maybe the Admirals of the SF feel the same. It’s the politicians that were driving that after all.

We've done our part now. Now it's time to rest, and mourn those lost. Now, it's up to the others...


OOC: I made the story up, before anyone asks if it was a real book. Also, that there is a red dragon being battled by heroes in the picture of the Youtube video of the music I picked is an amazing, incredible coincidence, but a most delightful one indeed. I thought of the story first, then started thinking about music. I’m not sure if it’s the best of choices, but I’m definitely sticking with it with that dragon there. I’ve never even played the game, it’s just a single track a friend sent to me that he thought I‘d like.

Also, X3N0-Life-Form, if there’s anything you don’t like about what I wrote about your admiral, changes can be made.
« Last Edit: January 28, 2014, 06:30:55 pm by Lorric »


Offline Enioch

  • 210
  • Alternative History Word Writer

When the Nordera Battleaxe jumped in, a few hundred meters to Katyusha’s starboard, Olga knew she was going to die. It wasn’t the deafening collision alarms that blared throughout the ship, nor the screams of her fellow gunners, nor the wild heaving of the ship, as Captain Urumov, wounded and bleeding, wrenched his crippled darling in a desperate and futile evasive maneuver; or it might have been all that, put together: it was a deep-seated certainty, personal and clear, that turned her blood to ice and her hands to leaden weights. She couldn’t move, couldn’t think; her eyes were frozen on her targeting displays and the world around her had faded into a blur

So it came as a surprise when Petrovich’s ape-like arms reached over her crash webbing, grabbed the firing controls and pressed them home.

Katyusha’s broadsides were damaged from the fight against the Hertak, but Epsilon battery was still up and running, having been miraculously spared. Now it blazed to life, its single energy emitter focusing hellfire upon the Nordera vessel, while its three missile launchers went to rapid-fire.

It shouldn’t have made any difference. It wouldn’t have made any difference, if the incoming vessel was anything but a Nordera patchwork job, a lump of metal held together by spit and hope. It was too close and moving too fast for a single battery to be of any use in destroying it.

Thankfully, whether by design or accident, Petrovich hadn’t aimed to kill. Katyusha’s beam carved a long gash along the side of the Battleaxe and the follow-up missiles encountered much less armor than they were designed to penetrate. They went through the wounded Battleaxe like knives through butter and detonated a few dozen meters from its port thrusters. The resulting explosion was devastating in its own right, claiming the lives or more than fifty Nordera and turning their vessel into a barely-navigable wreck. It also blasted the warship away from a direct collision course. What it didn’t do, unfortunately, was silence its weapon emplacements – or blast it completely out of the way.

The Battleaxe came in screaming defiance, its weapons in rapid-fire. Epsilon battery’s emplacements died immediately – and a single missile launcher’s magazine went up in an apocalyptic fireball.

Olga had turned around, to gawk at Petrovich and maybe ask him if his fire had been aimed to hit as it had. She never got the chance. The exploding magazine had tripped every existing safeguard (as it should have) and blast doors were closing between the fireball and the ship’s interior but it was too late for Petrovich. There was a low, bell-like whoooonnnnnnnnnng as the expanding plasma hit the inner bulkheads and, in a fraction of a second, the ceiling of Epsilon battery bent inward like tinfoil stricken by a giant’s fist. It held, bending and stretching like the engineers had planned, and the flaming plasma on the other side never got the chance to reach the cowering sailors in their crash webbing.

But Petrovich was upright, having unlocked his own webbing to reach Olga’s controls. As the ceiling came down, it smashed his skull in and brought him low in bloody ruin.

There was a single moment of silence, the sailors staring aghast at their dead PO, and then the Battleaxe hit Katyusha’s ventral side like a sledgehammer, grazing along the engine nacelles and ripping the armor plating apart like butter. Katyusha heaved, flipped over and over and the lights died.


Some time after that, when Olga woke up and realized that, beyond all hope, she was still alive, the lights were still out. Olga’s suit had wrapped her head in emergency monomolecular film, allowing her to breathe out of the hyper-compressed nano-canisters on her belt and had tightened around her body, sealing any leaks. So there were definitely some problems with the life-support: the suit would only take such emergency measures if the atmospheric pressure fell under a certain threshold. It wasn’t enough to ward off total vacuum – but if a ship’s compartment sprung a leak it could allow sailors to work for a while and repair it. The point was that if she didn’t get into a compartment with functional life-support soon, she’d die (horribly), high-tech suit or not.

