-- Biota Trailing group --
Infernus sector
CVE-293 Farragut 
The Biota trailing group of stars makes up the south eastern fringe of the Infernus sector. Aptly named for the climate of the planets found here. The trailing group is known for a relatively tight cluster of super giant stars situated within a few light years of each other. The habitable and uninhabitable worlds of this sector are extremely warm contributing to the validity of the sectors namesake. Long time allies Beitsan and Emcon both control the majority of colonies in the region making the area a perfect proving ground for new weapons and crews getting ready for deployment. The crew of CVE-293 The Farragut, was in the area doing exactly this, training their crew for the upcoming deployment to the troubled northern sectors of Gaia and Pardeux.
CVE-293 or The Farragut is a standard escort carrier vessel of the Decimus class, carrying a complement of 36 strike, CAP and dedicated reconnaissance craft. Affectionately called a "Scoop" due to the hangar bay situated on top of the vessel, this class is the backbone of long range recon patrols across the cartel. These vessels have no offensive armament as "formal" fighting between the nations is strictly forbidden, it instead relies on its small craft to attack and protect itself. The carrier does have multiple VLS cells and fast firing kinetic turrets for self defense but those are a last resort. Ideally, this vessel should be nowhere near any real fighting. Its true strength lies in its suite of detection and surveillance systems paired with its complement of dedicated recon craft. This makes Decimus class vessels excellent surveillance ships and perfectly suited for the type of conflict present in the Halcyon cartel.
Farragut officer berthing -03:45- Local star timeThe loud klaxon of an alarm jolted Senior Lieutenant Urdesh Nolon into consciousness. He let out a sigh and groaned as he twisted his body to fall on his back with as little effort possible. The scuffed steel bunk above him offered a vague reflection even in the dark red light of the berthing. Groaning again, he pulled his wrist up to his face and let out a frustrated snort.
'two hours....' he thought, ' my last watch ended two hours ago' his inner voice said as he slowly rolled himself to sit at the edge of the bed.
Urdesh stood up ands jogged to the far end of the room, joining the rest of his berthing mates scrambling for lockers and pulling on gear. Apart from groans and exasperated sighs the room was silent, everyone looked as exhausted as he was. The group lazily locked gear into place before jogging up the steps and into the main hangar of the vessel.
Even through the sound dampening of his helmet the sound of engines running up was deafening, removing the possibility of speech without specialized equipment. The crews ran to their designated craft, the deafening sounds outside immediately subsiding once the canopy closed.
The MV-2 is an excellent recon craft with many electronic warfare capabilities. With a crew of four, each crewmember can focus on different tasks increasing effectiveness. Shaped like a winged teardrop, the MV-2 is capable of atmospheric and non-atmospheric flight. Armed with a autocannon and two internally stored self protection missiles, it relies on its speed to avoid contact.
Urdesh was the last to board his craft and climbed into the pilots seat before flicking the canopy lever forward. Tapping the top of his helmet, he pulled a small plug from the panel on his chest and plugged into the seat. With a crackle the ships communications system came to life and HUD symbology was transferred to his helmet.
" Every five days, I told you" the man next to Urdesh said, making everyone shift their head around to look at the man who just spoke.
" Every five days there is another drill, were going to fly out to the middle of nowhere, in search pattern, to train for something that hasn't happened in over 3 centuries" the man said in a dramatic tone. Prompting groans and jeers from the rest of the crew.
" We do this every year" Urdesh complained flatly with a slight shrug " and you complain every single time" he finished, clearly frustrated.
" Cause its...." the copilot got out before another male voice from behind cut him off with a quick " Shut the fuck up a minute"
Urdesh turned his head to the right and saw the communications officer writing something down on his kneeboard before typing into his forward dash. " Desh, turn up your squad com, they are getting ready to pop the doors" the communications officer said in the quick accented cadence of an Emcon accent. Urdesh raised a thumbs up above his head and reached for the multi function display in front of him. A female voice got increasingly louder as he increased the volume of his squadron communications channel.
