Dr. Stratos heard and shot him a furious look behind his cloudy glasses.
"Save it! Damn you military types! So brash and reckless one moment, then sullen and broken the next! Save it and feck you all to hell!"
Stratos was in an emotional rage. He picked up the tray full of tools and threw it somewhere toward Captain Braesk. He stormed out of the ward, somewhere, anywhere but there.
Navigator Liala said nothing as he watched Dr. Stratos leave. "Several years, and he still hasn't grown use to the nuances of the military."
Her eyes lingered toward Braesk. "He is right though. And no Captain, we won't require them. Even offered help, those men and women out there would refuse. They wouldn't accept such a gift, knowing the price they may have to pay. You should be all to aware of that Captain Braesk. And if not, go back out there and see the looks they will have in their eyes. The will to keep fighting, to survive...on THEIR terms. Put yourself in their shoes."
She was about to leave Braesk alone when something else entered her mind. "There is nothing else for you to do here, unless you wish to go and cry in the corner. Otherwise, take the lift to the command deck, there's something happening on the Hand involving your people and Ascrith seems badly wounded."
Liala blinked out of existence leaving the Captain alone with his choices.
* * *
It was quite the sensation. The deckplate hurt, it really hurt. Far more than he realized. Or maybe, his senses were just catching up with him. Either way, the pain was growing, and he knew his time was minutes away from being up.
Cigol, flipped his leg around and caught Ascrith in the crowbar, and leveraged himself as best he could to break his arm. He then released and let fly his heel into his face, knocking Ascrith away, before Cigol rose from the deck, supported by his sword.
There was a slight rhythmic beep from the arm device and Cigol glanced at it. He read it, and saw the notice that was given to him. His Central Nervous System was breaking down, by the cocktail of poisons injected into his body. Following that, his synaptic nerves would be systematically destroyed. Usually it was quite a peaceful suicide, when the proper poisons were put to work, putting the operative to sleep, just as everything was happening.
But of course, Cigol modified it and he wouldn't be given that pleasure. He'd feel the intense level of pain and it would all happen slowly. There was no stopping that.
With no options, Cigol took his sword and made a large gashes at his hands, blue blood oozing out and dripping to the floor. He threw the sword at Ascrith and with all his remaining strength, made a bulls charge for the Field Marshall.
"Save it! Damn you military types! So brash and reckless one moment, then sullen and broken the next! Save it and feck you all to hell!"
Stratos was in an emotional rage. He picked up the tray full of tools and threw it somewhere toward Captain Braesk. He stormed out of the ward, somewhere, anywhere but there.
Navigator Liala said nothing as he watched Dr. Stratos leave. "Several years, and he still hasn't grown use to the nuances of the military."
Her eyes lingered toward Braesk. "He is right though. And no Captain, we won't require them. Even offered help, those men and women out there would refuse. They wouldn't accept such a gift, knowing the price they may have to pay. You should be all to aware of that Captain Braesk. And if not, go back out there and see the looks they will have in their eyes. The will to keep fighting, to survive...on THEIR terms. Put yourself in their shoes."
She was about to leave Braesk alone when something else entered her mind. "There is nothing else for you to do here, unless you wish to go and cry in the corner. Otherwise, take the lift to the command deck, there's something happening on the Hand involving your people and Ascrith seems badly wounded."
Liala blinked out of existence leaving the Captain alone with his choices.
* * *
It was quite the sensation. The deckplate hurt, it really hurt. Far more than he realized. Or maybe, his senses were just catching up with him. Either way, the pain was growing, and he knew his time was minutes away from being up.
Cigol, flipped his leg around and caught Ascrith in the crowbar, and leveraged himself as best he could to break his arm. He then released and let fly his heel into his face, knocking Ascrith away, before Cigol rose from the deck, supported by his sword.
There was a slight rhythmic beep from the arm device and Cigol glanced at it. He read it, and saw the notice that was given to him. His Central Nervous System was breaking down, by the cocktail of poisons injected into his body. Following that, his synaptic nerves would be systematically destroyed. Usually it was quite a peaceful suicide, when the proper poisons were put to work, putting the operative to sleep, just as everything was happening.
But of course, Cigol modified it and he wouldn't be given that pleasure. He'd feel the intense level of pain and it would all happen slowly. There was no stopping that.
With no options, Cigol took his sword and made a large gashes at his hands, blue blood oozing out and dripping to the floor. He threw the sword at Ascrith and with all his remaining strength, made a bulls charge for the Field Marshall.
Braesk dodged the tools, emotion leaving him a bit. He had to admit, though. They were right. There was nothing he could do to help. He walked out, ignoring Ascrith. They knew what would happen. Braesk just walked out of the med bay, and towards the wounded. He stood at the foot of the hall, looking at the people just sitting there. He took out a piece of paper, and scribbled out a note.
Then he pulled out a Walther.
****
Ascrith was hit in the chest by the sword, the blade piercing his organs and tissue, and imbedding itself in the ribs. He would die a slower death. But when the commander came for him, he swung with the full force of his arm, trying to decapitate the man.
Then he pulled out a Walther.
****
Ascrith was hit in the chest by the sword, the blade piercing his organs and tissue, and imbedding itself in the ribs. He would die a slower death. But when the commander came for him, he swung with the full force of his arm, trying to decapitate the man.
By this time, Tolarim had managed to get close enough to tend to Elder Amaar's wounds, to at least help stop the bleeding. The doors of the bridge opened, allowing seven Honour Guard marines to enter, their personal shields fully raised, their pistols out. They couldn't shoot whilst Nathaniel and Robbins were so close, but they were poised to make their move at the slightest opening. One made his way to the fallen Elder, he took out an emergency medical kit and began tending to her, whilst Tolarim covered him.
Nathaniel ignore the reinforcements, it was as if they didn't register and when Robbins pulled the knife he pulled his hands back out of range of the blade and spoke for the first time since the fight began, "You are a hypocrite and a fool. You attack us because we committed genocide twelve millennia ago, against a race that was trying to drive us to extincton, and yet you destroyed an entire world for the sake of one ship mere hours ago. You attack us, one of the oldest and most advanced cilisations in the known galaxy, you harm the ones responsible for the salvation of the Terelain species and culture... and you expect to be remembered as a hero for all these deeds?" The Elder laughed, "You are an idiot. My people will come against your nation with the full might of the Grand Fleet. We have ships that would make your Battle Barge look like a kitten's toy. We have weapons that can scour clean all life from a world in an instant. We will utterly destroy your people's warmachine, and render your civilisation unable to even spit in the direction of another planet for the next thousand years! When we are done, your people will not see you as some great hero... but as a traitor... a man who placed his own pride and ambition before the well-being of his own people."
Nathaniel reached inside his clothes and pulled out an elegantly curved dagger, half the size of the human's knife, "So... come then, coward, traitor, let us see what your people can do. We are both wounded, we are both armed with knives. Show me how a species that was still wallowing in the mud when mine were ruling the stars, plans to defeat the Star Kingdom."
Suddenly the holographic displays of the bridge lit up with the video feed from the duel between Ascrith and Cigol, The mess the two combatants were in drew almost every eyes, except for the marines and the wounded Elder holding the knife, who were still watching Robbins.
"What are they?" Captain Tolarim began, "It... that almost looks like Yh'Tya. Are they trying to decide this battle through ritual combat?" He shook his head and ignored the video, "it doesn't matter. My concern is for this ship, her crew and the Elders." He turned to Robbins, "Captain Robbins of the HRA Death Korps. You are outnumbered, outgunned and your men are as well. Your attempts to murder our Elders and sieze this ship have failed... and it can be considered to be an act of war against my people, an act potentially so grievous that we will pursue Esae Vrkar, Eternal War, against your people. If either of our Elders die because of your actions I personally swear upon my Ancestors that I will have your head, and the heads of every single member of your family, down every generation until the end of days, and I will kill or destroy any man or nation that tries to stop me fulfilling my blood-feud with you." Tolarim's mouth twitched into a slight smile, "I can assure you that I will not be the only one who would swear such an oath in the Kingdom for the deaths of the Elders. The full might of the Houses Amaar and Tynian will fall upon you, and those of your people that harbour you."
Tolarim neither knew, or cared, that the video link had also set up a channel with the Valhalla and that they could hear everything going on in the bridge. Tolarim was on the verge of failing his most sacred duty; to protect the lives of the Elders above and beyond his own and the lives of his crew, and he was damned angry about it.
In the hangar bay the Terelain warriors were starting to get into their element. Their people had a long history of defensive action, for their homeland had been encircled by mountains and the only four routes through them were guarded by massive fortresses, so that even in antiquity the Terelain army had held to a doctrine of defense over offense.
Whilst modern weapons technologies like plasma weapons, bombs, fighters and personal shields had left many more options other than hand-to-hand combat for Terelain marines they still preserved even the most ancient forms of their martial arts, for who knows when a technique, no matter how ancient and seemingly obsolete, may one day save your life?
The marines continued to pour plasma and energy fire into the charging Death Korps, but once they got too close they dropped their pistols and went to work with knives and and the ceremonial spears to defend themselves against the humans.
The Fang Interceptors in the hangar switched targets from the Death Korps men, who had grown too close to their own infantry, to the gunships that had opened fire on them. The hangar wasn't large enough for any of the pilots to pull their fancier evasive maneouvres with the fast, nimble fighters, but they had rerouted almost all of their power reservesfrom their engines, sensors and other systems to their shields and weapons.
Two more Terelain fighters burst into flames and crashed onto the deck, but the rest continued to pour fire on their attackers, but with only three fighters destroyed so far, there were still another twenty seven remaining, as well as the fifteen Claw Multi-role Bombers.
Nathaniel ignore the reinforcements, it was as if they didn't register and when Robbins pulled the knife he pulled his hands back out of range of the blade and spoke for the first time since the fight began, "You are a hypocrite and a fool. You attack us because we committed genocide twelve millennia ago, against a race that was trying to drive us to extincton, and yet you destroyed an entire world for the sake of one ship mere hours ago. You attack us, one of the oldest and most advanced cilisations in the known galaxy, you harm the ones responsible for the salvation of the Terelain species and culture... and you expect to be remembered as a hero for all these deeds?" The Elder laughed, "You are an idiot. My people will come against your nation with the full might of the Grand Fleet. We have ships that would make your Battle Barge look like a kitten's toy. We have weapons that can scour clean all life from a world in an instant. We will utterly destroy your people's warmachine, and render your civilisation unable to even spit in the direction of another planet for the next thousand years! When we are done, your people will not see you as some great hero... but as a traitor... a man who placed his own pride and ambition before the well-being of his own people."
Nathaniel reached inside his clothes and pulled out an elegantly curved dagger, half the size of the human's knife, "So... come then, coward, traitor, let us see what your people can do. We are both wounded, we are both armed with knives. Show me how a species that was still wallowing in the mud when mine were ruling the stars, plans to defeat the Star Kingdom."
Suddenly the holographic displays of the bridge lit up with the video feed from the duel between Ascrith and Cigol, The mess the two combatants were in drew almost every eyes, except for the marines and the wounded Elder holding the knife, who were still watching Robbins.
"What are they?" Captain Tolarim began, "It... that almost looks like Yh'Tya. Are they trying to decide this battle through ritual combat?" He shook his head and ignored the video, "it doesn't matter. My concern is for this ship, her crew and the Elders." He turned to Robbins, "Captain Robbins of the HRA Death Korps. You are outnumbered, outgunned and your men are as well. Your attempts to murder our Elders and sieze this ship have failed... and it can be considered to be an act of war against my people, an act potentially so grievous that we will pursue Esae Vrkar, Eternal War, against your people. If either of our Elders die because of your actions I personally swear upon my Ancestors that I will have your head, and the heads of every single member of your family, down every generation until the end of days, and I will kill or destroy any man or nation that tries to stop me fulfilling my blood-feud with you." Tolarim's mouth twitched into a slight smile, "I can assure you that I will not be the only one who would swear such an oath in the Kingdom for the deaths of the Elders. The full might of the Houses Amaar and Tynian will fall upon you, and those of your people that harbour you."
Tolarim neither knew, or cared, that the video link had also set up a channel with the Valhalla and that they could hear everything going on in the bridge. Tolarim was on the verge of failing his most sacred duty; to protect the lives of the Elders above and beyond his own and the lives of his crew, and he was damned angry about it.
*******
In the hangar bay the Terelain warriors were starting to get into their element. Their people had a long history of defensive action, for their homeland had been encircled by mountains and the only four routes through them were guarded by massive fortresses, so that even in antiquity the Terelain army had held to a doctrine of defense over offense.
Whilst modern weapons technologies like plasma weapons, bombs, fighters and personal shields had left many more options other than hand-to-hand combat for Terelain marines they still preserved even the most ancient forms of their martial arts, for who knows when a technique, no matter how ancient and seemingly obsolete, may one day save your life?
The marines continued to pour plasma and energy fire into the charging Death Korps, but once they got too close they dropped their pistols and went to work with knives and and the ceremonial spears to defend themselves against the humans.
The Fang Interceptors in the hangar switched targets from the Death Korps men, who had grown too close to their own infantry, to the gunships that had opened fire on them. The hangar wasn't large enough for any of the pilots to pull their fancier evasive maneouvres with the fast, nimble fighters, but they had rerouted almost all of their power reservesfrom their engines, sensors and other systems to their shields and weapons.
Two more Terelain fighters burst into flames and crashed onto the deck, but the rest continued to pour fire on their attackers, but with only three fighters destroyed so far, there were still another twenty seven remaining, as well as the fifteen Claw Multi-role Bombers.
Jacob stood alone in front the Elders, facing one down. He had his massive bowie knife out, ready to kill. This thing was going down, one way or another. Robbins stood there bleeding from nearly every cut he had, and there was a lot. But he wasn't going to stop. That was the thing about them. No matter what, the men of HRA would never stop fighting.
"You idiots. You underestimate will power. We are outnumbered now, but you try surviving us. We fight till the last man, we take no prisoners, and give none. You want to win? You will have to pay for ever damn inch of ground you take. If this is war, you will die in war! Lysander! NOW!" Robbins said. This was not going to be a very good day for the Elders.
The Bismarck's boarding torpedoes fired one by one, filled with Death Korps and Marines. They slammed with penetration power of a powerful cannon. They were designed so that the shields wouldn't be able to stop them, but armor would slow them down.
Fifty fighters stood outside the enemy bay doors, and aimed carefully. That's when they fired. 50mm rounds flying at high speeds were fired, anti shield EMP missiles shot off, and they wouldn't stop shooting. They wanted those fighters destroyed.
"You idiots. You underestimate will power. We are outnumbered now, but you try surviving us. We fight till the last man, we take no prisoners, and give none. You want to win? You will have to pay for ever damn inch of ground you take. If this is war, you will die in war! Lysander! NOW!" Robbins said. This was not going to be a very good day for the Elders.
The Bismarck's boarding torpedoes fired one by one, filled with Death Korps and Marines. They slammed with penetration power of a powerful cannon. They were designed so that the shields wouldn't be able to stop them, but armor would slow them down.
Fifty fighters stood outside the enemy bay doors, and aimed carefully. That's when they fired. 50mm rounds flying at high speeds were fired, anti shield EMP missiles shot off, and they wouldn't stop shooting. They wanted those fighters destroyed.
Liala watched several different events transpire on screens in her virtual hub. She saw Dr. Lucas Rodden hurry into the Operation Room and begin resuscitation. Calling out as he tried to revive the Captain.
She saw Captain Braesk walk out, a pistol in his hand. She knew what he was probably thinking and she wouldn't bat an eye if he did it. So she sat in a 20 second time delay to notify marines and security accordingly. She doubt he would harm the patients. And she doubt the patients would let harm come to them.
She saw the final death throws of Cigol and Ascrith, as their former Commander, pounced on the Field Marshall; his combatant's sword lodging into Cigol's neck and both men tumbling to the floor.
Lastly she saw, as the Bismarck launched torpedoes and fighters at the Hand of Terel.
And for each situation there was nothing she could do, except sit and watch.
* * *
"His blood flow is decreasing! Blood pressure failing below normal levels!"
"Get that internal hemorrhaging stabilized!"
"We're loosing his synaptic functions! The brain is beginning to starve!"
"Start up the if support unit! Prep those damn nanites!"
Blood splatter, filled the immediate workspace of Doctor Lucas Rodden and his medical attendants. He was trying his damnedest to keep the Captain alive, but those fecking Ursan nanites, just wouldn't cooperate. He was loosing this battle, and slowly running out of options.