“Alexei…” she said, her voice rasping. “Georgi? Elena? Anyone?


There was an explosion of light next to her and she raised her hand, in the verge of panic. Her eyes adjusted quickly though, and she made out the pale face of Georgi, two seats away, lit by the screen of the wrist communicator he insisted in bringing to the battery, despite the rules to the contrary.

“Are you all right?” Georgi asked, his voice shaky.

“No,” Olga replied and tried to get up. Her left hand didn’t move, and for a moment she panicked, thinking she was wounded, but then she realized that it was simply caught in the crash webbing. She fought it and pulled and writhed like a snake, and then she was free and panting heavily, standing in front of her ruined seat.

Georgi stepped up behind her, and put a hand on her shoulder. “Calm down. You’re wasting oxygen.”

Olga forced her breathing to return to normal and glanced around in the dim light. “You’re right. Let’s…let’s check the others.”

They stepped around the ruined body of Petrovich, and reached Alexei’s and Elena’s seats. It was immediately apparent that Alexei was beyond saving. Even if his suit’s indicators weren’t in the deep red, no man could be expected to live with a broken steel bar running through his torso like that. Elena, on the other hand, was alive, although her medical indicators did flash a concussion diagnosis when queried. She was unconscious and didn’t look good at all, having smashed her head against her console. Some blood was pooling inside the film covering her face, although she didn’t seem to be bleeding anymore. When nudged, she only groaned and flailed weakly.

“Great,” Georgi grumbled. “Now what?”

“Well, the ship must still be partly operational,” Olga mused, running her hand along the hopelessly bent hatch. “We’re still getting a gravity field, so the engines are running. So, we should see if we can get out of here and move inward, to where the light and warmth and air are.”

“Can we call for help?” Georgi asked, thumbing the intercom to no avail. “Because I really doubt we can get through that door.”

“No, it’s a solid inch of titanium alloy, and we have no heavy cutters,” Olga agreed. “What about that communicator of yours?”

“It’s a civilian model,” Georgi shrugged. “It can’t link to the military frequencies – and it doesn’t have any reception if it could.”

“What good is it then?” Olga snapped. “Why on Old Earth did you insist on bringing it with you?”

“It’s got ‘Angry Cordi’,” Georgi answered sheepishly. “I like to play when bored.”

“Oh great,” Olga groaned and bumped her head lightly against the wall. “We’re saved from boredom. Hurray!”


Olga looked up at Georgi’s tone and saw him staring at the communicator strangely. “…What?”

“Do we have any tools?” Georgi asked, his attention riveted onto the screen.

“What, with Petrovich around?” Olga scoffed. “You name it.”

“Oh, good,” Georgi scanned the room, gulped, and moved to Petrovich’s side. Quickly (and without looking, Olga noticed), he removed the PO’s omni-tool and ran back to her, sitting close to the wall.

“What are you doing?” Olga asked, her interest piqued

“Well, we have wireless intercom arrays in here, don’t we?” Georgi asked, removing his communicator and laying it across his lap.

“Sure,” Olga answered, sitting next to him. “Three of them. All useless – they don’t have any pow…oh. Oooooohhhh.”

Georgi held up the communicator’s battery pack. “Can you set up a Class C power transformer?” he asked.

Olga grinned. “You’re a genius.”

“Say that again after they get us out.”


“We got them out, Sir,” Urumov reported, kneeling next to Kalazonitov. “This makes it three hundred and forty-six dead, with all missing personnel accounted for. One way or another.”

Kalazonitov grunted in reply and waved off the pale-faced medic who was trying to stem the superficial bleeding from where the Admiral’d forehead had encountered his holoscreen frame. “Good. Get out of here, girl, go do some actual work. There’s actual wounded around here, go and find some.”

As the medic departed hurriedly, Kalazonitov staggered back to his feet, leaning heavily on his cane. He looked around Katyusha’s bridge mournfully. It wasn’t pretty. The entire sensors’ station had collapsed upon its users, killing three of his best officers and severely weakening the bridge’s structure. The room looked like a collapsed harmonica, crumpled up and twisted into something out of Escher’s darkest nightmares. It was a miracle its integrity hadn’t been compromised.

“What’s the verdict, Sergei?” he asked, darkly.

”She can fly, Sir,” came the answer, and Kalazonitov stared at Urumov as if he’d declared hard vacuum to be a nice place for a picnic.

“You’re joking.”

