Corellus Grarzia, master under the void of the USN Privateer Olyvia. Waited just one heartbeat longer, “Timberwolf”
The reaction was immediate. Two of the more central fighters in the skirmish line flared in the enemy’s scopes, their active sensors playing the part of both targeting array and bait. Moments later, almost imperceptible streaks of white heralded the first salvo Pheonix missiles. The enemy formation immediately spread out into a much-expanded version of their convoy formation. Their enemy’s response confirmed the presence of a commander who had faced them before. Many of the phoenixes were promptly intercepted by their foe’s point defense. However, a pair of missiles reached their target, and the twin EMHE warheads shattered the cruiser's shields instantly. The enemy vessel itself remained intact, and it retreated into the core of the formation with a larger cruiser taking its place. Corellus frowned as he watched. His enemy had yet to take the true bait. A barest flicker on his sensors sparked his interest as the pair of fighters, the ones not currently painting themselves with their own active sensors, loosed a volley from their Gau34s. They may not have been actively targeting the wounded Vorath Vessel, but they were being fed enough data to set up what Corellus learned was called “Ambush Shooting”. The pilots did not need to know the precise coordinates and velocities of their target, instead firing in a pattern designed to fill a specific place in space and time with streaking metallic death.
It was a tactic designed as a direct response to the Talon threat during the Great Sol War. Veterans of the GSW had learned not to trust their sensors entirely, and instead designed firing patterns that made brutal use of their kinetic based main armaments relatively minute firing signature. The leading edge of the cloud of hellfire clipped the aft quarter of the vessel ahead of their target, briefly flaring its shields but not penetrating. Over a third of the storm of steel and tungsten peppered the weakened Vorath cruiser, quickly brushing aside the minimal shields it had managed to erect. That bit of shielding saved the first third of the ship from instant oblivion, but the after sections were not so lucky. M.A.C. projectiles did not decelerate in the vacuum of space, and over one thousand of these impacted with terrible affect. Their pass-through ignited the atmosphere inside the vessel, turning it into a burning ball of plasma, durasteel confetti, and charred organic matter. Roughly half of the thousand hits slammed into the shields of three other ships, and one of the smaller destroyers impacted proved unable to withstand the collision from the now spinning prow of the cruiser’s corpse. The shard of hull struck the destroyer amidships. She slowly pinwheeled, her back broken, her keel shattered into multiple pieces.
Cenatarus suppressed a snarl as he watched the carnage fall away from his formation. Two vessel’s had been forced to break formation, dodging the glittering cloud of carnage and arcing their course to the opposite side of the incoming attack. Another salvo of those infernal rockets arrived. Luckily, this second wave of fury was successfully intercepted by his convoy’s point defense batteries. It was not the first time he had seen this, and his ships had moved to an open formation more quickly than he had dared hope. It was not easy to break generations of Naval Doctrine, but break it he had. The records from his first engagement with these… “Humans” had been enough to startle even his most stubborn commanders into compliance. “Launch fighters, two squadrons. Focus on creating an envelopment. Find their infernal weapon’s range and push them out past it before returning.” He ordered in a forced calm. Only two signatures were registered on his sensor net, but the trajectory of the incoming ordinance suggested more. All appeared to have weapons that exceeded even the longest range at his disposal, an idea that deeply concerned him. Mere Fighters were not supposed to be capable of engaging their betters from such a distance.
Two of his squadrons, thirty fighters in total, flared into his monitors as they burned hard toward their enemy. Centarus bade them luck before turning to the task at hand, “Signal the fleet, hold as you bear. Maintain your burn for Orbit.” He growled just as the two original contacts turned into four as his Pilots illuminated their prey. He nodded mentally as one squadron began attempting envelopment as the second moved to engage. “A message for the Vengeful Gaze, Shift Course to assist the fighters.” Centarus ignored the confirmation and began inspecting the data flowing across his screens. Something did not sit well with him, he had faced Human fighters before, but they had engaged from the safety of their infernal Destroyer’s Sensor scrambling maelstrom of electromagnetic energy. He needed information, and the Gaze was going to give it to him. With the help of the heavy cruiser, the battlefield would fully reveal itself, in time.