Dr. Rodden looked over at the flask on the medical cart, and saw the nanites ready for administration. He eyed them for a while, only a few seconds to ponder the decision.
* * *
Cigol had palmed Field Marshall Ascrith Taranis' face as they tumbled to the ground.
His body both internally and externally was just about destroyed, his senses shot, but still in significant pain. The rhythmic alert from the arm device, was a constant tone now, and he knew his time was up. His right arm, just about mangled and barely usable, managed to raggedly grapple at the device and input a set of final commands. Cigol placed the device on the floor. An audio message for taranis began to play on the device as rolled himself off of him.
"Hello Field Marshall. At this very moment, you should be infected with a large dose of alien nanites from a highly advance race called the Ursans. In order to speed up the infection, I had to trigger certain emotions and commit certain actions, so as to increase your adrenaline and blood flow; thereby doing so in a short amount of time. Having reprogrammed them, they should be relatively effective in merely disrupting your psychokinetic abilities, albeit temporarily I assume, and more then likely will disrupt your bodily functions. This is all on the basis that you are similar to the Terrans of the Coalition, and that you do not possess nanites of your own. I have went for the worst case scenario, and made sure that the effects of the Ursan nanite disruption are at the extreme, and it should be sufficient to complete my mission."
The device clicked off.
"Well...well done Marshall," Cigol simply stated, as he struggled to push himself up and into the cross legged position.
There was nothing else to be said, as there no anytime. Cigol closed his eyes, and took in the last few seconds that he had. The pain he felt seem to suddenly subside, and then there was darkness.
"Were you expected the womb of the Birth Givers," a familiar voice called out.
Cigol looked around to spot former President and now ascended being G'Char. "I was actually, yes."
"Well, consider this a detour," G'Char said motioning for him to follow, toward a wooden door that had appeared. "There's a few people who wish to see you."
For the first time in all the years that his crew and friends had known him, Cigol let show a small smile. He nodded and followed G'Char through the door.
Former Commander and Executive Officer of the Coalition Alliance Defense Vessel Valhalla, Cigol Nikephoros' life soon faded away, his body rigid and his posture calm.
Yet he sat on the hangerdeck of the Bismarck, with a small smile, ready for what ever happened next.
* * *
Not a word was spoken on the command deck of the Valhalla. Everyone saw the final moments, and saw their former commander and friend fall to the ground upon Ascrith.
They saw him roll himself over, and with the determination and tenacity he always displayed, lift himself into his usual meditation position, and let a smile cross his lips, before his life faded away.
Lt. Nai'ti let loose tears, as others tried to bury themselves in their work. It was entirely too much.
"The Bismarck just launched weapons against Hand," Intelligence Officer Briten reported quietly.
"It's not our problem," Nai'ti said, as she wiped the tears away. "Just get them on, and tell us to give us back the body of our officer, on the shuttle they came. Autopilot will do the rest."
Communications Officer Ty nodded somberly and tended to his duties.
* * *
Dr. Lucas Rodden held the injection needle with the nanites and began to administer them, when there was a warning on one of the medical screens. He stopped and immediately saw the Ursan nanites beginning to act differently. Releasing their usual enzymes, they began to work over time, and heal the Captain.
"Liala...do you see this?"
"Yes I do Doctor. I am detecting a faint Ursan transmission directed to the Main Infirmary," Navigator Liala stated. "I do believe Commander Cigol was successfully."
"His..his blood pressure is leveling out, and starting to rise!"
"I'm reading increased brainwave patterns."
"Heart is starting to pump again, Doctor!"
Dr. Lucas Rodden looked on in amazement. "Notify the CIC. Tell them, that the Commander was successful, the nanites are operating normally again. And the Captain is undergoing accelerated healing."
The Commander did it. By god he did it...
* * *
Captain Alexi Nikoli sat at the shuttle terminal, watching the multitude of shuttles depart and arrive, as he waited for his own.
"I'm going to be late," he murmured as he tapped his foot, impatiently.
"Do not worry Captain, you have plenty of time."
Nikoli frowned, and toward to the familiar voice, and saw Commander Cigol Nikephoros, walking towards him. He rose from his chair.
"Cigol? What are you doing here? You should be on the Valhalla," Nikoli stated.
"I am not Captain," Cigol answered, as if it was obvious. "I am dead."
Captain Nikoli looked at him confused, and then furrowed his brows, "If this is what you call a punchline, I think you should work on it more. Or at least stop listening to Lucas."
Cigol looked at the Captain, and quirked his brow.
"This is not a joke Captain. I am dead. You are still unconscious after your nanites malfunctioned and I embarked to fix that issue by going to the Bismark. This is merely a dream and I am merely a programmed representation I put into the nanites before I left," Cigol explained.
Captain Nikoli fell onto the bench, "I remember. Its blurry, but I remember and..."
Nikoli rose again, furious, staring daggers at Cigol.
"Why the hell did you abandon your post Cigol!? Why the hell did you go over there by yourself!? You're just a blue blood, pale skin hypocrite!"
Cigol merely watched brow raised as the Captain let out his fury.
"I am quite sure, you will or have called me that, should you or rather I say Liala and Ty successfully contact me, while I am over on the Bismarck," Cigol simply stated.
Captain Nikoli stopped and relaxed, remember the conversation he had with his former XO.
"Yes...yes I did. And you gave your explanation."
Captain Nikoli sat down on the bench, and Cigol joined him. Both silent.
"Captain..." Cigol started, pausing briefly. "I wish to apologize. Apologize for my behavior, since the start of our working together. And I wish to thank you. Thank you for allowing me to serve on your ship."
Captain Nikoli suddenly found himself chuckling, which surprised Cigol too.
"Actually, now that I remember, it's not like Faith gave me much of a choice, in whether I wanted you or not," the Captain chuckled.
"Indeed," Cigol admitted.
"Nonetheless," Nikoli said, as he turned toward Cigol with an outstretched hand. "I am glad to have had such a fine XO...and friend."
Cigol grasped Nikoli's hand, who startled him, by pulling him in for a hug.
"Shuttle Val-1, is ready for departure. Shuttle Val-1 is ready for departure."
"That is your shuttle Captain," Cigol said.
"Is it eh?" Nikoli responded as he rose from the bench. "Well guess I'll get moving."
Captain Alexi Nikoli grabbed his bag and headed off to the shuttle, leaving Cigol behind.
However there was just one thing itching at the back of his mind.
"Cigol!" he called out.
The Ykkins quirked an eyebrow, but kept his gaze on the setting sun. "Yes Captain."
"That time when I left you at the table in Follox's bar...with my drinks...did you drink them?"
"I was on duty Captain, I surely did not."
Captain Nikoli looked at Cigol, then shrugged. "Alrighty then."
Cigol watched as the Captain left, and a small smile crossed his lips, before everything faded to white.
She saw Captain Braesk walk out, a pistol in his hand. She knew what he was probably thinking and she wouldn't bat an eye if he did it. So she sat in a 20 second time delay to notify marines and security accordingly. She doubt he would harm the patients. And she doubt the patients would let harm come to them.
She saw the final death throws of Cigol and Ascrith, as their former Commander, pounced on the Field Marshall; his combatant's sword lodging into Cigol's neck and both men tumbling to the floor.
Lastly she saw, as the Bismarck launched torpedoes and fighters at the Hand of Terel.
And for each situation there was nothing she could do, except sit and watch.
* * *
"His blood flow is decreasing! Blood pressure failing below normal levels!"
"Get that internal hemorrhaging stabilized!"
"We're loosing his synaptic functions! The brain is beginning to starve!"
"Start up the if support unit! Prep those damn nanites!"
Blood splatter, filled the immediate workspace of Doctor Lucas Rodden and his medical attendants. He was trying his damnedest to keep the Captain alive, but those fecking Ursan nanites, just wouldn't cooperate. He was loosing this battle, and slowly running out of options.
Dr. Rodden looked over at the flask on the medical cart, and saw the nanites ready for administration. He eyed them for a while, only a few seconds to ponder the decision.
* * *
Cigol had palmed Field Marshall Ascrith Taranis' face as they tumbled to the ground.
His body both internally and externally was just about destroyed, his senses shot, but still in significant pain. The rhythmic alert from the arm device, was a constant tone now, and he knew his time was up. His right arm, just about mangled and barely usable, managed to raggedly grapple at the device and input a set of final commands. Cigol placed the device on the floor. An audio message for taranis began to play on the device as rolled himself off of him.
"Hello Field Marshall. At this very moment, you should be infected with a large dose of alien nanites from a highly advance race called the Ursans. In order to speed up the infection, I had to trigger certain emotions and commit certain actions, so as to increase your adrenaline and blood flow; thereby doing so in a short amount of time. Having reprogrammed them, they should be relatively effective in merely disrupting your psychokinetic abilities, albeit temporarily I assume, and more then likely will disrupt your bodily functions. This is all on the basis that you are similar to the Terrans of the Coalition, and that you do not possess nanites of your own. I have went for the worst case scenario, and made sure that the effects of the Ursan nanite disruption are at the extreme, and it should be sufficient to complete my mission."
The device clicked off.
"Well...well done Marshall," Cigol simply stated, as he struggled to push himself up and into the cross legged position.
There was nothing else to be said, as there no anytime. Cigol closed his eyes, and took in the last few seconds that he had. The pain he felt seem to suddenly subside, and then there was darkness.
"Were you expected the womb of the Birth Givers," a familiar voice called out.
Cigol looked around to spot former President and now ascended being G'Char. "I was actually, yes."
"Well, consider this a detour," G'Char said motioning for him to follow, toward a wooden door that had appeared. "There's a few people who wish to see you."
For the first time in all the years that his crew and friends had known him, Cigol let show a small smile. He nodded and followed G'Char through the door.
Former Commander and Executive Officer of the Coalition Alliance Defense Vessel Valhalla, Cigol Nikephoros' life soon faded away, his body rigid and his posture calm.
Yet he sat on the hangerdeck of the Bismarck, with a small smile, ready for what ever happened next.
* * *
Not a word was spoken on the command deck of the Valhalla. Everyone saw the final moments, and saw their former commander and friend fall to the ground upon Ascrith.
They saw him roll himself over, and with the determination and tenacity he always displayed, lift himself into his usual meditation position, and let a smile cross his lips, before his life faded away.
Lt. Nai'ti let loose tears, as others tried to bury themselves in their work. It was entirely too much.
"The Bismarck just launched weapons against Hand," Intelligence Officer Briten reported quietly.
"It's not our problem," Nai'ti said, as she wiped the tears away. "Just get them on, and tell us to give us back the body of our officer, on the shuttle they came. Autopilot will do the rest."
Communications Officer Ty nodded somberly and tended to his duties.
* * *
Dr. Lucas Rodden held the injection needle with the nanites and began to administer them, when there was a warning on one of the medical screens. He stopped and immediately saw the Ursan nanites beginning to act differently. Releasing their usual enzymes, they began to work over time, and heal the Captain.
"Liala...do you see this?"
"Yes I do Doctor. I am detecting a faint Ursan transmission directed to the Main Infirmary," Navigator Liala stated. "I do believe Commander Cigol was successfully."
"His..his blood pressure is leveling out, and starting to rise!"
"I'm reading increased brainwave patterns."
"Heart is starting to pump again, Doctor!"
Dr. Lucas Rodden looked on in amazement. "Notify the CIC. Tell them, that the Commander was successful, the nanites are operating normally again. And the Captain is undergoing accelerated healing."
The Commander did it. By god he did it...
* * *
Captain Alexi Nikoli sat at the shuttle terminal, watching the multitude of shuttles depart and arrive, as he waited for his own.
"I'm going to be late," he murmured as he tapped his foot, impatiently.
"Do not worry Captain, you have plenty of time."
Nikoli frowned, and toward to the familiar voice, and saw Commander Cigol Nikephoros, walking towards him. He rose from his chair.
"Cigol? What are you doing here? You should be on the Valhalla," Nikoli stated.
"I am not Captain," Cigol answered, as if it was obvious. "I am dead."
Captain Nikoli looked at him confused, and then furrowed his brows, "If this is what you call a punchline, I think you should work on it more. Or at least stop listening to Lucas."
Cigol looked at the Captain, and quirked his brow.
"This is not a joke Captain. I am dead. You are still unconscious after your nanites malfunctioned and I embarked to fix that issue by going to the Bismark. This is merely a dream and I am merely a programmed representation I put into the nanites before I left," Cigol explained.
Captain Nikoli fell onto the bench, "I remember. Its blurry, but I remember and..."
Nikoli rose again, furious, staring daggers at Cigol.
"Why the hell did you abandon your post Cigol!? Why the hell did you go over there by yourself!? You're just a blue blood, pale skin hypocrite!"
Cigol merely watched brow raised as the Captain let out his fury.
"I am quite sure, you will or have called me that, should you or rather I say Liala and Ty successfully contact me, while I am over on the Bismarck," Cigol simply stated.
Captain Nikoli stopped and relaxed, remember the conversation he had with his former XO.
"Yes...yes I did. And you gave your explanation."
Captain Nikoli sat down on the bench, and Cigol joined him. Both silent.
"Captain..." Cigol started, pausing briefly. "I wish to apologize. Apologize for my behavior, since the start of our working together. And I wish to thank you. Thank you for allowing me to serve on your ship."
Captain Nikoli suddenly found himself chuckling, which surprised Cigol too.
"Actually, now that I remember, it's not like Faith gave me much of a choice, in whether I wanted you or not," the Captain chuckled.
"Indeed," Cigol admitted.
"Nonetheless," Nikoli said, as he turned toward Cigol with an outstretched hand. "I am glad to have had such a fine XO...and friend."
Cigol grasped Nikoli's hand, who startled him, by pulling him in for a hug.
"Shuttle Val-1, is ready for departure. Shuttle Val-1 is ready for departure."
"That is your shuttle Captain," Cigol said.
"Is it eh?" Nikoli responded as he rose from the bench. "Well guess I'll get moving."
Captain Alexi Nikoli grabbed his bag and headed off to the shuttle, leaving Cigol behind.
However there was just one thing itching at the back of his mind.
"Cigol!" he called out.
The Ykkins quirked an eyebrow, but kept his gaze on the setting sun. "Yes Captain."
"That time when I left you at the table in Follox's bar...with my drinks...did you drink them?"
"I was on duty Captain, I surely did not."
Captain Nikoli looked at Cigol, then shrugged. "Alrighty then."
Cigol watched as the Captain left, and a small smile crossed his lips, before everything faded to white.
Braesk stared at the wounded, holding the pistol. They looked so... Calm. But he knew what had happened. Cigol died, and Ascrith was dying a very lonely death. Now Braesk would die a lonely death. It was weird, in that way. They fought as heroes in their time, they made one horrible decision which started a war, and now Braesk was going to pay.
He looked sadly at the gun he hold, twisting it around. Could he really do this? Could he really take his own life? He didn't know. He didn't know if he could take another life. Even if it was his own. But he slowly lifted the gun to his head, and burst out with one cry, staggered and soft. He cocked the gun. He started to cry even more.
"Just do it! Just do it, Braesk!" He told himself, and still didn't shoot. He shouted out in anger, just standing there, breathing heavily. Braesk started to reflect on his life then. Was he really a bad man?
****
Ascrith lay there on the floor, Cigol sitting next to him. So maybe, maybe Cigol died peacefully. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to die horribly, in so much pain. He coughed once, spewing out a mouthful of blood. These damn nanites would kill him, even the wounds didn't. That's what he hated. He didn't want to die.
His head hurt so much, bleeding out all sorts of things. If he put his hand to there, he'd feel some of brains. Of course, he didn't want to at all. He couldn't move much of him, except for a few things. His arm was broken, the other's muscles severed, and his legs weren't working, he didn't know why.
"Am... Am I really going to die alone? Am I really going to die without someone to be here for me, without someone to care for me, without a lass to love, or a friend?" Ascrith asked, and a single tear fell from his eye. The answer was... Yes...
He looked sadly at the gun he hold, twisting it around. Could he really do this? Could he really take his own life? He didn't know. He didn't know if he could take another life. Even if it was his own. But he slowly lifted the gun to his head, and burst out with one cry, staggered and soft. He cocked the gun. He started to cry even more.
"Just do it! Just do it, Braesk!" He told himself, and still didn't shoot. He shouted out in anger, just standing there, breathing heavily. Braesk started to reflect on his life then. Was he really a bad man?