“No, Sir.” Urumov looked insulted. “Engines are still at 80 percent efficiency, our fuel supplies are untouched, we still have three missile launchers online and our subspace core is operating at nominal levels. Life support and gravitics were touch-and-go for a while, but they’re back up, at 63 percent efficiency. If we isolate non-essential areas of the ship, we can up that to 82 percent. She can fly.”

“Captain,” Kalazonitov leaned forward and lowered his voice, “we are standing in a bridge that was crushed like a tin can, we have lost all but one of our starboard thrusters, all our energy emplacements and a third of our crew. We have no sensors, no tactical uplink and only one fighter catapult. We only have a single shuttle bay operational, and we need that to get our people off this wreck.”

“Don’t call her that, Sir. Please.” Urumov looked devastated. “I didn’t say she can fight, Sir, just fly. She can, trust me. I can fly her. And we can have the tactical net back up in a couple of hours – communications are still operational.”

“Wait,” Kalazonitov snapped and raised a hand to silence Urumov. “Wait. Can you steer her?”

“Yes, Sir!”

“Can you give me back my tactical net?”

“Yes, Sir!”

Kalazonitov glanced at the ruined holoscreen on his ripped-up Admiral’s Chair, still splattered with his drying blood and grunted softly.

“So there is some life left in the old girl, eh?” he asked, with the barest hint of a smile. “Very well. Captain, contact the rest of the squadron. All wounded that can be moved will be transferred to Katyusha. If she can’t fight, she can still care for our sailors. Until we can get her repaired, she’ll serve as a hospital ship. And if you get me that tactical uplink working in eighty minutes, I will consider not transferring my flag to Anastasia or Chongmingdao.”

“Yes, Sir!”

Kalazonitov snorted. “A hospital ship as a flagship. Ridiculous. What else are we going to see before this war is over?”


The Delest fighters re-formed, like an explosion happening in reverse, clustering from a disorganized cloud around the Basileus’ hulk, into a quintet of wedges, aiming like spear-points toward the incoming Zy strikecraft. It was an impressive display of skill for the 2nd Home Guard pilots, given that a few weeks ago they were as green as raw recruits. And, what was even more impressive, was the fact that they held their attack vectors, depleted secondary banks and all, as the Zy interceptors closed.

The Zy pilots were very much aware that they would not be leaving Vega. The combined force of Sol, League and Delest fleets had smashed the 3rd Zy to pieces and their capital ships were being hunted down and destroyed before their eyes. They were dead anyway, and these enemy pilots were challenging them! No Zy would dream of rejecting such a fight.

So, when the two Grazhdanin cruisers Yangzhe and Songhua jumped in, right on top of the Zy assault vector and opened up with the entirety of their point-defense batteries, the Zy could not help but feel disappointed that they were being denied the fight.

A couple of seconds later, they were all dead, however, so no harm done.


“Kill them! Kiiiiillll theeeem! Wu Dong, you son of a pig, show them our broadsides, or I’ll have your head! I swear by the Empress’ ponytails, if you let that beat-up scow Anastasia gather more kills than us, I will have every member of the bridge crew out the airlock in the nude, myself included! Then, I won’t need to explain to the Admiral why we’re still being outperformed by his rustbuckets!

The Chongmingdao’s bridge officers buried their heads in their consoles, unsuccessfully trying to hide their grins and the gunnery officer redoubled his efforts. Who would have thought, a couple of weeks ago, that the cool, composed Commodore Hitachi would turn into a berserker during combat? They knew better than to take his threats seriously, but there was something about his enthusiasm that made them wonder why the grizzled old man hadn’t shown this much fire before.

They liked him more now.

“Ha HAAAAA! Take that, blue lizard scum! Your mother was a Godzilla fart and your father was a one-balled newt! DIE, filthy reptiles!”


Virgo was a new sight for many of the sailors. The Aldebaran front had been a far-away place for most of them, as they’d been fighting in the Draco cluster since the early phases of the war. There were alien stars here and alien sights and the promise of some well-deserved R&R.



The man in the Lieutenant Commander’s uniform was very young; that was the first impression he gave. The second impression he gave was that of a rather tired young person. Kalazonitov couldn’t fault him; shuttling what amounted to two Battlegroups of capital and support ships into the front lines with only skeleton crews, to make up for the 3rd’s material losses would normally be a Rear Admiral’s job. Still, Kalazonitov had to give the young officer his due; the reports he had received were completely satisfactory.