“There it is..” Jesse’s almost sinister murmur awarded him a raised brow from his captain. Jesse glanced away from the Vorath capital ship sailing away from the formation to regard his commander. Cory was an interesting man to serve. Jesse’s first tour under the Delmar had seen the two of them forged into brothers through the fires of holocaust, and he had watched his ships then first officer be stripped of his overly gentle nature in that tragedy. The Man in command of the Olyvia was not the man he reported to the morn of that fateful day. His captain had taken on a keener edge. Corellus was still compassionate and fair, but there was something… else… that emerged in the quiet of impending combat. Jesse recognized it, that fire, the same flame that burned in him during the GSW. It was the same flame that lit anew during the attack on Celest… Vengeance. “Enemy cruiser is moving in behind their fighter screen, I believe they wish to discover us.”
“Indeed” Captain Corellus turned to his XO. “Signal R’Cari and Sombra. Phase two green, good hunting” his eyes burned with that fire now, sharing a knowing gaze with the man who had held Celests bridge with him, before turning towards the Helm, “Lieutenant Xavier Antilles is it?”
“Uh, Yes Captain.” The young man stammered slightly, unaccustomed to the direct address of his captain.
“Lieutenant, I hear you have a certain hobby I may have use for. Tell me Son, do you love to dance.” Cory asked cooly.
“Yes, Captain.” The young man replied still somewhat confused.
“Do you think you could manage a… larger… dance partner than your usual fare?” Corellus raised an arm toward the incoming Vorath warship.
“Dance with that thing? with the Oly, sir?” Lieutenant Antilles confusion evaporated into a gleeful smirk as he quickly flipped several switches and quickly activated Olyvia’s more analogue controls. “Aye, Sir. I think I can come up with something.”
“Good Lieutenant, Take us in. Fast and nimble, if you please.” Cory settled down into his chair as the young man rattled off another confirmation and Olyvia leaped for the broiling dogfight.
Centarus’ eyes narrowed as the opposing fighters merged into their customary maelstrom of small small ship combat. Almost immediately, five of his pilots were erased from existence as the four enemy fighters split off into pairs. Each pair seemed to move as two singular individuals in some kind of intricate spiraling performance. It would be considered beautiful had it not wrought such carnage against his pilots. He watched with a tactician’s eye through the view of Vengeful Gaze, studying his enemie’s movements. No single pilot could stay behind one of the pair before he was led into the grips of the other pair of enemy. Two more, then three, then four more of his pilots fell, ripped to shreds by direct fire weapons that had no trace of light, only a slight sparkle from the prows of the enemy fighters. Yet another of his pilots fell to this before his men changed tactics, all ten of the remaining Vorath fighters focused on one singular pair in a loose gaggle of wildly firing laser and plasma. It almost worked, but Centarus was forced to watch as these Human fighters seemed to defy bone liquifying physics as they performed maneuvers that would have proved fatal to any Vorath. It was almost enough, but the edge of the wall of energy fire finally found its target, and one fighter spun out into the void puking flame and metal fragments. The remaining three seemed to scatter until they didn’t, their frantic flee turning into a mind bindingly violent helical pattern as white puffs of those infernal chasing rockets proved that they could chase more than slow lumbering capital ships. Three more of his fighters exploded, and Centarus cursed mentally as his fighters simply could not follow these humans through the maneuvers they proved capable of. The Gaze was closer now, and Centarus watched as his first squadron howled in to reinforce their brothers. The enemy quickly began to retreat, burning at such a high G that they threatened to quickly outpacing his fighters. He was about to recall his surviving forces when another larger signal flickered into view, and Centarus’ eyes flared as he witnessed the impossible.