****
Ascrith lay there on the floor, Cigol sitting next to him. So maybe, maybe Cigol died peacefully. He didn't know. All he knew was that he was going to die horribly, in so much pain. He coughed once, spewing out a mouthful of blood. These damn nanites would kill him, even the wounds didn't. That's what he hated. He didn't want to die.
His head hurt so much, bleeding out all sorts of things. If he put his hand to there, he'd feel some of brains. Of course, he didn't want to at all. He couldn't move much of him, except for a few things. His arm was broken, the other's muscles severed, and his legs weren't working, he didn't know why.
"Am... Am I really going to die alone? Am I really going to die without someone to be here for me, without someone to care for me, without a lass to love, or a friend?" Ascrith asked, and a single tear fell from his eye. The answer was... Yes...
"Sir! Enemy fighters have just engaged the fighter screen! Damned HRA vyksha hid their approach within the other sensor-readings from the incoming Boarding Torpedoes!" The sensor officer shouted.
"Tia'Ren damn them!" He spat, "Fighters, this is Tolarim. We're opening fire on the enemy fighters engaging you, take the standard precautions." He turned to his tactical officer, "Commander Kahr, open fire on the boarding Toredoes and fighters with the point-defense clusters. Have Aelya modify the shields... They are not to break through, understood?"
"Aye sir." Kahr said, tapping the holographic display in front of him.
The ship's AI was busy defending the ship from the HRA supercomputer, but she had a very large amount of processing power. She was the culmination of over eigheen thousand years of AI research and development, constantly self-improving her programming with the latest breathroughs in AI design, often made by her fellow Artificial Intelligences.
She pulled back most of her consciousness from her cyberattacks on the Bismarck, leaving a few of her more malicious and vindictive subroutines in place aboard the enemy vessel to continue her depredations of their systems, returning her focus to the Hand she perused the terrabytes of data from the battle and from the Hand's sensors in less than an eyeblink, paying especial attention to what the sensors could glean from the projectiles heading their way at immense velocity.
She almost laughed at the Boarding Torpedoes... they honestly expected to break through her shields with a couple of EMP blasts? It was funny really, no one had tried that trick on her for thousands of years, not since the early days of the Second Great War. She searchd through memory files she'd not had reason to access in a long time and chose a suitable strategy. These HRA Boarding Torpedoes might not be a T'Eleth class Battleship or an Is'Tah class Battlecruiser like in the old glory days, but there were only so many ways these humans could try to penetrate her shields.
The dark energy lattices that made up the foundations of the shield shifted configuration in an eyeblink, to an old pattern she remembered had been useful against Gillorian EMP weaponry, before they'd phased out such methods in favour of more direct anti-shielding technology, like those missiles that partially phased out of existence to pass through shielding. As an extra precaution, just incase changing the energy structure of the shields didn't work, she erected the Emergency Plasma Shield around the Hand beneath the first layer of shields, setting that at a different resonance frequency again.
And then, just because no one had bothered to remove the vindictive spitefulness of a War-AI from her personality, she opened fire on the Boarding Torpedoes with all of the Point-Defense clusters she had in range of them that weren't needed in fending off those fighters. Directed energy beam weapon turrets blasted forth concentrated energy blasts and coilgun PD turrets shot small fist-sized lumps of incredibly dense ballstitic material travelling at near-relativistic velocities, opened fire on the HRA boarders.
Three more fighters and a bomber exploded into vapour during the opening barrage of the HRA fighters before they scattered in evasive maneouvres. The bombers, whilst slower than their fighter counterparts, had very heavy armour and shields, able to soak up quite a bit of damage before sucumbing, whilst their more nimble fighters allies could pull sharp turns and accelerated to crushing speeds, proected from the g-force strains only by the highly advanced artificial gravity technologies of the Terelains. In truth organic pilots were mostly obsolete back home, where AI fighters, or even clouds of fighter-drones controlled by a central AI on a carrier or station, were the norm.
These men and women were the ceremonial honour gaurd for the diplomatic ship, there to provide an impressive escort and a display of the skills and powers of the Star Kingdom. Nevertheless, just like the Marine Honour Guard, each and every one of them had been chosen based on their skills and experience in flying and fighting. Just because their duties were largely ceremonial that did not mean that they might not encounter situations such as the one they had found themselves in now. They were there to look good, but they were also there to defend that ship with their lives... and by the Moralinri and Aunidiel blood in their veins, they would die protecting that ship!
Elder Tynian was staring impassively at Robbins, but then he smiled slightly, "That is true... I don't know exactly what your kind is capable of, or how powerful your military is... but you do not know our own capabilities. The Gillorians ruled five thousand worlds, their population was in the hundreds of billions, their war-caft dedicated to conquest and utter destruction of their enemies. Our war lasted seven hundred years... and despite their power and their ferocity they were destroyed. Now, it will be the turn of the HRA to test themselves against us. Perhaps you will destroy us, perhaps we will destroy you. It matters little."
With their fight temporarily stopped, Captain Tolarim took his chance, he leveled his energy pistol at Robbins and loosed off every shot his weapon could put out before it overheated and automtically switched off to prevent it from exploding in his hand, the Marines closed in almost as soon as the first shot was in the air to retrieve their wounded Elders, no matter if Nathaniel was going to protest their interference or not.
(The Hand was built by the Ancient and Noble House Amaar, and because of this a lot of the crew are Aunidiel Terelains, the Bloodline which the Amaar hold authority over. There are also a lot of Aedrimar on the crew, because they're the most numerous Bloodline and they're good with engineering, and Moralinri, the Bloodline from which the majority of the soldiers are drawn, though there are soldiers from all Bloodlines. If the Hand blows up, then you'll have royally ticked off three of the Six Bloodlines of the Kingdom.)
"Tia'Ren damn them!" He spat, "Fighters, this is Tolarim. We're opening fire on the enemy fighters engaging you, take the standard precautions." He turned to his tactical officer, "Commander Kahr, open fire on the boarding Toredoes and fighters with the point-defense clusters. Have Aelya modify the shields... They are not to break through, understood?"
"Aye sir." Kahr said, tapping the holographic display in front of him.
The ship's AI was busy defending the ship from the HRA supercomputer, but she had a very large amount of processing power. She was the culmination of over eigheen thousand years of AI research and development, constantly self-improving her programming with the latest breathroughs in AI design, often made by her fellow Artificial Intelligences.
She pulled back most of her consciousness from her cyberattacks on the Bismarck, leaving a few of her more malicious and vindictive subroutines in place aboard the enemy vessel to continue her depredations of their systems, returning her focus to the Hand she perused the terrabytes of data from the battle and from the Hand's sensors in less than an eyeblink, paying especial attention to what the sensors could glean from the projectiles heading their way at immense velocity.
She almost laughed at the Boarding Torpedoes... they honestly expected to break through her shields with a couple of EMP blasts? It was funny really, no one had tried that trick on her for thousands of years, not since the early days of the Second Great War. She searchd through memory files she'd not had reason to access in a long time and chose a suitable strategy. These HRA Boarding Torpedoes might not be a T'Eleth class Battleship or an Is'Tah class Battlecruiser like in the old glory days, but there were only so many ways these humans could try to penetrate her shields.
The dark energy lattices that made up the foundations of the shield shifted configuration in an eyeblink, to an old pattern she remembered had been useful against Gillorian EMP weaponry, before they'd phased out such methods in favour of more direct anti-shielding technology, like those missiles that partially phased out of existence to pass through shielding. As an extra precaution, just incase changing the energy structure of the shields didn't work, she erected the Emergency Plasma Shield around the Hand beneath the first layer of shields, setting that at a different resonance frequency again.
And then, just because no one had bothered to remove the vindictive spitefulness of a War-AI from her personality, she opened fire on the Boarding Torpedoes with all of the Point-Defense clusters she had in range of them that weren't needed in fending off those fighters. Directed energy beam weapon turrets blasted forth concentrated energy blasts and coilgun PD turrets shot small fist-sized lumps of incredibly dense ballstitic material travelling at near-relativistic velocities, opened fire on the HRA boarders.
Three more fighters and a bomber exploded into vapour during the opening barrage of the HRA fighters before they scattered in evasive maneouvres. The bombers, whilst slower than their fighter counterparts, had very heavy armour and shields, able to soak up quite a bit of damage before sucumbing, whilst their more nimble fighters allies could pull sharp turns and accelerated to crushing speeds, proected from the g-force strains only by the highly advanced artificial gravity technologies of the Terelains. In truth organic pilots were mostly obsolete back home, where AI fighters, or even clouds of fighter-drones controlled by a central AI on a carrier or station, were the norm.
These men and women were the ceremonial honour gaurd for the diplomatic ship, there to provide an impressive escort and a display of the skills and powers of the Star Kingdom. Nevertheless, just like the Marine Honour Guard, each and every one of them had been chosen based on their skills and experience in flying and fighting. Just because their duties were largely ceremonial that did not mean that they might not encounter situations such as the one they had found themselves in now. They were there to look good, but they were also there to defend that ship with their lives... and by the Moralinri and Aunidiel blood in their veins, they would die protecting that ship!
Elder Tynian was staring impassively at Robbins, but then he smiled slightly, "That is true... I don't know exactly what your kind is capable of, or how powerful your military is... but you do not know our own capabilities. The Gillorians ruled five thousand worlds, their population was in the hundreds of billions, their war-caft dedicated to conquest and utter destruction of their enemies. Our war lasted seven hundred years... and despite their power and their ferocity they were destroyed. Now, it will be the turn of the HRA to test themselves against us. Perhaps you will destroy us, perhaps we will destroy you. It matters little."
With their fight temporarily stopped, Captain Tolarim took his chance, he leveled his energy pistol at Robbins and loosed off every shot his weapon could put out before it overheated and automtically switched off to prevent it from exploding in his hand, the Marines closed in almost as soon as the first shot was in the air to retrieve their wounded Elders, no matter if Nathaniel was going to protest their interference or not.
(The Hand was built by the Ancient and Noble House Amaar, and because of this a lot of the crew are Aunidiel Terelains, the Bloodline which the Amaar hold authority over. There are also a lot of Aedrimar on the crew, because they're the most numerous Bloodline and they're good with engineering, and Moralinri, the Bloodline from which the majority of the soldiers are drawn, though there are soldiers from all Bloodlines. If the Hand blows up, then you'll have royally ticked off three of the Six Bloodlines of the Kingdom.)
"Sir, we need Braesk back. He's the best captain we got now that Ascrith's dying. We also have to save Robbins and his men. What do we do, sir?" The 1st Lieutenant was worried now. This was turning into something big. He didn't want to just blast the ship apart. No, that would be too bad. He wanted to capture them, and then blow the ship to hell.
"Fire off the lance batteries, I want one shot per boarding torpedo, got that? Concentrate them so they go through the shields," Lysander ordered, getting in the captains chair. Sure, he could try teleporting them. But if it didn't work, they'd just scrambled 10 Terminators to hell. But they would do it. "Get the teleporter ready. I want those coordinates locked on, and 10 Terminators beamed aboard,"
The lieutenant looked uneasy. Teleporting wasn't something one could do instantly. No, it took skill to lock on to a position in space, hold on to it even though it was on the move, and then send the payload. It was a technology still in the thought stage. But he did it anyways. 10 massive armored hulks of men walked into position, and waited. Lysander was among them. He'd get everyone ready.
Lysander had his hammer and a Combat shield, so he could be even more safe. The rest of the men had storm bolters, Flamers or assault cannons (miniguns firing 35mm bullets, like the storm bolters do), and a close combat weapon of choice. Which was, of course, the power fist. Very good weapon.
"NOW!" Lysander shouted, and the position was locked on. At the same time, 10 turrets fired massive laser cannons at the ship, intended to overwhelm the shields. The boarding torpedoes even increased their EMP Shield Interrupters, and prayed to god that they didn't die. All around them, rounds missed and missed, one or two hitting them, but not damaging them. It was hard to hit a target moving faster than a bullet.
****
The fighters moved about, taking evasive actions. And for good reason. Three of them burst into flames, and five more crashed from being hit. Bad, but not too bad. There was more. Much more. At that point in time, the Laser Cannon fired at the bay, aimed very carefully, and timed just right. The light was blinding, but it was like a sun to the men. A concentrated sun, filled with plasma and energy unbelievable.
The Death Korps men, now numbered in the single digits, ducked away, so they wouldn't get fried. They prayed, and hoped that they didn't die. They had tossed a few Mustard Gas HE Flash grenades into the mist of the enemy, knowing full well that they'd be killed by them. Well, not all of them. The rest might be fried by the Laser, which was much hotter and deadlier.
Robbins jumped to the side, grabbing his pistols again, and reloading them. He pointed one gun at the man who open fired on him, and the other at the Elder, and fired both in midair. He wanted everyone who opposed him dead. And he'd do that in anyway he could. But he was hit in his leg. Now he was desperate to survive. He thought about the Mustard Gas HE Flash Grenades he had. If it boiled down to that, he'd throw them.
((Good! A bigger challenge for me!))
"Fire off the lance batteries, I want one shot per boarding torpedo, got that? Concentrate them so they go through the shields," Lysander ordered, getting in the captains chair. Sure, he could try teleporting them. But if it didn't work, they'd just scrambled 10 Terminators to hell. But they would do it. "Get the teleporter ready. I want those coordinates locked on, and 10 Terminators beamed aboard,"
The lieutenant looked uneasy. Teleporting wasn't something one could do instantly. No, it took skill to lock on to a position in space, hold on to it even though it was on the move, and then send the payload. It was a technology still in the thought stage. But he did it anyways. 10 massive armored hulks of men walked into position, and waited. Lysander was among them. He'd get everyone ready.
Lysander had his hammer and a Combat shield, so he could be even more safe. The rest of the men had storm bolters, Flamers or assault cannons (miniguns firing 35mm bullets, like the storm bolters do), and a close combat weapon of choice. Which was, of course, the power fist. Very good weapon.
"NOW!" Lysander shouted, and the position was locked on. At the same time, 10 turrets fired massive laser cannons at the ship, intended to overwhelm the shields. The boarding torpedoes even increased their EMP Shield Interrupters, and prayed to god that they didn't die. All around them, rounds missed and missed, one or two hitting them, but not damaging them. It was hard to hit a target moving faster than a bullet.
****
The fighters moved about, taking evasive actions. And for good reason. Three of them burst into flames, and five more crashed from being hit. Bad, but not too bad. There was more. Much more. At that point in time, the Laser Cannon fired at the bay, aimed very carefully, and timed just right. The light was blinding, but it was like a sun to the men. A concentrated sun, filled with plasma and energy unbelievable.
The Death Korps men, now numbered in the single digits, ducked away, so they wouldn't get fried. They prayed, and hoped that they didn't die. They had tossed a few Mustard Gas HE Flash grenades into the mist of the enemy, knowing full well that they'd be killed by them. Well, not all of them. The rest might be fried by the Laser, which was much hotter and deadlier.
Robbins jumped to the side, grabbing his pistols again, and reloading them. He pointed one gun at the man who open fired on him, and the other at the Elder, and fired both in midair. He wanted everyone who opposed him dead. And he'd do that in anyway he could. But he was hit in his leg. Now he was desperate to survive. He thought about the Mustard Gas HE Flash Grenades he had. If it boiled down to that, he'd throw them.
((Good! A bigger challenge for me!))
"He has a gun!"
"The enemy is here!"
"Oh my god, they tricked us!"
"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"
The area where Braesk was, erupted into hysteria and panic. Officers and soldiers alike, snapped as they tried to reach for their weapons that were long since secured. Doctors, and medics, tried their best to restrain those that were more able bodied or sedate them, while they calmly soothe over those that were stuck where they area.
"Please calm down! Calm down!" yelled a medic, before turning to Braesk, and making sure to keep himself shielding one of the more irate patients. "This men and women are wounded, have you no mercy!?"
Boots clamored on the deck plate, a small team of marines, lead by a ship security officer arrived on the scene their weapons drawn.
"Captain Braesk, you will turn over your weapon and you will be escorted back to your shuttle for an immediate debrief," the officer said with little bravado, over the still hysterical patients. "We have been informed to give you to choices: Rot in our brig and be held solely accountable for the war crime in which was committed by the HRA Empire or leave this ship, and attend to immediate issues that require your attention, concerning a shooting match between the Bismarck and Hand of Terel.
"I'd personally just rather you disagree, so I can put a bullet in you," one of the grunts snarled.
The officer, shot him a look before returning his gaze back to Braesk.
Liala blinked into existence on one of the screens arms folded.
"You have already been given a 30 second head start on your decision Captain," she said dismissively, causing many eyes to widen in realization of what she meant. "Make your decision, or we will make it for you."
