18 Hours Later. March 24th, 2267. 01:15 CNS Waukesha – Executive Boardroom

John walked into the room and sat down in his chair at the head of the table. Ingrid and Brian were already in the room and had already connected their meeting to the other ships. All eyes were on John as he sat down.

“My god this liquid is just vile,” John said as he set his coffee mug on the table, “Apologies for my tardiness. I was looking for a cup of, well, that crap.”

“Are these meetings always like this?” Lieutenant Edwin Caffre of the CNS Baltimore asked.

“More or less,” Vanessa said, “Though it is surprising that Lieutenant Lief was the last one to join. Tardiness kind of sets him off.”

“Yeah, he’s usually first to join,” Brady added.

“I kinda like this so far,” Lieutenant Ben Harrod, the captain of the CNS Monaco, “Less stuffy than what I’ve been used to.”

Brian grinned, “There was a pot already here in the room, sir. Chef makes sure there is a full one before any meeting.”

John sighed, “I’ve been on this ship two years and you’d think I’d have learned that already. Once again, my apologies. First off, do we have any new damage?”

“The Waukesha is clean, nothing of substance struck our armor. Shields did a pretty good job in the last engagement,” Ingrid said.

“The Lexington took a couple of rounds. Got a pretty badly scratched-up armor plate, midships on our starboard side, and had a couple of shielding arrays blow out,” Patrice said, “Engineering has said the replacement of the final array should be finished within the hour.”

“It’s a bit embarrassing to say this, but one of our aft missile launchers is offline,” Brady said in a disgusted tone, “Got struck with a small caliber rail round that embedded itself where the doors open. Doors were cold welded shut. We’re going to need some downtime in real space to enact a repair.”

“Wow, that is terrible luck,” Vanessa said, “We lost an EM shielding array but that has since been repaired. Our main gun suffered a feedback pulse. It’s offline for inspection at the moment, but we believe it will be ready before we arrive.”

“The Ugley is in tip-top shape,” Tessa said proudly, “Though to be fair that is to be expected, we weren’t shot at, like at all, during the last engagement.”

“How are your guests?” Patrice asked of the pirates they had confined on the Waukesha.

“Confused, angry, depressed, sad, and resigned to their fates. The kids don’t seem to know what in the hell is going on,” John said, “I would prefer to offload them but there hasn’t been a transport anywhere near us.”

Brady laughed, “Think the pirates would hold any punches with them on board?”

“Who knows?” John shrugged.

“Where are we heading next?” Vanessa asked.

“We’re heading to the Groombridge system. We are roughly six hours behind the pirates,” John sighed loudly, “Which is a bloody long time.”

“And slowing down,” Brian added, “Tides have shifted against us. We expect to lose another sixty to one hundred more minutes to the pirates.”

“What’s in the system for them?” Tessa asked, “I was under the impression that we cleared that system out during the pirate mission.”

“It was,” John said as he shared a tactical image of the system, “But like the cancer that they are, they came back. The local civilians do not actively trade with the pirates at least. They don’t have any reason to head out to the outer solar system to clear them out either. The fourth planet is a small gas giant that makes for easy Helium-2 harvesting. The locals guard the inner system out to the fourth planet and treat the rest of their solar system as if it doesn’t exist.”

“Damn, it would suck to be a prospector in the outer belt,” Brady said, “All out by your lonesome in the void, way the hell out there.”

“This is an old corporate station, formerly owned by the Estrella Galactica corporation. The station was abandoned but then claimed by a variety of pirate factions. Those factions abandoned it and left for safer waters during our relatively recent clean-up campaign. The Polar Familia has since claimed the station and is actively managing it,” John said as he brought up more information about the organization onscreen.

“Wow, NI didn’t think they sent any ships to the pirate fleet,” Patrice said, “Is this accurate?”

“No one really knows. This faction is rather impressive at sussing out agents. They resorted to using a stealth frigate to acquire most of their intelligence. At last count the number of ships that owe allegiance to them hasn’t changed much, which is the basis for that claim,” John said, “It is well known that they do not like the Icarus and their leaders are not on good terms with them.”

“Dare we hope for some fireworks on their end?” Brady asked.

“Doubtful, we’re never that lucky,” Tessa said plainly, “This station is a bit different than the one we ended yesterday. It actually has a proper set of defenses.”