“Lieutenant Commander Xi Dao, reporting, Admiral,” the officer snapped, crisply saluting and standing at attention.

“At ease, Lieutenant Commander,” Kalazonitov grumbled, getting up and moving toward his drinks cabinet. “Have a seat. Will you have a drink?”

“Thank you, Sir. No, Sir – I don’t drink.”

“You don’t drink!?” Kalazonitov turned, with a sparkle in his eyes. “You Core Worlders! No wonder you’re so skinny. Vodka is good for you, you know.”

He chuckled, as Xi Dao did his best not to stare at his own gangly physique. “Just joking, Lieutenant Commander. Very well, no vodka then. Some Tamy eau-de-vie, then? Despite the name, it’s non-alcoholic.”

Xi Dao relented and Kalazonitov poured the drinks. He then returned to his chair and collapsed in it with a sigh.

“So, I hear you’ve brought me more ships, to feed the meat grinder, then?” he asked, twirling the ice in his glass.

“Uh…yes, Sir,” Xi Dao replied. “Twenty MK.III Volyas, with escorts and a full fighter complement. Three thousand sailors. A thousand pilots, some of them veterans of the northern front, who re-applied for service. And three фабрика factory ships.”

The doors behind the Lieutenant Commander opened and Tanya Skivlana, now bearing the insignia of a full Commander entered. She hesitated for a beat seeing that the Admiral was occupied, then at a glance from Kalazonitov approached the desk.

Xi Dao turned at the sound of the door and froze. For a second, his mouth hung open and then he visibly shook himself back to the there-and-now – but not before Kalazonitov saw his reaction and smiled.

“With your permission, Admiral?” Tanya asked as she approached.

“Of course, Tanya,” Kalazonitov said. “May I introduce you first? Commander Tanya Skivlana – meet Lieutenant Commander Xi Dao.”

Tanya raised an eyebrow and extended a hand. “Really? Very pleased to meet you, Lieutenant Commander. My congratulations on the stellar job you’ve done! Admiral – this is what I wanted to talk to you about: I just came from the supply docks and everything looks as perfect as we could have hoped for.”

“Er…yes,” Di Xao stammered, standing up and trying to decide what to do with his dataslate. He eventually decided to leave it on his chair and shook hands. “Thank you. Pleased to meet you.” He waited for her to take a seat and then sat down himself. Thankfully, the dataslate was made of hardy stuff.

Kalazonitov smiled. “Commander Skivlana is my Adjutant and Logistics Officer,” he said. “She will be liaising with you during our stay here.”

“If I can be of any assistance, please do not hesitate to contact me,” Skivlana said with a smile.

“Of…of course,” Xi Dao replied. “It’ll be a pleasure. I mean…”

Kalazonitov’s lips were twitching. “You know, Tanya?” he interrupted, “why don’t you take the afternoon off? Go grab a bite on the station, or something. The Lieutenant Commander can escort you and you can discuss things without me standing over your heads and shoving my nose everywhere. After all, you’ve earned some rest yourself.”

“Well…” Tanya hesitated for a moment and then locked eyes with Xi Dao, who looked like something between a rabbit caught in headlights and a moth that just noticed a nearby candle. “Yes, why not? Thank you, Sir. Can I count on the pleasure of your company, Lieutenant Commander?”

Xi Dao remained frozen for a moment and then got on his feet like an automaton. He gave a courtly bow, surprisingly elegant. “Of course, Commander Skivlana. I would be honored. Can…should I wait for your message?”

“I suppose so,” Tanya answered, slightly hesitantly. “Give me half an hour to see if there is anything urgent to attend to and I will message you.”

Kalazonitov took a sip from his glass and grinned into it. Oh how fast they grow.
'Violence is the last refuge of the incompetent'  -Salvor Hardin, "Foundation"

So don't take a hammer to your computer. ;-)


Offline Flak

  • 28
  • 123
"Breaking news at this hour, yesterday we have many rumors related to the communication blackout of Sol. Today the communication has been partially restored and indeed it was confirmed that a Hertak invasion fleet was indeed in Sol. The Sol Union held a public conference earlier today in Cordia addressing this new threat."


"How can we expect we can survive if we cannot prevent such powerful fleet from reaching Sol in the first place?"

"I assure you this threat is being handled. While we were not expecting that they will attack from a portal created from the Tauri supernova, the Alliance still have it under control. Our garrison fleet has been scrambled just in time to protect our settlements and important industrial facilities from destruction by this new threat."

