Chapter 1: The calm before the storm
A heavy railgun fires at the empty space ahead. No specific target, but it ensures that it works. The hull of the ship vibrates at a frequency that can't be picked up by ordinary humans, but the devices struggle to find their equilibrium after the massive release of energy from the charged rails. A couple dozen of men are minding their own businesses in front of their assigned workstations, only illuminated by a large holographic display standing in the middle of the room, showing the surrounding area. Large screens on the walls show the outisde, a made up view from a command bridge that could be on the outer hull of the ship, almost acting as if they were glass windows, and not mere imitations of what you could see. The resonance from the railgun finally stops and the sighs of many operators can be heard as their instruments return to their normal state. The bridge is dimly lit in a calming blue light, but the operators don't pay attention to it as their screens are enough to see in the room. The humming of the air circulators is near silent, and it dominates the large room as a constant brown noise to help people concentrate. Someone coughs, and a few operators that are unoccupied try to locate the source of the sound, as if trying to find something more amusing than looking at data about irrelevant things. A single high pitched beep fills the room for a second, and the background noise shifts from a barely audible humming to a stronger, but still almost subconcius vibration. The sound of the CIWS firing wolfram bullets coated in aluminum at enemy missiles at insane speeds, twenty-thousand times a minute. The calm image of the stars on the screen is abrupted by large beams of tracer shells flying towards the computer's targets, and the switching to the next threat. A dozen times a second.
The noise of an opening door and the hiss that accompanies it distrupts this relative silence, and mutes the sound of CIWS fire for a second. A man in the admiralty's uniform steps through the door which silently shuts behind him. He is wearing large epaulettes and a white uniform adored with a many medals that show mighty deeds that the person has done in the past. A few turn their faces to take a glance at whats happening, and then they anxiously start murmuring to their neighbours. The guard standing next to the door breaks the silence for the second time since the man entered the room, and shouts at the top of his lungs:
-Captain on the bridge!
In haste, the operators in the bridge all jump up, some still focusing on their terminals, whilst others already saluting as they get out of their chairs. The messy rumble of bodies moving around and chairs sliding and turning only lasts for about two seconds, and then it dies out. The air feels heavy in the silence, and the gentle vibrations of the guns firing on the outside are cancelled out by the beating hearts of the men. Some terminals flicker with light, and nervous operators try to quickly peek over at their screens to make sure everything is okay. In truth, these computers could operate without any operators, perhaps even better than now, but this doesn't stop these people from being assigned the magnificent job of looking over gigabytes of data evey few minutes, just to make sure that things are okay. These men now feel pwoerful because of this data, as if they were really important, and as such look proudly at their superior. The captain looks around in the circular room, examining each diffrent rows of terminals, that lay below his main command bridge in wide trenches. He looks into they eyes of every men and women and then quickly shifts over to the next. He smiles fondly, and speaks up in a soft tone, loud enough for anyone to hear, but not too loud to disturb the peace of the room:
-At ease. Return to your stations.
The operators sit back on their chairs, examining the data accumulated since they stood up from their stations. Some begin to wildly type something on their screens, pressing virtual buttons, and adjusting some things that are probably important for some reason. Others lean back against their chairs, looking at data, text and images scrolling down the screen, knowing that nothing will change on them even if the ship explodes into shiny dust particles. The only thing keeping them from standing up and making a coffe, or snoozing off is the fact that the captain has entered the same room they are in. Out of respect, they look at their screens with hazy eyes, and regularly send encrypted data packs to the main computer. The captain seemingly doesn't care what they do, and he slowly walks towards the edge of his elevated captain's terminal that is hanging around 7 meters above the rest of the room, just about as high as the holo screen showing the tactical map. Two men in officer unifroms are waiting by the terminal, their arms crossed behind their backs, their gazes focused on the captain alone. One of them seems to be very tense: he probably has something to say. But they both keep quiet and observe as the captain makes his way to them. To his own place. Time seems to come near stopping, and it crawls forward slowly until the ship's AI sends a greeting message, and displays it on a small holo screen that appeared between the captain and the two officers. It's in silent mode, so the holo displays show a face that isn't really male or female, and as it's lips move the subtitles appear on the bottom of the screen. The captain makes a swinging motion with his hands, and his eyes light up for a second as the large holo screen is moved to his retinal implant. He smiles at the two men in front of him and salutes. The two man salute back, and one of them grabs a terminal lying on the large desk behind him.