“Attacking the station is going to be a much different event compared to what we’ve been doing,” John said, “And to be blunt, attacking the station isn’t our priority. Here is the plan that I’ve come up with, but I am curious at how y’all would tweak it.”

The battle plan then began to play. All Confederate ships jumped in well outside the system’s effective firing range. John had them play the role of mobile artillery platforms. Pot shots were taken at the station, but generally, they were just flooding the space with rail rounds and lance fire at the pirate ships.

Neither the plasma nor laser batteries had the range to target anything, besides incoming missiles and shells that is. It was a curiously cautious plan coming from John, who was not known to be cautious at all. All of the captains could barely believe their eyes.

Discussions were had, lively at that, but all agreed that this was not a station worth attacking. Though it was a station that needed to be eliminated. None of the assembled captains had come up with an acceptable assault strategy that limited risk to their ships. Most of the recommendations ignored the risks of getting danger close and launching a full salvo of torpedoes, but that ran counter to their stated goal which was to avoid slaughtering families of the pirates.

John’s mind drifted to how those families were violating several Confederate laws and were not strictly innocent. That being said, the Confederacy didn’t like needlessly killing them. For starters, it’s a terrible look to slaughter your own citizens no matter how rebellious they may be. It’s one thing to destroy a pirate ship, but it’s another thing entirely to destroy a base of pirates with them in it. The media, irrespective of how much control the military has over them, will crucify those that do such a callous thing.

Secondly, the Confederacy does believe that women and children can be rehabilitated. To a lesser extent that applies to younger pirates, after a lengthy prison stay that is. With some very specific conditions of course. The parents are not allowed any unsupervised contact with their children. The children themselves are sent to a unique boarding school. There they are given an education that exceeds that of their loyal cousins, but it also works to condition the children towards changing their loyalty to the Confederacy.

That is done in a number of ways. The preferred method is just repetitive lessons that espouse the benefits the Confederate government gives to its citizens. This brute force style method of reinforcing a very simple message, ‘Pirates are bad, the Confederacy is great,’ is surprisingly effective. Utilizing telepaths and subliminal messages are also effective means but don’t seem to generate the long-term loyalty that they seek.

John snapped too once again and refocused on the discussion. He was happy with the deliberations of the battle plan. This wasn’t the place of their final showdown. In truth, the whole point of the coming attack is to soften up the pirates, harass them, and force them to retreat once more. This was step one of a two-step plan to end the pirate menace once and for all.

But John left out one thing in his battle plan. Before they left John was going to dive the Waukesha in at the station and blast it to hell at point-blank range. Doing the very thing that the military so actively tries to avoid. He was planning on being a butcher this day.

09:32 Groombridge Waystation

The largest structure in the outer Groombridge system was yet another abandoned super-station. Naturally, it became a hotbed of pirate activity over the years. Despite its size, the former inhabitants occupied only a small portion of livable space.

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Today was no different, or was it? Unbeknownst to John, the inhabitants had already voluntarily left the station because of other pirates. Rene and his ragged band of pirates were still plundering the station of anything and everything of military value on the station. The station felt full and busy for the first time in over a decade.

There was a tenseness in the air as the pillaging of valuables went on. None of the pirates knew when their pursuers would arrive in the system, just that they would at some point. Several trips worth of loot had been brought back to the docked ships.

Then, all of a sudden, the mood changed at the station. Yelling and shouting could be heard spread through the station like wildfire. Their pursuers were now appearing in the system.

But it was different now. Where there were once just five ships, well technically six, but the pirates didn’t know about their stealthy tracker, it had grown to thirteen ships. A scant number compared to the volume of pirate ships. But there were now not one, but two Waukesha class ships. And another light cruiser coupled with several heavy frigates. The number of enemy guns, and their overall lethality, had grown exponentially.

“We jumped in a bit outside of the desired range,” Barbara said from the helm, “Suggest we close to our designated range.”

John nodded, “How far away are we from it now?”

“Thirteen thousand klicks.”

“Walter, how big of a deal is that?” John asked.

“I’d prefer to shoot closer to the target as opposed to farther away,” Walter said calmly.

“Advise the fleet to approach nearer to the station but halt at two hundred thousand. Monique, all scans on that station, I want to know when the station’s defenses fire up.”