With that, the screen returned to normal, as she attended to other things, leaving Braesk with his choices.
* * *
Whiteness faded into darkness. Then darkness faded into sound? No, that wasn't right, he was hearing some sounds and couldn't tell if he was seeing light or not.
It took a moment, for Captain Alexi Nikoli, to realize that his eye were closed, and as usual he immediately opened them, only for the light to cause him to close them again for comfort.
"Every. Damn. Time. I don't know what it is about people, not slowly opening their eyes, so they won't burn out their retinas," Dr. Lucas Rodden quipped.
The Captain gave a small weary smile, before squinting his eyes, allowing for them to adjust. He could see Dr. Lucas Rodden, doing a quick wipe down of his tools, before sending them off to be properly cleaned and sterilized.
"Glad to be on the end your bedside manners once again Doctor," Nikoli said rasped.
"Pfft, with a patient like you, I have no choice," the Doctor said, as he threw his gloves into the tray. "You have a habit of blurring the lines between metaphorically and literally living -or dying- on the edge Nikoli."
Captain Nikoli gave a weak chuckle, "Would you want it in other way Lucas?"
"With you? Yes. I'm not going to be jumping for joy singing Rain Man, but I am glad to see you're still with us Captain," Doctor Lucas Rodden admitted. "However, I don't think I can mental handle this weird...game or yours."
"Its no game Doctor," the Captain said, resting his head on his pillow as he looked to the ceiling in thought. "I'm glad of your services nonetheless."
Doctor Lucas Rodden, placed a hand on the Captain shoulder.
"Well Captain as I said, I am truly glad to see you back. And don't take me the wrong way, as your doctor, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are able to enjoy the wonderful virtues and vices of life, but I have one request..."
"And what's that Doctor," Captain Nikoli said, with a brow raised.
"If you die...and I mean seriously die, to the point where nothing in my power is effective. Please...please do not come back to life. would probably have a heart attack, and properly curse what ever being decided it would be funny to make you something of a zombie," the Doctor said, as he gave the Captain a gentle pat.
Captain Nikoli laughed,"Who ever I meet on the other side, I'll be sure to send the message."
Dr. Rodden nodded, with a smile of his own, before picking up the tray.
"Get some rest Captain. An attendee will be here in a few to sort you out. If Liala is around, I'm sure she is, she can give you an update on what has happened thus far."
Captain Nikoli nodded, as Dr. Lucas Rodden headed for the room door. A thought suddenly struck the Captain and he shouted back for Rodden.
"Yes Captain?"
"What about..." Nikoli paused, already knowing the answer to his question. "What about Commander Cigol?"
The Doctor's face softened and sadden a bit; a dark shadow slowly coming to hang over him.
"I am sorry Captain. Hopefully, we can get his body shortly. Liala can fill you in."
With that Doctor Lucas Rodden, left leaving the Captain alone, in silence.
"Navigator Liala," Nikoli called out. "Give me an update. And I want to see the transmission of Commander Cigol's last moment."
Without question, the large display blinked on, and reports began to fill the screen. It split and the recorded video or Cigol and Ascrith's final moments played out. And Captain Alexi Nikoli watched onward in silence.
* * *
Terra, New Eden, Alpha Centauri System
There was knock on the door, but Commander Cornelius, head of the Coalition Alliance Intelligence Network Special Division already knew who it was. There was not a word spoken as he read over a report, and a minute later, the door opened to the admittance of one of his subordinates.
"Sir, we just got an alert, that one of our operatives initiated their termination protocols."
The Commander raised a brow, taking his eyes off the report and sat quietly eye on the officer. The officer frowned in confusion.
God I never can get use to this telepathic thing, the officer thought.
Which is why I do it and save my energy talking.
The mental statement startled the officer, who forgot that active thought filtering was nessecary in the presence of Commander Cornelius.
"As I was saying Sir, an operative activated their termination protocols. It was Commander Cigol Nikephoros who did so."
The Commander leaned back in his chair and his shoulder slumped. Commander Cigol Nikephoros, who had actually a few years ago disavowed his connection with C.A.I.N after the fiasco of humanity withdrawing from the Coalition, ironically was still one of their best "unofficial" operatives. To lose him at such a crucial time, was...a pity.
Commander Cornelius' gaze returned back to the officer.
"Yes, we just received it, along with a sizable information dump concerning most of his files. Some of them have been scrubbed or erased to uselessness, obviously he was aware what would happen at his death. However, the backup bugs went undetected and managed to grasp a few bits and pieces here. One of which I think you'll find interesting."
The officer, took out a datapad and linked it to the Commander's display. Data began rolling onto the screens, and the officer was right, it was interesting.
"No, I don't think it'll be posing too much of a problem with our research with the Ursan nanites," the officer responded to the Commander's telepathic question. "There are only a few beings, including yourself, that we are aware of with sizable display of psychokinetic ability. After former President G'Char disappeared, our research in that was cut short. Point is, we don't believe they'll face any level of interference, but we'll get teams on it."
Commander Cornelius continued to read on, until there was another spot of interest.
"It says here, they came into possession of another set of alien nanites," the Commander said aloud.
"We can't confirm that Sir."
"Confirm it. Information Seizure Protocol under the directive of Interstellar Security," the Commander ordered.
The officer nodded and left the room,as Commander Cornelius continued to skim through the final reports of Commander Cigol.
"The enemy is here!"
"Oh my god, they tricked us!"
"KILL HIM! KILL HIM!"
The area where Braesk was, erupted into hysteria and panic. Officers and soldiers alike, snapped as they tried to reach for their weapons that were long since secured. Doctors, and medics, tried their best to restrain those that were more able bodied or sedate them, while they calmly soothe over those that were stuck where they area.
"Please calm down! Calm down!" yelled a medic, before turning to Braesk, and making sure to keep himself shielding one of the more irate patients. "This men and women are wounded, have you no mercy!?"
Boots clamored on the deck plate, a small team of marines, lead by a ship security officer arrived on the scene their weapons drawn.
"Captain Braesk, you will turn over your weapon and you will be escorted back to your shuttle for an immediate debrief," the officer said with little bravado, over the still hysterical patients. "We have been informed to give you to choices: Rot in our brig and be held solely accountable for the war crime in which was committed by the HRA Empire or leave this ship, and attend to immediate issues that require your attention, concerning a shooting match between the Bismarck and Hand of Terel.
"I'd personally just rather you disagree, so I can put a bullet in you," one of the grunts snarled.
The officer, shot him a look before returning his gaze back to Braesk.
Liala blinked into existence on one of the screens arms folded.
"You have already been given a 30 second head start on your decision Captain," she said dismissively, causing many eyes to widen in realization of what she meant. "Make your decision, or we will make it for you."
With that, the screen returned to normal, as she attended to other things, leaving Braesk with his choices.
* * *
Whiteness faded into darkness. Then darkness faded into sound? No, that wasn't right, he was hearing some sounds and couldn't tell if he was seeing light or not.
It took a moment, for Captain Alexi Nikoli, to realize that his eye were closed, and as usual he immediately opened them, only for the light to cause him to close them again for comfort.
"Every. Damn. Time. I don't know what it is about people, not slowly opening their eyes, so they won't burn out their retinas," Dr. Lucas Rodden quipped.
The Captain gave a small weary smile, before squinting his eyes, allowing for them to adjust. He could see Dr. Lucas Rodden, doing a quick wipe down of his tools, before sending them off to be properly cleaned and sterilized.
"Glad to be on the end your bedside manners once again Doctor," Nikoli said rasped.
"Pfft, with a patient like you, I have no choice," the Doctor said, as he threw his gloves into the tray. "You have a habit of blurring the lines between metaphorically and literally living -or dying- on the edge Nikoli."
Captain Nikoli gave a weak chuckle, "Would you want it in other way Lucas?"
"With you? Yes. I'm not going to be jumping for joy singing Rain Man, but I am glad to see you're still with us Captain," Doctor Lucas Rodden admitted. "However, I don't think I can mental handle this weird...game or yours."
"Its no game Doctor," the Captain said, resting his head on his pillow as he looked to the ceiling in thought. "I'm glad of your services nonetheless."
Doctor Lucas Rodden, placed a hand on the Captain shoulder.
"Well Captain as I said, I am truly glad to see you back. And don't take me the wrong way, as your doctor, I will do everything in my power to ensure you are able to enjoy the wonderful virtues and vices of life, but I have one request..."
"And what's that Doctor," Captain Nikoli said, with a brow raised.
"If you die...and I mean seriously die, to the point where nothing in my power is effective. Please...please do not come back to life. would probably have a heart attack, and properly curse what ever being decided it would be funny to make you something of a zombie," the Doctor said, as he gave the Captain a gentle pat.
Captain Nikoli laughed,"Who ever I meet on the other side, I'll be sure to send the message."
Dr. Rodden nodded, with a smile of his own, before picking up the tray.
"Get some rest Captain. An attendee will be here in a few to sort you out. If Liala is around, I'm sure she is, she can give you an update on what has happened thus far."
Captain Nikoli nodded, as Dr. Lucas Rodden headed for the room door. A thought suddenly struck the Captain and he shouted back for Rodden.
"Yes Captain?"
"What about..." Nikoli paused, already knowing the answer to his question. "What about Commander Cigol?"
The Doctor's face softened and sadden a bit; a dark shadow slowly coming to hang over him.
"I am sorry Captain. Hopefully, we can get his body shortly. Liala can fill you in."
With that Doctor Lucas Rodden, left leaving the Captain alone, in silence.
"Navigator Liala," Nikoli called out. "Give me an update. And I want to see the transmission of Commander Cigol's last moment."
Without question, the large display blinked on, and reports began to fill the screen. It split and the recorded video or Cigol and Ascrith's final moments played out. And Captain Alexi Nikoli watched onward in silence.
* * *
Terra, New Eden, Alpha Centauri System
There was knock on the door, but Commander Cornelius, head of the Coalition Alliance Intelligence Network Special Division already knew who it was. There was not a word spoken as he read over a report, and a minute later, the door opened to the admittance of one of his subordinates.
"Sir, we just got an alert, that one of our operatives initiated their termination protocols."
The Commander raised a brow, taking his eyes off the report and sat quietly eye on the officer. The officer frowned in confusion.
God I never can get use to this telepathic thing, the officer thought.
Which is why I do it and save my energy talking.
The mental statement startled the officer, who forgot that active thought filtering was nessecary in the presence of Commander Cornelius.
"As I was saying Sir, an operative activated their termination protocols. It was Commander Cigol Nikephoros who did so."
The Commander leaned back in his chair and his shoulder slumped. Commander Cigol Nikephoros, who had actually a few years ago disavowed his connection with C.A.I.N after the fiasco of humanity withdrawing from the Coalition, ironically was still one of their best "unofficial" operatives. To lose him at such a crucial time, was...a pity.
Commander Cornelius' gaze returned back to the officer.
"Yes, we just received it, along with a sizable information dump concerning most of his files. Some of them have been scrubbed or erased to uselessness, obviously he was aware what would happen at his death. However, the backup bugs went undetected and managed to grasp a few bits and pieces here. One of which I think you'll find interesting."
The officer, took out a datapad and linked it to the Commander's display. Data began rolling onto the screens, and the officer was right, it was interesting.
"No, I don't think it'll be posing too much of a problem with our research with the Ursan nanites," the officer responded to the Commander's telepathic question. "There are only a few beings, including yourself, that we are aware of with sizable display of psychokinetic ability. After former President G'Char disappeared, our research in that was cut short. Point is, we don't believe they'll face any level of interference, but we'll get teams on it."
Commander Cornelius continued to read on, until there was another spot of interest.
"It says here, they came into possession of another set of alien nanites," the Commander said aloud.
"We can't confirm that Sir."
"Confirm it. Information Seizure Protocol under the directive of Interstellar Security," the Commander ordered.
The officer nodded and left the room,as Commander Cornelius continued to skim through the final reports of Commander Cigol.
Captain Tolarim didn't move as the bullets impacted the shields around the workstation he and the Elder had taken cover behind, his own energy bolts passing through the shields only because they were modulated to the exact same resonance as the shields, which changed at random intervals. The changes were communicated to the energy pistols through tiny computers. Tolarim tossed his gun aside, as it would be useless until it cooled down and pulled out a knife of his own, it too was elegantly curved looking almost like a hunting knife. Tolarim charged at Robbins in the same instant that the rest of the Terelain Marines charged him with their ceremonial spears, claws and guns.
Elder Tynian tried to move out of the way as soon as he saw Robbins go for his guns, but he was too slow and the bullet caught him the side as tried to dodge out of the way. He lay on the floor, panting, blood oozing from the wounds on his chest and sides. His injuries were finally beginning to tell and if nothing else he might very well bleed out, even with the medical nanites in his blood trying to close the wounds.
In the hangar bay things were going badly for everyone involved. The laser had fried many of the Terelain defenders who, taken by surprise, hadn't been able to find cover quickly enough and many of those that did were killed by the mustard gas grenades. The bulkheads at the rear of the hangar bay sealed as the automated systems detected the enemy weaponsfire and the poison gas, trapping the remaining Terelain defenders with their enemies and the gas.
"C-captain... this... the hangar bay... they've gased us sir, we're... we're going to take them out. Ilaris judge us well. Teklem Eshet." The ranking survivor reported, flicking on his comm.
With defiant cries of anger and pain the remaining Terelains charged the Death Korps men. They no longer cared about living. They would not allow these humans to defile a single inch more of the ship. They would die to prevent them from taking the Hand.
Aelya watched the carnage in the hangar bay with an almost clinical detachment. Horror, grief and anger were emotions for another day. By the Three Sisters these HRA humans would pay for their attack on an innocent diplomatic vessel. Aelya would make sure of it. She had protocols in place in the eventuality that this ship fell into enemy hands... she would do her duty to her people.
The Hand of Terel would not fall into enemy hands. She would not allow the Elders to be taken as hostages or be killed by Flicker-life aliens. She would not allow it.
Aelya poured almost all of her intellect upon the problem of maintaining the shields against the HRA attacks. The Hand was equipped with a Mark IV Adaptive Shield Matrix. This meant that the shields automatically attempted to adapt their configuration and frequency to provide the optimal defense against enemy weapons. The areas where enemy weaponsfire impacted the shields were strengthened in relation to other parts of the shield and the underlying matrix of energis changed to better withstand the particular weapon being used.
Nevertheless, the Hand was not a warship and it did not have the energy resources to withstand so much punishment... not unless she rerouted power from other systems. Aelya had been constantly deactivating nonessential systems and channelling the energy to the shields to try and buy more time. Eventually she had begun shutting down life support systems in non-occupied rooms and corridors, informing the crew of these danger areas. By the time she was done the only places on the ship still habitable and with power was the bridge, the hangar, the crew quarters, the medical bay and engineering.
And yet the enemy still kept up their attacks. Aelya managed to fend off most of the Boarding Torpedoes allowing them to impact the shields, attempting to configure the shields in such a way as to absorb the momentum of the enemy craft and use the small amounts of energy it gave to add even a fraction of a fraction of a percent more power to other areas.
Her desperate tricks did not work in all cases, however, the ten Terminators managed to beam aboard unmolested by the shielding as it began to fail in places, allowing a few of the boarding Torpedoes to reach the weakened plasma shielding beneath the first layer of shields which their EMP weapons would be able to penetrate.
On the bridge a warning klaxon sunded to warn the crew that enemy boarders had penetrated their defences, the comms officer's hands were dancing over her holographic display. She'd spent almost all of their time in this region of space co-ordinating with the sensor officer to try and pinpoint their location so they could get a signal off... and finally the hard work paid off.
"This is the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel to any and all Terelain assets within communications range. We have come under attack by hostile forces of the HRA Empire, the Revered Elders Tynian and Amaar are aboard tihs ship and are wounded, defensive measure are failing. We are being boarded. I repeat, this is the Hand of Terel, we are being boarded by HRA hostiles. We are preparing for... for initiation of Gilau Protocol. If no further communications are recieved from this vessel assume successful initiation of Gilau Protocol." The comms officer paused and then said, "May the Younger Gods have mercy... we are at war. Teklem Eshet."
"Ten enemy contacts. Heavily armed and armoured detected. Assumed strategy: direct attack on the bridge, extract and retreival of hostile commander. Recommended course of action: destroy hostile commander and eliminate hostiles." Aelya said calmly, "I will initiate Gilau Protocol if the situation becomes irretrievable. Teklem Eshet... it was an honour."