-Captain Iunius, this is the report of our engagement so far.it contains data we collected in our last battle as well, so i advise you read it. It is updating as we speak, so you shouldn't miss any details that you need to know about.
-Very good Tacitus. Now stop looking at me with such fearful eyes. If we had any reason to be afraid then the sirens would already be blaring.
The second officer snickers and sits down on the desk, his stature relaxing. The man by the name of Tacitus sends a vicous look at his partner, and then follows his example and sits down into a chair by the the captain's. Then Iunius sits down into his own chair that looks more like a throne that can turn 360 degrees. He scrolls over some data and video feed, and swipes some over to his implant. His gaze is lost in the terminal, holding tightly onto the thin metal piece that emits the screen's hologram. The bridge is in silence once again, and the CIWS fire is still going on outside, more furiusly than before. However this is barely noticable, and the only real evidence of this is the flashing screens imitating the windows. Many more ships seem to have joined theirs, and occasional flaks explode in the background, a few dozen miles ahead of the captain's ship. Meanwhile he looks up from his documents, and clears his throat, looking at his subordinate sitting on the desk. The second officer shows a smile and looks questioningly at the captain, his hands playing with a metal pencil that he keeps flipping between his fingers. Iunius speaks up in his usual, soft tone.
-For the love of the Emperor, sit down in your chair Hilarus like any other officer would. You are not some xeno barbarian, so please make sure to keep that noble facade up, at least as long as you are on my bridge.
The captain turns back at his terminal and continues examining the data. Hilarus hops down from the desk and takes his seat in the chair, seemingly as cheerful as he was moments ago. Tacitus gives him a frowny look, and then turns to the holographic display in front of them that shows the battlefield. Hilarus shows his tounge to his partner as he turns away, fiddling around with the same thing, but now juggling with two pencils instead of one.
Below their deck, a couple of dozen man sit in front of their terminals and make sure everything goes according to protocol. Changes are not needed, and the captain doesn't need to order anyone around. Most of the tasks are completed by machines, powerful computers that calculate everything that the captain needs to know, and sends the data directly to his terminal. He would only need to say a word to change what the ship is doing, but no more input is needed from him. Unless there are some extreme manouvers needed, or if the captain wants to take direct control for any reason. But as things stand, the relative silence that controls the room soothens the soul, and eases the stress. The machines work, and nobody needs to go out of their way to do complicated tasks. This peaceful situation is not something one would willingly want to change. The captain makes a swiping motion with his hands, and the terminal of a nearby operator lights up. The man looks up at the command bridge in surprise to get a message, but then turns back quickly to obey the command. The holographic display in the middle of the room quickly changes and transforms into a smaller version, focused on ships in a close formation. It doesn't look like the previous holo at all, and some people look up from their terminals to examine it. In the background, many complex algorithims are running, and the picture is quickly getting more and moire detailed, and infomration about each target is starting to appear on the holo. The captain stands up, and puts down his handheld terminal on the desk in front of him. A control panel lies on the other side, and he inputs a few commands. The holo warps again, this time the shapes of the ships become enlarged, and then they are quickly surrounded by red circles of different sozes. Tacitus quickly speaks up to explain the situation:
- Our sensors picked up this group of Mekhar ships approximately two hours ago. We've been on a moderate burn since to close the distance. We've been staying out of their main gun's range until the captain arrived. However their missiles prove to be an issue, as their range is far larger than the other guns. The point defense is holding out alright, and we've not sustained any casualties so far. However it's only a matter of time before we have to engage them, or they'll warp out of the system. We're waiting on your orders to engage sir.
Captain Iunius zooms out on the holo with some basic hand gestures, and looks at the tactical map once again. This time it shows the Mekhar ships, closely pursued by a fleet a few times larger. Red and yellow lines around their ships show the effective ranges of their weapons, and blue and green lines show the vectors of all the ships partaking in the combat. The captain gently nods, and opens the intercomms from his control panel. His desk turns into a large screen, filled with the many faces of other captains, the ones controlling the ships in his fleet. He greets them with a lazy salute and then cuts to the chase.
-All units engage the enemy fleet. Stay in formation, and reroute powers to CIWS until you can engage with the main armanents. Start high G burn immidiately.
