"Our famous victory at the Battle of Bennay gave us confidence, and the time to strengthen our fleet. And it gave our leader, the Father, some reason to believe in the future."
"Commencing systems check."
"Main reactor: green."
"Sensor grid: green."
"Weapons capability: green."
"Shield emitter: green."
"Ejection system: green."
"All systems are green."
I was green too, but the robotic voice of the onboard computer had no way of knowing that. It wasn't programmed to detect a person's doubts or their increased heart rate. While it sounded pleasant enough, I knew that the crystal clear female voice-over held no emotion whatsoever towards the person sitting in the cockpit. It was a machine that calculated numbers and relayed directives based on the situation at hand. I was just another one of those numbers.
A terrified number among the many that were about to do the unthinkable.
I took a deep breath in, casting my mind back to the briefing...and beyond even that. I needed to focus on the details, why and how I was here, to keep myself from getting lost. If I became lost, the fear would overtake me. I couldn't allow that, not right before I went into battle.
We'd all been sitting in the cold, locked away briefing room staring at the T.I.D.S. screens, our way of being fed information directly from command. Most of used were used to the constant stream of data running in the background; like most I was no stranger to the infonet, spending my time in between courier runs catching up on all the news from across the galaxy. The news that we'd been allowed to see, that is.
Even as recent as a few years ago, certain enterprising individuals had found a way to bypass the Empire's information control, running their own datastreams and trying to get the truth out. That we weren't living a blissful, utopian life in the 'promised land'. That nothing had changed.
That was how it all began. The movement. There had always been those who felt wronged by the Empire's harsh tyranny, who were denied a better life far from Sol and instead were forced to work in service to 'the cradle of humanity'. Worked to death in many cases, all to sustain life on a long dead world that mattered to no-one but the elite.
It was secret at first, merely whisperings and gatherings of those who all felt the same way. The Tsar's eyes and ears were everywhere; nothing could be taken to chance. What many of us never realised at the time was that there were a lot of sympathisers towards us in the higher echelons, those who had seen enough despair and suppression of freedoms.
My own induction to that movement was on one of my jobs, back when I ferried all kinds of goods and passengers across Gallonigher. My small transport wasn't much, but it got me from point A to point B. The Imperial taxes and tolls didn't stop me from ekeing out a living for myself; the hidden compartments buried in the floor of the cargo chamber made certain of that.
That particular job was a simple pick up and drop off; a passenger who wanted no questions asked. The destination had been Acheron, which came as no surprise. The glow of the phosporous lakes always seemed to attract the attention of many. At the time I paid it no mind. I was just doing another job for another payday, although the price was three times as much as I would normally have made. While that did make me raise my eyebrows, I didn't ask any questions.
He wore a dark hood and cloak with a mask over his mouth, concealing his appearance from anyone who showed the least bit of curiosity. This was definitely someone who didn't want to be caught on Imperial surveillance, who didn't want his identity to be known. I obliged him; I did pride myself on keeping my nose out of my clients' business. Whatever they were up to, I didn't want any part of it. It was just another job.
The passenger didn't speak for the entire trip; he simply sat in silence, as if contemplating life itself. What was going through his head is something that I can only guess at now. He seemed to me as if he held the stars themselves on his shoulders and that he was trying to figure out how best to balance them. I remember feeling a strange calm, one that permeated the whole journey.
That was until we arrived in Acheron's orbit. It was the one and only time that he interacted with me.
There were no words involved, only the smallest of actions. As we approached Acheron to begin our descent, he took something from under his cloak and placed it on the control deck.
I knew exactly what the object was the moment I saw it, as well as what it represented. I'd seen it multiple times before but this was the first time that it had been offered to me.
It was a small, shining white emblem of a man standing with his arms outstretched along a pair of firm wings; a symbol of freedom. The symbol of the movement against the Empire.
My eyes flickered from the emblem to meet the gaze of the one who had given it to me. I'm not sure that I'll ever forget those eyes as long as I live, the way that they pierced into my soul. It felt as if I could keep nothing from him, that all my secrets were laid bare like an open book for him to read.
He spoke no words, for none were needed. I knew what he was asking of me in that very moment by my eyes alone.
"Join us."