[Teklem Eshet means 'until Eternity', it's a ritual phrase often spoken by soldiers preparing to die, or men preparing to send men to die.]
Elder Tynian tried to move out of the way as soon as he saw Robbins go for his guns, but he was too slow and the bullet caught him the side as tried to dodge out of the way. He lay on the floor, panting, blood oozing from the wounds on his chest and sides. His injuries were finally beginning to tell and if nothing else he might very well bleed out, even with the medical nanites in his blood trying to close the wounds.
In the hangar bay things were going badly for everyone involved. The laser had fried many of the Terelain defenders who, taken by surprise, hadn't been able to find cover quickly enough and many of those that did were killed by the mustard gas grenades. The bulkheads at the rear of the hangar bay sealed as the automated systems detected the enemy weaponsfire and the poison gas, trapping the remaining Terelain defenders with their enemies and the gas.
"C-captain... this... the hangar bay... they've gased us sir, we're... we're going to take them out. Ilaris judge us well. Teklem Eshet." The ranking survivor reported, flicking on his comm.
With defiant cries of anger and pain the remaining Terelains charged the Death Korps men. They no longer cared about living. They would not allow these humans to defile a single inch more of the ship. They would die to prevent them from taking the Hand.
Aelya watched the carnage in the hangar bay with an almost clinical detachment. Horror, grief and anger were emotions for another day. By the Three Sisters these HRA humans would pay for their attack on an innocent diplomatic vessel. Aelya would make sure of it. She had protocols in place in the eventuality that this ship fell into enemy hands... she would do her duty to her people.
The Hand of Terel would not fall into enemy hands. She would not allow the Elders to be taken as hostages or be killed by Flicker-life aliens. She would not allow it.
Aelya poured almost all of her intellect upon the problem of maintaining the shields against the HRA attacks. The Hand was equipped with a Mark IV Adaptive Shield Matrix. This meant that the shields automatically attempted to adapt their configuration and frequency to provide the optimal defense against enemy weapons. The areas where enemy weaponsfire impacted the shields were strengthened in relation to other parts of the shield and the underlying matrix of energis changed to better withstand the particular weapon being used.
Nevertheless, the Hand was not a warship and it did not have the energy resources to withstand so much punishment... not unless she rerouted power from other systems. Aelya had been constantly deactivating nonessential systems and channelling the energy to the shields to try and buy more time. Eventually she had begun shutting down life support systems in non-occupied rooms and corridors, informing the crew of these danger areas. By the time she was done the only places on the ship still habitable and with power was the bridge, the hangar, the crew quarters, the medical bay and engineering.
And yet the enemy still kept up their attacks. Aelya managed to fend off most of the Boarding Torpedoes allowing them to impact the shields, attempting to configure the shields in such a way as to absorb the momentum of the enemy craft and use the small amounts of energy it gave to add even a fraction of a fraction of a percent more power to other areas.
Her desperate tricks did not work in all cases, however, the ten Terminators managed to beam aboard unmolested by the shielding as it began to fail in places, allowing a few of the boarding Torpedoes to reach the weakened plasma shielding beneath the first layer of shields which their EMP weapons would be able to penetrate.
On the bridge a warning klaxon sunded to warn the crew that enemy boarders had penetrated their defences, the comms officer's hands were dancing over her holographic display. She'd spent almost all of their time in this region of space co-ordinating with the sensor officer to try and pinpoint their location so they could get a signal off... and finally the hard work paid off.
"This is the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel to any and all Terelain assets within communications range. We have come under attack by hostile forces of the HRA Empire, the Revered Elders Tynian and Amaar are aboard tihs ship and are wounded, defensive measure are failing. We are being boarded. I repeat, this is the Hand of Terel, we are being boarded by HRA hostiles. We are preparing for... for initiation of Gilau Protocol. If no further communications are recieved from this vessel assume successful initiation of Gilau Protocol." The comms officer paused and then said, "May the Younger Gods have mercy... we are at war. Teklem Eshet."
"Ten enemy contacts. Heavily armed and armoured detected. Assumed strategy: direct attack on the bridge, extract and retreival of hostile commander. Recommended course of action: destroy hostile commander and eliminate hostiles." Aelya said calmly, "I will initiate Gilau Protocol if the situation becomes irretrievable. Teklem Eshet... it was an honour."
[Teklem Eshet means 'until Eternity', it's a ritual phrase often spoken by soldiers preparing to die, or men preparing to send men to die.]
Braesk looked up at the officer. Boy, this man had lots of guts. To approach a suicidal man to take the weapon away? Well, not that he was going to hurt anyone besides himself, but still. It was a good choice on his behalf. Braesk handed the weapon to him, and held out his arms. He knew what he had to do. He was going to take charge of what he did, because that would be the first, but not the last.
"I hereby give myself up to be judged by a man of good standing in your nation. For if I can't take my own life, I hope you can," Braesk said, dropping the gun, and looking a little guilty. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
****
Ascrith stared at the ceiling, and touched his wrist. That was the communications tab that he used. It beeped once, signaling the use of it. Now he could talk, and the captain could hear him. Hell, the whole other ship could possibly hear him. He looked over, there was Cigol. And he wasn't leaving his body on this ship, no sir, he was giving it back to the others.
"Nikoli... I... I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I have to say this. Captain, I give... I give myself up to your ship, and confess to my war crimes," Ascrith said, trying to get up. He was in so much pain, but he finally did it, walking. It hurt with every step. But he was going to do what he promised himself. He picked up Cigol, and began walking back over to the man's shuttle. "But... I'm not leaving him... here... Captain, if this is my last act, so be it, but you will get your Commander,"
And Ascrith got to the shuttle, opening the door, and laying the body inside. He thought he had the autopilot button in sight, and pressed it, closing the door. The shuttle began to move now, and Ascrith fell to the ground, wheezing.
****
Robbins put on his gas mask, and tossed two canisters. They hit the ground with a bounce, and exploded. First the flash, stunning those nearby, then the gas, filling the air. That's when the explosive hit. A small blast erupted inside, spreading the gas out more, and destroying the first few shields around it.
Jacob continued firing his gun, though, pausing once again to reload. This was turning into a bloody affair.
The Death Korps men got up, and fired into the charging crowd. A single flame thrower, spewing fire hotter than plasma, tried to incinerate the first few that were closer to him. Meanwhile, automatic shotguns pelted the enemy, but still they got through. That's when the savagery came to play. A sword was swung, trying to decapitate the nearest man. Bayonets stuck each other, and the butts of rifles smashed in heads. Blood covered the ground.
The torpedoes that got through hit the empty spots, and burst open. 10 Marines each walked out, looking around. No lights, but they could still see. Flashlights from their helmets, and guns, and their night vision helped them look around. There was no air, but their helmets let them breathe. It was their type of fight.
They got to the crew quarters, looking at the door. How lovely it looked, metal, strong. But not enough for this. The Sergeant placed a meltabomb on the door, and everyone walked away. They bomb exploded, shattering the door apart, and melting pieces of metal. The air began to rush out. This would be interesting.
Then they walked in, and began firing. 21mm bullets shot out of the massive bolters, aimed for the enemy. Grenades were tossed, and a flamethrower, spewing fire hotter than anything else man made, torched the insides. It was carnage.
The Terminators began their movement, walking towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer, slowly making their way. Then they met up with another boarding party of ten marines. Lysander got an idea.
"Find the main computer, and destroy it. I don't want them to destroy the ship,"
"I hereby give myself up to be judged by a man of good standing in your nation. For if I can't take my own life, I hope you can," Braesk said, dropping the gun, and looking a little guilty. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.
****
Ascrith stared at the ceiling, and touched his wrist. That was the communications tab that he used. It beeped once, signaling the use of it. Now he could talk, and the captain could hear him. Hell, the whole other ship could possibly hear him. He looked over, there was Cigol. And he wasn't leaving his body on this ship, no sir, he was giving it back to the others.
"Nikoli... I... I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I have to say this. Captain, I give... I give myself up to your ship, and confess to my war crimes," Ascrith said, trying to get up. He was in so much pain, but he finally did it, walking. It hurt with every step. But he was going to do what he promised himself. He picked up Cigol, and began walking back over to the man's shuttle. "But... I'm not leaving him... here... Captain, if this is my last act, so be it, but you will get your Commander,"
And Ascrith got to the shuttle, opening the door, and laying the body inside. He thought he had the autopilot button in sight, and pressed it, closing the door. The shuttle began to move now, and Ascrith fell to the ground, wheezing.
****
Robbins put on his gas mask, and tossed two canisters. They hit the ground with a bounce, and exploded. First the flash, stunning those nearby, then the gas, filling the air. That's when the explosive hit. A small blast erupted inside, spreading the gas out more, and destroying the first few shields around it.
Jacob continued firing his gun, though, pausing once again to reload. This was turning into a bloody affair.
The Death Korps men got up, and fired into the charging crowd. A single flame thrower, spewing fire hotter than plasma, tried to incinerate the first few that were closer to him. Meanwhile, automatic shotguns pelted the enemy, but still they got through. That's when the savagery came to play. A sword was swung, trying to decapitate the nearest man. Bayonets stuck each other, and the butts of rifles smashed in heads. Blood covered the ground.
The torpedoes that got through hit the empty spots, and burst open. 10 Marines each walked out, looking around. No lights, but they could still see. Flashlights from their helmets, and guns, and their night vision helped them look around. There was no air, but their helmets let them breathe. It was their type of fight.
They got to the crew quarters, looking at the door. How lovely it looked, metal, strong. But not enough for this. The Sergeant placed a meltabomb on the door, and everyone walked away. They bomb exploded, shattering the door apart, and melting pieces of metal. The air began to rush out. This would be interesting.
Then they walked in, and began firing. 21mm bullets shot out of the massive bolters, aimed for the enemy. Grenades were tossed, and a flamethrower, spewing fire hotter than anything else man made, torched the insides. It was carnage.
The Terminators began their movement, walking towards the bridge. They were getting closer and closer, slowly making their way. Then they met up with another boarding party of ten marines. Lysander got an idea.
"Find the main computer, and destroy it. I don't want them to destroy the ship,"
The carnage aboard the diplomatic vessel was terrible. The vast majority of the crew were unarmed noncombatants, but when they realised that these humans would not even spare civilians they launched themselves at the marines, knowing that they would die but determined not to go before Ilaris and their Ancestors without some show of defiance, of the ferocity of their most ancient ancestors.
Claws and teeth glanced off harmlessly against body armour, punches, kicks and other blows using the Peace Forms of the Tae Kil Raan martial art were similarly ineffective... but still the Terelains foughts tooth and claw against the enemy soldiers.
As soon as the marines began blowing open the sealed chambers, Aelya began re-activating the life support systems in the ship. Rerouting power to the shields was pointless now. Pressure and gravity returned to the corridors and rooms of the ship and air began to flow freely again.
Soon, when the hopelessness of their situation became all too apparent as they were gunned down, the Terelains began to sing. In accordance with their most ancient religious traditions, older even than their modern civilisation, whenever a Terelin died elegiac songs were to be sung from the moment of death until the body was buried or burned on a funeral pyre. When they realised that soon there would be no one to sing their elegies, the Terelain crew sang their own - for their fellows and for themselves.
In the hangar bay the Terelain Marines were falling and dying, hurling themselves at their enemies without regards for bullets or fires. If this was the end for them, so be it. They would not travel the Twilit Paths to the afterlife without giving a full accounting of themselves in thier final moments. Each man and woman used their swords, spears, guns, hands, feet, claws and teeth to their fullest effect, they used every trick and tactic they had remaining to them, determined to take as many of their enemies to go before their own human gods as possible.
Aelya noticed the HRA commander's order to destroy her. It wasn't hard to figure out what these humans would do to stop her initiating Gilau Protocol. A grim virtual smile would have appeared on her lips if she'd materialised her avatar hologram. This was not the first time she'd faced enemy boarders seeking to destroy her... her ship was boarded, her crew was dying, her last contingencies in place...
"Alright boys, if you want to dance... let's dance." Aelya said, hacking their communications channel, "But be warned... I'm a very good dancer."
First she tried the standard procedures; sealing bulkheads, overloading consoles and rupturing conduits near enemy soldiers to try and injure or kill them, she tried hacking into their suit systems to use their own weapons against them, she threw every single trick and devious strategy she'd learned over sixteen thousand years of war and tudying war and watching the wars of others.
She backed up her systems sending copies of her program to back-up servers distrubuted throughout the ship, she even sent a copy of heself along with the cycling message from the communications array, so that hopefully she would survive this battle even if she lost the Hand and then, just to be cheeky and stick a virtual middle finger up to her enemies, she tried to copy her program to the enemy's own main computer, knowing it probably wouldn't work but it at least showed how contemptible she found these humans.
Her last gamble was to initiate the Gilau Protocol immediately, hoping to complete it before they could find and destroy her... in the miraculous scenario where they actually managed to survive this, then she could just deactivate it.
"Gilau Protocol active. All hands... well, it was nice knowing you." Aelya said over the ship's internal comms, she then activated the ship-to-ship communications, "All ships, this is the War-AI Aelya, presently in control of the Hand of Terel. There's fighing going on in the bridge and hangar, the HRA are slaughtering unarmed civilian crewmembers and now they're coming for me. I know we stuck our noses in your business, but we saw it as our duty to prevent a war... to prevent more death and destruction. Instead, the HRA have attacked us... even though we tried to help their wounded. I don't know what you lot think of us, and I don't particularly care any more. I just want you lot to remember what's about to happen next... we are Terelains. We are the Last Elder Race of Aerin. We fight to the last and though we love peace we always prepare for war. We did not wish it to come to this... we did not start this war... but by the gods we will see it end, even if it means our very destruction. Teklem Eshet. Until Eternity."
The Hand turned, aiming directly at the Bismarck, it began accelerating, re-activating its shields, pouring the last vestiges of its power into the shields and engines. This was the way the Terelains made war. If they were going to be destroyed then they would take the other side with them if they could. Better that they die ensuring their enemies are destroyed than to allow their enemies to continue with their war-like ways and threaten the peace and stability of other nations and species.
The slaughter on the bridge was similarly terrible to the fighting elsewhere in the ship. Those Terelains unprotected by shields, or whose shields overloaded thanks to proximity to the explosions began choking on the poison gas, or were hurled to the ground, wounded, flesh and fur smoking from burns.
Elder Tynian was still alive, wounded and bleeding but saved from the gas by the shield of the workstation he'd crawled to, his wife was also still alive, unconscious under the workstation that Tolarim had left her at, hidden by the consoles and holograms.
The captain himself had managed to survive the gas, at least long enough to reach Robbins. He'd lost his knife, so all he had to defend himself were his natural claws and fangs. Some of the marines were also closing in, one or two fell choking as Robbins' bullets overloaded their shields and the gases slowly killed them, but the others carried on regardless of the fates of their fellows. The only thought on any of their minds was to kill this man. To rip this human to pieces for his terrible crimes
Some of the bridge crew were dead. The tactical officer, commander Kahr, was down, his chest fur still smoking from the explosion on his console when his shield had overloaded. The sensor officer was choking on the gases, on his knees, his shields having failed.
The communications officer was still alive, she touched some holographic symbols, setting her earlier message to continously transmit on repeat before she took out her own pistol and began taking potshots at Robbins, though it was obvious from the wide misses that she probably hadn't handled the weapon since her officer training who knows how many years ago.
Nathaniel Tynian propped himself up against the console, watching the carnage unfold around him, his mouth twisted into bitter smirk, "I always knew I'd die in battle... I've always been a warrior at heart..." He shook his head, "I have lived long, and I have done all I can to honour my Ancestors and my people.. Ilaris... judge me kindly for my sins... Tia'Ren admit me into the Celestial City, for I am weary of this mortal world... and... Ancestors... Father... forgive me for failing to defend these people." With that speech to himself, to his gods and his ancestors finished, Elder Nathaniel Tynian, The Exile Returned, Founder of the Third Kingdom, Father of the Exalted Ones, got onto his knees, took the knife he had dropped into his hands and held it before him... and waited for his death.
Claws and teeth glanced off harmlessly against body armour, punches, kicks and other blows using the Peace Forms of the Tae Kil Raan martial art were similarly ineffective... but still the Terelains foughts tooth and claw against the enemy soldiers.
As soon as the marines began blowing open the sealed chambers, Aelya began re-activating the life support systems in the ship. Rerouting power to the shields was pointless now. Pressure and gravity returned to the corridors and rooms of the ship and air began to flow freely again.
