Nocturn System
Ordinarily, the Slepnier class fighters had the general appearance of a dagger, cockpit buried under layers of armor with slender wings spreading out from either side for optimal space for the pods for specific uses. The design had more of the hallmarks of the older bombers, but with its ability to ride herd of a pack of drones, the role was primarily of a heavy fighter with the drone swarms playing interceptor and escort.
The four missile pods, two mounted on each wing, gave it a more ungainly look while removing most of the resemblance to the atmospheric craft, but allowing it many times the firepower that anything forced to maintain aerodynamics could hope to sustain.
The Dragon only carried three squadrons in its limited role, though if it hadn't been pulled from duty as a traveling gate generator, that would have quadrupled, same with the drone compliment.
"Hound," she yelled over the air group comms system, "Cover me!"
Creed accelerated her fighter to full when the enemy fired their nukes, "All squadrons, break by pairs and prepare for combat."
The responses were easy to spot as the lights on the HUD projected within her helmet lit up in response before fading out, letting the background projection of local space remain.
"All Preds," she commented, "Guns free."
This time the only response was a red light switching green, signaling the combat mode activation of the Predator Drones.
Predator's in all their lethal glory were unimpressive to look at, essentially being a spike with engines and cannons with a single light missile apiece. They were named in honor of some of the first drone combat craft from history.
However, the design had yet to see actual combat after being brought into service during the clean up after the Architects War.
Another series of flashes brought her attention to the lead ship of the enemy formation, one the systems tagged as Pegasus.
"More missiles inbound on Dragon," she stated, "Tank, your squadron has intercept, maintain cover of the Dragon."
A series of curses from members of her squadron and a few from the other squadron leads.
"Roger," came the response as one third of her forces fell back, spinning while temporarily cutting thrust before flaring their drives again to reverse direction.
"Everyone else," she commented as her HUD flashed red, "Lock on and flash when ready."
Again the confirmation lights flashed.
"All fighters," she stated with a deep breath, "Fire."
Twenty-four missiles lanced out into the void between the fighters and the closing fleet, each of them designed for the elimination of an enemy craft no larger than a small courier, but lethal in dealing with fighters.
"Creed," she heard the steady voice of her second, Hound, "Jumps detected."
"Enemy reinforcements?"
"No," came the response, "These guys don't use jumps."
A flash on her HUD as two more ships materialized.
"Seems like the Templar are getting involved," she stated over the air group channel, "They're friendlies."
"Feels better to have more than one cap ship at our back."
"Yeah Baker," she answered the second squadron commander, "But back to work."
xXx
Saint Michael, Nocturn System
"We're just in time it seems," Crusader Daniel Walker muttered as the cruisers observed the situation developing, "Contact the Saint John and start getting firing solutions for all tubes."
The Knights Templar had been the allies of the Alliance since before the conspiracy had stepped out of the shadows, but old methods had been hard for them to drop. They had remained apart rather than risk becoming beholden to the new state when a similar act had nearly wiped them out early in their existence.
With some hesitance from some portions, the Alliance had allowed them to step back and operate, and they had claimed a few worlds of their own while occasionally trading until the Architects had attacked both them and the Alliance in their quest for dominance.
Unlike their brother nation, the Knights ships held the appearance of a medieval fortress or gothic cathedral rather than the almost squid-like form of ships such as the Dragon, building the jump systems into spikes extending from the hull rather than the expanding pylons of the Alliance.
They also held a different doctrine in how to fight, rather than the heavy guns, drones, and fighters that the Alliance favored, the Evangelist-class Cruiser packed eight-hundred missile tubes around the octagonal profile it held with a preference to use a broadside rather than the focused on forward arcs.
"Saint John copies," came the answer, "The Dragon sent a request for combined nets."
"Good," he stated, "Tie into the combat net."
"Enemy escorts moving to intercept."
He nodded slowly as the holoprojection of the system changed and more information poured in, "Switch to combat status."
The lights flickered before stabilizing as a blood red that gave the white uniforms the same blood red of the symbol of their allegiance.
"Solution ready."
Another nod as he adjusted the combat straps.
"Open fire," Daniel commanded, "Full rolling broadside, switch targets when one is downed."
xXx
AAS Dragon. Nocturn System
The ship shuddered as the second wave of enemy nukes slammed into the ship, the efforts of the interception squadron pairing it down to a third that got through to slam into the third hanger bays forward doors.
Plating vaporized in a flash and the door collapsed inwards allowing straggling missiles to slip through the opening and into the relatively unprotected interior.
"Bay three is inoperable," came the report, "Adjacent decks open to atmosphere and possible radiation hazards."