" All elements standby for take-off procedure" the voice ordered authoritatively before a loud siren began to blow.
maintenance crew hurriedly removed cockpit ladders, electrical lines and fuel hoses before running for the safety of an adjoining room, all their gear in tow. The sound of air rushing past the cockpit could be heard as frost accumulated on the canopy before the large hangar door in front of the group opened, revealing the black abyss of space. Lights switched from fluorescent white to a dark red as Urdesh received the order to take off.
Urdesh could hear the whine of the engine in the cockpit as he increased power to his directional thrusters before disengaging the magnetic lock of his landing skids. The craft slowly rose in unison with the rest of the group before slowly flying forward out of the hangar as a group. Once past the threshold, the mass of recon craft scattered, heading towards their assigned search pattern bearing.
-two hours later-Removed from the bright environment of the hangar bay, the surrounding stars slowly started to resolve themselves. It was peaceful, Urdesh loved this part of flying in the vacuum. The lolling cadence of his co-pilots snoring lulled the crew into a sense of normalcy.
" Hes right you know.." the communications officer said flatly his Emcon accent always coming off as sarcastic and flat. " Why are we training for fleet defense when there hasn't been a fleet defense situation in centuries." he finished looking over his dash to eye the snoring co-pilot.
" Yea I know" Urdesh said with a sigh, " I just didn't want to hear him bitch about it, we do this every year we work up for deployment" he paused, rolling his eyes and checking the digital gauges in his helmet display.
" He complains every year" a fourth male voice interjected in an exasperated tone
Urdesh laughed and turned his head to side eye the man behind him in the electronic warfare station. Before a chime tone brough hit attention to his forward dash, they were getting close to their first buoy deployment point. Urdesh reached across his right hand panel and shook the co-pilots leg until the man stirred awake.
" Get up Gil, buoy deployment" Urdesh stated forcefully, as he turned back to his controls.
Gillard Reis was the second in command of the craft, an experienced co-pilot and navigator who had been with the crew since the beginning of the squadron. Gil grunted in acknowledgement before typing a series of commands into his forward dash, throwing a thumbs up over his head for the communications officer to see.
" Yep, tuning" the communications officer said, his accent overemphasizing the U sound. Eliam Gades was the newest member of the crew with only three years in service. Like alot of the less devout Emcon citizens, he opted for an exciting life in the Beitsan military instead of a theological school back on his home colony. He was an accomplished communications officer, starting as an enlisted commo man before passing flight specialty school. Emcon and Beitsan had been allies even before the war in the home system, Emcon citizens could live and work in Beitsan colonies and join the military. It was not uncommon to see men and women of Emcon in the Beitsan forces.
" Good to go, Virji all you" Eliam said, tapping the electronic warfare officer on the leg
With a nod, Virjil Burrus began tapping commands into his dashboard. Another veteran crewmember, this was Virjil's second crew and squadron. He was at least five years older than the rest of the crew and the only member to actually see combat. rumor was that Virjil was passed up for promotion due to pissing off his former squadron commander, but the crew knew the real story. Command just wasn't his preference.
" Good to deploy" Virjil stated while tapping Urdesh's helmet
The craft shuddered for a second as the radar buoy was released, instantly showing up as a hollow circle in Urdesh's helmet display.
" Check our link" Urdesh ordered before receiving multiple affirmatives.
The radar buoys were the main armament of the recon craft, and the most effective way to increase the carriers situational awareness. Just like the recon craft, the carrier could link to the buoys and see what it has detected. They also act as communications relays, so data is not degraded when being sent back to the carrier. Crews are trained to drop them all during the duration of their recon flight.
-4 Hours later- Urdesh had his head back against the headrest, his helmet was sitting on his lap, allowing him to lean against the canopy as he slept. A lite rhythmic snore could be heard in the nearly silent cockpit. Gil, the co-pilot/navigator, weaved lazily through an asteroid field to keep himself awake. This was how most flight went, nothing more than long flights in the void. Occasionally there would be a mock target that needs to be found, but those were few and far between. The crew would often sleep in shifts, but on these training flights it hardly mattered. Only Gil, the co-pilot/navigator and Eliam, the communications officer were awake.