Soon, when the hopelessness of their situation became all too apparent as they were gunned down, the Terelains began to sing. In accordance with their most ancient religious traditions, older even than their modern civilisation, whenever a Terelin died elegiac songs were to be sung from the moment of death until the body was buried or burned on a funeral pyre. When they realised that soon there would be no one to sing their elegies, the Terelain crew sang their own - for their fellows and for themselves.
In the hangar bay the Terelain Marines were falling and dying, hurling themselves at their enemies without regards for bullets or fires. If this was the end for them, so be it. They would not travel the Twilit Paths to the afterlife without giving a full accounting of themselves in thier final moments. Each man and woman used their swords, spears, guns, hands, feet, claws and teeth to their fullest effect, they used every trick and tactic they had remaining to them, determined to take as many of their enemies to go before their own human gods as possible.
Aelya noticed the HRA commander's order to destroy her. It wasn't hard to figure out what these humans would do to stop her initiating Gilau Protocol. A grim virtual smile would have appeared on her lips if she'd materialised her avatar hologram. This was not the first time she'd faced enemy boarders seeking to destroy her... her ship was boarded, her crew was dying, her last contingencies in place...
"Alright boys, if you want to dance... let's dance." Aelya said, hacking their communications channel, "But be warned... I'm a very good dancer."
First she tried the standard procedures; sealing bulkheads, overloading consoles and rupturing conduits near enemy soldiers to try and injure or kill them, she tried hacking into their suit systems to use their own weapons against them, she threw every single trick and devious strategy she'd learned over sixteen thousand years of war and tudying war and watching the wars of others.
She backed up her systems sending copies of her program to back-up servers distrubuted throughout the ship, she even sent a copy of heself along with the cycling message from the communications array, so that hopefully she would survive this battle even if she lost the Hand and then, just to be cheeky and stick a virtual middle finger up to her enemies, she tried to copy her program to the enemy's own main computer, knowing it probably wouldn't work but it at least showed how contemptible she found these humans.
Her last gamble was to initiate the Gilau Protocol immediately, hoping to complete it before they could find and destroy her... in the miraculous scenario where they actually managed to survive this, then she could just deactivate it.
"Gilau Protocol active. All hands... well, it was nice knowing you." Aelya said over the ship's internal comms, she then activated the ship-to-ship communications, "All ships, this is the War-AI Aelya, presently in control of the Hand of Terel. There's fighing going on in the bridge and hangar, the HRA are slaughtering unarmed civilian crewmembers and now they're coming for me. I know we stuck our noses in your business, but we saw it as our duty to prevent a war... to prevent more death and destruction. Instead, the HRA have attacked us... even though we tried to help their wounded. I don't know what you lot think of us, and I don't particularly care any more. I just want you lot to remember what's about to happen next... we are Terelains. We are the Last Elder Race of Aerin. We fight to the last and though we love peace we always prepare for war. We did not wish it to come to this... we did not start this war... but by the gods we will see it end, even if it means our very destruction. Teklem Eshet. Until Eternity."
The Hand turned, aiming directly at the Bismarck, it began accelerating, re-activating its shields, pouring the last vestiges of its power into the shields and engines. This was the way the Terelains made war. If they were going to be destroyed then they would take the other side with them if they could. Better that they die ensuring their enemies are destroyed than to allow their enemies to continue with their war-like ways and threaten the peace and stability of other nations and species.
The slaughter on the bridge was similarly terrible to the fighting elsewhere in the ship. Those Terelains unprotected by shields, or whose shields overloaded thanks to proximity to the explosions began choking on the poison gas, or were hurled to the ground, wounded, flesh and fur smoking from burns.
Elder Tynian was still alive, wounded and bleeding but saved from the gas by the shield of the workstation he'd crawled to, his wife was also still alive, unconscious under the workstation that Tolarim had left her at, hidden by the consoles and holograms.
The captain himself had managed to survive the gas, at least long enough to reach Robbins. He'd lost his knife, so all he had to defend himself were his natural claws and fangs. Some of the marines were also closing in, one or two fell choking as Robbins' bullets overloaded their shields and the gases slowly killed them, but the others carried on regardless of the fates of their fellows. The only thought on any of their minds was to kill this man. To rip this human to pieces for his terrible crimes
Some of the bridge crew were dead. The tactical officer, commander Kahr, was down, his chest fur still smoking from the explosion on his console when his shield had overloaded. The sensor officer was choking on the gases, on his knees, his shields having failed.
The communications officer was still alive, she touched some holographic symbols, setting her earlier message to continously transmit on repeat before she took out her own pistol and began taking potshots at Robbins, though it was obvious from the wide misses that she probably hadn't handled the weapon since her officer training who knows how many years ago.
Nathaniel Tynian propped himself up against the console, watching the carnage unfold around him, his mouth twisted into bitter smirk, "I always knew I'd die in battle... I've always been a warrior at heart..." He shook his head, "I have lived long, and I have done all I can to honour my Ancestors and my people.. Ilaris... judge me kindly for my sins... Tia'Ren admit me into the Celestial City, for I am weary of this mortal world... and... Ancestors... Father... forgive me for failing to defend these people." With that speech to himself, to his gods and his ancestors finished, Elder Nathaniel Tynian, The Exile Returned, Founder of the Third Kingdom, Father of the Exalted Ones, got onto his knees, took the knife he had dropped into his hands and held it before him... and waited for his death.
"I hereby give myself up to be judged by a man of good standing in your nation. For if I can't take my own life, I hope you can."
The security officer, looked off to one side and nodded at the marines. Two moved in, while the other pair kept their weapons ready. The one that stated his honesty, snatched the pistol out of his hand and yanked his arms behind his bank, to be cuffed.
"You're lucky bitch," the marine whispered in his ear.
With that they lead Captain Braesk to the ship's brig, with he officer following after.
Liala blinked into existence on one of the screens, "Detour boys. Take him to see the Captain, he wants to talk."
The obvious faces of disgust and annoyance filled the marines' faces, but the officer simply nodded.
"Yes ma'am."
* * *
"Lieutenant, we're getting an open message from Field Marshall Taranis," Ty reported.
"Nikoli... I... I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I have to say this. Captain, I give... I give myself up to your ship, and confess to my war crimes. But... I'm not leaving him... here... Captain, if this is my last act, so be it, but you will get your Commander."
"Briten, are we picking up that shuttle?" Lt. Naiti inquired.
"Yes, but...it's on autopilot...in the middle of a shooting match. Need I say more?" Briten responded.
"Don't worry, I'm on it," Liala stated, as he she reached out into the cyberware, her grasp aiming for the shuttle. "Got it. Taking manual control. Also, might want to get some medics to the Flight deck."
* * *
Captain Nikoli sat in his bed, and the door opened to the admittance of Catain Braesk and his marine escort.
"Outside gentlemen. He sure as hell won't kill me, if he can't kill himself," the Captain said, and his escorts complied.
"Captain Braesk, I here you are surrendering yourself to our custody. Good job. We'll be transporting you directly to Terra for a trial and probably interrogation," Nikoli said, as his eyes stayed on the wall display. "However, before I throw you away in the brig, you will do something for me."
Nikoli manipulated the display controls and showed Breask the battle that was waging outside.
"I've just been informed that Ascrith is incapable of command, and you seem to be the next in line of seniority. Get the Bismarck to surrender, and withdraw. I will not board the ship. I will not take it in tow. I have little time and patience, and that usually entails that the ship be scuttled, but that's neither here nor there. Enough lives have been lost today. Make them surrender and withdraw Captain," Captain Nikoli demanded.
* * *
"Shuttle almost near," Briten stated. "And there seems to be something going on with the Hand. They are changing course...for the Bismarck!"
Just at that moment, Communications Officer Ty picked up the transmission from the diplomatic ship.
"All ships, this is the War-AI Aelya, presently in control of the Hand of Terel. There's fighing going on in the bridge and hangar, the HRA are slaughtering unarmed civilian crewmembers and now they're coming for me. I know we stuck our noses in your business, but we saw it as our duty to prevent a war... to prevent more death and destruction. Instead, the HRA have attacked us... even though we tried to help their wounded. I don't know what you lot think of us, and I don't particularly care any more. I just want you lot to remember what's about to happen next... we are Terelains. We are the Last Elder Race of Aerin. We fight to the last and though we love peace we always prepare for war. We did not wish it to come to this... we did not start this war... but by the gods we will see it end, even if it means our very destruction. Teklem Eshet. Until Eternity."
"Oh hell!" Chief Tactical Officer Nai'ti exclaimed, as she nearly jumped out her seat. "Tell the Bismarck and Hand to heave to and withdraw. Notify the Bismarck, that both of their Commanding Officers are submitting themselves to our custody, and they should follow example. Surrender and withdraw!"
Ty nodded, "I don't think they'll listen. We've stated that how many times? Seems like out all out war now."
Communications Officer Ty was right, but still...
"Helm, move us back into position to the Time Dancer. If either of them do look like they'll explode, we'll need to grapple onto the Dancer and tow her out the vicinity of the blasts," Nai'ti ordered.
The security officer, looked off to one side and nodded at the marines. Two moved in, while the other pair kept their weapons ready. The one that stated his honesty, snatched the pistol out of his hand and yanked his arms behind his bank, to be cuffed.
"You're lucky bitch," the marine whispered in his ear.
With that they lead Captain Braesk to the ship's brig, with he officer following after.
Liala blinked into existence on one of the screens, "Detour boys. Take him to see the Captain, he wants to talk."
The obvious faces of disgust and annoyance filled the marines' faces, but the officer simply nodded.
"Yes ma'am."
* * *
"Lieutenant, we're getting an open message from Field Marshall Taranis," Ty reported.
"Nikoli... I... I don't know if you can hear me or not, but I have to say this. Captain, I give... I give myself up to your ship, and confess to my war crimes. But... I'm not leaving him... here... Captain, if this is my last act, so be it, but you will get your Commander."
"Briten, are we picking up that shuttle?" Lt. Naiti inquired.
"Yes, but...it's on autopilot...in the middle of a shooting match. Need I say more?" Briten responded.
"Don't worry, I'm on it," Liala stated, as he she reached out into the cyberware, her grasp aiming for the shuttle. "Got it. Taking manual control. Also, might want to get some medics to the Flight deck."
* * *
Captain Nikoli sat in his bed, and the door opened to the admittance of Catain Braesk and his marine escort.
"Outside gentlemen. He sure as hell won't kill me, if he can't kill himself," the Captain said, and his escorts complied.
"Captain Braesk, I here you are surrendering yourself to our custody. Good job. We'll be transporting you directly to Terra for a trial and probably interrogation," Nikoli said, as his eyes stayed on the wall display. "However, before I throw you away in the brig, you will do something for me."
Nikoli manipulated the display controls and showed Breask the battle that was waging outside.
"I've just been informed that Ascrith is incapable of command, and you seem to be the next in line of seniority. Get the Bismarck to surrender, and withdraw. I will not board the ship. I will not take it in tow. I have little time and patience, and that usually entails that the ship be scuttled, but that's neither here nor there. Enough lives have been lost today. Make them surrender and withdraw Captain," Captain Nikoli demanded.
* * *
"Shuttle almost near," Briten stated. "And there seems to be something going on with the Hand. They are changing course...for the Bismarck!"
Just at that moment, Communications Officer Ty picked up the transmission from the diplomatic ship.
"All ships, this is the War-AI Aelya, presently in control of the Hand of Terel. There's fighing going on in the bridge and hangar, the HRA are slaughtering unarmed civilian crewmembers and now they're coming for me. I know we stuck our noses in your business, but we saw it as our duty to prevent a war... to prevent more death and destruction. Instead, the HRA have attacked us... even though we tried to help their wounded. I don't know what you lot think of us, and I don't particularly care any more. I just want you lot to remember what's about to happen next... we are Terelains. We are the Last Elder Race of Aerin. We fight to the last and though we love peace we always prepare for war. We did not wish it to come to this... we did not start this war... but by the gods we will see it end, even if it means our very destruction. Teklem Eshet. Until Eternity."
"Oh hell!" Chief Tactical Officer Nai'ti exclaimed, as she nearly jumped out her seat. "Tell the Bismarck and Hand to heave to and withdraw. Notify the Bismarck, that both of their Commanding Officers are submitting themselves to our custody, and they should follow example. Surrender and withdraw!"
Ty nodded, "I don't think they'll listen. We've stated that how many times? Seems like out all out war now."
Communications Officer Ty was right, but still...
"Helm, move us back into position to the Time Dancer. If either of them do look like they'll explode, we'll need to grapple onto the Dancer and tow her out the vicinity of the blasts," Nai'ti ordered.
"Captain, I cannot make them surrender. Captain Robbins and Captain Lysander would be in charge now. One or the other, and since they're both on the Hand, the one in Terminator armor is in charge. But I will make them withdraw," Braesk said, bowing his head towards the floor. If the Emperor heard of this, Bismarck might be decommissioned. Well, this ship, anyways. They had a new Bismarck in construction.
****
"LYSANDER! THEY'RE COMING FOR US!" The 1st Lieutenant shouted, and ran from the bridge. They were taken by surprise. The gunmen couldn't move that fast at all. As soon as the ship turned towards them, it was already too close.
Escape pods fired off, but only a few. And those were half the generals, and a few officers and men. All of them aimed towards the Valhalla. As soon as Lysander heard of this, he grabbed Robbins, and ordered his men out now. Lysander ripped open the side of the ship, and jumped into cold space, kicking himself outwards. Over 50 people of the HRA military were now in space, moving slowly towards the Gunships.
The Gunships saw the men, and moved closer, opening their bay doors. Lysander and the rest of his men got in, and after all 50 people got inside the gunships, they closed their doors.
"Open the window shields! I want to see what's happening!" Lysander ordered, and set Robbins down. Instantly, medics began trying to fix him, working on his wounds and such. But they needed more help. Not just field medics.
Lysander could see the Bismarck, but it wasn't good. She was hit right... In... The middle. That meant the shield generators, the ammunition, and the reactor. Dear god, they had to move. The ship ripped through the Bismarck's shields, tearing apart its armor, and hitting dead center in the middle.
The 60 inch guns exploded, tearing great holes alongside her hull. The reactors overloaded, spewing flames hotter than the sun. Metal melted and shattered, glass vaporized, and people burned. Already the death toll was extremely high, but there would be more.
Then the Nova Cannon's ammunition exploded. The entire ship ripped apart as flames taller than a high rise shot out of the sides. The gunship lurched, moving away and shaking from the shockwave. Ascrith probably was lost.
****
"NO!!!" Braesk shouted, staring at the explosion on the screen. His eyes showed sorrow as the fires died down. Only a burnt out, dead husk of a ship remained. He had tears in his eyes now, real tears of pain. Loosing that ship was like loosing a son. And Ascrith? He was like a brother to him. "Can... Can you do anything to save someone? Please!"
****
"LYSANDER! THEY'RE COMING FOR US!" The 1st Lieutenant shouted, and ran from the bridge. They were taken by surprise. The gunmen couldn't move that fast at all. As soon as the ship turned towards them, it was already too close.
Escape pods fired off, but only a few. And those were half the generals, and a few officers and men. All of them aimed towards the Valhalla. As soon as Lysander heard of this, he grabbed Robbins, and ordered his men out now. Lysander ripped open the side of the ship, and jumped into cold space, kicking himself outwards. Over 50 people of the HRA military were now in space, moving slowly towards the Gunships.
The Gunships saw the men, and moved closer, opening their bay doors. Lysander and the rest of his men got in, and after all 50 people got inside the gunships, they closed their doors.
"Open the window shields! I want to see what's happening!" Lysander ordered, and set Robbins down. Instantly, medics began trying to fix him, working on his wounds and such. But they needed more help. Not just field medics.
Lysander could see the Bismarck, but it wasn't good. She was hit right... In... The middle. That meant the shield generators, the ammunition, and the reactor. Dear god, they had to move. The ship ripped through the Bismarck's shields, tearing apart its armor, and hitting dead center in the middle.
The 60 inch guns exploded, tearing great holes alongside her hull. The reactors overloaded, spewing flames hotter than the sun. Metal melted and shattered, glass vaporized, and people burned. Already the death toll was extremely high, but there would be more.
Then the Nova Cannon's ammunition exploded. The entire ship ripped apart as flames taller than a high rise shot out of the sides. The gunship lurched, moving away and shaking from the shockwave. Ascrith probably was lost.
****
"NO!!!" Braesk shouted, staring at the explosion on the screen. His eyes showed sorrow as the fires died down. Only a burnt out, dead husk of a ship remained. He had tears in his eyes now, real tears of pain. Loosing that ship was like loosing a son. And Ascrith? He was like a brother to him. "Can... Can you do anything to save someone? Please!"
