Commodore Saul Winters |
Bridge: UNSCS Illustrious |
System Gliese-876 Outer Limits |
"Commodore," intoned the communications officer. "We are recieving telemetry and tactical data from
Scylla now. Two Covenant destroyer-sized vessels of unknown configuration are moving to engage her."
"Alright, then. Have the rest of the Task Force start spinning up the Slipspace drives, and call down to Engineering for them to do the same. We'll go in using
Scylla's telemetry, get a more precise jump and hopefully emerge close enough to be able to start getting our point-defence envelope together." responded Saul, musing a little at the holographic tactical display that appeared, constantly updating as more information from the rest of the fleet was relayed to him, before continuing.
"
Ensign Miller. Have our primary Longsword wing and the Shortsword squadron ready for launch. I want them all out within three minutes of our arrival. The two reserve squadrons should get ready to follow them and provide us with CAP if necessary. I'll leave you to relay that to Wing Commander Vassiliades and Squadron Leaders Okamora and
Hayes."
Leontia was quite busy, working herself hard to coordinate the fleet and squeeze as much accuracy out of the slipspace jump as possible, only wasting a tiny amount of her processor on her avatar, stood uncannily still, like a painted alabaster statue, with only the tiniest hints of 'breathing' in her chest and infrequent blinks of her eyes, so it didn't look as if her avatar program had frozen up. Her soft-lipped, pretty mouth started moving, even though nothing else did.
"
Melbourne,
Agano, and
Prelude to Implication are all reporting ready and are at general quarters, Commodore Saulie-waulie... We'll be ready ourselves in just a moment. Like, right now, I mean. We're ready now."
"Very well... get me a line with
Saint Christopher. A battle this big is no place for a fleet tender."
The commodore got up, moving over to the communications screen, and in moments he faced an image broadcast from the cramped, utilitarian bridge of the tender, and straightened his already-immaculate uniform to talk.
"Commander Lenard. I'm going to ask you to go silent and listen in only, and stay here outside the system. We'll contact you on the subspace bands when I have further orders for you. Avoid detection or capture at all costs; if you get attacked, run into Slipspace. With luck, we'll meet you again in an hour or so, once we've won the battle. If not... it's been a pleasure working with you."
"Acknowledged, Commodore. See you on the other side. Call us when you need repairs, refuelling, and re-armament, and we'll be there."
Nodding to the communications officer, Saul closed the link, and turned to the navigator.
"Prepare us for Slipspace transition in one minute, Lieutenant. It looks like this
wasn't a waste of our time, after all.
Down in the cavernous launch hangar, alarms were constantly sounding, though the dramatic, dim alert lighting that certain other parts of the ship had was toned down, instead favouring large numbers of blue spin-lights that didn't have to be in a dim environment to be clearly seem. The final touches were beginning, and so the Longswords and Shortswords were being loaded, rapidly, into the launch tubes, a flight at a time - four strike craft loaded into each tube, running much of the length of the core of the ship, and accelerating them - in a similar way to the main MACs - to combat velocities as soon as they launched.
Wing Commander Vassiliades and his crew were firmly strapped down, pressure-suited and helmeted, as the atmosphere was pumped out of the Longsword's crew compartment. It was starting to get chilly; as without the two huge fusion torches burning, nor the warmth provided by the life-support systems during non-combat situations when there was air inside the big fighter's crew compartment, heat was a premium commodity, supplied only by the crew's pressure suits.
'Vass' had given a wink through the cockpit's transparent titanium to the young, mousy technician he'd slept with last night as his fighter was the first to be loaded into the first tube, and she'd flushed a little as she made the checks on the magnetic rail. But now, that was out of his mind entirely, without anything occupying his mind but the tactical situation he could see being fed to his HUD. So far, the Covenant were keeping their Seraphs conservatively in reserve, rather than sending them out to attack the UNSC vessels that were appearing from their hiding places on the other side of Hydrus.