It was only later, long afterwards, that I'd learn who my passenger had been. It certainly explained the need for secrecy.
It was the Father himself who ultimately recruited me into the League of Free Worlds.
As of that moment, my old life was over. The strangest part was that I held no doubt in my choice. I knew what the Empire was capable of, what measures they took against those who stepped out of line. Everything was for Earth or you were crushed underfoot. That was the way of things. Something in me had always disagreed, wanting the freedom that all humanity should know. We didn't belong to Sol; we belonged among our own stars. It was simply that I'd been too afraid to voice that opinion. Fear had been conditioned into the colonies from the very beginning.
When I became part of the League and saw what they planned to do about it, I felt as if I was among friends for the first time since coming to Gallonigher. I wasn't alone in my forbidden thoughts any longer. We were a gathering of those who wanted a taste of freedom, to strike back against the Tsar himself.
It started small at first; the League had managed to put together small strike teams in secret, infiltrating Imperial compounds to steal intelligence and data wherever they could. Everything was done with utmost care; the Empire could not know of what was happening until we were ready to meet them with our own force.
That force came from shipyards built out of Imperial sight; the boffins in the League hierarchy put together blueprints for our own designs of ships, far different and most importantly, far superior to the ones used by the dreaded Colonial Navy. Before long, the first strike craft began to be assembled in preparation for what was to come.
I was enlisted to be the pilot of one of those craft, the thought of which both excited and terrified me with equal measure. My training was strict; there could not be any mistakes in what we were undertaking. At the hidden facility on Acheron the League did their best to shape me into a weapon of war, though they never managed to completely remove the fear from me. Only a real battle would be able to do that.
As my training continued, those battles became very real. We heard about them; the first hit and fade runs against Imperial assets in Alpha Centauri, the 'avenging angels' appearing in the Diomedes system, the workers' revolt on Morpheus right there in Gallonigher. It was incredible to hear that people were actually out there, turning against the cold and far reaching hands of the Tzar.
It also made me afraid, knowing what the consequences would be if the League were to fail. The Tsar was not a merciful man by any means, viewing all of us out on the fringes of space as nothing but peasants. If we did not stand, he would deliver a painful death to us and our loved ones.
That fear had remained with me in the back of my thoughts as I'd listened to the briefing from the T.I.D.S. It was one thing to be hearing about the conflict and the struggle...but quite another to be part of it.
The voice of our commanding officer, one of the League's top brass, delivered the details of the mission through the earjacks. I was expected to memorise all the information that I was being given; there could be no risk of anything leaking to the enemy. While the League was united in its defiance, they could not be 100% sure that loyalty was absolute. All precautions were being taken; as such, the data regarding our mission would be wiped as soon as the briefing was concluded.
The screen displayed a diagram of the battle plan as well as a transcript of the intel and our orders. I took in as much information as I could, knowing that it could be critical to what lay ahead.
"League reconnaissance has detected a significant task force of Navy hardware inbound towards Bennay. Scans indicate the presence of several frigates and a full fighter complement, likely consisting of Tornado and Stormlord class. It is believed that this task force has been deployed to seize order in Gallonigher as part of the recent edict from the Tsar."
Bennay. One of the primary food sources in Gallonigher and one of the main reasons the system was colonised in the first place. If the Navy were able to take control, the League in system could potentially be starved out. I'd seen some of the first world to be colonised in the system; it was a place of pride for those of us who'd been here for so long, a reminder of what we'd accomplished. It had once been nothing but a barren rock, but the RainShine weather systems had done their job with perfection; one of the only good things ever created by the Empire. Where once there had been no life, there was now a lush tide of green that still helped to this day by allowing agriculture to boom. It was no small thing to try and estimate Bennay's importance to the whole of Gallonigher.
Yet it was clear even to us down in the ranks that the Navy incursion was about more than just taking resources; it was a message being sent to the entirety of Gallonigher. The Tsar was striking into the heart of the League's birthplace, showing that no system was beyond his reach. He meant to demoralise us, to break us before we had even truly begun. If Bennay could be taken, so could anywhere else.