"The Bismarck is launching escape pods and they are heading toward us," Briten reported on the intracoms, after having went back to the Intelligence Area, down below. "
"Christ! Latch onto the Time Dancer and get who ever is the closest from the Bismarck!" ordered Lieutenant Nai'ti, as she activated the shock frame on the command chair. "Helm, get us away from, here maximum speed. All hands, brace for impact!"
* * *
"NO!!! Can... Can you do anything to save someone? Please!"
Captain Nikoli and Braesk watched the destruction of the two warring alien ships. Nikoli threw the datapad he had into the wall and yelled.
"This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid!"
He managed to calm himself, and was about to call up the bridge when their came an alert.
"All hands, brace for impact!"
Captain Nikoli let loose a few Russian curses, before looking toward Braesk. "Brace yourself god dammit!"
* * *
"Shockwave impact in 3...2...1..."
Though space was a vacuum and a horrible medium, the Valhalla was still affected by the burst of energy from the resulting explosions of both vessels. Due to her being close, and the elements which were present in the formation of the explosion, the shockwave was able to propagate some distance, slamming into the Coalition vessel, before dissipating.
It wasn't one of their worst, but it wasn't the softest bump either.
"Status report," called out Lt. Nai'ti, as she released the shockframe, and massaged her aching shoulder.
"Shields held Ma'm," called out a tactical officer. "Structural damage negligible. The Time Dancer seems to be alright."
Nai'ti nodded, "And what about the small craft from the Bismarck?"
"A few were caught in the blast and destroyed. Some are heavily damage, and are sure to be facing systems failures soon" stated the tactical officer.
"Alright, let's-"
Captain Nikoli blinked to existence on the viewscreen, interrupting Lieutenant Nai'ti.
"Captain, sir," the Lieutenant said, surprised. "I am glad to see you are alright, Sir."
"Thank you Chief," the Captain nodded. "Seems we've a situation on our hands."
"Yes sir," the Chief Tactical Officer agreed. "The Bismarck and the Hand of Terel have both been destroyed; assured mutual destruction. We are detecting multiple small craft from the Bismarck, though none yet from the Hand. I was just about to order a SAR mission to those heavily damaged and with severely wounded."
Captain Nikoli nodded with a growl. "Good work Lieutenant. Also, see if you can find a Captain Robbins or Captain Lysander, and have them brought aboard immediately. With an escort. Unfortunate to say, but I don't trust none of them to not try and take over my ship, even if offering assistance. And Ty begin preparations to inventory the requisite amount of supplies, for long term duration planetside."
"Captain?" Nai'ti asked, with curiosity.
"We don't have the space to carry everyone Lieutenant. So, we'll send them off to the nearest habitable planet, which is Calypso, for a temporary stay until we can get some transports out here to ship them off to wherever they crawled from," the Captain answered. "And yes I know. The irony is blatantly obvious."
With that the link closed and the Lieutenant turned to Communication Officer Ty.
"The irony...that has to be an understatement," Lieutenant Nai'ti quipped.
"I think Commander Cigol would say something more along the lines of, "Actually Lieutenant, understatement, is a far lighter term, than what I was think of,"" Liala said, and they all shared warm weary smiles.
"I'm sure he would Liala," Nai'ti said, basking in those few precious seconds of remember the Commander. "Well, in any event, we've work to do. Ty you're the head of Operations, best get to operatin'. Start get a lock on those craft that are damaged and with wounded, and find out where those Captains are. Guess we'll leave the inventory stuff until after we get a final count of heads. Oh, and lets see about getting an extraction team over to the Time Dancer to get Lt. Colonel Follox and the engineers off. I am quite sure, he's going to blow up, when he hear the action he's missed."
Ty smiled and nodded. "Aye aye."
With that, though it was obvious something or rather someone was missing, the normalcy of operations on the Valhalla, seemed to once again return to normal, after the few harrowing days that passed. Chef tactical and Security Officer Nai'ti sat down in the command chair, to the chagrin of Navigator Liala.
"The Commander's shuttle is in the dock. A medical team has taken the Field Marshall to the Main Infirmary, and the Commander's body is being taken to the morgue for preservation. They are trying to ascertain, which send off he gets; the Coalition, the Kitt'ane or the Ykkins version."
"It should be in his files," Lt. Nai'ti said.
"Should be, but they were destroyed remember," Liala noted. "I'll try and work with the analysts later when things are less hectic to see if we can find something. If that fails, we can look to what his wife, might've sanctioned."
Lt. Nai'ti nodded, "Sounds fair. Though for some reason I think, that honestly he'll be fine with whatever the Captain chooses as the form of his send off."
"Agreed," Liala simply said, before disappearing and leaving the Lieutenant to her thoughts.
"Christ! Latch onto the Time Dancer and get who ever is the closest from the Bismarck!" ordered Lieutenant Nai'ti, as she activated the shock frame on the command chair. "Helm, get us away from, here maximum speed. All hands, brace for impact!"
* * *
"NO!!! Can... Can you do anything to save someone? Please!"
Captain Nikoli and Braesk watched the destruction of the two warring alien ships. Nikoli threw the datapad he had into the wall and yelled.
"This is exactly what I was hoping to avoid!"
He managed to calm himself, and was about to call up the bridge when their came an alert.
"All hands, brace for impact!"
Captain Nikoli let loose a few Russian curses, before looking toward Braesk. "Brace yourself god dammit!"
* * *
"Shockwave impact in 3...2...1..."
Though space was a vacuum and a horrible medium, the Valhalla was still affected by the burst of energy from the resulting explosions of both vessels. Due to her being close, and the elements which were present in the formation of the explosion, the shockwave was able to propagate some distance, slamming into the Coalition vessel, before dissipating.
It wasn't one of their worst, but it wasn't the softest bump either.
"Status report," called out Lt. Nai'ti, as she released the shockframe, and massaged her aching shoulder.
"Shields held Ma'm," called out a tactical officer. "Structural damage negligible. The Time Dancer seems to be alright."
Nai'ti nodded, "And what about the small craft from the Bismarck?"
"A few were caught in the blast and destroyed. Some are heavily damage, and are sure to be facing systems failures soon" stated the tactical officer.
"Alright, let's-"
Captain Nikoli blinked to existence on the viewscreen, interrupting Lieutenant Nai'ti.
"Captain, sir," the Lieutenant said, surprised. "I am glad to see you are alright, Sir."
"Thank you Chief," the Captain nodded. "Seems we've a situation on our hands."
"Yes sir," the Chief Tactical Officer agreed. "The Bismarck and the Hand of Terel have both been destroyed; assured mutual destruction. We are detecting multiple small craft from the Bismarck, though none yet from the Hand. I was just about to order a SAR mission to those heavily damaged and with severely wounded."
Captain Nikoli nodded with a growl. "Good work Lieutenant. Also, see if you can find a Captain Robbins or Captain Lysander, and have them brought aboard immediately. With an escort. Unfortunate to say, but I don't trust none of them to not try and take over my ship, even if offering assistance. And Ty begin preparations to inventory the requisite amount of supplies, for long term duration planetside."
"Captain?" Nai'ti asked, with curiosity.
"We don't have the space to carry everyone Lieutenant. So, we'll send them off to the nearest habitable planet, which is Calypso, for a temporary stay until we can get some transports out here to ship them off to wherever they crawled from," the Captain answered. "And yes I know. The irony is blatantly obvious."
With that the link closed and the Lieutenant turned to Communication Officer Ty.
"The irony...that has to be an understatement," Lieutenant Nai'ti quipped.
"I think Commander Cigol would say something more along the lines of, "Actually Lieutenant, understatement, is a far lighter term, than what I was think of,"" Liala said, and they all shared warm weary smiles.
"I'm sure he would Liala," Nai'ti said, basking in those few precious seconds of remember the Commander. "Well, in any event, we've work to do. Ty you're the head of Operations, best get to operatin'. Start get a lock on those craft that are damaged and with wounded, and find out where those Captains are. Guess we'll leave the inventory stuff until after we get a final count of heads. Oh, and lets see about getting an extraction team over to the Time Dancer to get Lt. Colonel Follox and the engineers off. I am quite sure, he's going to blow up, when he hear the action he's missed."
Ty smiled and nodded. "Aye aye."
With that, though it was obvious something or rather someone was missing, the normalcy of operations on the Valhalla, seemed to once again return to normal, after the few harrowing days that passed. Chef tactical and Security Officer Nai'ti sat down in the command chair, to the chagrin of Navigator Liala.
"The Commander's shuttle is in the dock. A medical team has taken the Field Marshall to the Main Infirmary, and the Commander's body is being taken to the morgue for preservation. They are trying to ascertain, which send off he gets; the Coalition, the Kitt'ane or the Ykkins version."
"It should be in his files," Lt. Nai'ti said.
"Should be, but they were destroyed remember," Liala noted. "I'll try and work with the analysts later when things are less hectic to see if we can find something. If that fails, we can look to what his wife, might've sanctioned."
Lt. Nai'ti nodded, "Sounds fair. Though for some reason I think, that honestly he'll be fine with whatever the Captain chooses as the form of his send off."
"Agreed," Liala simply said, before disappearing and leaving the Lieutenant to her thoughts.
Aelya's warning jerked Nathaniel out of his 'die with honour' mode. The ship was going to ram the Bismarck. They'd all be vapourised. No body to burn or bury, nothing to return to the crypt of his ancestors beneath the Great Temple in Oberoth. He was a Tynian damn it! A king, son of kings, a lord of the Taemiri Line. He'd go down fighting for his last breath, not waiting docilely for Tara-Menil to arrive to bring his soul before her sisters.
He was up and moving, heedless of the pain of his injuries, before Aelya was done speaking. He charged through the weaponsfire and the tainted air, heedless of the slight burn in his lungs as the last remnants of the Mustard Gas lingered in the atmopshere as the life support systems desperately scrubbed the toxins from the air.
Seconds later he'd lifted his wife of twenty three thousand years up and carried her bodily towards the door of the room. The marines had also heard Aelya's warning and saw him trying to escape, and so they did what they were trained to do. They threw themselves between Nathaniel and Robbins to stop any attempts by the human to stop them.
Nathaniel hurried quickly to the nearest escape pod, "Aelya! Open all of the escape pods... jetison everything with people in it." He ordered.
"Yes Elder. I hope you make it sir." The AI responded.
"Me too." He muttered as he reached the nearest hatch for an escape pod, which was only a few feet from the bridge, it might have even been Tolarim's pod... not that the Elder cared any more.
Nathaniel entered the pod and the hatch shut almost the instant he was through and the pod shot out from the dying ship with a shudder that threw him from his feet. It seemed as if Aelya was trying to be helpful.
"ETA to impact eight minutes, Elder. Good luck." Aelya said over the shot-range ship-to-ship comms as the pod, a thin silver almost javelin shaped craft, shot away from the Hand of Terel. The pod, like almost all Terelain tech, was built to withstand punishment. Its hull was made of the same material that warship hulls were made from, its shields were as powerful as could be fitted onto such a tiny ship and its engines were similarly as fast as possible.
The blast when the two vessels exploded was immense and it tossed the small ship end-over-end, the shields overloaded and the engines cut out to prevent an explosion. Eventually the tiny craft's manouevering thrusters activated to stop the tumbling, but the main engines were damaged and she was left to drift.
Both Nariel and Nathaniel were unconcious, Nathaniel having hit his head on one of the walls when the ship began spinning. The emergency beacon activated, emmitting a constant signal detailing the fact that it was a life-pod of the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel affiliated with the Third Kingdom of Terel, also known as the Terelain Star Kingdom, with two lifeforms aboard in need of urgent medical attention and that the pod itself had sustained damage to its shielding and propulsion systems, though its life support systems remained intact.
Elsewhere, the remaining fighters and bombers from the Hand had fled the explosion and were regrouping further away from the wreckage, they detected the signal from the pod and the surviving thirteen bombers and nineteen interceptors went to guard the pod... the only one they'd been able to detect as having escaped from the Hand. The pilots knew their religious duties... and they each sang the elegy songs for the crew of the Hand and for their fellow pilots.
(Aboard the Modified Isaia Class Carrier RNV Aldareth)
Captain Sera Kalari was sat on her chair, listening to the grim message they'd just recived from the Hand of Terel, as well as waiting for her technicians to activate the back-up copy of the ship's AI that had been sent along with it.
"This is the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel to any and all Terelain assets within communications range. We have come under attack by hostile forces of the HRA Empire, the Revered Elders Tynian and Amaar are aboard this ship and are wounded, defensive measure are failing. We are being boarded. I repeat, this is the Hand of Terel, we are being boarded by HRA hostiles. We are preparing for... for initiation of Gilau Protocol. If no further communications are recieved from this vessel assume successful initiation of Gilau Protocol. May the Younger Gods have mercy... we are at war. Teklem Eshet."
"Comms, open a channel, leave it open so the enemy can hear this too." She ordered.
"Aye sir." Her comms officer replied.
"This is Captain Sera Kalari of the Isaia class Carrier RNV Aldareth. We have recieved your distress signal and are enroute to assist. Do not initiate Gilau Protocol. I repeat do not initiate Gilau Protocol. The Jeria Eagles will assist you." She paused and then said, "To any and all vessels attacking the Hand of Terel, cease hostilities immediately and allow the ship to withdraw or I will blast you so hard you'll reach the Void in atom-sized pieces."
The captain turned to her helmsman, "ETA to signal origin point?"
"Thirty minutes if we stress the drives to their limit, captain." He reported.
"Get us there in twenty." She ordered, before activating the ship's internal comms, "All pilots prepare for combat launch on realspace re-entry. Prepare for possible immediate hostile action." She then turned to her tactical officer, "Have every gun on this ship ready to fire as soon as we arrive, I want the shields at full strength the instant we get there."
"What if we're too late and the Hand's already been captured or destroyed?" Her XO asked worriedly.
"Then we blast every Toren damned one of them to the Void and back." She growled, "I'm not letting a single damn cur live if the Elders are dead."
He was up and moving, heedless of the pain of his injuries, before Aelya was done speaking. He charged through the weaponsfire and the tainted air, heedless of the slight burn in his lungs as the last remnants of the Mustard Gas lingered in the atmopshere as the life support systems desperately scrubbed the toxins from the air.
Seconds later he'd lifted his wife of twenty three thousand years up and carried her bodily towards the door of the room. The marines had also heard Aelya's warning and saw him trying to escape, and so they did what they were trained to do. They threw themselves between Nathaniel and Robbins to stop any attempts by the human to stop them.
Nathaniel hurried quickly to the nearest escape pod, "Aelya! Open all of the escape pods... jetison everything with people in it." He ordered.
"Yes Elder. I hope you make it sir." The AI responded.
"Me too." He muttered as he reached the nearest hatch for an escape pod, which was only a few feet from the bridge, it might have even been Tolarim's pod... not that the Elder cared any more.
Nathaniel entered the pod and the hatch shut almost the instant he was through and the pod shot out from the dying ship with a shudder that threw him from his feet. It seemed as if Aelya was trying to be helpful.
"ETA to impact eight minutes, Elder. Good luck." Aelya said over the shot-range ship-to-ship comms as the pod, a thin silver almost javelin shaped craft, shot away from the Hand of Terel. The pod, like almost all Terelain tech, was built to withstand punishment. Its hull was made of the same material that warship hulls were made from, its shields were as powerful as could be fitted onto such a tiny ship and its engines were similarly as fast as possible.
The blast when the two vessels exploded was immense and it tossed the small ship end-over-end, the shields overloaded and the engines cut out to prevent an explosion. Eventually the tiny craft's manouevering thrusters activated to stop the tumbling, but the main engines were damaged and she was left to drift.
Both Nariel and Nathaniel were unconcious, Nathaniel having hit his head on one of the walls when the ship began spinning. The emergency beacon activated, emmitting a constant signal detailing the fact that it was a life-pod of the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel affiliated with the Third Kingdom of Terel, also known as the Terelain Star Kingdom, with two lifeforms aboard in need of urgent medical attention and that the pod itself had sustained damage to its shielding and propulsion systems, though its life support systems remained intact.
Elsewhere, the remaining fighters and bombers from the Hand had fled the explosion and were regrouping further away from the wreckage, they detected the signal from the pod and the surviving thirteen bombers and nineteen interceptors went to guard the pod... the only one they'd been able to detect as having escaped from the Hand. The pilots knew their religious duties... and they each sang the elegy songs for the crew of the Hand and for their fellow pilots.