After hours of near silence, the sound of a radar detection warning woke everyone with a jolt. Urdesh sat up and put on his helmet reflexively , quickly turning the locking collar before trying to understand the helmet hud display once more.
"What...What is it", Urdesh said grogily, looking around in an almost panicked manner.
" RWR warning, indetifying" Virjil said flatly, before a audible sigh could be heard " Its another MV-2" he said flatly with a chuckle.
" They are way out of position" Gil said in an incredulous tone before Eliam knocked on the divider between them to quiet everyone.
" Were being ordered back to the ship....." he stated quizzically, the surprise on his face obvious before checking his watch. " Almost eight hours early"
" Well I am not complaining" Gil said with a gleeful smile, extending his fist towards Urdesh.
Urdesh met his fist with his with a slight grin before narrowing his eyes with a pang of worry. " Any information as to why?" Urdesh asked, the worry obvious on his voice.
" No, just says to prepare for immediate embarkation and transit, so I guess we are going somewhere" Eliam finished with a shrug
" Thats not good," Virjil interjected flatly. " That is how I got my last deployment orders, something has happened lads" he finished, meeting the crews worried eyes as he looked around the cockpit.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------Typhon Prime
Colony of Kresta
Area 182
Ibrox could feel the arcology shake as he ran down the large regal hallway. A muffled, thud followed a second later, masking a massive explosion deeper in the structure.
‘It must have been massive’
He thought to himself, before pulling the compact autogun he was carrying closer to his chest. Ibrox was at the head of a platoon of fighters running to keep pace with him as they ran through the Directors quarters. They were not dressed as normal Beitsan soldiers or PDF. They wore miss-matched civilian clothes or the cultural garb for the world. Web gear and weapons looked scavenged, and their handling amateur. These were not in fact soldiers, but civilians, workers and other common folk from the world of Typhon Prime.
As Ibrox cleared the threshold of a hallway “T” intersection he could hear the sharp crack of solid rounds and the ionizing smell of laser bolts around him as he drove for the opposite side of the intersection. A handful of other fighters made it across before the rest of the platoon was stopped by the fire. Turning back to face the way he came, Ibrox could see three unmoving bodies on the floor and a man groaning as he slowly crawled for the safety of the opposite wall. Ibrox was wide eyed as he struggled to gain his footing, the shock of the sudden ambush making him unable to use his fine motor skills.
He watched the man continue to crawl, trailing a dark red smear of blood as he pulled his limp body along. Like a bad dream, he continued to struggle to stand, the constant snap and crack of solid and energy rounds adding to the difficulty. The man wouldn’t make it, a group of mixed laser and solid rounds stitched their way up the floor, splintering stained wood as it crawled it way up to the crawling man. It would be a laser round that made the killing blow, suddenly shooting through the mans head and burying itself on the wall behind. Smoldering flesh and skull bits painted area around his body as the corpse’s head laid still smoke escaping from its ears and nose.
Ibrox gasped and attempted to scoot back farther into the wall, he thought he might cry before feeling a meaty hand grab the gear around his chest and pull him up. Within seconds, he was face to face with a mustached man, maybe 10 years his senior. He was mouthing something, his mouth moving large exaggerated speech before the world came back in frightening clarity.
“ Are you hit! Where are we supposed to go?!”
The mustached man was yelling as he looked Ibrox over, looking at the panicked glare on his face quizzically.
“ N-No…, I’m fine..”
Ibrox stammered in return, pulling the rifle closer in an attempted to show that he had steeled himself. He had to show some strength for the rest of his “Platoon”, at least that’s what he was told when it was given to him. Unlike the rest of the fighters around him, Ibrox was actually military, this might as well been in name only though.
He was barely a month out of training when he was approached to take part in a coup to take the planet. Ibrox, being all too eager to leave military life was easily swayed by the promise of status and power in the new regime for his efforts. After a few more instances of exaggerating his training and exploits, Ibrox was an officer and leading a platoon of civilian fighters to capture or kill the Director of the planet.