The briefing continued, delivered in the disciplined and authoritative tone of our commanding officer. I had the sense that he was not a man who would yield easily to the Empire. There had been rumours that some who were in charge of co-ordinating our forces had once been officers in the Navy, appalled by the actions of their great and powerful leader. I wondered if he had been one such officer, deciding to try and change the cruel fate visited upon the colonies by an uncaring and cold Sol.
"League assets in system are limited; the construction and formation of our main defence fleet remains in process. However, the Navy cannot be allowed to gain control of Bennay airspace under any circumstances."
That meant it was 'do or die' time. Gallonigher had so far not engaged in any open warfare with the Navy; only sporadic attacks by small units and 'boots on the ground' rebellion throughout some of the other systems. The League had not yet combined itself, was not yet ready to stand on equal footing with the well trained forces of the Empire...yet their hand was now being forced.
"Intelligence suggests that the task force will divide into three groups intended to project hardware and materiel down to Bennay's surface and orbital installations. Three units consisting of fighters will be deployed to engage these craft. Additional details will be relayed to your T.I.D.S. on a team basis momentarily. You must ensure the destruction of all Navy craft."
As I digested the information, my screen changed to show a set of wireframes, each representing the forces that would be involved in the battle. Three small groups of strike craft divided into attacking each of the three enemy frigates and their escorts...and that was it. There were no League capital ships involved, not even the very cruiser we were sitting on.
It felt like a suicide mission.
The sight of a Navy frigate had always instilled instant fear in those under its shadow. To see one meant that trouble and a painful death was usually headed your way. During many of my courier jobs, I'd nearly ran afoul of one more than once. You didn't mess with the Navy, not if you valued your life...yet here I was, about to take one on with nothing but laser cannons and determination. I didn't see how it was going to be possible for just a handful of fighters to take down such a powerful symbol of the Empire's might.
I was assigned to Exa wing, callsign Two. Everything in the League seemed to be done by numbers; other than the ship classes, no-one seemed to have any imagination when it came to actually naming their individual ships. It was either that or it was a ploy to prevent Navy intelligence from pinpointing certain assets. You could easily confuse one non-descript ship from another, I supposed. The cruiser that currently housed us was simply referred to as 'League Cruiser #A15'.
That was just one of the thoughts racing through my brain as I arrived in the launch bay in my flight suit, one pilot among many that could be scrambled at a moment's notice. The bay itself housed a multitude of docking stations for the sleek and deadly starfighters and bombers, each attended to by technicians and apparatus in order to keep them ticking over and fully equipped. The whole hangar was a hive of activity in preparation for the battle at hand.
Underneath it all, I could feel that undercurrent of tension underpinning everything. I and everyone else on that ship knew that this moment was going to define our struggle.
I located my fighter, parked as I knew it would be in dock #5. It was of an angular and speedy design which was no surprise given that it was an interceptor class, meant for chasing down enemy fighters and providing fighter cover to cap ships and installations. This particular model, however, had gained the distinction of becoming one of the most powerful pieces of imagery of the League's rise against oppression. It was one of the 'avenging angels' they'd unleashed on the unsuspecting Navy bombers during that incident in Diomedes. Standing under its wing and looking at its proud and unyielding poise, I could see why it might have instilled fear into those unwary pilots.
The S-4 'Dark Angel'. Just one set of wings upon which we would fly to freedom.
I wasted no time, pushing aside whatever doubts that plagued me. I clambered up into the cockpit, pulling the canopy closed above me and shutting out the sounds of the hangar. All I was left with was the hum of the instruments, a sound that I was used to from flying my old transport. It gave me comfort, giving me back some form of centre in my current existence. I was never more at home than at the controls of a spacecraft. Maybe that's what the Father had seen in me that time. Perhaps he'd known that I'd be able to handle the dance of death out there in the stars.
As the computer ran through the pre-flight checklist, I felt a cold flow through me, turning my blood to ice. I'd trained in the simulations endlessly, gotten a feel for how the Dark Angel moved and responded. I'd destroyed countless target drones, ripping them to bits with the various weapons at my disposal.
I'd just never done it in real life. I'd never been in combat. I was good at flying a ship wherever it was needed to go, not unleashing a storm of fire against anyone who threatened me. Whenever trouble had come calling at my door, I'd always gotten the heck out of there. I'd always known better than to stand and fight, especially in an unarmed and battered old transporter. It was a threshold that I'd never stepped over; I wasn't one for taking someone else's life.