(Aboard the Modified Isaia Class Carrier RNV Aldareth)
Captain Sera Kalari was sat on her chair, listening to the grim message they'd just recived from the Hand of Terel, as well as waiting for her technicians to activate the back-up copy of the ship's AI that had been sent along with it.
"This is the Envoy class Diplomatic Cruiser Hand of Terel to any and all Terelain assets within communications range. We have come under attack by hostile forces of the HRA Empire, the Revered Elders Tynian and Amaar are aboard this ship and are wounded, defensive measure are failing. We are being boarded. I repeat, this is the Hand of Terel, we are being boarded by HRA hostiles. We are preparing for... for initiation of Gilau Protocol. If no further communications are recieved from this vessel assume successful initiation of Gilau Protocol. May the Younger Gods have mercy... we are at war. Teklem Eshet."
"Comms, open a channel, leave it open so the enemy can hear this too." She ordered.
"Aye sir." Her comms officer replied.
"This is Captain Sera Kalari of the Isaia class Carrier RNV Aldareth. We have recieved your distress signal and are enroute to assist. Do not initiate Gilau Protocol. I repeat do not initiate Gilau Protocol. The Jeria Eagles will assist you." She paused and then said, "To any and all vessels attacking the Hand of Terel, cease hostilities immediately and allow the ship to withdraw or I will blast you so hard you'll reach the Void in atom-sized pieces."
The captain turned to her helmsman, "ETA to signal origin point?"
"Thirty minutes if we stress the drives to their limit, captain." He reported.
"Get us there in twenty." She ordered, before activating the ship's internal comms, "All pilots prepare for combat launch on realspace re-entry. Prepare for possible immediate hostile action." She then turned to her tactical officer, "Have every gun on this ship ready to fire as soon as we arrive, I want the shields at full strength the instant we get there."
"What if we're too late and the Hand's already been captured or destroyed?" Her XO asked worriedly.
"Then we blast every Toren damned one of them to the Void and back." She growled, "I'm not letting a single damn cur live if the Elders are dead."
Braesk tried to grab something, but he couldn't really. He fell over, landing against the wall, and hitting his head. God, that hurt. He could feel a little bit of blood running down the side of his face, but not too much. And he knew that there wasn't going to be too many survivors from the Bismarck. There never could be.
"Captain... There's only around 60 survivors... from a crew of over 2 million," Braesk said in realization. There was just so many deaths today, more than anyone expected. And of course, there was going to be war. They would remember the Bismarck and the Yorktown, and avenge both.
****
Robbins was nearly dead as they pulled in to the hanger. He was bleeding from so many deep gashes, and had plasma burns on his skin from the enemy. Small boils had erupted from the places the gas got into, and he was just in horrible shape. Lysander, though, wasn't. He tore his helmet off, watching only 100 survivors walk out of their escape pods.
"Dear god... In the name of the Emperor, avenge these men," Lysander whispered to himself. Then he caught something. Someone broadcasted a help signal. Not just any signal, a long range one. That meant that the nearest ships would hear it. Dear god, this was not going to end well.
"Captain... There's only around 60 survivors... from a crew of over 2 million," Braesk said in realization. There was just so many deaths today, more than anyone expected. And of course, there was going to be war. They would remember the Bismarck and the Yorktown, and avenge both.
****
Robbins was nearly dead as they pulled in to the hanger. He was bleeding from so many deep gashes, and had plasma burns on his skin from the enemy. Small boils had erupted from the places the gas got into, and he was just in horrible shape. Lysander, though, wasn't. He tore his helmet off, watching only 100 survivors walk out of their escape pods.
"Dear god... In the name of the Emperor, avenge these men," Lysander whispered to himself. Then he caught something. Someone broadcasted a help signal. Not just any signal, a long range one. That meant that the nearest ships would hear it. Dear god, this was not going to end well.
"Captain Lysander!" A ship officer yelled, before finally getting a lock on him. "Ah, Captain Lysander, I am to escort you to the Captain. Please relinquish all of your weapons and armor, and follow me."
A marine detail similar to that of Captain Braesk arrived, and escorted Lysander to the Captain's medical ward.
* * *
"My decision for what to do with them is still the same Captain Braesk," Captain Alexei Nikoli declared. "If you haven't noticed, your ship smashed mine up and we just can't strain our resources at the moment."
There was a knock on the door, before it opened to the admittance of another ship officer and Lysander. The officer motioned for Lysander to step in, before leaving the three alone to themselves.
"Hello Captain Lysander, your people will get adequate treatment, but I'm dropping you on the planet you scorched," Captain Nikoli said bluntly and curt.
* * *
"Lieutenant, EM interference is clearing up and...yup...picking up distress signals from the Hand's lifepods," reported Briten. "And I'm picking up an unknown FTL signature on LRS, about 15 minutes out.
Lieutenant Nai'ti sighed and sagged her shoulders. "Our SAR mission duration surely just doubled. Get some craft out there, same orders. And send a standard greeting on all open channels. Ask for their identification, intentions, and let them known we've jurisdiction here."
Communication Officer Ty noted and got to work. "And you're right Nai'ti, be about several hours total, to sift through the wreckage and pick up the lifepods, before taking them off to Calypso."
"Ugh, going to be a long several hours," Nai'ti shook her head. "I wonder though. There seems to be some larger then normal small craft out there from the Bismarck. Let's see if they are capable of FTL jumps. Can probably cut down on recovery and transport time."
Ty nodded once again, eyes locked on his screen.
A marine detail similar to that of Captain Braesk arrived, and escorted Lysander to the Captain's medical ward.
* * *
"My decision for what to do with them is still the same Captain Braesk," Captain Alexei Nikoli declared. "If you haven't noticed, your ship smashed mine up and we just can't strain our resources at the moment."
There was a knock on the door, before it opened to the admittance of another ship officer and Lysander. The officer motioned for Lysander to step in, before leaving the three alone to themselves.
"Hello Captain Lysander, your people will get adequate treatment, but I'm dropping you on the planet you scorched," Captain Nikoli said bluntly and curt.
* * *
"Lieutenant, EM interference is clearing up and...yup...picking up distress signals from the Hand's lifepods," reported Briten. "And I'm picking up an unknown FTL signature on LRS, about 15 minutes out.
Lieutenant Nai'ti sighed and sagged her shoulders. "Our SAR mission duration surely just doubled. Get some craft out there, same orders. And send a standard greeting on all open channels. Ask for their identification, intentions, and let them known we've jurisdiction here."
Communication Officer Ty noted and got to work. "And you're right Nai'ti, be about several hours total, to sift through the wreckage and pick up the lifepods, before taking them off to Calypso."
"Ugh, going to be a long several hours," Nai'ti shook her head. "I wonder though. There seems to be some larger then normal small craft out there from the Bismarck. Let's see if they are capable of FTL jumps. Can probably cut down on recovery and transport time."
Ty nodded once again, eyes locked on his screen.
Isaia-class Carrier Royal Naval Vessel Aldareth
Service Date: 2338 AD-? [10389A, 3E by the reckoning of the ship’s crew]
Role: Capital-class Carier
Length: 6985 m
Height: 1460 m
Width: 2720 m
Class: Isaia-class
Decks: 35
Crew Complement: 5,000 Organics [156 Air-wing, 3200 Enlisted, 1000 Marines, 644 Officers] and two Artificial Intelligences (Ship’s original, plus Aelya).
Available Small Craft Squadrons:
72x Type VII Fang Class Interceptors (Six squadrons of twelve craft)
12x Chimera Prototype Multi-Role Fighters (One squadron of twelve)
36x Aetherhawk Class Heavy Bombers (Three squadrons of twelve)
Auxiliary Craft:
30x Shuttles
Defensive Capabilities:
500x Automated Point-Defence Turret Clusters (Even mixture of ballistic and energy weaponry per cluster)
Mark VII Adaptive Shield Matrix
Mark VI Emergency Plasma Shield
Mark V Ablative Armour
Offensive Capabilities:
5x Twin Plasma Projectile Cannons
12x Railgun Turrets
4x Dark Energy Projectors
1x Experimental ‘Cataclysm’ Railgun
Power Planet:
10x Cold Fusion Reactors
6x Type IV Mana Crystal Cores
Propulsion:
20x Sublight Ion Engines
142x Manoeuvring Thrusters
Aetheric FTL Jump Drive
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:
Constructed in the Great Shipyards of Harkesh in orbit of the great industrial world of the Star Kingdom in the Terelain home-system, Aera, the RNV Aldareth is named for a Terelain city in the west of the Terel’Liren region of their homeworld, the ancestral homeland of the Terelains. Based upon the iconic ‘Outspread Wings’ class of carrier from the Second Great War, the Isaia class retains the sleek aesthetic of a bird of prey in flight, being reminiscent of a hunting Aetherhawk, a bird of prey from the Terelain homeworld most closely resembling a Terran peregrine falcon.
Home to the famed Jeria Eagles; the Aldareth has a couple of experimental prototype fighters and weapons that are several years away from fleet-wide deployment. Some of the kinks have yet to be worked out in these prototypes, but for her class the vessel and her fighters are more than a match for anything of their size.
(I'll draw a picture of I can... but I don't think I can manage it the way I want it to go)
With a ripple of light and a bending of the laws of physics, the RNV Aldareth exited Aether-space a couple of hundred kilometers from the other vessels, immediately she began launching her fighters and bombers, her shields and weapons activate and ready for combat.
"Sir, detecting debris... a hell of a lot of debris... and two unknown starships in the area. The... the radiation patterns and composition the wreckage match the Hand and possibly another vessel as well... a very large vessel." The sensor officer reported solemnly
There was silence on the bridge for a moment as horror set in. There had been fifteen hundred men and women on that crew. It was the single largest loss of Terelain life since the Second Great War.
"Sir, picking up numerous small craft, looks to be search and rescue operations... as well as a beacon from a damaged life-pod from the Hand. A large number of small craft, fighters and bombers of ours, have taken up position around it." The sensor officer said.
"Order three squadrons to link up with the remnants of the Hand's escorts. Send a shuttle to tow the life-pod to the hangar... let's bring the survivors home." Captain Sera Kalari ordered, "open a channel with the fighters, I want a sit-rep."
"Sir, recieving communications from one of the unknown craft, heavily damaged. It is requesting identification sir. They identify as the Valhalla under some Coalition... they claim jurisdiction in this volume." The comms officer reported.
"Open a channel, visual and audio." She commanded, standing up, "This is Captain Sera Kalari of the Isaia class Carrier RNV Aldareth of the Third Kingdom of Terel we have recieved a distress signal from our diplomatic vessel and have come to assist... and now we find that we are too late and that they activated Gilau Protocol." There was cold anger bubbling in her voice, "I want to know who the hell attacked a neutral diplomatic ship... These... HRA..." She shook her head in disgust, "I want to know why they attacked a civilian ship. If I don't like the answer..." She growled low in her throat, "I'll make every one of them pay."
Service Date: 2338 AD-? [10389A, 3E by the reckoning of the ship’s crew]
Role: Capital-class Carier
Length: 6985 m
Height: 1460 m
Width: 2720 m
Class: Isaia-class
Decks: 35
Crew Complement: 5,000 Organics [156 Air-wing, 3200 Enlisted, 1000 Marines, 644 Officers] and two Artificial Intelligences (Ship’s original, plus Aelya).
Available Small Craft Squadrons:
72x Type VII Fang Class Interceptors (Six squadrons of twelve craft)
12x Chimera Prototype Multi-Role Fighters (One squadron of twelve)
36x Aetherhawk Class Heavy Bombers (Three squadrons of twelve)
Auxiliary Craft:
30x Shuttles
Defensive Capabilities:
500x Automated Point-Defence Turret Clusters (Even mixture of ballistic and energy weaponry per cluster)
Mark VII Adaptive Shield Matrix
Mark VI Emergency Plasma Shield
Mark V Ablative Armour
Offensive Capabilities:
5x Twin Plasma Projectile Cannons
12x Railgun Turrets
4x Dark Energy Projectors
1x Experimental ‘Cataclysm’ Railgun
Power Planet:
10x Cold Fusion Reactors
6x Type IV Mana Crystal Cores
Propulsion:
20x Sublight Ion Engines
142x Manoeuvring Thrusters
Aetheric FTL Jump Drive
ADDITIONAL INFORMATION:
Constructed in the Great Shipyards of Harkesh in orbit of the great industrial world of the Star Kingdom in the Terelain home-system, Aera, the RNV Aldareth is named for a Terelain city in the west of the Terel’Liren region of their homeworld, the ancestral homeland of the Terelains. Based upon the iconic ‘Outspread Wings’ class of carrier from the Second Great War, the Isaia class retains the sleek aesthetic of a bird of prey in flight, being reminiscent of a hunting Aetherhawk, a bird of prey from the Terelain homeworld most closely resembling a Terran peregrine falcon.
Home to the famed Jeria Eagles; the Aldareth has a couple of experimental prototype fighters and weapons that are several years away from fleet-wide deployment. Some of the kinks have yet to be worked out in these prototypes, but for her class the vessel and her fighters are more than a match for anything of their size.
(I'll draw a picture of I can... but I don't think I can manage it the way I want it to go)
With a ripple of light and a bending of the laws of physics, the RNV Aldareth exited Aether-space a couple of hundred kilometers from the other vessels, immediately she began launching her fighters and bombers, her shields and weapons activate and ready for combat.
"Sir, detecting debris... a hell of a lot of debris... and two unknown starships in the area. The... the radiation patterns and composition the wreckage match the Hand and possibly another vessel as well... a very large vessel." The sensor officer reported solemnly
There was silence on the bridge for a moment as horror set in. There had been fifteen hundred men and women on that crew. It was the single largest loss of Terelain life since the Second Great War.
"Sir, picking up numerous small craft, looks to be search and rescue operations... as well as a beacon from a damaged life-pod from the Hand. A large number of small craft, fighters and bombers of ours, have taken up position around it." The sensor officer said.
"Order three squadrons to link up with the remnants of the Hand's escorts. Send a shuttle to tow the life-pod to the hangar... let's bring the survivors home." Captain Sera Kalari ordered, "open a channel with the fighters, I want a sit-rep."
"Sir, recieving communications from one of the unknown craft, heavily damaged. It is requesting identification sir. They identify as the Valhalla under some Coalition... they claim jurisdiction in this volume." The comms officer reported.
"Open a channel, visual and audio." She commanded, standing up, "This is Captain Sera Kalari of the Isaia class Carrier RNV Aldareth of the Third Kingdom of Terel we have recieved a distress signal from our diplomatic vessel and have come to assist... and now we find that we are too late and that they activated Gilau Protocol." There was cold anger bubbling in her voice, "I want to know who the hell attacked a neutral diplomatic ship... These... HRA..." She shook her head in disgust, "I want to know why they attacked a civilian ship. If I don't like the answer..." She growled low in her throat, "I'll make every one of them pay."
"Well, do you have any communications ability at all? I can't just let this go unnoticed! The nearest fleet MUST know! I fear that it's the only way both of us will get out of the place," Braesk said, and pointed towards the new carrier coming into view. Now he was worried beyond belief. With very little time on his hands, and almost no resources to spare, there wasn't much they would be able to do.
****
"Take my weapons, fine. I honestly don't care. Unfortunatly, Armour is something that might be just a tad too hard to take off, friend," Lysander spoke the truth. That armor took ten minutes to get on, and twenty to get off, and it required machinery that was on the Bismarck, not here. But he did follow him. "Can you help Robbins?"
****
Lysander walked in, and heard what he said. Of course they were going down there. That, or the gunships, which did in fact had FTL drives in them. Primitive ones, yes, but FTL jumps nonetheless. Perhaps better than these people's.
"Fine, but if you must know, we can sustain ourselves within our gunships. We have FTL drives, you know. Primitive, yes, but still, FTL drives."
****
"Take my weapons, fine. I honestly don't care. Unfortunatly, Armour is something that might be just a tad too hard to take off, friend," Lysander spoke the truth. That armor took ten minutes to get on, and twenty to get off, and it required machinery that was on the Bismarck, not here. But he did follow him. "Can you help Robbins?"
****
Lysander walked in, and heard what he said. Of course they were going down there. That, or the gunships, which did in fact had FTL drives in them. Primitive ones, yes, but FTL jumps nonetheless. Perhaps better than these people's.
"Fine, but if you must know, we can sustain ourselves within our gunships. We have FTL drives, you know. Primitive, yes, but still, FTL drives."
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