“There are over two hundred ships that are docked to the external ring,” Monique said, “Including the Icarus and most of her capital ships.”

“Walter, target those frigates and destroyers.”

“With pleasure captain,” Walter smiled as he began firing the ship's railguns.

Railgun fire commenced immediately following the Waukesha’s initial volley. The scary thing about rail fire was that its potential damage at point-blank range and the outer effective range was minimal when not near a gravity well. The major difference was in terms of accuracy. In this case, though, the targets were docked. But they weren’t sitting still.

Each volley, from this range, would take around five minutes to reach the target. That was an eternity during combat. The lances would travel the distance much more quickly, in just a matter of seconds, but at these distances, the strength of the lances would be greatly reduced.

The long-range bombardment continued for three minutes. Three minutes of unleashing hell and fury toward the enemy. Though ironically there was still no indication of anything actually happening as of yet. But the station’s reaction was quite curious, or its lack of response.

Monique was pouring over the scan results to confirm what she was seeing. It didn’t make sense. The station wasn’t firing back at all. Sure, its defensive shielding was enabled but her long-range weapons systems weren’t firing at the fleet. The small caliber railguns they had should have been firing, but they weren’t.

That led Monique down a rabbit hole. They knew the station was inhabited by two to three thousand pirates. A pittance compared to the maximum capacity of the station. When they first jumped back into real space the scanners seemed to suggest there were nearly six thousand pirates onboard the station.

Now the sensors are reading substantially fewer souls onboard the station. Looking at the timelapse image of where the individuals were located on the station saw an outflow from the outer areas of the station to their docked ships. No one at all was found in the central parts of the station.

Adding to the confusion, and which triggered her curiosity, was the lack of any docked or orbiting freighters. Those were staple ships found at all pirate ports of call. Whether they were owned, or stolen, by pirates themselves was immaterial, there were always freighters at pirate ports.

“Captain, I believe the station has been abandoned,” Monique said.

John raised an eyebrow. The other officers found the statement to be highly curious. None responded immediately. Either they were waiting for their captain to say something, or they were still trying to process what they had just heard.

“Your justification for this conclusion is?” John asked politely.

“No life signs can be found in the central core of the facility. The lack of incoming fire from the station itself. But the key things here is the lack of freighter traffic and the lack of any pirates from the faction that Naval Intelligence said was in charge of this facility in the Icarus’ fleet.”

“Show me.”

The tactical screen was cut in half. Monique transferred the scan readings onto it. The life signs in the station all appeared to be heading toward the docking rings. No one was left in the central core of the station. The factions of who the pirate ships belonged, or were aligned to, were displayed, but the group that “owned” the facility was nowhere to be seen.

The scans weren’t infallible and at these ranges, some life signs could be overlooked. But it was a compelling case that the base had been abandoned. Another possibility is that whoever was left on the station was forcibly conscripted into service onboard any number of pirate ships docked at the station.

“Hmmm,” John said as he pondered the information, “Transmit an attack VI on the base, and see if it can read any automated activity in its defenses.”

“I’ll take care of that,” Brian said next to John, “Should know momentarily.”

Emily spun her chair around to face John and his executive officer, “Should I communicate to the rest of the fleet?”

“Not yet, we’re not going to close the distance until we know for sure that station is shut off.”

“Holy shit, the attack VI is in. Their automated defensives are shut off,” Brian could hardly believe his eyes, “Take a look at this.”

Brian tapped on his mini console built into his armrest. A message appeared on the screen.

‘To whom it may concern. We, as you Confederate cunts call us, the Polar Familia, do not support the actions of the pirate fleet. We washed our hands of them and abandoned our system and hard-earned work the moment they showed up. None of our ships joined their two-bit crusade against our mighty overlords. Remember this in the future, we have no quarrel with your kind. Sincerely, Me.’

“What a smartass,” John said smiling as he stepped out of his chair, “Emily, contact the fleet, approach the station. Barbara, all ahead flank, continue evasive maneuvers.”

The Waukesha’s primary engine roared to life once more. Instead of making a rather wicked slide through the void while keeping the station in front of her, she was now closing the distance. The reaction from the pirates was immediate.

A wave of smaller ships began flying toward the Confederate warships. The Icarus, and the other docked capital ships, were hastily finishing their undocking procedures. Several ships tried to reverse away from the station while docking clamps were still attached.