And once they'd jumped, it'd be into battle with the lot of them. Nothing that would shake 'Vass' and his famously implacable confidence.
Commodore Saul Winters |
Bridge: UNSCS Illustrious |
System Gliese-876, Sector T14 |
The Slipspace drives strained to shove the
Illustrious, and the other three vessels following her, out of that strange physical realm as correctly as possible, using the data that the
Scylla had provided to make the short jump as accurate as possible. They all emerged, roughly, within Sector T14, behind their scouting destroyer. As soon as the ship had stabilised, systems began to come online, the rows of status symbols on officers' screens turning green and emerging from their yellow hue.
Commodore Winters pushed a button on his command chair, causing a holographic display of the battle to appear in front of him out of the armrest, beginning to send an update transmission to his force, as well as a two-dimensional version for display on all necessary screens, showing the situation as of that precise moment.
"Alright... looks like we've got two Covenant assault carriers, excluding the one that's on the surface... four cruisers, and eight destroyers... and including ourselves, we've brought two carriers, six cruisers, eight destroyers, and twelve frigates. We're spread out... so at least Cuttingham must have had the same thought I did. All in all, we just need to keep the Covenant busy long enough so that they don't pay any attention to the ships with the ground troops leaving and getting away with whatever was worth all of this effort."
The computer screens flashed up with more information - the first squadron of
Illustrious' air wing had launched; and Wing Commander Vassiliades was right at the front of the formation, already accelerated to combat velocity as the Longswords' fusion torches began to burn, while the rest thundered out along the accelerator rails alongside, and the second and third squadrons would in moments follow behind. The Shortswords waited a little longer, waiting for the reassurance of their fighter escorts to have been formed up and ready, and all the while, the two reserve fighter squadrons were frantically loaded into the tubes, ready to defend the Rapid Response Task Force if it were threatened.
Admiral George Cuttingham |
Command and Control Centre: UNSCS Arnhem |
System Gliese-876, Sector K5 |
"This is ONI Recon 5-7 to Task Force
Arnhem. We're not equipped for any sort of combat. We're bugging out." The Prowler - its actual name not even displayed - winked out of existence on the tactical displays, existing from then on only as a primitive Slipspace rupture on the sensors lasting a brief few seconds.
Admiral Cuttingham, at this moment, could not decide whether the situation that his forces had found themselves in was good or bad. Certainly, they had the newly-arrived Covenant battlegroup surrounded... but the movement to engage, which he'd ordered in the hope of distracting the enemy from the fleeing ground forces, had worked almost too well.
Coming around different hemispheres of Hydrus, the 31st and 103rd squadrons had become separated from the remainder of the force in the 78th, 147th and 172nd squadrons. Even with the arrival of the Rapid Response Task Force, which further distracted the aliens -
hell, I can see two enemy ships moving to engage them right now, Cuttingham thought.
Task Force
Arnhem was not weak, at least. The Navy had assigned this many ships for a reason, and sent some additional ones on short notice for precisely this eventuality. But divided like this... it was just up to them to buy some time for the stolen data - and the crew of the UNSCS
Fenix, now a collection of superheated debris - to escape.
But, divided... Cuttingham did not rate the chances of both of the squadrons near him against that Covenant force. And as it happened, his fears were realised, as a sensor monitoring officer began to shout, almost in a panic.
"Admiral! The Covenant have destroyed Target Hades within the atmosphere, and they're splitting up, with both Assault Carriers, two cruisers, and two destroyers headed towards us! The remainder have split up. One cruiser towards the other half of Task Force
Arnhem, and the other headed for double-R-tee-eff, each accompanied by two destroyers."