The captain inputs a few more commands into his control panel, and the holograph starts to show the realtime the two fleets approaching. The circles around the Mekhar ships reach the first human ship. Then the second and the third. The large yellow circle around the human ships is seemingly endlessly far away from the ships they pursue. However, the G forces start to push down on the people in the room, and a few dozen more pips showing individual ships in high G burns enter the red circle. Suddenly a large explosion lights up the room, the screens on the walls turning down their brightness automatically in order not to blind everyone in the room. The vision of the captain and his high officers darkess as their retinal implants turn darker for protection. However, the operators in the rows below put their hands in front of their eyes to shade themselves. The light dies off as the screen darkens, but the massive fireball can be seen outside the winodws ,expanding proudly ahead of the ship. As the large shockwave reaches the ship, it gently shakes the floorboards, their metallic clanking disturbing the peace that once occupied the room. The holo shows the ships from the human side still far from the enemy, but now with the pip that was representing the ship in the front transformed into a large red spehere of debree. The captain frowns and watches tensely as the first of the yellow circles creeps up to a Mekhar ship, and then slowly climbs over it, moving towards the next one. The other yellow circles follow this example, and quickly engulf the ships in the back of the enemy fleet. The captain gestures with his hand, and Hilarus drops his pencils and nods at Tacius. He opens the fleetwide intercomms, and gives a quick order.
-All units, concentrate fire on the closest target. We will break them individually. Do not change targets until you've confirmed the kills.
The metal plates of the ship resonate again, as many beautifully shining beams leave the neighboring ship's railguns, and then travel very quickly towards the enemy ships, already seeable on the screens with naked eye. The humming of the air circulators is now entirely silenced by other sounds, like the melody of teh CIWS, or the small vibrations coming from missiles launching from the ship, or railguns throwing massive slugs at the enemy at high speeds and light the sky blue with their tracers, shrieking in their electric tounge. All of the operators seem to be working hard now. Even the ones that were slacking off earlier are now examining the fresh water storage datas as if their lifes depend on it. Some look up and out of the imaginary window to take a look at the battle, and then turn back to their screens as the next alert pops up. The captain leans back in his chair, and rests his head on his hands. His presence is ominous, and his gaze is focused at the small dots in the distance that are the Mekhar ships. Another large explosin fills the windows, and the relentless fire becomes more concentrated as more ships from both sides join the firefight. Tacius looks up from his screen, and stands up to look out the window. A small shining dot in the middle of the screen seems to be his target for examination. Then the siren's begin blaring, and the words "brace" appear on every terminal and panel. The CIWS and flaks outside begin to focus on the shining dot, but the torpedo is too agile for them, and it deftly dodges many lines of defense. The payload approaches the imaginary window, and threatens the safety of the crew. But every man stays in his place, their focus on their own terminals. They know that they are either safe, or they'll die without even knowing that it happened. Panic is the paramount reason for failure, and every EOM officer is taught this.
Then the torpedo hits, and a mild vibration runs along the ship, the chairs gently rocking in the impact. The screen goes black for a second, before coming back online, showing the exact same imagery but from a slightly different perspective. Tacius looks at the captain in confusion, his hands tightly formed into a fist. Hilarus speaks up, his voice calmer than one could expect in a situation like this.
- It seems that the torpedo hit the main bulkhead where our armor is the thickest. It's possbile that it didn't activate because of that. The armor only suffered minor damage from the impact. However the torpedo is now stuck between some panels. Recovery will be hard in the middle of the battle.
The captain looked outside the window, where the flashes of light all meant individual payloads meant to cripple and eliminate ships in seconds. He turned to Tacius who seemed less afraid then before, but still tressed out. An eyebrow was enough to ask the question to his officer.
