| Author |
(As yet) Untitled |
YIIMM
Grand Admiral
Joined: June 16, 2005
Posts: 851
From: Barcino, Hispania Tarraconensis
|  Posted: 2006-04-21 09:07
I usually get a lot of ideas for fanfiction, but I've only ever once written any of them down before. I'm going to do a second chapter for this, but I don't really know yet whether it's going to be a just a short story or something bigger. Anyway, I'll be glad to know what you think of this.
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Chapter One
The first arrival made itself known; a flash of pure white, gradually replaced with distant running lights. They criss-crossed their way along a smooth hull that was scarcely lighter than the void that surrounded it.
For the next five minutes, loyalist crews observed with rising panic as more and more winks and flashes of light joined the first.
All in all, around eight hundred ICC warships.
A succession of crushing defeats at the hands of the Farstars had led to seventy percent of UGTO territory either occupied or devastated. All that remained were the Sol, Alpha Centauri systems and part of Struve. Forces stationed there were currently besieged at Parcia, and not expected to survive the week. With the situation as it was, the Centauri worlds had been transformed into bastions. A significant number of remaining UGTO ships had been dispatched to defend the fortresses, to postpone an attack at Earth that all but the most foolhardy knew was inevitable. The Jump Gate into Sol had been laden with explosives, ready to be scuttled. Precious Interdictors were placed along all major inter-system routes, forcing the ICC to run the gauntlet of Alpha Centauri.
Now they were here.
A voice cut through the silence. “Forces arranged approximately eight million kilometres away; six kilometres below the ecliptic; standard delta formation; dreadnoughts and cruisers at the forefront, destroyers and frigates at the flanks and rear.”
Much as he tried, there was still a hint of a tremble in the tactician’s voice. None on the Pharos’ bridge could blame him.
Sarian stepped over towards the young man’s station and observed the display. On it he could see the accurately-described enemy forces, and the outnumbered UGTO forces huddled around the planet of Nemesis. Manipulating the display with a gnarled hand, he could see the Pharos hidden away deep inside the untidy cluster
Sarian closed his grey eyes and stood there in silence for almost a minute. When at last he opened them, he looked around to see his crew staring at him expectantly. Straightening his pure white tunic, he began to reel off orders:
“Tactics, arrange the fleet fifty thousand kilometres from Nemesis, put our stronger ships at the flanks, and make it look as clumsy as possible. Order Carrier Group 1 to take up a position two hundred kilometres behind the enemy fleet and wait there until I give the order to attack. Assign Battle Group 4 to escort them.”
“Yes, admiral.”
Four carrier dreadnoughts peeled off from the main group; three of them were of the ST-series. The fourth was an aging vessel, lacking the adorned hull that was common of her contemporaries, but still bearing a typically UGTO shape. She was the first ship of her class, and now the last.
They vanished in brief flashes of light, shortly followed by a small contingent of cruisers and destroyers. Sarian watched them leave, and then turned back to his crew.
“Communications, advise the Centauri governments to activate their defences and to prepare to scramble fighters…”
He leaned in close to whisper in the officer’s ear.
“…and tell them make any necessary preparations to evacuate.”
She looked back up at him without expression.
“Yes, admiral.”
“After you’ve done that, contact Grand Admiral Dornier, inform him that ICC forces have arrived and we’ll be engaging shortly. Guns, charge all weapons, make any necessary last-minute checks, and assign laser batteries 2 and 4 to automatic point-defence.”
Satisfied, Sarian returned to his seat. From the console on the chair’s arm, he could see a magnified live feed of the enemy from one of his corvettes.
“Looks like they’re advancing at roughly five thousand two hundred kilometres per hour.”
The tactical officer observed his own console for a few seconds, then swivelled round to face his captain.
“Five thousand one hundred and sixty seven kph. Sir, how could you know that?”
“Red-shift.”
Confusion showed on the younger man’s face
“Sir, you’re colour-blind…”
Sarian considered this for a moment.
“True.”
[ This Message was edited by: YIIMM on 2006-04-21 09:10 ]
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HaVoX
Fleet Admiral
Joined: September 07, 2003
Posts: 269
From: Florida whoo hoo
| Posted: 2006-04-21 09:27
Nice, I like seeing others write fanfics since that was what inspired me to try my hand.
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Banshee
Grand Admiral
Raven Warriors
Joined: August 28, 2001
Posts: 2181
From: Philadelphia, PA
| Posted: 2006-04-22 06:58
That's a pretty good read, if a little on the short side, looking forward to the next piece.
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Coeus {NCX-Charger}
Admiral, I can't read,
Sundered Weimeriners
Joined: February 16, 2004
Posts: 3635
From: South Philly
| Posted: 2006-04-22 13:22
Just let it flow naturally Yimm, and the rest'll be as uber as that tidbit 
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Darkspace: Twilight
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BackSlash
Marshal
Galactic Navy
Joined: March 23, 2003
Posts: 11183
From: Bristol, England
| Posted: 2006-04-22 17:28
That was great, very well written
Oh and...
