“Reconnaissance Drones returning to their bays now Admiral,” came the calm, light tone of the Air Caste pilot as his thin and dexterous fingers ran across the control panel in front of him with practiced ease and skill. The holographic display in front of his responded as the Drones were locked into their bays, the feeds from their memory core instantly being uploaded into the ship’s data banks.
Admiral Firestorm sat upon her command throne, dressed in the snuggly fitting pilots uniform of the Air Caste, a Pulse pistol holstered against her hip. The bridge of the massive Custodian Class Battleship was sleek and smooth, the material an all white color that contrasted sharply with the dark red and black uniforms of the pilots and crew members of the bridge. Admiral Firestorm brought up her own holographic display without a word, bringing up the data from the Reconnaissance Drones and examining their findings. Her fleet lay at the very edge of a new system that the Tau fleet had just recently arrived. Several planets had been observed on their sensors, and as a common practice they had laid in wait within a defensive formation as they sent Drones to scout out the area ahead. The hiss of a door behind her and the steady thumps of cloven feet on the hard floor went nearly unnoticed.
Commander Warstrider, the defacto leader of the ground forces after the untimely demise of Shas’o B’shase, strode confidently into the bridge. He was dressed in a black robe trimmed in red and white, synced around his waist with a white cord. The emblem of the Farsight Enclaves adorned his right shoulder, as it did on all of the uniforms of the Enclave Tau. His voice was curt but respectful when he spoke, for he was within the domain of the Air Caste here, and the woman seated next to him still technically outranked him.
“Admiral,” he started, giving a small bow, inclining his head slightly. “Shas’el,” came the soft reply, with barely a glance toward the Fire Caste veteran as Firestorm perused the data. Warstrider ignored the small insult. He had been at odds with the Air Caste leader since he had ever set foot within her fleet. Guidestar and Firestorm had been close, and he felt that she resented his eagerness to replace the old Commander. More so, she forever seemed distasteful of his strategies and plans. As long as he was on her ship, he would hold his tongue. He knew his place, and knew that on the ground there would be nothing stopping his orders from supplanting hers.
“Is there anything worthwhile for us here?” Warstrider continued, and Firestorm nodded. “Yes, there indeed is. Initial scans show many planets rich in mineral resources, though we have picked up an abundance of life already here.” The answer brought a nod from the male, mulling over the information. Rich resources were something very much of interest to them on this mission. So far they had been unable to find anything that made their expedition worthwhile, only a few loose agreements that could very well fall through later. He would not return home empty handed. “How many? Do we know who they are?”
In answer to his question Firestorm brought up the main holoprojector in the bridge, allowing Warstrider to see for himself. The image showed a planet, no too small for a planet. It was a moon, and there was a fleet laying in orbit over it. Warstrider squinted at the image, suddenly recognizing the shapes of the ships hovering over the lunar body.
“Gue’la,” he spat, the word rolling off his tongue like a poison. The shapes of the anchored vessels was unmistakable, with their sharp prows, jutting command decks like fortresses, and gun decks bristling with weaponry. “How many?” He repeated.
“Too many for us to fight alone. It looks like a force far too large to be merely planetary defense either. They may be waiting for resupply, or staging for their next move. I would advise that we wait, engage the stealth drives and watch until they leave.”
“And what if they don’t? You know as well as I do that we are running low on supplies and fuel. We can’t afford to sit around and wait for them to move on. They may be waiting to attack or colonize this region. We should strike at them while they are at anchor, cripple their ships and hit them before they even realize we are here.”
Firestorm shook her head, “No. We cannot hope to defeat such a large force in open combat. But you are right, waiting could prove to yield nothing. We will compromise then. Approach from the darkside of the moon with stealth drives engaged here,” her slender fingers traced a line along the image, projecting their course. “From behind the planet and out of view. We wait behind the planet, and send a small force of your Fire Warriors with Water Caste diplomats to make initial contact. They won’t know the size of our fleet, or how many warriors you possess. We may lose the initial element of surprise but that fleet will have no idea that our forces wait just behind the planet. If things turn sour, we can still hit them with speed and surprise and make our escape before we are badly damaged.”
Mont’ray did not like the idea. They had a perfect opportunity here to launch an ambush while the human fleet was vulnerable in orbit. However, they did not know if there were reserve force on the way. If he acted rashly, the entire fleet may be destroyed and their mission a failure. “Very well Admiral. Our lives are in your hands,” he finished, turning on his heel and marching out of the room, his last words almost like a threat in the air as he went to prepare his soldiers.
Lying in wait, ships cloaked and engines running at the lowest level possible to conserve heat signature but still be primed for a lightning quick attack, the Enclave fleet lay in wait just behind the planet. Two shuttles launched from bays on the flagship, streaking out into the void. Within each was a dozen Fire Warriors and four Water Caste diplomats. The Warriors checked their Pulse rifles and equipment, the Shas’ui barking orders and inspecting their respective squads as the diplomats discussed their plan of action. Trusting in their stealth drives to get the shuttles close enough for the message of parlay to reach the moon and the fleet, the shuttles broke from one another. One aiming to make a landing on what their scanners showed as an inhabited colony on the moon, while the other went for the fleet hovering above the surface.