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Correllus quietly thanked both the Human and the Delmar design teams that had personally worked at turning Olyvia from a transport to a fighting ship. Among the upgrades were the latest generation Inertial dampers, born of the combined cerebral might of Sol and Signus. It made the absurd maneuver that Lieutenant Xavier had coaxed Olyvia into not merely survivable, but almost comfortable… almost..
Xavier had taken his Captain’s command to heart, and Olyvia had burned hard for the much larger Vorath warship, so hard that his Captain had shown concern for their risk of overshooting. Xavier had understood his captain's worry, but This was something he had secretly practiced in the simulators upon receiving his orders and his ship assignment. At the last possible second, the Young Helmsman whipped Olivia around into a mind bending crescent shaped strafing approach that both allowed her to decelerate and maximize her Delta V compared to her target.
“In range, Cap’n!” The loud grunting yell shook Cory from his fascination as Jesse addressed him.
“Open fire at your discretion.” Correllus ordered, more than a hint of exertion in his tone.
“Aye Captain!” Jesse bellowed, “Tubed 1 and 2 away! Fish hot straight and normal! Pac in 10 seconds!! X, Give me nose on when you can!!”
“20 seconds!” Xavier Howled back, tweaking their maneuver, and shifting their spiral approach, much to Cory’s stomachs protest. He ignored the sickening sensation as they closed enough to begin receiving return fire. Olyvia shuddered as laser cannon rounds impacted. It was to be expected of an instantaneously transmitted weapon, but Xaviers “dance moves” had proven too much for the slower travelling plasma charges that missed by the barest of margins. Their partner in this death waltz was significantly bigger than Olyvia, but Correllus found a chink in her defenses, created by their salvo of anti-ship missiles. One of them had made it through, impacting on the aft quarter of the Vorath shields. “Lieutenant!! Cross her T! less than 5 thousand astern!”
Xaviers eyes widened as he saw it upon his captain’s orders, “Aye Sir!”. The young pilot said nothing more as Olyvia rolled violently and arrested her spiral with a bone-shaking bellow of her main drives, forcing Jesse to abandon his PAC solution. Two plasma blasts connected on Olyvia’s port quarter, ripping two thirds of her shields off before a lazer cannon beam hit the same spot and punched through. The ablative armor absorbed most of the energy, but three point defense turrets and an aft missile tube were fused into useless slag, The hit also fried the generator, breaching the hull on that side and destroyed the main chamber on the number three main drive.
“Away damage control!” Correllus barked over the din of the wailing Klaxon, “Stead as she goes Xavier!”
“In 5 Jesse!!” Xavier called out, completely caught up in the stress of the moment, “Give’em the big iron!!!”
Jesse didn’t scold the young man, instead barking a sharp laugh. Cory ignored it for the moment, watching intently as his orders bore their fruit. The optical sensors flashed up on the forward screen to see the incoming fire cease, and Olyvia whipped directly into the blind spot located behind the main drives of the vessel over twice their tonnage. Her hull shook, and her deck platting hammered Correllus’ feet as Jesse granted the helmsman’s request. Olyvia carried one forward biased RM 1005. Other than being mounted into a narrowly swiveling firing arc, this single weapon was identical to any single tube on any of the Terran designed Ships of the line… right down to the six-round rotary magazine. Jesse triggered the rapid fire sequence of the weapon, pumping six 10meter long and 5 meter wide tungsten cored steel MAC rounds directly up the main drive cluster of the Vorath cruiser at point blank range. Three rounds slammed into the enemy cruiser’s weakened shield, caving them in completely as the remaining three rounds punched effortlessly into the enemy from astern. The Vorath still had not learned to depressurize their vessels before combat, and the shockwaves created by three 1005 rounds tearing through the length of the cruiser at relativistic speeds killed two-thirds of the crew instantly. The vessel bulged like an over ripe fruit for just an instant before her seams gave way and she burst. Olyvia was already well past the blast zone, burning towards the enemy fighters, but still near enough for her optical arrays to record the burning bodies and plasma being ejected from the ribbons of durasteel that used to be a Vorath warship.