"Reassign all non-squadron drones to interceptor duty," Alan ordered with a rasp while feeling pains in his chest where he was yanked against the harness, "Send crews to contain the damage."
"Sir," came the yell as the display of the two Templar cruisers expanded for a moment before the sensors confirmed what was happening, missiles poured out as the ships began to rotate.
It was a simple way to accelerate fire while allowing more time to reload the numerous tubes the Knights used, the motion bringing fresh tubes into firing position and empty ones out, letting them reload with ease.
Unfortunately, Alan mused, the Templars didn't pack nukes in their arsenal, but repeating waves of a hundred ship killer missiles was a sight to see as they slammed into the nearest enemy ships and leaving bursts of death where they hit.
"Laser recharge cycle complete in five seconds," came another statement as two of the smaller enemy escorts went up, flaring bright for a moment before the lack of oxygen ended their crews pyres as quickly as they began before three more joined them against the flood of death the Templar were capable of sustaining for as long as their munitions held up.
"Sir one of the enemy motherships has positioned itself to attack the Saint John!"
His eyes turned to the display as the enemy's railguns opened up, tearing through the missile cruisers lighter armor as if it were tissue paper, but the dying ship continued to fire, even shifting its fire to its killer in an act of defiance while its hulk spun and flared its engines one last time in an act of defiance.
The Tritons guns continued to fire into the rapidly disintegrating craft before it realized what was happening and began an awkward turn before the smaller craft plowed into the starboard flightpod.
"Jesus," Nathaniel commented at the display, "Those things are gonna be hard to take down."
"I know," Alan responded after a moments silence.
xXx
Hades Facility, Earth
Conrad shivered as he stepped out of the docking bay of Hades and into the armored lift.
The arctic had proven to work as a prison, or at least the depts beneath the ice did.
Entirely made of psionic dampening materials and tech from gadgeteers, mystics, and even division Nihl with a cost that matched that of the entire run of Carriers. It made all other prisons seem a joke, and only a few select prisoners were housed within the walls of Hades.
His own abilities were useless as soon as he'd stepped into the lift that would carry him from the surface installation and through the ice and ocean to the floor.
The doors opened with a hiss and he stepped into the waiting area as an escort joined him, leaving the impression that he was a very small being next to the nine foot height of the power armored guard assigned to him for the meeting that was to come.
He felt naked as well, no powers or weapons were available to him, both of which it had been centuries since he'd been without, but he needed to be here for this.
The slight sniffing from another guard reminded him of that as he glanced at the Fenran.
Once they were enemies, the gene soldiers the Architects of the Fringe had created in their cloning vats rather than risk themselves upon the mortal plane.
When the war ended, they had over a million of the beings without a purpose, and they were still, primarily, human.
It disgusted him to think of what had been done to them, animal and human DNA precisely mixed for the traits they wanted. For all their horror, the Architects were truly masters of twisting the spiral of life into something deadly and dangerous.
One of the worlds with a lack of resources other than fertile soil on the outer reaches of Alliance space had been handed over to the Fenrans and help had been given in preparing it for colonization.
In the years since, it had proven to be a profitable situation with exports of foodstuffs to other worlds, not to mention the newer generations of the genesoldiers maintaining their eagerness for combat making them suitable recruits in the eyes of the military ground forces.
In the prison, however, the few Fenran on staff were primarily of the lupine stock with their sense of smell being seen as an asset, not to mention the half dozen prisoners of their species housed here were essentially forced into viewing the staff members as the alphas and betas of their pack.
That was one of the things the Architects had used to form their units, each as a pack under the leaders of their choosing.
A shudder rippled through him at that thought, such things were a violation of his beliefs and the ideals of freedom he'd fought for and given his life to.
At least the Fenrans, of all varieties, seemed to have been brought into the fold with little in the way of complecations.
However, he considered, if his suspicions were true, there could be problems if the genetic traps the Architects had left in were not all weeded out.
The Cylons did not bare the marks of Architect manipulation, however, their designs did hold similarities that kept returning to the madmen that had clashed with the Alliance for centuries.
That concept had brought him here, to one of the few beings who knew the Architects without going through Lothario.
He mused upon his friend, the Lord of Mysteries was a survivor of the the incident that had warped the Fringe and sent a group of scientists deep into the fringe itself.
How the man had escaped both the corruption of those events and the insanity the others held was a mystery in and of itself, but Lotharion Algernon had fought them from the first, finding his way to the Archer Foundation so long ago and founding Nihl to counter their machinations.
"He's ready for you," came the comment from the guard.
"Good," Conrad Archer responded as he walked towards the position he'd been pointed to and walked inside.
"Hello Fade," came the voice of the creature he'd fought long ago and had been brought back by the twisted monster that later possessed someone he had loved.
"Demagogue."
