November 23rd, 2266. 04:15 Folly of Icarus Bridge
Smoke filled the air despite the air scrubbers trying their hardest to clean the air. Sparks were flying from broken terminals and broken conduits hanging from the ceiling. Several terminals weren’t working any longer.
The terminals that were working were displaying troubling signs. Far too many ablative armor plates were so damaged that they offered no protection any longer. Twelve rooms had been sealed to stop the atmosphere from leaking into the endless void. Too many point defense cannons, laser batteries, and lances were no longer functioning. The Folly of Icarus had seen better days.
More worrying was what had happened to the bridge crew. The helmsmen lay on the ground next to their terminal not moving. Blood stained the floor near their prone figure. The operations officer was also on the ground, but unlike the helmsmen was still breathing. Another officer in the rear of the bridge was slumped over their terminal lifeless. The captain had picked himself off the ground and was very shaky on his feet before sitting down in his chair. None on the bridge had escaped unscathed.
“Captain, our jump engines are… still functioning as is primary power… somehow. I suggest an emergency… slip jump,” the weapons officer said through laborious breathing.
The poor man had a glass chunk from a terminal pierced into his side. He held the piece in place with one hand as he looked down at his flicker terminal. He didn’t like what his terminal was displaying of what remained of their weapon systems.
“None of our rail turrets are functioning, the glide track took a direct impact which severed power to them,” the man groaned in pain for a moment, “Looks like at least three of our turrets are just completely destroyed.”
Rene was bringing the ship about through the small command console he had pulled from under his armrest. He was already well underway ordering the ship’s navigational computer to calculate a deep gravity-well engagement. The experienced pirate knew this was dangerous, but even more dangerous was staying in real space.
“Shit, two more contacts at bearing two-six-five. Appear to be those Intelligence ships. Scottsdale class, that’s their newest class of heavy cruisers,” said one of the panicking remaining operations officers, “They don’t normally assist the regular Navy.”
“It appears we underestimated our foe. In hindsight, we should have foreseen their assistance. They would not come to the Waukesha’s aid when they could snatch that glory from them for themselves. We should expect the unexpected from him in the future,” Rene said forlornly.
The communications officer shook his head. He looked down at his console and saw a disturbing amount of blood on the console. A quick rub of his forehead smeared blood onto his hands. He then took in the sorry state of the bridge.
“What in the fuck did I miss?” the communications officer asked innocently.
“Us getting… our asses kicked,” the weapons officer answered in pained sarcasm, “Damnit that hurt.”
“Hail the Waukesha,” Rene said as he swatted a bundle of cables away from his face, “We should say goodbye before leaving.”
The Icarus’ main viewscreen was a bit of a mess. There were several dead sectors displaying nothing. Other sectors lay on the ground in pieces exposing the circuitry behind them. But it was working well enough for what he was about to do. Rene grinned as he saw the bridge crew of his young rival's ship.
“You won this round boy. But as they say, parting is such sweet sorrow. Ta-ta for now,” Rene mockingly waived at John before cutting the transmission.
While Rene was man enough to admit defeat. His wounded pride would not tolerate hearing any witty remarks or comebacks. Nor would he brook hearing any demands to stand down. They were beaten this day, but they were neither destroyed nor broken.
Though if they stayed in the fight any longer both of those would come to pass. Rene was already wincing at how long it would take his crew to enact repairs and repair all the damage. Worse than the time though, was the sheer number of credits necessary to acquire all of the replacement parts and goods. Their coffers would be raided, and all manner of favors would be called in.
Their primary drive core redirected its energy to the slipstream drives. They sounded angry and most unhappy with being tasked to create a portal into slip space this close to the gravity well of a planet. Rene was not the only one of the Icarus’ crew that was thankful they weren’t fighting around a larger planet. This method of escape may not have been possible given the sad state of the ship.
Two slip stream generators blew up on the exterior of the ship as the dimensional portal opened. Thankfully only two gave up the ghost when activated. Both could be replaced if push came to shove, but for now, Rene knew they were safe. But this time they only escaped due to sheer dumb luck.
He looked back at the Waukesha in the tactical screen. He couldn’t help but be impressed with the actions of John Lief. That was a Navy captain not only willing to think outside of the box, but to destroy any boxes put around him willingly. Perhaps the Navy would do what the Navy does to free-thinking captains, if they didn’t Rene seriously questioned if they could survive another encounter with them.
Rene cringed when he thought about what might have been had that enemy captain been in charge of a larger ship. He looked down at his terminal and began skimming through the modern battle cruisers the Navy used. Each one was substantially larger, not to mention more well-armed, than their foe. It was safe to say that had they been up against any of these ships the Icarus would likely perish against such a tenacious captain.
But for now, they would retreat. While it may not be much, given the circumstances they find themselves in, they will enjoy the impotent rage given off by the Confederate ships. Their enemies were denied a victory, that had to be good enough. That was the only solace for them to take in such circumstances.