“Tubes three, four, and five set for proximity…. Away: hot, straight and normal.” Jesse called as he loosed three more anti ship missiles, set to a proximity fuse, towards the hoard of enemy fighters still chasing the three surviving Human fighters. One of the Raptors was smoking from a glancing blow that had damaged its main drive. It was slowly losing ground to its attacker, only saved from destruction by the detonation of the jury rigged anti ship missiles turned anti fighter burst rounds. The three explosions killed all but 2 Vorath fighters. The two survivors appeared to have had enough, and quickly broke off from their pursuit, and beat a hasty retreat.
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Centarus swore openly this time as he watched the much smaller vessel fell his heavy cruiser. The range had closed during the battle. The distance was long, but now inside his capabilities. Upon seeing the destruction of most of his deployed fighters, He made his decision, “Open fire, target the enemy Vessel. Fire when rea..” The main warning Klakson sounded, and his capital ship rocked from an impact of some kind.
“Centarus!! The Harbenger, and the Vicious!!! They’re… They’re gone!!” Centarus did not know who spoke. He did not care, recognizing the names of the vessels that had been previously forced from the formation.
“Show me!” Centarus bellowed, and the optical sensor’s feed flashed to his personal screen just in time to see two more ships explode in quick succession. A flicker of something caught his attention and he quickly locked onto it with his optical sensors just in time for his breath to freeze in his chest. Two wraiths; vanta black, and completely absent of his main sensors; stalked through his formation spitting streaks of white death and the occasional sparkle of something on their bow. In forty seconds, he lost eight more ships, and Centarus could do nothing but watch. To his Horror, these angels of damnation pranced untouched, and almost unnoticed, through his formation before disappearing into the void from whence they came.
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*Winchester* Ivar’s mind floated into Martina’s as she launched the last of her missiles.
*Same* she sent back. The plan had worked almost flawlessly. Once the Vorath fighters had engaged, the majority of the enemy capital ship formation had either decided that the engagement was too far to be of any threat or had decided to bias their shielding towards the fight to catch any stray fire. Not a single ship had seen Them slip into the expanded formation. It had been over before it begun, Ivar and Martina had murdered a fifth of the reinforcement fleet in the blink of an eye, often firing just outside of minimum range for their carried ordinance. R’Cari and Sombra danced in unison through the dead and the dying vessels before slipping away into the night and back toward the USN Olyvia.
*I hope this was enough, do we know how many ships are coming from Signus?* Ivar asked, concern bleeding through their bond.
*As many as they can scrounge up. It will be enough… I hope. * Martina replied as they flew in close formation back toward Olyvia, and were coming into visual contact with the rest of their little harassing force. Olyvia was recovering a damaged fighter, having confirmed the mournful demise of the fourth pilot. The other two undamaged fighters were already attached to their improvised moorings. By the look of things, the third fighter was unrecoverable, but the pilot was being EVA’d back to the ship, that was a good sign. *It’s going to be a while before we can dock. I hope he’s ok* Ivar sent, and Martina settled back into her chair. She flicked through several commands, engaging Sombra’s station keeping autopilot as Ivar did the same to R’Cari. *It will… I hope we did enough, who did we lose* Martina asked.
*Sims.. Dam… He was showing me a picture of his two boys the other day…* Ivar’s pinch of pain was swamped by Martina’s wave of internal sorrow, *I….I’ll write the letter, I know tammy. It will be better coming from me.*
*Thank you, I remember you telling me about them* Ivar offered, *I didn’t know him well, I’m sorry.*
*Thanks* Martina sat back in her seat, releasing a quite prayer along with a few silent tears from the privacy of her cockpit.