Ordinarily, the Slepnier class fighters had the general appearance of a dagger, cockpit buried under layers of armor with slender wings spreading out from either side for optimal space for the pods for specific uses. The design had more of the hallmarks of the older bombers, but with its ability to ride herd of a pack of drones, the role was primarily of a heavy fighter with the drone swarms playing interceptor and escort.
The four missile pods, two mounted on each wing, gave it a more ungainly look while removing most of the resemblance to the atmospheric craft, but allowing it many times the firepower that anything forced to maintain aerodynamics could hope to sustain.
The Dragon only carried three squadrons in its limited role, though if it hadn't been pulled from duty as a traveling gate generator, that would have quadrupled, same with the drone compliment.
"Hound," she yelled over the air group comms system, "Cover me!"
Creed accelerated her fighter to full when the enemy fired their nukes, "All squadrons, break by pairs and prepare for combat."
The responses were easy to spot as the lights on the HUD projected within her helmet lit up in response before fading out, letting the background projection of local space remain.
"All Preds," she commented, "Guns free."
This time the only response was a red light switching green, signaling the combat mode activation of the Predator Drones.
Predator's in all their lethal glory were unimpressive to look at, essentially being a spike with engines and cannons with a single light missile apiece. They were named in honor of some of the first drone combat craft from history.
However, the design had yet to see actual combat after being brought into service during the clean up after the Architects War.
Another series of flashes brought her attention to the lead ship of the enemy formation, one the systems tagged as Pegasus.
"More missiles inbound on Dragon," she stated, "Tank, your squadron has intercept, maintain cover of the Dragon."
A series of curses from members of her squadron and a few from the other squadron leads.
"Roger," came the response as one third of her forces fell back, spinning while temporarily cutting thrust before flaring their drives again to reverse direction.
"Everyone else," she commented as her HUD flashed red, "Lock on and flash when ready."
Again the confirmation lights flashed.
"All fighters," she stated with a deep breath, "Fire."
Twenty-four missiles lanced out into the void between the fighters and the closing fleet, each of them designed for the elimination of an enemy craft no larger than a small courier, but lethal in dealing with fighters.
"Creed," she heard the steady voice of her second, Hound, "Jumps detected."
"Enemy reinforcements?"
"No," came the response, "These guys don't use jumps."
A flash on her HUD as two more ships materialized.
"Seems like the Templar are getting involved," she stated over the air group channel, "They're friendlies."
"Feels better to have more than one cap ship at our back."
"Yeah Baker," she answered the second squadron commander, "But back to work."
xXx
Saint Michael, Nocturn System
"We're just in time it seems," Crusader Daniel Walker muttered as the cruisers observed the situation developing, "Contact the Saint John and start getting firing solutions for all tubes."
The Knights Templar had been the allies of the Alliance since before the conspiracy had stepped out of the shadows, but old methods had been hard for them to drop. They had remained apart rather than risk becoming beholden to the new state when a similar act had nearly wiped them out early in their existence.
With some hesitance from some portions, the Alliance had allowed them to step back and operate, and they had claimed a few worlds of their own while occasionally trading until the Architects had attacked both them and the Alliance in their quest for dominance.
Unlike their brother nation, the Knights ships held the appearance of a medieval fortress or gothic cathedral rather than the almost squid-like form of ships such as the Dragon, building the jump systems into spikes extending from the hull rather than the expanding pylons of the Alliance.
They also held a different doctrine in how to fight, rather than the heavy guns, drones, and fighters that the Alliance favored, the Evangelist-class Cruiser packed eight-hundred missile tubes around the octagonal profile it held with a preference to use a broadside rather than the focused on forward arcs.
"Saint John copies," came the answer, "The Dragon sent a request for combined nets."
"Good," he stated, "Tie into the combat net."
"Enemy escorts moving to intercept."
He nodded slowly as the holoprojection of the system changed and more information poured in, "Switch to combat status."
The lights flickered before stabilizing as a blood red that gave the white uniforms the same blood red of the symbol of their allegiance.
"Solution ready."
Another nod as he adjusted the combat straps.
"Open fire," Daniel commanded, "Full rolling broadside, switch targets when one is downed."
xXx
AAS Dragon. Nocturn System
The ship shuddered as the second wave of enemy nukes slammed into the ship, the efforts of the interception squadron pairing it down to a third that got through to slam into the third hanger bays forward doors.
Plating vaporized in a flash and the door collapsed inwards allowing straggling missiles to slip through the opening and into the relatively unprotected interior.
"Bay three is inoperable," came the report, "Adjacent decks open to atmosphere and possible radiation hazards."