“We made it out,” Rene said with a sigh, “I want an accounting of everyone that was lost. And we need to get working on repairing this ship immediately.”
“Aside from Paolo, everyone else on the bridge is alive. Though it’s safe to say we’re banged the fuck up,” the communications officer said.
The bridge crew nodded. Unlike their Confederate cousins, they too were filled with impotent rage. Revenge would not be had this day. Worse yet, the revenge for their fallen had failed utterly, and more of their compatriots were dead. Who knew how long it would be before they could wring the neck of that god-forsaken Confederate captain?
04:35 CNS Waukesha – Bridge
John and the rest of the bridge crew stared at the screen in stunned silence. John had to remind himself to breathe. They were seconds awaiting from vanquishing this foe. What the hell had just happened? The second wave of missiles was closing in on their prey but then their engines all stopped at the same time.
The doors to the bridge then opened allowing those in the hallway to view the surreal scene. The petite blond officer leading the relief crew was frozen in place. She didn’t know what to do at that moment. The crew behind her were also momentarily confused. That would change with one angry curse.
You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.
“FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!” John roared out angrily as he slammed his fists into both armrests before petulantly speaking once again, “Fucking damn it.”
The bridge crew, sans the newcomer, was dejected. Brian’s shoulders slumped mightily. Monique and Deb both slammed their terminals with closed fists. And almost in unison swore under their breaths as they shook their hands. Rex just stared at the screen and shook his head.
“Stand down from red alert,” John said as he rubbed his forehead, “God damn it. She just left like a fart in the wind. We were a pubic hair away from sinking her.”
“Oh my fucking god, we were so damned close. Well, you were right about NI sending reinforcements,” Rex said sarcastically, “If those wo Scottsdales with us would have been enough grunt too…”
“A day late and a dollar short,” John exhaled deeply before standing up to look at the rear of the bridge.
Brian bent over and lightly banged his head against his weapon’s console, “Life just isn’t fair.”
John took a deep breath before standing up and looking to the rear of the bridge, “Ahh, Lieutenant Berge, I presume the relief crew is here?”
“Uhm, yes sir, we are here to relieve you all. We were coming here to aid and assist but it looks like the festivities are over,” Ingrid’s disappointment could be felt by all who heard it when she glanced at one of the weapons terminals, “Oh my goodness…”
“You have the bridge, Ingrid. If NI wants to bitch and moan about something tell them to contact us back in about eight and a half hours,” John said as he walked up the ramp to the rear of the bridge, “I need some fucking shuteye.”
“I need a shower, but then I’m hitting the bunk, hard,” Rex was yawning behind the captain.
“Food, I am fucking hungry. I’m going to stuff my stomach to make up for this disappointment,” Brian said as he pointed at the terminal to his replacement, “Lieutenant Berge if you haven’t already noticed but there’s a lot of missiles and torpedoes that need to be recovered. Good luck with all that.”
“I see that. Ninety-five projectiles in total. This should be fun and interesting,” Ingrid rolled her eyes at Brian’s comment.
“At least they can be reloaded and refueled,” Deb said from the other side of the bridge.
“So says the team that fired them all. You know it’s a whole lot more working stowing them after firing them right?”
John grinned as he walked into the hallway, “She’s not wrong, firing them is way more fun than retrieving them.”
John’s bridge crew laughed as they dispersed to their rooms or the chow hall. The fresh crew rolled their eyes and sighed collectively. A battle had been won, but now it was time to clean up. And those that made the mess weren’t going to be offering any assistance in that process.
16:15 CNS Waukesha – Captain’s Ready Room
The one downside to Naval life was paperwork. Normally, when the ship isn’t involved in combat, the paperwork is just below excessive levels. There’s plenty of it to be done, but not too much to feel overwhelmed. Most of it felt like busy work, though there were some that did feel like it could be useful. To whom though? John didn’t really know the answer to that.
There was an elegant balance in the paperwork. Unfortunately, after a battle, that balance gets shot out of an airlock. He hadn’t even begun to write his after-action report, which if paraphrased greatly would read: ‘I killed a couple of pirates, which they took offense to, and then they attacked us.’ John grunted at that thought as he refocused on his munitions report.
“Fuck, this is gonna be an expensive reload,” John said as he looked at the ordinance that was fired.
One hundred and four missiles were properly used along with six torpedoes during their engagement with the Icarus. Six cruise missiles and a torpedo were forced to be detonated when they couldn’t recover the weapons. Ninety were able to be brought back to the Waukesha and reloaded.
The weapons and engineering teams were still working on refueling those that were launched. Unfortunately, while it was a relatively safe process it was a painfully slow one. Those teams were barely a quarter done with it when John started his shift.