You spelt colour correctly 
Extra props 
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rangar
Cadet
Joined: February 02, 2006
Posts: 100
| Posted: 2006-04-22 18:11
colour can be spelt either way depending where in the world you are =)
nice story by the way =D hurry up and get the next bit out =)
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Goth and I dueling. This is why you shouldn't run from duels
Goth, Your my oneway ticket to GA
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YIIMM
Grand Admiral
Joined: June 16, 2005
Posts: 851
From: Barcino, Hispania Tarraconensis
| Posted: 2006-04-23 11:50
Thank-you all for the encouragement.
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Chapter Two
From the helm station of the Radiant, Marcus Fraser needed only turn his head to see the Pharos dominate his view. The Command Dreadnought had begun to bank and turn as her engines fired, but he was only dimly aware of it, his fleet’s chances had a far firmer grip on his attention.
“Receiving orders from the Pharos! We’re to take up a position off her bow!”
Marcus looked down at his station to see a white box flashing next to the flagship’s icon on his display. Likely the Radiant would be expected to defend the Pharos at all costs; Command Dreads had wide versatility and superior comms capabilities, but at the expense of effective weaponry.
But it wasn’t the ship’s skills, hull, or even crew that were so important. It was just one man. The soldiers and people of the UGTO needed heroes, and apparently Sarian was one them, or at least that was how he was being portrayed by the media this month. Fraser supposed that if the UGTO was parading a Grand Admiral as reckless and wasteful as Sarian as hero that it was probably in far greater trouble than even he realised.
The voice of the Radiant’s aging captain reverberated around the bridge. “Thank-you, Ensign. Commander Fraser; proceed.”
Marcus gripped the control yoke lightly and fired the engines to break orbit. The Battle Dreadnought’s spaceframe shook slightly as it accelerated. The flight computer was perfectly capable of handling the simple manoeuvre, but anything worth concentrating on that wasn’t an ICC fleet was welcome.
*******************************************************
After their third jump, the carriers and their escorts were in position. Not too far ahead, the outlines of the larger ICC ships were fairly easy to spot. Not wishing to be discovered too soon, the flotilla’s electronic countermeasure systems were running at full power.
And what an effect it had; lowering the energy signatures of each ship to a level far better than predicted. Such was the quality of UGTO-built technology, of course.
An initial attempt to contact the main fleet and convey their readiness failed. Long-range communications must be down. No matter, the vast amount of energy diverted to the detection avoidance systems was no doubt the cause. That would also explain why each ship’s tachyon drive was offline. Or perhaps it was a measure installed to avoid accidental breaking of radio silence. None of the engineers had ever mentioned it before.
Still, the static did have a bizarre regularity to it.
It roughly when the crews realised that something might possibly be wrong that the first ion blasts hit. Then the missiles.
It didn’t take long. Such was the quality of ICC weaponry.
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Two hours after having assembled the formation, Fraser was once again subjected to the Intelligence officer screaming in his ear. He didn’t even listen to what he had to say. That much was obvious: the enemy had jumped to within three thousand kilometres and were advancing at a frantic pace.
The captain wheezed slightly. “Orders from the Pharos?”
“Yes, Admiral. We are to defend her-…”
“-…at all costs.” Marcus hissed. He and the thousands on the Radiant would likely all be dead soon; probably forced to veer into the path of an Assault Dreadnought’s alpha-strike and he’d be the one to carry it out. He slammed his fist on the console, cracking the screen.
The captain shifted his attention to the noise.
“Problem, Commander?”
“No, sir.” Fraser muttered bitterly.
“Good,” he jabbed a crooked finger at the space occupied by the Pharos. “they’re counting on you.” With some effort he raised himself from his chair and spread his arms. “I’m counting on all of you! Make me proud!”
This little show was a common occurrence, and Fraser hated it. But there were more things to worry about right now. He banished all thoughts of spacing the captain and steadied himself for the fight.
It didn’t start well. Sarian had planned to attack the ICC’s weaker flanks full-on and fall back in the face of their dreadnoughts and allow the combined defences of the four planets to deal with them. It might have worked, had bombers not been among the dreadnoughts.
The UGTO cruisers and destroyers did as best they could to stop the advance. Thousands of fighters flitted around the behemoths, emptying their entire missile compliments. It was little use; some of the titans didn’t even bother to fire, and simply rammed through the defenders without slowing appreciably; dozens of fighters vanished with each pulse wave fired.