"We have heard rumors that the Hertak is packing not exactly unknown ships and weaponry, but rather a nightmare out of UEU's secret projects. Can you confirm the truth in this matter?"

"I can neither confirm nor deny such reports at this time, but I can confirm that our archivists have found some old UEU document with photographs of similar ships."

"So it is true, can we confirm the origin of such ships?"

"I'm afraid not. All that we have found so far is just bits and pieces of data. Whether or not it is part of a UEU secret project remains to be seen. As you already know, the UEU burned most of their controversial documents and archives when they fell. So for now, it is still remains a goose chase for us in this area so that will be concern for another day. The more important matter right now will be dealing with the threat."


"That was an excerpt for today's interview. In another news, there has been a rising concern of the Alliance ability to deal with the invasion as such, there are are reports of so called cultists hitting the streets in Earth that wished for us to surrender to the Hertak."


"Same news all day isn't it? Hey, Olaf, are you listening?"

"They still need to calm the populace somehow, and that is one way to do it."

"While good people fight and die for everyone's safety?"

"Hahaha, don't make me laugh, Francis. Aren't you guys used to be pirates? Why would you be concerned with 'everyone's safety'?"

"Not anymore, besides, not having those SF and CRF guys hunting your tail is a better life I suppose. After that Ruba Pegasi incident anyway, and instead some of those idiot mercs choose to turn to piracy instead. What a waste, I mean when they can be heroes. I guess my time as a villain is over."

"Good call, you should have been a berserker like us in the first place. Kick those alien bastards' asses real good and a have a good drink together right after. There is no better life if you ask me. My dad and his boys also kicked those smug elves in the ass to hell and back he said."

"Fighting head on like that just isn't my way. I rather let them have it when their pants are down. Except we are not the villain this time. I like to do it efficient and save if I can help it."

"I see you still be hanging on your pirate ways. Yaaarrrrr."

"Stop that, space is not an ocean."

Doom Day, Champion-class carrier Swift, Sol Force 2nd Fleet, Aldebaran system

Briefing Room #3, time-to-contact: 5 hours 20 minutes

- "... At this point, the Warhounds will take over the Cordi hunting job while rearm and patch our fighters as best we can. Now, on to phase 2. Reviewing past engagements, we can expect single-Armaggedon strikes against our patrol group while three-Armaggedon teams confront our main battle lines." The briefing room was quiet as a crypt. No pilots whispering to one another, no snarky comments from the usual loud mouths. Nobody wanted to discuss what would happen in a few hours. The squadron leader continued, "The 56th's job will be to screen our patrol groups against Hertak drones and fighters while the capital ships prepare to jump to another group's location. The idea is to focus our firepower on one Dreadnaught at a time. Once the 22nd jumps in, we'll escort them on their bombing run." Still not a noise other than the ship's ventilation system and the briefing screen.

- "What happens if we get jumped by more than one Big Red?" asked one of the senior pilots, "a dual drone strike would shred our screen before we have time to react.

- Caliburn kill teams packing heavy anti-fighter missiles will be rotating through the patrol groups to provide anti-fighter support when necessary. Now, phase 3 of the battle plan is going to prove a bit tricky ..."

As the briefing went on, someone at the back of the room started crying as quietly as he could. This wasn't what any of these pilots signed on for. If they were to fight hopeless battles, at least they should be fighting them in sol, defending their loved ones with all their strength. Dying for a piece of space far from home, ravaged by a seemingly unending warfare seemed meaningless.

The squadron leader lets out a sight "This is gonna be tough one" he thinks, "too bad I suck at making motivational speeches. I'd open up the ship's unofficial porn stash, but the admiral said he'd have someone's head if he ever heard about it again. That is if the female pilots don't kill me first. Oh well, we're all gonna die anyway ..."