John stretched his next back and forth and sighed. The rest he got was excellent, but he was still feeling pretty worn down. If the rumors were accurate, he’d have nearly three months of leave ahead of him. That rumor he hadn’t shared with Alice; he knew if he did, she’d find a way to book all of that time. While she was the love of his life, he wanted some personal time to himself to unwind and reflect.
“Captain, apologies for the interruption,” Deb said through the intercom, “But Admiral Dufresne is contacting us.”
John looked up at his terminal, “Patch him through please.”
A moment later Admiral Dufresne appeared on screen, “Lieutenant, I see you had a busy day.”
John chuckled, “That’s putting it mildly.”
“The R&D department is pouring over the readings of that fusion core. Wonderful find. How are you doing reconstructing the remaining data?”
John shook his head, “Poorly. I’ve managed to retrieve some, but I fear a good chunk of the data is just unusable. My telemetry data was, and this is as scientific as I can be, fucked up until I exited the mountain. The background EM radiation was through the rough from the sensors of the shuttle.”
“And let me guess, our electronics weren’t hardened against that band of radiation?”
“That would be correct. I didn’t know this until I was inspecting my suit, but the EM radiation caused disruptions in the suit’s general capabilities, but my VI compensated by pouring more power into it,” John grinned, “Kinda like driving down the interstate with the go-fast pedal pegged to the floor. Enough energy was forced through the circuitry to make it work mostly right.”
“Then the added current was causing the recording issues?”
“In part, yes. I believe the area where I was near the core was shielded in some way which allowed for the transmission of that data. It wasn’t an entire loss at the very least,” John shrugged, “Call it good luck that the one thing our eggheads really should see is data that isn’t messed up.”
“The energy packs and other things in your goodie package were also well received by our engineers. Though, like the fusion core, they aren’t exactly sure how to recreate them.”
“Give them time and I’m sure they’ll come up with something,” John said reassuringly, “Worst case scenario they use what they see to improve our current gear.”
“Keep on trying to recover the data. Anything you get will help us in the long run,” Admiral Dufresne smiled, “Now onto other news, the Icarus got away.”
“Not after we beat, and I mean this as politely as I can, the ever-living shit out of her. Had those NI cruisers been with us from the get-go we may have been able to end that threat once and for all.”
Admiral Dufresne sighed, “Well, I would not expect any change in behavior from Naval Intelligence on this matter. When should I expect your after-action report?”
“I can get you a draft copy of the overview by the end of the day. A draft of the actual report is probably a couple of days aware with the final version being at least a week or two away. Which is a polite way of saying it may not be ready until we dock.”
“That’ll be fine. I think I can calm Admiral Dickinson down with a general overview of that report.”
“We’re going to be departing in sixteen hours if all goes right. Our reinforcements from Sixth Fleet were rerouted due to reasons, but a new set of ships was dispatched and should be here within the day.”
“I also see the rearmament request.”
“Yeah, that was an expensive fight. We were punching well above our weight class. We had to use every tool available to us to fight them on an equal basis,” John frowned, “Unfortunately I think the next time we see them they will have corrected their systemic deficiencies seen in that battle.”
“You won’t be going out alone next time. With any luck we can tap into your luck and run into them again.”
John knocked his table gently with his knuckles, “With a bit of luck I hope that happens, sir.”
“One last thing, were they really Alliance scientists at the site?”
John nodded.
“How did that happen?”
“In short, our scientists didn’t appreciate their overlords in the military. They wanted to make this discovery from a purely scientific standpoint.”
“I don’t follow.”
“If the Alliance got their hands on the same tech, then one side wouldn’t have an overwhelming technological advantage. There was also something about how their financial backing from our side wasn’t sufficient for their needs,” John paused, “I’ll be honest I’m not exactly certain how that’s going to play out. I’d expect NI to conduct a thorough forensic accounting investigation. In any case, their group knowingly violated immigration laws and brought hostiles into alien ruins.”
“Fucking hell. This is going to create a diplomatic incident.”
“Especially since their best and brightest are now under a few hundred million metric tons worth of rock. The rest were detained separately from our civvies,” John grinned, “We even sussed out a couple of their intelligence agents. Score one for my Marines.”
“What will they do to those foreign agents?”
“Disappear them.”
“Alright, say no more. Well, good work. You and your crew have earned some downtime when you get back. Of course, yours will come after a couple of days of office work back at division command.”
“No rest for the wicked,” John grinned, “I’ll try and get the after-action reports finished as soon as possible.”
The communication ended. John returned to his dreadful paperwork. His goal this shift was to wrap up all of the essential but ultimately peripheral paperwork. With a bit of luck, he could start in earnest with the after-action report tomorrow.
And with a bit of luck, their trip back home wouldn’t take more than two weeks. Though the forecasts for slip space suggested that it was closer to a pipedream than reality. John did take a short break and ordered the chefs to make some special meals for the crew. It was as a reward for a job well done. He only wished they could have ended the Icarus once and for all. Perhaps, with a little luck, they would accomplish just that.