"Calm down, Lieutenant..." replied Cuttingham, unclipping the absolutely off-regulation lighter from his belt, and pulling out a hidden cigarette from a pocket. The lighter was an antique, hundreds of years old, of a type that still used flammable fluids instead of electricity. The command centre illuminators reflected off its shiny, decorated metal casing as he flicked it with his thumb, once, twice, until it caught, the little flame catching the end of the cigarette. "Frost," George addressed the ship's artificial intelligence... "Switch off the smoke detectors in this room."
Well, the admiral thought, puffing on the cigarette as all of his staff looked at him before he spoke.
We've always been here to buy time... "Put these orders through to Task Force
Arnhem. Thirty-first and hundred-and-third are to increase velocity and engage the Covenant forces approaching us. The other three squadrons are to engage their own opponent and then move to assist us, and while they're outside of my jurisdiction, I'm certain that Winters' task force will do the same."
"Sir..." said one of the admiral's staff, her voice tremulous. "Do you really think that the rest of the fleet will arrive in time to help us?"
"...I'm sure of it." George responded, lying without missing a beat. "Relay the orders."
Let's see how much time all our lives are worth.
Commodore Saul Winters |
Bridge: UNSCS Illustrious |
System Gliese-876, Sector T14 |
The
Scylla had by now managed to pull back within the point defence formation of the Rapid Response Task Force, and a good thing it was, too. The two unidentified destroyers that were attacking seemed far more sluggish than the usual Covenant vessels, however, looking older, more antiquated and less well armed.
Leontia reappeared on her holotank. "Done! I've gone through the Covenant's battlenet and got the names and stuff. Those two destroyer thingies there are
Merciless Lash and
Jubilant Prayer. They seem to be older ships. The normal ones we have on our databases. We've seen them before at System ZX9-7A;
Conquest of the Ages is the cruiser, and the regular destroyers are
Fearful Love and
Temporal Dominance." She giggled slightly, her Greek chiton beginning to slip off down her shoulder and threatening to expose a small but perfectly-formed holographic breast. "I know some of our ships have funny names too, but why are the Covie ones always so much crazier somehow, Saulie?"
"I have absolutely no idea, and you should know that it's only a translation. Stop that distracting nonsense with your avatar and focus on calculating the point-defence grid and the MACs." Winters snapped back, raking his hair back neatly as he looked over the battle displays. "Speaking of which, give me a targeting solution on that first destroyer...
Merciless Flash?"
Leontia made a little 'hmph' noise, her clothing shifting up her shoulder and adopting a sulky pose and tone of voice as her avatar went statuesquely still as she concentrated. "
Merciless Lash."
"Alright.
Ensign Miller, relay our intentions to the strike craft. We'll take out those two Brute destroyers so that they have a clear run at engaging the incoming Seraphs from the cruiser and destroyers, and letting our bombers have a go at one of them." said the Commodore, turning his head to look at her and raising his voice even in the relative, murmuring quiet of the bridge, to ensure the young woman would hear.
The Brute destroyers continued to fire, pulse lasers and plasma torpedoes firing in irregular salvoes as their generators struggled to keep up with the demand of the weapons systems. Saul watched as the latest salvos began to get into range of the RRTF's point defence grid. They would fire when it was appropriate, and they did.
The space between the Brute destroyers and the task force lit up, on the tactical displays, as the MLA point-defences on each ship began to fire, sending hundreds of tiny projectiles on mathematically-calculated courses. In the visual spectrum, there was nothing to see, but HUD overlays would show the short orange lines lancing out, mostly from
Illustrious' numerous twin turrets. In the hail of slugs and explosive rounds, the Brutes' attack was blunted.
But point-defences cannot stop pulse lasers or dumb projectiles.
Prelude to Implication took the worst of it, being raked with pulse blasts. One engine went out, just as her MAC spoke, meaning that the incredibly precise calculations were off. The superaccelerated projectile sailed past the Covenant ship by hundreds of metres, and disappeared from tactical screens as it became irrelevant. Saul winced at the missed shot.
Bad luck, Commander."Have the frigate pull back further into our grid. And fire at target one."
