(Gateway, Alpha Centauri System)
There were only four currently known methods of FTL travel in the galaxy. Which isn’t to say that there weren’t other methods, but their use had fallen by the wayside either because they were impractical, or they simply fell out of favor for the current methods. One of those current methods were the Gateways. And as one of the ways someone could get an enemy fleet into position without prior detection, so near the heart of the Empire, the gateway here at Alpha Centauri was well guarded by enough ships to crush any fleet advancing through the gateway before they had a chance to fight back.
Of course, the obvious answer was to send one force to take out the blocking force, allowing for reinforcements to come through once the Gate was clear, but that was easier said than done, when the fifty ships of Second Fleet were taken into consideration. Two squadrons of seven superdreadnoughts, a dozen cruisers, and twenty-four smaller craft were not a force to be taken lightly!
When the Gateway opened unexpectedly, an alert was sounded through the fleet. When the expected transfer of ships through the gate never happened, confusion reigned instead. When a barrage of dozens, perhaps hundreds of missiles came streaming through, and then began seeking targets, confusion turned to shock and terror, as ships began dying under the assault.
Thus began the first use of the Gateway system for indirect fire in modern military history.
(Admiral’s Quarters, Fleet Base Bagthera, Alpha Centauri System)
Alarms filled the air. Admiral Nimitz groaned as he opened his eyes and looked at the clock by his bead. 01:00, station time. He was probably going to have to kill whoever it was that was causing problems at this time, especially since he had only finished his current stewardess’s weekly ‘performance review’ an hour ago. “Coffee, now.” He smacked the redhead on the ass to get her moving while he reached for his communicator.
“Report!”
“Admiral! This is Lieutenant Chalmers in CIC. We have an unscheduled gateway activation. Missiles are pouring through the gate and seeking targets on this side! There are also reports of kinetic strikes being delivered against the gateway defenders!”
Damn it! The rebels must have grown bold indeed try and launch an attack on Alpha Centauri. It had to be the rebels, right? He didn’t even want to consider that this could be the opening move of a war with one of the other interstellar powers out there. Nimitz shook his head, and said, “Prepare a tactical report. I’ll be there in ten.”
He didn’t bother with a shower. There was no time for it. He simply threw on a fresh uniform, and turned to leave his suite, trusting that coffee would be there before he had to leave for the CIC. His aide was waiting in his day room, with the cup of coffee in one hand, and a datapad in the other. The stewardess had probably gone to get dressed, herself.
His aide handed the coffee to him as he approached, causing him to nod gratefully at the blonde. “What’s the situation?”
His aide shook her head. “Details are still unclear, Admiral. No ships have transited the gate yet.”
“All right, let’s get to CIC. If this is a larger attack on the system, then we need to warn Fleet Command back at Sol.” He turned, and headed for the door. Time to figure out what was happening, and then kick someone’s ass for attacking his base.
“I’m sorry Admiral, but I can’t let you do that.”
The tone of voice, more than the content of what was said caused Admiral Nimitz to pause, but before he could turn around, he gasped as a sharp pain appeared in his side. Unable to make a sound, he looked down and saw the blood dagger stuck in his side. It was only then, distracted as he was by the alert, that he noticed the crumpled heap in the corner that used to be his stewardess. So the assassin had killed her too?
Well he wouldn’t go down without a fight!
(Combat Information Center, Fleet Base Bagthera, Alpha Centauri System)
It was fifteen minutes after the Admiral had communicated he would be heading to the CIC when he finally arrived. The officer of the watch saluted, and said, “Admiral, we’re beginning to get initial damage reports from the fleet. Thunderous and Kurenai are both disabled. We’ve lost Madara, and the Normandy has been hit hard. She’s still able to fight, but Captain Thomas is dead. A Commander Shepherd is the senior officer and has taken command. We’ve lost over half the smaller ships so far!”
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“How are they targeting the missiles? It should be impossible to send targeting data back through the Gateway since the transmissions are one-way.”
The captain who had been in charge until he entered the room shook his head. “Unknown, sir. Tactical believes that there may be a stealthed vessel providing target data for the missiles once they are through the Gate. There may be more than one, if the timing of the kinetic strikes is any indication.”
“Kinetics. Are you saying that this is our mysterious squadron of ghost ships that struck Sol and has been attacking shipping? Kindof a large jump to be attacking Bagthera base so openly. If it is them, what has changed?”
“I can’t say, Admiral. But if they were mercenaries or even just people with a cause, they may have been recruited by the rebels to destabilize operations.”
The Admiral nodded. “Very well. All ships are to go active on all scanners, full power to the sensors. If we can eliminate their spotter then this becomes academic.”
Just as the ships began hammering with their sensors, a blip appeared on the screens. “Admiral, I think we got them! They must have had to compromise their stealth ability to send out target data to all those missiles!”