CIC, time to contact: 3 hours 17 minutes

- "Tell the 56th their squadron leader will be out of the brig in time for the battle." The CIC was buzzing with activity; the atmosphere was tense, but everyone remained professional. "Tactical, order our scouts to break radio silence as soon as the Hertak fleets start moving against us or the 2nd CRF.
- Fleet-wide speech scheduled in 5 minutes, sir. The Ram and the Entropy are requesting permission to start harassing Cordi elements.
- Denied. This operation needs to be carried out by the numbers. No unit is authorised to initiate combat before the Soaring Spirit gives the go code.
- Message from Deep Striker 6. The Cordi's main force is taking defensive positions around the Algol starlance. The 1st DD wants to move in before they have time to regroup.
- Alright, let's move up the time table a bit. Coms, prepare for fleet-wide broadcast. Inform me the moment we receive word from our allied fleets.
- *Call, call, call. Swift, big bird, fleet-wide, priority Flail* Fleet-wide broadcast ready sir, you're on.
- Gentlemen of the 2nd Sol Force. Officers, crew and pilots, we move today towards a grim fate. The Hierarchy has our backs against the wall. Sol is under attack while we are on the frontline, facing a foe that has decimated entire terran fleets. Under my command, I have asked a lot from you all. As a fleet commander, I've had to knowingly send men and women to their doom, sacrifice entire ships to alien invaders out of concern for a hypothetical counter attack, made gambits that paid off, made others that cost us dearly, sometimes having to act on sketchy intel.

Today, there is no doubt, no illusion or misinformation about what goes on into this system. No question about our duty. We are humanity's Iron Wall. We have all pledged to keep Sol safe, and this is what we'll do. The 2nd Delest fleet, 4th CRF and Sol garrison are going to have their hands full while our brethrens scramble to fight off the invaders. Our job is to make sure the monsters we are about to face don't make it further.

Today, we stand tall in the face of death, because our lives and the 2nd CRF's will stop the Hertak's advance. Because our sacrifice will buy time. Because we will make the Hierarchy pay for every meter they make towards Earth, and remind them that humans do not bow down before alien invaders, not yesterday, not today, not ever. This is our last dance, let's make it our most memorable. Let it be said in generations to some "this was Their Finest Hour."

- Message from admiral Lorric: Cordi Hunt is go. Security, put all personel currently in the brig back into active duty. Yes, even the drunk one. Flash her brain with stims if you have to.
- Duty calls, ladies and gentlemen. Operation Bug Squash is go. Operation Finger of Doom comes right after it, so let's get to work. Fremont out.
- Flash, flash, flash. Swift, Ram group. Priority Shield. Start operations; join up with 1st DD elements at T + 400.
- Tactical: All Patrol Groups, Jump Teams and Kill Teams report ready for action. Second wave scheduled at T + 900. No report on Hertak movements. Secondary battleline will be ready in 3 minutes. Main battleline ready for defensive action, preparing offensive action. ETR 30 minutes.
- Update the timetables, tell Deep Striker 5 and 6 to get ready for combat action at the Algol starlance.
- Report: Flying Shark ready for action ... Flying Squirrel ready for action ... Pacifist Hand and escort engaging Mothership 3x15 and escort ...
- Deploying bomber squadrons, time hammer the nail in the Cordi's coffin."

Ram Gunnery Control, time to contact: 2 minutes

- "Gunship 3x50, shield failing, standing by for magnum salvo to finish her off.
- Mothership 3x35, hull integrity dropping, detecting possible opening to ship's reactor. Re-aligning main beam.
- Somebody tell our birds to knock off that warrior swarm before their fry up an emitter.
- Gunship 3x50 off the threat board.
- Soldier wing 3x35x5 down. Tactical, requesting target priority.
- The Entropy's getting pounded, switching guns to anti-bomb defence.
- Man, can somebody remind me why we can't have pee bags or something during big fights?
- Because most of us have learned since kindergarten that you should go to the bathroom *before* entering major battle. Warrior wing 3x36x4 down. Could someone knock off that mother ****ing mothership's forward turret.
- Preparing magnum salvo on Gunship 3x54. Entropy's focusing their fire on the mothership. Tac says they can finish her off. Forward beams on the gunship, port beams on the mothership."

Ram Tactical, time to contact: right about now

- "Scratch one gunship and one mothership. Great job everyone, all Cordi targets are down, prepare to -
- Stand by, new contact at 97, 150, Hertak Armaggedon; new contact at 30, -80, Hertak Armageddon."

Entropy CIC, time from contact: 18 seconds

- "Alright, time to play cat and mouse. Nav, plot a jump to rally point Gamma 3. Engine room, I want our drives to cycle as fast as possible after our jump, turn down weapons if you have to.
- Standing by for synchronised jump with the Ram. Pilots, you might want to jump now if you don't want to get caught the Hertak fighters."

