AAS Dragon, Nocturn System
Alan had had two days on site and boredom was already beginning to set in. While space travel was described and portrayed as glamorous, fun, and exciting, most of the time you were simply sitting there with little to do.
Much of the time, the sensor operators had the most to do, and that was simply because they would be able to be bored of the new scenery first. The Fafnir's report was making the crew more intent on getting info out of that same position.
"Multiple spacial distortions," yelled Nathaniel Matthews from his position at said spot on the bridge, "Similar to the Cylons drive type, but off..."
"Off?"
"I don't think they're quite as precise if they're attempting to keep a formation," the man responded while bringing the info up on the screens, "Contacts are extremely different from the Cylon designs though."
He blinked, mind filtering through the stories the refugees had given.
A slight shudder of the hand upon the rail looking down across the bridge as Captain Booker considered what could be at the gates.
The ships didn't have the living appearance of the Cylon craft, these were closer in appearance to the warships of the Alliance, especially with the heavy guns that his own craft lacked.
"Time until relief?"
"The Alamo is due in ten to twenty," came the response.
"Bring us to combat status," he ordered after a moments thought, "And set the translation matrix in the comms."
In a flash the lights dimmed, turning from their normal brightness to the dim crimson that should aid in maintaining their vision should they lose power but left the world appearing almost as if it were doused in blood.
The simulations back in command school and the images of the war with the Architects.
Ships cracked open and crews fallen to the void when their ships failed.
The doors to his left and right hissed open to admit the full bridge crew as their stations lit up.
Standard operations used six crewmen.
Pilot, Sensors, Engineering, Weapons, Support, and the Captain.
In combat, the crew needed there increased to nine. A second handling weapons while dividing the job between offensive and defensive. Sensors and communications were divided, and a second on Support to divide the load of managing the squadrons of fighters and drones.
Other than his position and the pilots well, the situation left the bridge relatively cramped.
"Matrix set?" he asked the newly arrived comms officer.
"Yes," came the response, "Ready for active translation."
Alan was thankful for his crew, most of them had been together long enough to allow the formalities to be suspended in hostile situations.
"Begin broadcast on all frequencies."
"You're live."
A brief smirk crossed his lips as a few of his men chuckled at the comment.
He nodded at the man and began to speak as clearly and with as much control and command in his tone as he could.
"This is Captain Alan Booker of the Archer Alliance Ship Dragon," he stated, thankful that the voice only method meant they could watch him sweat, "You are in our space."
A brief pause as he closed his eyes.
"Identify yourselves and remain in position."
They didn't seem to even be slowing down.
"Please state your intentions in our space."
A cutting motion signaled the end of the transmission.
"Line silenced," comms stated in response, a statement that they had stopped broadcasting.
Alan breathed deeply, trying to keep himself from losing focus.
"Any response?"
"They seem to be slowing some," Nathaniel commented from sensors, "I'd reckon they don't know what to make of us."
"Deploy drones and fighters in a defensive screen," he ordered while settling backwards into the chair behind him, something meant as a safety measure for battle, and locked the harness in position, something mirrored by the rest of the crew, "Have the gunners begin targeting solutions."
"Orders relayed," came the response as the drones seemed to materialize on the holo display of the area as a cloud of almost dust particles around the Dragon, "Should I hold the hanger doors until the squadrons are ready for launch?"
"Open rear doors," he responded, "Keep us facing those ships."
Forcing himself to relax, Alan tried to think of what to do next while his throat felt strangely dry.
"We need a line in the sand," he commented.
"Boss?" Nathaniel asked with a touch of confusion.
"This is our space," he responded while feeling the calm return, "Mark a line halfway between them and us, if they cross it..."
"Roger that," came the response.
"Let me try talking to them again."
"Transmitting."
"This is Captain Alan Booker of the AAS Dragon," he stated with a hint of menace in his voice, "If you do not stop and talk, you will be fired upon."
xXx
Raptor 132, Nocturn System
"What the hell are those things?" Alex Quartararo gasped as he spied the smaller things blasting into space, though remaining close to the unknown ahead of them.
"No idea how they can be piloted," the pilot stated before the wireless crackled and an unknown voice cut through a second time.
"Think the Admiral's listening?"
"Three battlestars and the rest of the fleet against that thing?"
Crashdown blinked as he noticed something.
"Radiological alarm?" the pilot commented.