Ibrox turned away from the fire for a moment and found a set of large ornate doors farther down the hallway.
“There…” he pointed shakily, before pointing back towards the fire through the wall “ We don’t have enough men to take the room through, they are trapped on the other side of the ambush” he finished, looking at the crowd of fighters on the other end of the hallway intersection.
The mustached man looked hard, like he was accustomed to back breaking labor for a living. Ibrox got to know the man as a miner named Kaytranda who was becoming an effective platoon sergeant.
“ We might not have to” Kaytranda growled as he ordered the handful of men around him to go check out the room.
Willed into action by the initiative of Kaytranda Ibrox cupped his hands around his mouth towards the rest of his platoon
“ Smoke!, throw smoke!” Ibrox yelled as he fumbled with a large smoke canister hanging from his web gear, throwing down the hallway.
One or two other fighters did the same, as thick smoke began to waft up towards the intersection. Immediately, a group of fighters began to run across to Ibrox before being cut down as the rate of fire increased, their bodies chewed up by fire as Ibrox raised a frustrated hand.
“ Wait for my command” he barked before the fire died down, waving the fighters across.
Ibrox began positioning the men in his platoon to defend the doorway as Kaytranda walked back toward him, flinching slightly as the fire from the hallway picked up again.
“ Room is empty, it’s a bedroom though, looks ornate” Kaytranda said sarcastically as he pointed his head towards the open door.
Ibrox nodded and walked into the bedroom, the sound of exchanging gunfire behind him.
Ibrox could easily tell this was occupied by someone of status. The smell of cologne and herbs wafted towards the open door and a tray of expensive liquors sat next to the bed. The bed linens looked high quality and embroidered with glossy gold thread. It was a nice room, Ibrox thought before a crash could be heard in the attached bedroom.
Ibrox shouldered through the door and swept his autogun around, before snapping it down to meet the shivering form of a man on the floor. The large air conditioning grate had fallen out of the wall, revealing a half naked man who had fallen with the grate. The man was middle aged, with a slight paunch and greying hair. The man winced and groaned as Ibrox rolled him over with his boot, shaking as he pulled his hands up to protect his face.
“ P-p-please……” the man stammered as he looked up at Ibrox, tears beginning to collect in the corner of his eyes.
Ibrox recognized the man immediately, it was the director.
——- Two Months Later —— Ibrox stood at attention in his formal class A uniform, the pins for the cartel and Beitsan removed and replaced with a strange tree insignia. A middle aged man stood next to him tied to a post, beaten, bloody and wearing a cheap cloth tunic without pants. Ibrox was part of a large group of people in the same uniform, everyone looking into a camera in front of them.
“ We free ourselves from the tyranny of Kresta!” A man wearing the insignia of a Lord General yelled into a microphone in front of the group
“ This is our only goal, self determination from our off world oppressors and from the tithes of the core worlds” the man continued before pointing back towards the man tied to the pole.
The crowd watching was almost endless, and their cheer was deafening as they looked at the prisoner.
“ This man, Major Ibrox Odwalla, has brought this criminal to justice and he will be the one to dispatch him” the man yelled looking back towards Ibrox with a nod.
A flutter of nervousness shot through Ibrox as he unholstered his pistol and pulled back the slide. The solid round inside could be clearly seen in the chamber, its brass casing shining in the muted overcast sunlight. The Director whimpered as Ibrox pressed the pistol up under his ear, muttering some off world prayers as he looked up towards the clouds.
The crowd cheered and screamed as they watched Ibrox, willing him to pull the trigger. The crowd was at his will, he controlled their jubilance, he controlled their satisfaction, he was the center of their admiration. The feeling was so overwhelming that Ibrox didn’t even realize that he pulled the trigger. He only registered the increased roar of the crowd and the red mist that enveloped himself and the stage.
Pushed to the limit of his senses, Ibrox could only recognize one thing, intoxication and he loved it.
