Station Omega- UNSC Naval Anchorage, Sector Indigo Three- Sixteenth Fleet Rally Point, 2560

Station Onega was a massive deep space anchorage for fleets operating in the Outer Colonies but it rarely saw an entire fleet amassed, ready for war. Docked with one of the large docking ports was the fleet's flagship, the first, and last dreadnought in service; the UNSC Vanguard. The Vanguard was massive, almost as large as a supercarrier and armed with enough firepower to take on a battlegroup it was a force to be reckoned with. It was the dreadnoughts massive size, massive cost to replace and threat that had made them a target in the war with the Outer Colonies.

While a few survived the war they were scrapped soon after to save money, their parts and thick armour removed and placed on newer ships in the fleet. The Vanguard was an aging vessel, tell-tale signs exhibited themselves to anyone; her engine baffles were blackened and the armour had several large dents and scratches, nothing to threaten hull integrity, but noticeable. There was also her design, thick, bulky hull plating and the octagonal, angular shape, whereas newer, modern ships were sleeker, deadlier.

Omega station was a shaped like, ironically, the symbol of omega. With massive docking arms and internal bays for smaller craft as well as enough space to house the hundreds of people serving on the station and crews of docked ships. The station orbited an ice moon which itself orbited a Jovian sized gas giant, the only planet of particular note in the star system. Deep in the bowls of the station, inside a cramped room, big enough for a desk and computer terminal with little elbow room.

Admiral Erwin Indara sat, hunched over the desk looking at the terminal as the face of Fleet Admiral Hood came up on the screen. He could have done this from the comfort of his cabin on the Vanguard but instead he'd chosen to use the small office belonging to the Rear Admiral in charge of the station. Obviously Mayson, the Rear Admiral in charge, didn't think he'd be posted to the station long, the lack of personal decorations made it clear enough.

The reason he'd chosen to make the call on the station and rather than his ship was that the call was meant to private. The Vanguard's AI, George, was, like all of the veraciously intelligent 'smart' AIs, absolutely brilliant. And like other 'smart' AIs he inherited some traits of his human donor, including the ability to run his mouth. During the final days of the war, just after he was commissioned, George had held himself like an admiral, issuing orders and operating the fleet with a precision and drive not unlike Indara's own. He'd also presented himself as such. But after the war the AI, growing older, started to become increasingly eccentric. During the few engagements they'd seen since George reverted back to the old, admiral of the fleet he did so well.

"Hood here," Lord Hood looked and sounded tired. A quick check of the time revealed it was just past one in the morning at the HIGHCOM facility on Reach. Despite the late time Lord Hood was still in uniform and still in his office. Behind him Indara could see the skyline of New Alexandrea, lit up against the night. "I take it your fleet is ready, Admiral." Hood said, it wasn't a question, merely a statement.

"Yes, sir it is. We'll be underway in less than an hour." Indara said. Lord Hood seemed thoughtful a moment.

"Are you sure?"

"Yes, sir."

"About what you're going to do? You make the wrong move here and you could very well start a war the UNSC might not be able to win."

"I understand that, sir," Indara said, confused by Lord Hood's hesitation to give the order. "But we have people on the ground, millions of innocent people that don't deserve to be left under the subjugation of these aliens. And they won't stay at Falkland, sir. They know we're here, they won't stop now unless we beat them back. Once we get them out of our territory then we can try and negotiate with them." Lord Hood just nodded silently.

"The president agrees with you, he wants the aliens ousted from Falkland as soon as possible. Then, hopefully we can open negotiations with them… if they're willing." It was a big 'if'. "You have a go, Admiral. Take back our world, once you've regained control over Falkland the First Fleet will join you. Once they arrive you are to push the aliens back out of UNSC space. Do NOT follow them beyond that line."

"Understood, sir." Lord Hood disconnected the call a moment later. Indara stood up from the small desk, stretched his back until he heard and felt the satisfying crack of vertebrae, and left. He made sure to stop by the large command centre to thank admiral Mayson. He had his back to the room, looking out the viewport to see the amassed fleet gathering nearby. It looked like a sea of titanium battle plate, illuminated by the gentle blue glow of the engines and the distant glow of the star at the centre of the system, out of sight.

He took a moment to take it in before thanking Mayson for letting him use his office, and then taking his leave. Indara walked through the narrow corridors and causeways, junior officers and enlisted men and women moved aside, snapping off awkward salutes as he passed by, returning the gesture. Some off duty personnel also passed him by, on their way to one of the many recreational areas several decks above. When he reached the gangway that led to the Vanguard he was greeted by two heavily armed marines that snapped off smart salutes as he passed them before following him aboard.

