Forced to quickly close up the meeting as alarm klaxons went off, the trio of Manticoran officers were sent racing back to their pinnace and  redlining it from the battestar back to the Corvus, which - to CTN Hammond's pleasure - was gently coming to a starboard turn to place itself broadside-on to whatever was about to hit their fleet. A quick zip into the underslung hangers and the three piled out. The Captain and CDR Lancaster made their way to the bridge, while Major York rushed for the barracks to ensure her Marines were at their stations and ready to repel any boarders.

In three minutes after arriving at the armoury, Hammond and Lancaster were in their combat skinsuit - EVA suits designed to protect crew and officers in case the hull was punctured and environmental systems failed - and took the first lift they could to the CIC. 

"Mr Stebbins!" Hammond barked as he arrived on the bridge, helmet in the crook of his arm. "Report!"

The Gunnery officer vacated the Captain's chair, his helmet's visor still up. "Sir, multiple unidentified contacts, bearing 098 relative. Came onto Tactical's scopes about five minutes ago; they're making a beeline for the fleet."

"Number? Type? Range?" Hammond rapidly fired off as he resumed his seat.

"Well in excess of 20+ hostiles," Stebbins replied, returning to his gunnery station. "Range 30 million kilometers and closing. Both large and missile-sized; I.D. matches database entries your friend's battlestar provided us - they're those damned 'Replicators', or whatever they are."

"Thank you for that last comment, Stebbins." Hammond chided, checking the tactical feed tied in from his ship's sensors. "And your colourful description has been noted. Increase speed to combat power and have the decks roll out the guns. I want a range calculation on the largest signatures we can see and hit; prep countermeasure missiles and batteries to swat at the small bastards as they close."

"Aye, sir!" Stebbins replied, starting to input commands into his panel.

"And mind what you target and hit, Gunnery." Lancaster cautioned from her seat, fumbling with her helmet as she began to mag-lock it in place. "We've got allied interceptors and LACs in the combat area; we really don't want to have the 'Warspite' scream at us for a careless blue-on-blue."