Within minutes, the first bombers were within firing range of Nemesis. Flying abreast, they emptied their bomb racks not far over the heads of the ground-based crews. In a desperate attempt, the bases directed their fire at the lead ship. A score of beams lanced out from the surface, striking one Bomber Dreadnought amidships. The outer hull began to melt under the ferocity of the attack and the ship’s bomb compliment detonated. The entire length of the hull rippled, then began to break up. The fragments streaked flames as the entered Nemesis’ atmosphere.
Shortly followed by the bombs.
Cushioning the warheads from the dangers of re-entry, the outer casing of each of the three hundred MIRVs that survived split apart. The enclosed missiles roared their way around the doomed world, seeking every city or military base; then striking.
Having broken through the UGTO formation, the ICC had split the defenders and was now slowly encircling both groups. They had nothing to fear from Nemesis, with immense scars spreading their way across her surface.
The Radiant was currently exchanging broadside shots with an Assault Cruiser; her transponder identified her as the Starfire, under the command of Vice Admiral Fox, a woman known o both sides for her frightening tenacity. Wave after wave of torpedoes ploughed their way into Radiant’s armoured flanks.
Marcus felt the Battle Dread’s guns thundering away as he struggled to keep the ship in a favourable firing position. Sweat trickled across his brow; he knew they were being surrounded. The fleet’s two Elite-class Assault Dreadnoughts were attempting to force a break in the snare; their quantum-singularity torpedoes firing in turns; wrenching huge chunks from lighter ships or swallowing them altogether.
Would it be enough?
Marcus dared speak up. “Sir! We have to-…”
He shielded his eyes as a supply ship nearby flared out of existence.
“We have to withdraw! There’s nothing we can do here! We’ve already lost sixty percent of the fleet!”
A voice from behind, “Starboard armour is failing!”
The captain snapped his head to the engineer’s station. “Understood, Lieutenant!” He then returned his steely gaze to Fraser.
With utmost precision, he uttered coldly, “Commander, you have your orders. You will carry out said orders and you will do it without question or I will shoot you myself. Is that clear?!”
His face contorted with rage, Marcus didn’t even bother to respond. He shifted back around to see the Starfire loose another wave of warheads. He felt each one slam into the decks, one after another. The whole ship shook violently and the lighting flickered and dimmed.
********************************************************
To be a gunner on a ship was a noble cause. Some said vital. Without weapons, a ship was useless.
It was varied work, too. One could be assigned one of dozens of different gun stations, and have the chance to fire at scores of different ships.
Of all the gunnery stations on all the ships of the ICC, one officer supposed, it paid to be assigned to the ion cannon of an Assault Dread. He loved the feeling of power: with a single shot, one could turn the tide of a battle.
And here was his target: an UGTO dreadnought under heavy escort. Beside her was similar ship spurting flames from multiple attacks. Both would soon die, he supposed.
He trained the crosshairs on the capital ship’s bulbous nose, and set the detonation range.
He waited for the order to fire.
He received it. And smiled.
****************************************************
A flash of impossible brilliance blinded Fraser. A split second later the viewscreens on the bridge tinted black.
Before he could react, tendrils of electrical energy were dancing their way across the hull, through the internal systems and into his terminal. The power surge burnt his fingers black and flew him from his seat. He screamed in agony and landed on the cold sterile deck, twitching. The smell of his own burnt hair assaulted his nose.
Once again, internal lighting flickered off and on. Then remained off.
When at last the viewscreens became transparent again, the stars were twisting around the bridge gently. With some effort, Marcus got to his feet, fearing the worst. Beyond him was a scene of utter devastation.
The Pharos’ bridge had been cored, and little trace of her outer hull remained, the entire bow of the ship twisted precariously, threatening to become disconnected altogether. It seemed the UGTO had another martyr.
To his right, Marcus could see other debris, from ICC ships, too. The Starfire looked like it had sideswept an asteroid; she seemed still to be under power, however, and was attempting to limp away from the fight. Further off, Alecto had just fallen.
“Commander, what are your orders?” That was the engineer, from the sound of he voice the blast had been no kinder to her.
“Why are you asking me?” Fraser didn’t turn around.
“You’re the highest ranking officer. You have command.”
“I’m no-…” he turned around to find she was right. The captain’s console must have exploded; his face was burnt and covered in shards of glass, his beard and hair were singed. The rest of the bridge crew gazed at him expectantly.
He was in command, and could now do the one thing he had wanted to do since this battle started. He could leave the fight. He would have smiled had he not thought it far too late. The Radiant was dead in space; the remainder of UGTO forces would undoubtedly be joining it soon.
They could sit tight and hope the ICC didn’t shoot up what was left of the hull, or they could die.
His voice was raspy, “Power down all unnecessary systems. If the tachyon drive isn’t destroyed, see if you can get it running. Then we wait.”
No-one questioned him. He tried to reason with himself that he was acting in their best interests, but he knew he was just saving himself. He continued to stare in silence as one by one, the last UGTO ships fell.
Five long hours later, the ICC departed.
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