With
Scylla firing at the other destroyer, the ones that had harried her,
Illustrious made her first retaliation of the day. The port-side MAC fired first, the projectile smashing into the
Merciless Lash's shields and shattering, the crackles of energy and internal explosions from the vastly overloaded generator making the ship shine like a beacon on sensors. Half a second later, the starboard cannon added itself to the fray, and the six hundred ton shell cored out its target, passing right through as the Brute vessel fell apart. That shot, too, disappeared from the tactical displays as it became irrelevant to the matter at hand.
"Communications, signal to Task Force
Arnhem. 'Their move.'"
Admiral George Cuttingham |
Command and Control Centre: UNSCS Arnhem |
System Gliese-876, Sector K5 |
UNSCS
Valletta was on fire.
Haymaker,
Ipswich and
Dieppe had been entirely obliterated, the weight of pulse laser fire from the overwhelming Covenant forces meaning that they had not lasted long before their point-defences went down and plasma torpedoes incinerated the cut-apart wreckage. The remnants of the 31st and 103rd squadrons were now pulling back towards the
Arnhem, whose fighters had fought - and still fought - with utmost bravery, a fusillade of nuclear weapons having brought down one Covenant cruiser. But their numbers were getting thinner and thinner, being worn down by the streams of Seraphs from the two Assault Carriers and the other Covenant craft, and they had no nuclear ordnance left to take out any other warships.
Even as Cuttingham watched on his display table, pulse lasers slashed into the rear of the retreating
Molotov, cutting its engines to pieces and leaving it drifting. Following behind were the plasma torpedoes, homing, and while several were taken down by the point defences, working feverishly, it was not enough. They smashed into the crippled destroyer, consuming it whole in no less than a hundred and fifty separate explosions, end to end, ordnance and fuel igniting in a devilish conflagration.
Not long now...Salvos of Archers and SHIVA nuclear missiles were still pouring from the beleaguered skeletons of the squadrons, while the magnetic accelerator cannon fire all focused on the assault carriers, not yet managing to do any more than bring down their shields before the other, recharged, had put its shield envelope in the way. Two more Covenant destroyers were eliminated, flashing on the screen and then disappearing as the nuclear explosions in close proximity tossed them like ships in a storm.
"Order
Valletta to-" George said, hoarsely, puffing his cigarette and coughing, interrupting his sentence. A wave of Covenant starfighters tore through the cruiser, and made whatever he was going to order irrelevant. Frost's quiet displayed estimate was that the 31st and 103rd squadrons had less than one minute before they were completely wiped out.
Cuttingham's eyes became fixed on Lethe, and the dots moving around it. A communication came through, even as the
Arnhem groaned with the stress from firing another MAC round out of its already fatally weakened frame.
"Admiral... Task Force
Mirage is reporting mission success..." said the communications officer, his voice as close to a shout as the strain would let him manage.
"Relay that to the rest of us." said Cuttingham, taking a long, long drag from his cigarette. The communications officer opened a channel and repeated.
"
Arnhem to all personnel on UNSC ships. I repeat, Task Force
Mirage is away!"
On other vessels, there might have been cheering, brief celebration, even in the midst of battle. It was not the case with those few who remained of the 31st and 103rd Squadrons. They knew their own death coming, and met it as professionals.
Mission accomplished, thought Cuttingham, sitting back down into his chair, thinking of his husband. On the bridge, Frost made his last appearance, beret gripped tightly to his chest, and spoke to
Arnhem's flag captain.
"It's been an honour to serve, ma'am."
The remaining twenty-nine seconds of their lives were chaos, pain, fear and then death.
(OOC note: Last call for spaceside posts describing the battle, if anyone chooses. The battle itself will end in the Covenant pulling out shortly, but there's still time for players in the RRTF or the three surviving squadrons to be involved in this short, vicious battle in their own areas before the Covenant leave.)