"Reassign all non-squadron drones to interceptor duty," Alan ordered with a rasp while feeling pains in his chest where he was yanked against the harness, "Send crews to contain the damage."
"Sir," came the yell as the display of the two Templar cruisers expanded for a moment before the sensors confirmed what was happening, missiles poured out as the ships began to rotate.
It was a simple way to accelerate fire while allowing more time to reload the numerous tubes the Knights used, the motion bringing fresh tubes into firing position and empty ones out, letting them reload with ease.
Unfortunately, Alan mused, the Templars didn't pack nukes in their arsenal, but repeating waves of a hundred ship killer missiles was a sight to see as they slammed into the nearest enemy ships and leaving bursts of death where they hit.
"Laser recharge cycle complete in five seconds," came another statement as two of the smaller enemy escorts went up, flaring bright for a moment before the lack of oxygen ended their crews pyres as quickly as they began before three more joined them against the flood of death the Templar were capable of sustaining for as long as their munitions held up.
"Sir one of the enemy motherships has positioned itself to attack the Saint John!"
His eyes turned to the display as the enemy's railguns opened up, tearing through the missile cruisers lighter armor as if it were tissue paper, but the dying ship continued to fire, even shifting its fire to its killer in an act of defiance while its hulk spun and flared its engines one last time in an act of defiance.
The Tritons guns continued to fire into the rapidly disintegrating craft before it realized what was happening and began an awkward turn before the smaller craft plowed into the starboard flightpod.
"Jesus," Nathaniel commented at the display, "Those things are gonna be hard to take down."
"I know," Alan responded after a moments silence.
xXx
Hades Facility, Earth
Conrad shivered as he stepped out of the docking bay of Hades and into the armored lift.
The arctic had proven to work as a prison, or at least the depts beneath the ice did.
Entirely made of psionic dampening materials and tech from gadgeteers, mystics, and even division Nihl with a cost that matched that of the entire run of Carriers. It made all other prisons seem a joke, and only a few select prisoners were housed within the walls of Hades.
His own abilities were useless as soon as he'd stepped into the lift that would carry him from the surface installation and through the ice and ocean to the floor.
The doors opened with a hiss and he stepped into the waiting area as an escort joined him, leaving the impression that he was a very small being next to the nine foot height of the power armored guard assigned to him for the meeting that was to come.
He felt naked as well, no powers or weapons were available to him, both of which it had been centuries since he'd been without, but he needed to be here for this.
The slight sniffing from another guard reminded him of that as he glanced at the Fenran.
Once they were enemies, the gene soldiers the Architects of the Fringe had created in their cloning vats rather than risk themselves upon the mortal plane.
When the war ended, they had over a million of the beings without a purpose, and they were still, primarily, human.
It disgusted him to think of what had been done to them, animal and human DNA precisely mixed for the traits they wanted. For all their horror, the Architects were truly masters of twisting the spiral of life into something deadly and dangerous.
One of the worlds with a lack of resources other than fertile soil on the outer reaches of Alliance space had been handed over to the Fenrans and help had been given in preparing it for colonization.
In the years since, it had proven to be a profitable situation with exports of foodstuffs to other worlds, not to mention the newer generations of the genesoldiers maintaining their eagerness for combat making them suitable recruits in the eyes of the military ground forces.
In the prison, however, the few Fenran on staff were primarily of the lupine stock with their sense of smell being seen as an asset, not to mention the half dozen prisoners of their species housed here were essentially forced into viewing the staff members as the alphas and betas of their pack.
That was one of the things the Architects had used to form their units, each as a pack under the leaders of their choosing.
A shudder rippled through him at that thought, such things were a violation of his beliefs and the ideals of freedom he'd fought for and given his life to.
At least the Fenrans, of all varieties, seemed to have been brought into the fold with little in the way of complecations.
However, he considered, if his suspicions were true, there could be problems if the genetic traps the Architects had left in were not all weeded out.
The Cylons did not bare the marks of Architect manipulation, however, their designs did hold similarities that kept returning to the madmen that had clashed with the Alliance for centuries.
That concept had brought him here, to one of the few beings who knew the Architects without going through Lothario.
He mused upon his friend, the Lord of Mysteries was a survivor of the the incident that had warped the Fringe and sent a group of scientists deep into the fringe itself.
How the man had escaped both the corruption of those events and the insanity the others held was a mystery in and of itself, but Lotharion Algernon had fought them from the first, finding his way to the Archer Foundation so long ago and founding Nihl to counter their machinations.
"He's ready for you," came the comment from the guard.
"Good," Conrad Archer responded as he walked towards the position he'd been pointed to and walked inside.
"Hello Fade," came the voice of the creature he'd fought long ago and had been brought back by the twisted monster that later possessed someone he had loved.
"Demagogue."