- Well, just like last time, our weapons seem to be ineffective against the Mekhar's defenses. Before the payloads hit some sort of an energy barrier blocks the shells and halts or redirects them. However, we have managed to take out two of their ships now that we focus fire. It seems that their defensive barrier collapses after a few hits from our high caliber railguns. Now we just need to keep pressing the ad-
The voilent shockwave stopped the officer from finishing his sentence. The crying voice of metal bending and transforming filled the room, and the alarms changed their tone and volume to overcome this new sound. The captain looks around the bridge with hazy eyes. Many of the operators were knocked out from the shockwave, and are now lying unconcious in their seats. The door opens behind him and a medical team runs in with a few guards carrying some mobile surgical tables and other medical equipment. The ship in the very middle of the holo has turned red, and is slowly falling behind the other ships. It took some time for Iunius to realize that it was their ship. His head ringed and his vison was starting to slowly fade away. He forced his eyes open for some more time, and looked over his terminal. According to the last data that the computers gathered, the torpedo that was wedged into the armor plates exploded, and caused significant damage in the front section of the ship. It knocked out some wepaons, but it ultimately didn't cripple the ship, apart from tearing the front armor up. The computers decided that the best course of action was to avoid combat with such a damaged layer of preotection and fall back behind friendly ships. And without direct command from the captain that said otherwise, the computers begin the protocol they were programmed to do to slow down the ship, and use the remaining thrusters in the front to lose velocity. The last thing that Iunius remembered before passing out was the gravity slowly shifting below 2G.
elsewhere, elsewhen
-I am serious Jack! These barbarians are up to something!
The EOM Militia soldier didn't seem to pleased about the crowd. He constantly frowned and gave killing glances at passing xenos. His companion, named Jack, a less irritated person who was leaning against the wall, was wathcing his friend rant about their day job endlessly. He was quite amused by the things he could make up, and sometimes even admired him for that. Sometimes. He just finished another theory about how xenos are going to do yet another terrorist attack against some governement facility. But in the end these attacks never happened. So he was just as cynical about these as he was about the last dozen.
-Calm down Clark, it's not like every Xeno on the street is out to get you. They know better than to lay a hand on us or governement property. Just give your creativity a rest so I can stop listening to your crazy theories.
-I am not kidding Jack! They've been going to places after dark, and no matter how many times we beat them up they keep reapperaing and taking to teh streets. Usually they learn from a good beating, but for a good week or two now I've been seeing the same xenos out after midnight.
Clark threateningly swung his baton at a nearby xeno who was seemingly amused by their conversation. It seemed that physical threat was a good way to drive away interlopers, and the xeno made sure not to stick around such crazy individuals, and left quickly. Clark spit on the dusty ground, and frowned yet again, for the thousandth time today. His helmet's visor was lifted up, and he turned off all his systems. Mabye he just wanted peace so that he could threaten xenos to his liking. Maybe he was annyoed by HQ and all the helmet's systems. Who really knows.
-I am serious Clark, every xeno here looks the same to me. I don't know if its just me or not, but they are not very keen on showing their faces. Thats why they are wearing masks and those long rags after all. There is no way you can distinguish them by yourself.
Jack smiled as he saw Clark's furius face, and looked down on his gun. The job was boring, and randomly checking the xenos was never really fruitful. Most of the xenos here look very suspicious even if they did any kind of crime, so finding the guilty ones is not a hard task. Instead he uses his time to clean his gun, and maintain his gear. He swiped off some dust from his gun, and when he was sure that wiping the gun off for the 10th time won't make a difference in how it looks, he looked back at Clark. Jack was about to say something, but he was cut off by his friend.
-I don't give a crap about your rambling. You know very well that our gear can identify these bastard! - Clark gently tapped the side of his helmet to reinforce his claim. He lowered his visor, and walked away from the corner of the crossing. The dusty streets of the desert planet were small and not really developed. Sand was everywhere, and as he approached the middle of the small intersection his boots created small clouds of dust every time he took a step. Jack looked cynically over at Clark, trying to figure out what kind of stupid thing his friend was gonna do this time. Last time he tried to get one of the locals to speak human, because he swore that these bastards were learning their language for infiltrations. Not like they couldn't even pronounce words like humans, but Clark was hellbent on his own theory. In the end he had to force him off the poor xeno, and give a dose of sedatives to his friend. He was sure that he would have to do it this time as well, so grabbed one of they syringes from his pack, and held it up.
-Hey Clark, remember these babies? - Jack joked, and Clark didn't even look back just midle finger over his shoulder - Fuck you too!
His friend reached the middle of the intersection, and a small cloud of dust was already gathering around him. The black and orange armor seemed very faded and old with all those layers of sand. He hated this planet for having to clear his gear so many times. And maintain it as well. He hated sand, honest to god, more than anything in the world. He would listen to Clark all day if he could get rid of sand. But that was not the case, and he cursed the day he accepted this assignement. Watching a crossroad where only a few hundred people pass by all day.