He gave the order as soon as he entered the bridge and moments later he felt the entire ship lurch as the magnetic docking clamps disengaged and manoeuvring thrusters pushed the ship back far enough away from the station for it to safely activate its main thrusters. It was the familiar rumbling in the decks as the engines kicked in, the slight heave as they began to move forward, the nauseating feeling of vertigo as she rolled so she wasn't upside down relative to the rest of the fleet, which put the smallest hints of a smile on his face.

"Admiral, all ships are ready to transition into slipstream space on your mark," the helmsman said from the navigations console, one of two dozen consoles used to command and coordinate the entire fleet.

"Coordinate with the fleet, have battlegroup Basra immerge first, followed by battlegroup Gibraltar on the starboard flank and battlegroup Lancer on the port side. Have battlegroups Kursk and Midway appear above and below us respectively." Indara ordered. George appeared next Indara's command chair, his holographic form was one of a highly decorated admiral, not unlike Lord Hood.

"That old trick, admiral? Are you sure you want to try that?" George asked. Having served on the Vanguard for six years, the AI had been the only constant in the crew other than Indara and had seen the admiral use the same tactic to smash an NCA fleet, twice the size of his own, into shreds.

"It's not like they've seen us do it before, George," Indara replied quietly.

"True," George admitted, lowering his holographic head in a gesture of submission. "But the alien fleet might be too wide spread for the attack to be effective."

"Then we'll adjust." Indara said confidently. As they were conversing the fleet repositioned itself into the formations ordered before they started transitioning into the eleven nondimensions 'above' the one temporal and three spatial dimensions of normal space one by one. Basra was first, as ordered, the heavy cruiser was followed by the rest of the ships in the battlegroup, a dozen destroyers and twice that many frigates.

Seconds later the Vanguard followed suite, escorted by its permanent escort of fifteen heavy destroyers, a cruiser and an Orion-class carrier. There was a strange sensation that echoed in his body, reverberating through his bones as they entered non-Euclidian and non-Einsteinian space, like a small wave of static energy moved throughout his body, as if enticed by the sudden change in the laws of physics. Different people reacted to slip space travel differently, some would barely notice a thing, others would get strange sensations, like Indara did, and others could get extremely sick. It was rare to see people who reacted that badly to Slipsace travel, usually they were drummed out of service or stuck behind a desk.

"All ships are in transit and holding course, admiral. ETA; eighty two hours." The helmsman said, looking over his shoulder to look at the admiral directly. That was a long time; over three days before they arrived to help the beleaguered men and women stuck on the ground, trapped and surrounded by an enemy they didn't really know how to fight. They'd spent too much time getting the fleet together, spent too much time waiting while an outnumbered garrison tried to fight off the inevitable.

"So why the secrecy?" Captain Peter Coombs, Indara's first officer and the captain of the Vanguard, asked quietly. They stood next to one another, leaning on the brass railing that separated the main command stations from the rest of the bridge stations below.

"Keep moral up. You know what George is like, I guess Lord Hood knew to and didn't want him to accidently let it slip that this could end very badly for us. Didn't want that pressure on the green crew." Indara said with a slight shrug.

"You know he can hear us, right?" Coombs said in whisper still. His eyebrow was raised inquisitively.

"I know, and I trust him to keep his mouth shut long enough for it to not be a problem." Indara said with a smile. Neither one of them said anything for a moment, content with watching the crew work. Ignoring the quiet banter between the crew as they worked.

"I'll never understand you and that AI, sir." Coombs said after a while. Indara had served with Coombs long enough to know the man meant no disrespect by the comment, but still it hurt a little knowing he was the only member of the crew to know and trust the AI as much as he did.

Although it made sense really, most of the crew moved on, transferred to another ship or station, rarely staying for more than one extended tour. Only a few members stayed faithful to the ageing dreadnought. Then again young crewman and officers, fresh out of UCMB or OCS, were vying for positions on cruisers, destroyers and carriers, not an old, outdated ship class like the Vanguard.

"I was here when they brought him online, and when he's decommissioned I'll be here." Indara said simply.

"Speaking of which, what's going to happen when-"

"The ship will be decommissioned; docked at Victory's Perch over Earth and turned into a damned museum." Indara interrupted the question. The date was already on his calendar, a date set in stone. The date he'd finally retire. Whether or not he'd see that date depended on the outcome of the next few weeks. Not just the battles ahead but the attempts at diplomacy. The actions he took from now on could very well have drastic effects on humanity as a whole- not exactly something he wanted to be thinking about right then.