Only now, that's exactly what I had to do. The Navy forces we would be facing would not be drones generated in a virtual scenario. There were living people flying those ships, people who would either die or kill me. I wasn't sure what I was more afraid of.
I tried to calm the quickening of my heart, to tell myself that I was just going out into space like I used to. That the Empire were a heartless bunch who who wouldn't hesitate to open fire on me. Reminders of the atrocities that had been committed in the name of Earth came back to me, infovids and datastreams from the past. Unchained prejudice that I'd seen every time their grey clad uniforms showed up. Still, my gloved hands were sweating as they gripped the two sticks at either side of the control suite.
The interior of the Dark Angel was similar across most of the League fighters; a fairly standardised cockpit used in most of their fighter models with the sole exception of the S-21 Eclipse. I and most of the other fairly recent League additions had only been given the smallest of details on the most advanced ship in the League's service for the simple fact of security. It was a need to know basis and I needed to know, because I would be flying with a pair of them that day. I didn't want to wrongly ID one of them as an enemy, after all.
My pilot's seat wasn't as comfy as the one on my old Condor, but it served. It was the last thing on my mind at any rate as I tried to distract myself by checking all the instrument panels at my sides, something that I wouldn't be able to do easily in the heat of battle.
That was where the tactical harness came in. When a battle situation occurred, a metal cage that was part of the suite would close around my body, not locking me in but protecting me from being thrown all over the place by blasts. Not only that, but upon two pylons that extended out of the harness and just below my eyeline would be the most pertinent information about my current situation. Two bars of coloured pips on either side showed me my S-4's shield & hull strength with its current throttle underneath. The right pylon displayed the hull and shield status of my currently tracked target and its weapon & sensor status underneath. Furthermore, two holo emitters in the tips of the pylons projected an omni-directional radar in the centre, allowing me to track the location of any vessels and objectives in the vicinity. Friendly League forces were marked in green while anything that needed to die was given a dark blue. The simulations had left me with an indelible mark in my brain that blue was a danger sign.
As for armament, the Dark Angels was equipped with fairly standard Anti-Shield and regular Lasers, two of each mounted just next to the wings. There were also two missiles equipped in case of more troublesome dogfights; Stun and Tracker variants. The Stun incapacitated a target's sensors rather than destroyed it, rendering it unable to use its weapons for a short period of time. It was more than enough time for someone to easily finish it off, so the simulations had showed. The Tracker on the other hand did what it said on the tin; it tracked a target and did its best to turn it into bits of space dust.
The S-4 was a nimble ship, capable of duking it out with the best Navy fighters if it came to it. It felt good to fly in the sims, but that wasn't my worry. I knew it would perform well out there in the real space. What worried me was why interceptors were being sent up against frigates. The S-4 was quick as a flash, capable of hitting fast and getting the hell out, but the firepower needed to take on even a small cap ship was more than what the Angels possessed. They were meant for chasing down fighters and bombers, not swatting flies on the side of one of those saucers.
I wondered if the Eclipses we were flying with would be the key, but all I knew for certain was that they were stealth capable, hence their need to be mentioned as little as possible. I knew nothing of their armament.
Just maybe...this was all we had to spare, or maybe it was all deliberate. The League couldn't risk revealing their full hand, not yet. We needed to lull the Navy into a false sense of security. If they knew we had a full scale fleet in production, they'd send in a lot worse than mere frigates. No-one wanted to come up against a dreaded Titan class, ships that would block out a star with their sheer magnitude.
No, at that moment, the Empire saw us as nothing more than a minor irritant, something that could be stamped out inside of a week. We were about to prove them wrong.
-TO BE CONTINUED VERY SOON!-
Author's Note: Thanks very much for reading this. I've done my best to look up as many details on the Colony Wars timeline as I could but it's pretty vague regarding the exact date that the conflict begins (I only know that it's in the early 4600s) and when exactly the Battle of Bennay takes place. Originally I thought it was the first ever confrontation between the League and Navy but apparently the rebellion began in Alpha Centauri? I may just have to take a bit of liberty with it!