Clark looked around, and he was searching for something in particular. The xenos were avoiding him as they traveled by, leaving a circle of about 3 meters in diameter completely empty around him. His activated his helmet's hud, and started an identiscan. The helmet tried to identify all the xenos in range, but the masks covered their faces, and their rags made it impossible to even determine their species if you didn't already know. And the helmet being a simple desgin, didn't know it already. Clark sweared, and stopmed the ground in anger. A few frightened xenos started to walk the other direction, obviously not impressed by the idea of passing by an angry EOM Militia. However, one of thes xenos caught Clark's attention. He remembered the dirty brat from yesterday night, when they beat up 3 xenos after dawn. The crack he made in his mask was still there. The gazed at the mask to make sure he was right, but it seemed like the xeno also remembered him, and changed to a quicker pace.
-Ey, stop you! - The xeno looked over his shoulder and then started to run away in fear - Stop it you little prick, or I'll have to make sure you leanr the law!
Clark gave chase to the xeno. It didn't take too long to catch the brat who was running away, as these guys had stubby legs which they really couldn't use to run very fast. He threw himself at the xeno and tripped it, pushing him down to the ground. He was sure that Jack was alughing at him from the corner. But he was about to prove him worng.
-In the name of EOM you are under arrest for suspicious behaviour. Now follow me you thwat before I beat you into pulp.
He stood up and pulled the poor guy up as well. They really weren't far from the intersection, Jack stood about 20 meters away from him, holding his stupid syringe in his hand. He pulled the xeno he arrested about the wholeleght of that 20 meters, as the guy was trying to run away.
-Oh my god Clark, can you not beat up random citizens, even if they are xenos? This isn't exactly stepping over our boundaries, but I prefer we don't just go around messing with people. Why can't we just sit still in some shadowy corner where its not 50 degrees and talk about women and drinks.
Clark gave him a vicous glance, and he made sure to take a step back, his syringe ready if needed. He hoped he didn't have to use it, but he wasn't sure anymore. He wasn't sure what his friend was gonna do, but he know that he was going to be just as responsible. So he better make it quick with the sedatives. He popped the plastic head off from his situational weapon, and turned to Clark. The xeno was on the ground, shivering in fear. Clark was in the process of trying to get the mask off teh xeno so he can scan the guy. From Jack's position it looked like a weird game of Tug 'o War with these two crawling around in the sand. He was about to step behind Clark and sedate him, but the shriek of the xeno froze the blood in his veins. From under his ragged clothes the guy pulled out some kinda device. A greande.
-Watch out! - Jack quickly jumped backwards to avooid the detonation, and landed just as the xeno pulled the pin.
The explosion was powerful, and the blastwave pushed him away a bit even when he was lying head down on the ground. A massive cloud of dust and sand emerged, and he ada to lower his visor to breathe freely again. Thankfully the helmet allowed to him to see better in dust and other wather conditions like that. He checked himself over to make sure he wasn't hurt, even thought the suit diagnostics didn't show any signs of damage. Its just an old habit, but who knows when the machines get something wrong. His ears were ringing as he dialed the intercom for HQ. The answer was instanenous, and he had a good idea why. A friendly woman voice asked him how she can help.
-Man down at the G-25 intersection. Lethal explosive device. We... I mean I need reinforcements and a medical team if possible.
His computer old him that Clark was dead. The small body icon in full red next to his friends name showed that this random xeno blew him up. After all, Clark was right. If these guys carry around explosives under their rags like that, then who knows what else they could be making. If he knew this he would've taken those weapon scnas more seriously. But now Clark's no more, and the only thing that remains of him is his warnings, and the red sand cloud that lingered in the air. He could feel his eyes filling with tears. He slumped down to his kness, and grabbed a handful of sand. Glassy pieces created from the heat, and red soaked grains of sand from the blood. Nothing remains of today's events for history, only his memory, and the records made by his helmet's systems. He could never forget the xenos. This job got a whole lot more personal, an until he avenges his friend, he won't be conetnt with his life. He needs to bust what the xenos are doing, for the sake of Clark. Not until there are no more xenos that could hurt anyone he is close to.
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