"Those fighters are armed with nukes!"
Alan had had two days on site and boredom was already beginning to set in. While space travel was described and portrayed as glamorous, fun, and exciting, most of the time you were simply sitting there with little to do.
Much of the time, the sensor operators had the most to do, and that was simply because they would be able to be bored of the new scenery first. The Fafnir's report was making the crew more intent on getting info out of that same position.
"Multiple spacial distortions," yelled Nathaniel Matthews from his position at said spot on the bridge, "Similar to the Cylons drive type, but off..."
"Off?"
"I don't think they're quite as precise if they're attempting to keep a formation," the man responded while bringing the info up on the screens, "Contacts are extremely different from the Cylon designs though."
He blinked, mind filtering through the stories the refugees had given.
A slight shudder of the hand upon the rail looking down across the bridge as Captain Booker considered what could be at the gates.
The ships didn't have the living appearance of the Cylon craft, these were closer in appearance to the warships of the Alliance, especially with the heavy guns that his own craft lacked.
"Time until relief?"
"The Alamo is due in ten to twenty," came the response.
"Bring us to combat status," he ordered after a moments thought, "And set the translation matrix in the comms."
In a flash the lights dimmed, turning from their normal brightness to the dim crimson that should aid in maintaining their vision should they lose power but left the world appearing almost as if it were doused in blood.
The simulations back in command school and the images of the war with the Architects.
Ships cracked open and crews fallen to the void when their ships failed.
The doors to his left and right hissed open to admit the full bridge crew as their stations lit up.
Standard operations used six crewmen.
Pilot, Sensors, Engineering, Weapons, Support, and the Captain.
In combat, the crew needed there increased to nine. A second handling weapons while dividing the job between offensive and defensive. Sensors and communications were divided, and a second on Support to divide the load of managing the squadrons of fighters and drones.
Other than his position and the pilots well, the situation left the bridge relatively cramped.
"Matrix set?" he asked the newly arrived comms officer.
"Yes," came the response, "Ready for active translation."
Alan was thankful for his crew, most of them had been together long enough to allow the formalities to be suspended in hostile situations.
"Begin broadcast on all frequencies."
"You're live."
A brief smirk crossed his lips as a few of his men chuckled at the comment.
He nodded at the man and began to speak as clearly and with as much control and command in his tone as he could.
"This is Captain Alan Booker of the Archer Alliance Ship Dragon," he stated, thankful that the voice only method meant they could watch him sweat, "You are in our space."
A brief pause as he closed his eyes.
"Identify yourselves and remain in position."
They didn't seem to even be slowing down.
"Please state your intentions in our space."
A cutting motion signaled the end of the transmission.
"Line silenced," comms stated in response, a statement that they had stopped broadcasting.
Alan breathed deeply, trying to keep himself from losing focus.
"Any response?"
"They seem to be slowing some," Nathaniel commented from sensors, "I'd reckon they don't know what to make of us."
"Deploy drones and fighters in a defensive screen," he ordered while settling backwards into the chair behind him, something meant as a safety measure for battle, and locked the harness in position, something mirrored by the rest of the crew, "Have the gunners begin targeting solutions."
"Orders relayed," came the response as the drones seemed to materialize on the holo display of the area as a cloud of almost dust particles around the Dragon, "Should I hold the hanger doors until the squadrons are ready for launch?"
"Open rear doors," he responded, "Keep us facing those ships."
Forcing himself to relax, Alan tried to think of what to do next while his throat felt strangely dry.
"We need a line in the sand," he commented.
"Boss?" Nathaniel asked with a touch of confusion.
"This is our space," he responded while feeling the calm return, "Mark a line halfway between them and us, if they cross it..."
"Roger that," came the response.
"Let me try talking to them again."
"Transmitting."
"This is Captain Alan Booker of the AAS Dragon," he stated with a hint of menace in his voice, "If you do not stop and talk, you will be fired upon."
xXx
Raptor 132, Nocturn System
"What the hell are those things?" Alex Quartararo gasped as he spied the smaller things blasting into space, though remaining close to the unknown ahead of them.
"No idea how they can be piloted," the pilot stated before the wireless crackled and an unknown voice cut through a second time.
"Think the Admiral's listening?"
"Three battlestars and the rest of the fleet against that thing?"
Crashdown blinked as he noticed something.
"Radiological alarm?" the pilot commented.
"Those fighters are armed with nukes!"