Swift CIC, time from contact: 2 hours 3 minutes

- "OK, so now they're in front of us. We've got incoming drones. Sir, these Dreadnaughts will tear us appart if we stay here. The 22nd should be ready to back us up and make a run for their main guns -
- Negative, it's time to bring the fight to them, close and ugly. Get ready to make a tactical jump, 5 kilometers off our bow. Then send in the 22nd and recall all our patrol groups.
- Un-understood sir. Flash, flash, flash. Swift, main battleline. Priority Flail. Tac jump then engage at point blank range. Swift, 22nd, prepare to pull back for support action.
- Report: secondary battleline has been engaged by Fura'ngle Pincer Team."

22nd squadron leader, callsign Curtain, time from contact: 2 hours 4 minutes

- "Holy ****, break off, then reacquire. Swift, next time you give us jump coordinates, don't slam us into a warship. Delta, see if you can take out that engine.
- Roger that, moving on Big Red's butt.
- Did the Bullseye just jump into an Armaggedon?
- They're doing a quick and dirty jump to engage the Big Reds at point blank range, what did you expect? Watch out, inbound beamers.
- Hahaha, that all you got Hertak ****bags?
- Was that the admiral?
- Yes. Engine down to 20%, Alpha 2, finish it off. Delta, pull ack towards the battleline to regenerate your shield.
- Scratch one Armageddon. I've got drones on my tail, could someone -
- Buckner? You still with us? Buck ... **** second beamer wave inbound. Let's draw them to the Calies.
- Incoming jump signature. IFF indicates 2nd CRF strike team Charlie.
- Now we're talking. Would you kindly ram a few torpedoes into their main beams?"

Swift CIC, time from contact: lost track

- "Report: secondary battleline met up with 2nd CRF elements near rally point Nu 7. Hertak Armageddon pulling out.
- Wereabouts of the Flagship unknown. Deep Strike 2 is down. 56th Squadron has been annihilated. Entropy out of action, attempting to retreat. Clock status: phase 3 begin in 280 seconds. Diversionary strike against Fura'ngle target scheduled at T + 80, will required additional forces.
- Our fighter screen is holding well, but the Swift's taken a few bad hits, I we should schedule field repairs.
- We'll be alright for another engagement. Time to regroup our battlelines. Lorric's gonna lure the Flag fleet away while we engage the flying rocks.
- Report: secondary battleline engaged by Hertak and Fura'ngle forces, requesting backup."

22nd squadron, time from contact: way too long

- "OK, I'm calling this off. Curtain to Swift, the battleline is toast, we're pulling out before we join them. We banged the fura pretty good, so they're probably not gonna cause use further trouble today.
- Copy that Curtain. We are regrouping with the 2nd CRF's flagship for one last stand.
- Coordinates received, jumping now ... Holy mother of -
- That's right you sons of *****es, it's party time! All remaining fighters, I would advise you to escort us while we blow these Hertak maggots to smithereen."

Swift CIC, time to ship wide breakdown: not very long

- "Outstanding, pilots. Form back on the Swift.
- Three Hertak Armageddon jumping in on starboard. Jump drives still recharging. Incoming drones. Fighters jumping in from above. The Soaring Spirit is moving away from the Hertak warships.
- Bring us alongside. Let's see if we can give them one last jump. You getting frustrated yet Slavers?
- Sir, may I remind you that you are still broadcasting on a fleet-wide channel?
- What fleet? There's only us and the Ram
- Ram out of the escort list, Ravagers are now engaging our fighters. Picking up escape pods warping out. Drones inbound, targeting the Swift.
- Damn. Looks like they're gonna finish us off before the 2nd CRF. Lorric, you better beat the crap out of them once we're out.
- Critical hit on deck 16, plasma duct rupture ... Gunnery Control has been hit as well, turrets are down. Main reactor hit, shutting down. Secondary reactor working at 120% capacity, meltdown expected in 90 seconds.
- Lorric, you better jump out if you can, 'cause we're dead within the minute.
- They say they'll wait until then.
- Jump drives recharged.
- Alright then, let's get the hell out, then shut down the reactor and see what happens."

22nd Squadron, time to ship wide breakdown: has somewhat already happened, but not as bad as everyone thought

- "30 minutes mark, I don't think they're gonna come.
- 2nd CRF scouts confirm that enemy fleets have pulled out and blockaded every way out of the system.
- Sounds like we're gonna have a Blitz op if we want to get out of then system. Say, is it alright if I don't land on the Swift 'til then. It kinda looks like it's going to break appart if I sneeze ..."