No longer was this an organized escape for the pirates. Panic, no sheer terror, gripped the pirate fleet. Their Confederates pursuers weren’t here to play games with them. They had one mission and only one mission. Absolute devastation.

At that moment dozens upon dozens of rail rounds began to pepper the outer docking ring. Both the ring itself and over three dozen ships were severely damaged. Another twenty ships flat-out exploded. Safety systems within the ring began closing bulkheads to preserve the atmosphere within.

John pulled up on his small holographic projector a view of the real-time life scans. Numerous, far too many to count in that short of time, were trapped with no hope of reaching a ship. Many of them were taking different routes or were just heading to the nearest ship, irrespective of what flag was flown. Escape, of any kind, was preferable to those still onboard the station.

“Sir, only about fifty ships were sent to engage us. Most of the fleet are withdrawing,” Monique said.

“With no bloody firing arc on the big one,” Walter said grimly from his station.

“Continue firing, kill anything that moves,” John said, “Walter prepare two high-yield torpedoes in the forward tubes. Barbara, adjust our course so we get close to that station. We’re ending it.”

“What if that message or scans are inaccurate?” Barbara said worriedly.

“Yeah, killing kids isn’t exactly something I approve of,” Walter said calmly, “Even if they are pirate bastards. I mean that as respectfully as I can, of course.”

“Do as I say. In the ship's log I will say that I chose this action over the objections of my senior staff,” John turned to face Walter.

His weapons officer tapped a few things into his console. He looked up at John at nodded curtly. It was clear to John that the order to not sit well with him. Even if the available evidence strongly suggested the station was empty of women and children.

“Torpedoes have been loaded. I’ve transferred control of their firing to your console. I’m sorry, but I can’t push that button if we aren’t absolutely certain.”

“Understood, I can respect that,” John sat back down in his chair.

Brian leaned over and whispered, “Do you want to hear my objection to this course of action without at least first confirming it.”

“No, I know what you’re going to say. We don’t have the time for a thorough search of that station. We need to be hot on their heels,” John said before looking back at Monique, “Have they jumped to slip space yet?”

“Their slip generators are activating, jumps are imminent. Most of the intercepting pirates are scattering.”

“Are they abandoning the attack run?” Walter said, “Sure looks like it from my scans.”

John smiled devilishly from his chair, “They can’t order them to give their life for the cause anymore.”

“Come again?” Brian asked curiously.

“It’s all part of the plan,” John said, “Barbara, drop the evasive maneuvers, lay in a bombing run to that station, please. Order the rest of the fleet to break off and attack the now scattering rats.”

His helmsmen complied. She, like the others, was not entirely comfortable with the overly aggressive and borderline war crime that her captain was prepared to undertake. But following his orders she did. The message to the rest of the fleet was a much more straightforward ask and was easily done.

Within the next ten minutes, several things happened. Ten of the fifty pirate ships that broke off their attack run were destroyed. Unfortunately, the remainder of them escaped into the cold expanse of the void. But those forty would leave the Icarus’ fleet forever, bitterly swallowing the realization that the dream pitched to them was nothing more than fanciful bullshit.

The two torpedoes that John had readied for launch were fired. No defensive fire emanated from the station. The two torpedoes sailed silently in the void toward their target. Both struck the inner structure and plowed deep into the station. The outer ring was already in shambles thanks to the initial long-range bombardment from the Confederates.

Two large explosions followed by dozens of secondary explosions erupted throughout the station. The fusion core at the heart of it didn’t explode, its safety systems engaged and shut down before it could immolate the entirety of the station. What was left behind was charred wreckage, ready to be dismantled and recycled. Never again would that station host life.

The final thing that happened was the Confederate task force jumped into slip space, hot on the heels of the pirates. They were mere minutes behind their prey. With any luck the next system they jump to ought to be their last. John was certain that the final conflict was coming soon. But he worried that his recent actions would hurt how his crew would follow his missions.

That, more than the Icarus, would be his focus over the next few shifts. Many conversations would need to be had. Did he still have their trust? Could he count on them to do what he needed them to do? Those were valid questions to ask based on his surprisingly ruthless actions. Though in truth those actions weren’t ruthless, it was nothing more than a simple Sunday to John and the station simply had to go, whether it was populated or not.