“Excellent! The Normandy and the heavy cruisers Prinz Eugen and Blücher are to remain on station. They can handle anyone that comes through the gate. The superdreadnought Poltava is to cover the disabled ships and begin Search and Rescue operations. Everyone else is to converge on those coordinates. Eliminate the spotter and any of these other ‘phantom ships’ that might be in the area. They have a great deal to answer for, no?”
“Aye aye, Admiral!”
The communications officers went about their tasks, the Admiral watched as the ships began moving to intercept the spotter. Of course, the ships were horribly overkill for a single ship, even if it were a superdreadnought, but the fact that its invisible friends might be out there to ambush smaller ships meant that using all the available ships to deal with the threat once and for all was appropriate. Idly, he keyed a few commands into his console.
“Admiral! The long-range communications array has gone offline!”
“The CIC just went on lockdown!”
“Station internal defenses just went active! They’re targeting Imperial forces!”
“We have ships transitioning through the gateway!”
“Environmental controls just went offline!”
The admiral merely nodded. “Yes, I am aware.” He was the only one who had his mask on and shipsuit sealed when the gas grenades he casually dropped went off, filling the air with toxic fumes. The resulting sounds of panicked screaming, coughing, and dying were short, and to the point. The Admiral only had to shoot one person who wasn’t dying fast enough from the Sarin gas that the grenades had released. For a room this size, he could have probably gotten away with a single grenade, but he decided to use two, if only because people might have genemods to make them more resistant.
When everyone else in the compartment was dead, the Admiral looked back at the tactical plot. The defense fleet was out of position, chasing the spotter craft. The first few ‘ships’ though the gate had actually been remote missile launchers. Typically used in planetary defense, the rebel commander had shot their magazines dry, sending the hundreds of missiles his ships had tried (and sometimes failed) to defend against. More importantly, they ate the first few missile launches from the remaining defenders, who launched the instant anything appeared through the gate, leaving the INS Triumphant free to lead the charge through the Gateway, followed by the rest of her fleet. Once on this side, their point defense and shields were able to overwhelm the missiles launched against them.
“This is Admiral Nimitz to all ships. Stand down. I repeat, stand down. We surrender.”
Would the ships listen? The admiral didn’t really care. He did, however, care about living through this, which is why he took the time to make sure that the environmental controls sucked all the gas out of the air and replaced it with nice, breathable air before pulling off his mask.
And then his face began to change, shifting in what looked like a painful process until he was now a completely different person. He raised a very much non-Imperial communicator to his mouth, and said, “This is Commodore Mollen to the Black Star Fleet. Mission accomplished. Blow the repeater platform, and remain in stealth until Empress Merida solidifies control. Any ships ignoring the surrender command may be fired upon at will.”
(INS Triumphant, Officer’s Mess, Alpha Centauri System) – Four Hours Later
There was an air of general good cheer in the officer’s mess that morning. It was still a bit early for the usual mess, but the Captain had had a word with the cooks, and got them to start a bit early for the crews that were on duty during the assault. She might be Empress when this was all said and done, but for now, she was still their Captain, and the officers and crew of the Triumphant would follow her into hell.
The fleet base’s defenses had been smashed, thanks to the idea floated by the mercenary company the Captain had hired to help fight the war. That got a couple noses out of joint, but the old hands pointed out that they needed some unconventional help if they were going to win this civil war. The Empress’s fleet was the equivalent of regular Army. These mercenaries were the naval equivalent of spec ops. Sure, they were badass, but they were situational badasses. Without speed and (most importantly) stealth on their side, they could not stand against the ships the Empress possessed. In other words, they cheated, instead of fighting fair. That soothed the egos of the younger crowd, some of whom were upset that their chance for glory had been curtailed.
Oh, not all of the ships had surrendered, but most had seen the writing on the wall once the fleet began pouring through the Gateway. And that wouldn’t have been possible if not for those mercs. Including the one that was now sharing breakfast with the Empress and her Nomad aide.
Lucio leaned forward. “So, Commodore, how did…” He stopped as the other man raised a hand to cut him off.
“In private, I’m just Mirikon. Or Master, for those who have my collar. So drop the titles while it is just us having a well-earned breakfast.”
Lucio laughed, and nodded. “Very well then. So, Mirikon. Just how in the hell did you manage to infiltrate the Fleet Base and convince the Admiral to issue that surrender demand?”
“Well, infiltration was easy enough. I just landed on Primo, checked in with an old friend, and took the regular supply shuttle up to the station. I was using a different look when I last came through here, so no one connected me to the last time I was here, especially as the Raven wasn’t on their screens.”
“Using the information my friend gave me, I got in touch with the Admiral’s aide to arrange the transfer of certain items to their care for the Admiral’s use. I used some proprietary tech to mask myself as the aide, and returned to the military side, setting up in plenty of time. When the Admiral got the alert, I was there, and handled the Admiral and some collateral damage. After that, everything was child’s play, really.”
Empress Meridan frowned. “But wasn’t the Admiral’s aide female? And quite a bit more… curvy than you are?”
The mercenary winked at the empress. “Proprietary tech, as I said.”