Swift cafeteria, time to OMG WE'RE STILL ALIVE

Alterations to onboard rules:
  • Usage of the ship's plumbing (showers, flushing the toilets, etc.) now require special authorisation from the Chief Engineer or the Command Staff.
  • NO SNEEZING in red sections.
  • NO RUNNING in red sections.
  • NO FIGHTING in red and orange sections.
  • NO SEXUAL ACTIVITY of any kind in red and orange sections.
  • As a rule of thumb, don't engage in any other activity than breathing, reading, walking or talking without explicit authorisation of the Chief engineer or Command Staff.
  • The CIC is not to be referenced as "the mother of all trash".
  • Nor the main reactor room as "main oven".
  • It is forbidden to eat food cooked in the main reactor room. Medbay is already overcrowded, let's not make things worse.
  • Due to the rec rooms being out of order, Briefing Room #1 has been repurposed as a cinema.
  • Any person caught with a copy of the so-called "ship's unofficial porn stash" will face disciplinary actions.


Offline Lorric

  • 212
Personal Log

I have become quite proficient with the organising of resupplying it seems. However, with the shortages due to the central organisation in Sol being messed up thanks to the alien invasion, our efforts are still proceeding slower than they would have done normally, so I need every bit of the experience I have gained in this field to get us back into combat readiness ASAP.

It has however allowed for a rotation to be put in place for our surviving veterans to rotate between helping with the resupplying, whipping these new rookies and kids into shape, and some very well deserved shore leave. Though even when on the job, as hard as we are working to get back up to speed, it seems like a break compared to the extended action we participated in in Aldebaran. My colleagues have been through a lot, and it will be good for them to wind down and for now not to have to worry about engaging in battle after all they've been through and all the ships and people we've lost in our holding action. And once we get some more hands on board, the veterans won't need to get involved with the donkey work at all.

In addition, I plan on working with some of my senior staff to put together a dossier on battling the Cordi. With the fact we have almost exclusively engaged the Cordi up to this point, that knowledge needs to be shared, even though there are currently no known Cordi fleets in our space, this enemy has been by far the most numerous of the races we have faced, and we will probably have to face them again sometime.

My fellow CRF Fleet Admiral, Veers, of the 1st CRF, has captured some Fura'ngle and Zy. I am hoping to hear from him at some point about this, particularly the Fura'ngle, as our area of space is now swarming with them. I'm not sure how you even go about capturing Fura'ngle, as they are the ships. And I certainly wouldn't want to have to control 2 meter tall 4 armed lizards who see us as prey-animals...

At the start of our battle in Aldebaran, morale throughout the fleet was at the highest I've ever seen it, and throughout the entirety of the action, and even now, that level of morale has been maintained, despite everything. It is a great honour just to witness such magnificence, such dedication, let alone to command these men and women in battle.

It seems we have become informally known as the "Bug Busters" throughout Terran Space. I am having a batch of "Bug Buster" medals commissioned to be supplied to all crew members who have been with us from the start, and those who have come later and distinguished themselves in battle. I placed the order with a local company here in Formalhaut, who should have the medals ready before we are scheduled to depart. I am the only one who knows about this. I plan on presenting them right before we depart, to boost morale, if that's possible, and to let all the new people see the standard set by those who have come before them, which will hopefully inspire them to follow that example.

Meanwhile, the battle goes well on all fronts now. In the South, there is currently but a single Nordera fleet remaining, which should soon be mopped up. In Aldebaran, I fully trust in my fellow Admirals to take over the battle until we return into action, and in Sol, while it was most worrying for a while, and we are still sustaining heavy casualties through several fleets, the alien fleet has been isolated and sealed in the system, and is being worn down by the combined might of several fleets.

The portal which brought it has also collapsed in on itself, meaning the threat to Sol from further incursion through the backdoor is also ended, which of course is a great relief, but especially to me personally.

It is strange that further enemy reinforcements seem to have stopped coming. It is obvious that what lies before us is not the extent of the Hierarchy. I wonder what could have caused the absence of further enemy fleets? Perhaps this was simply the extent of the forces sent against us, they thought it would be enough? Maybe they overextended their supply lines? Or any other number of possible reasons, political turmoil, re-evaluating the whole campaign after the fight we've put up, fighting other races we don't know about, who knows. Perhaps our new captive Fura'ngle and Zy should be quizzed about this, they were the last fleet to arrive, so if anyone would know...

This may be the only chance we have. We have a surely temporary advantage, and we must press it home.