Insignificance. A small speck of dust upon an infinite field. A feeling he always got as the scale of the Mass Relay comes into the fore. Of course, should he have been in the actual Operations Room, he would have to view the universe through a low resolution holographic table, but here, in the observation deck… Perspective. The silver and chrome giant looms above his head, growing ever larger, simply reinforcing his comparative slightness. It was dead in space, lacking the hypnotic activity of the giant rings, or the violently blue glow of its mass effect core held within. Man often mistakes itself as the master of his surrounding environment, but in these moments of tranquillity, such illusions fall away, and the reality of our impotence, our endless and futile struggle for significance, come to the fore. Some may find this feeling frightening, skittering away towards the comfort of self assurance and pride, but not him. He finds it calming.
"Sir, Helm reports we have started our final approach. The Fleming stands ready to accompany us." His silent moment of reflection interrupted by the duties of his station, attenuated through his comm bead. He makes his way to Ops room, a rather disconcertingly short trip owing to the compact size of the vessel. "Prepare for Relay activation, call the men to their stations," he intoned. "Very good Sir."
Small white cones appear as silent apparitions on the bow and stern of the HMS Isaac Newton, bringing her in line with the Relay's plane and direction, as the blue glow of her Fusion Torch thrusters dim. Despite her small size, she carries all the hallmarks of a purely space-borne British warship, from the thin and long proportions, to the almost crustacean like separation between dark grey hull and reflective white armoured panels. While larger ships may be of a scale that makes CIWS and GARDIAN systems disappear, on the Newton, they were plainly visible, banks of small ball turrets with stout laser lens arrays positioned for optimal firing arcs along the top, bottom, and sides of the grey hull, and within recesses in the white armour panels stand short cylinders with twin barrels proudly protruding from them, protected by boxy shrouds which cover all but the front most length of the guns. This blatant militarisation of exploration vessels was dictated by the Mass Relay Exploration Agreement, a stark contrast to the peaceful mission of the ships. One of the few measures taken by the Royal Navy to protect themselves against potentially alien threats, should they be found, and said measures were dictated by international agreement, rather than action of the British themselves. Even the necessity of a colony with a military presence in a given system before its nearby relays could be explored, a bare minimum requirement of the Agreement, was met with great resistance from the Admiralty, who saw the threat of Alien invasion to be negligible.
The final minute adjustments are made by RCS as the Newton draws close enough to the Prothean artefact that should a crew member have wished to do so, he could reach out and touch it. The HMS Alexander Fleming watches from a couple of kilometres away, and the gyroscope rings begin their ever lasting dance, as the gigantic Mass Effect core begins to come online, the characteristic blow glow of its impossibly powerful core paints the two ships a colour reminiscent of the oceans of Earth. Shortly thereafter, the order is given, and Fleming moves in to fall into formation with her sister ship. It would be pointless to travel in pairs to ensure warning gets out, if only one ship travels through the relay itself.
"Relay activation confirmed, Fleming has entered formation. Navigation estimates that the most likely destination of this Primary Relay is a cluster approximately 560 Light Years away." Estimation of destination had started off wildly inaccurate, but the more the Network was mapped, the more easily predictions can be made. This destination was placed awfully close to where Russian explorers were currently mapping their own section of the Network, to the Galactic South of British space. There were rumours that the Russians had not colonised even a single world in this region of space they were exploring, in a stark betrayal of the Agreement, but as with most international treaties that Russia ignores, or interprets in its own way, no one is willing to risk international warfare over what is generally considered a minor issue. One of these days though, the Captain was sure, Russia would push it too far.
"Good, prepare for transit. Relay this message to the Fleming, God Speed." A tradition that has existed within the Royal Mass Relay Exploration Organisation, RMREO, since its very first expedition with the Charon Relay, Jon Grissom having famously ended his speech prior to taking the leap with the famous phrase. It is now considered poor luck, or at the very least impolite, for a Romeo expedition commander to neglect to wish the companion vessel's commander the very same.
The Newton informs the Mass Relay of all its relevant details, from mass to current velocity, in a micro second, and is immediate whisked those almost 600 LY to the relay's companion. Within short order, the Fleming replicates the procedure. Decelerated in an instant, the two ships send out sensor pings, and begin to develop a full picture of the system they now find themselves within.
Boredom. When he had been promoted to captaining a Nazados class Cruiser, he had been ecstatic, now though? It was clear he had been sidelined. To the rest of the Galaxy Turian politics and society seem nigh perfectly meritocratic, hell, alot of Turians even believe that, but the further you rise, the more you recognise the faults. Sure, it was a sight less corrupt and petty than most other species' equivalents, but it was certainly not perfect, and the morally corrupt side lining competition is a universal constant. He was now relegated to commanding a small patrol flotilla, in the nigh empty border regions of the Hierarchy. No pirate dares even pass through this region, so close to Turian space. The best he can hope for at this point is that him and his cruiser eventually get re-deployed to a more active theatre, where he can prove himself and finally continue to advance his career.
"Captain, Sensors report they have detected activity from Relay 314. Ships have emerged, they appear to be heavily armed and armoured corvettes. Profiles do not match anything in our database." This was it. Finally. These are most likely cobbled together pirate or slaver vessels, if they do not match our database, especially if they are heavily armed and armoured for their size. Bastards always try and shove cruiser grade weaponry into what ever they can find, entirely disregarding the consequences. He distinctly remembers the occasion where a retrofitted Batarian corvette managed to slag itself from overloading its heat management systems back when he was was commanding a small scout frigate.
"They must be pirates, this is a serious situation if they were the ones to activate that relay. Move us into range of our primary weapon systems. We will seek to capture them to determine exactly how and why they opened that relay."
"Sir."
"Sensor contacts, single Heavy Cruiser escorted by 5 Destroyers. Entered system from Secondary Relay in orbit of sixth planet." The ships appeared upon the central holographic display of the system. At such distances the only real details British sensors could make out was approximate size, which the computer automatically designated to ship classes as defined by the First Treaty of Paris. The assumption being that in most cases the sensors would be used against Human vessels, which were restricted by the treaty, or alien vessels which would be restricted by the physical limitations of the Mass Effect, and hence could be assumed to fall into roughly similar size ranges, even if they do not conduct space warfare in a recognisable way, and used the ships for entirely different purposes.
"Must be Russians, we know they have been exploring the network to the galactic east of Scafel, presumably they managed to circle round to meet us. This is unfortunate, they will no doubt challenge our claim on this system. Prepare to greet them when they FTL to us." Though, why would the Russians be exploring the Network with such a heavily armed flotilla? That was FAR in excess of what was required by the Mass Relay Exploration Agreement. As much as Russia is known to ignore the spirit of most international treaties, especially if the rumours that they had explored far past their colonised space were true, they usually do so in their favour, this would simply be costly for no real benefit…
"SIR, CONTACTS HAVE LEFT FTL, 50 KILOMETRES, BEARING 060 DEGREES, ELEVATION 015 DEGREES. CONTACTS ARE NOT RUSSIAN. REPEAT. NOT RUSSIAN."
The holographic table updates, and the ships are suddenly very close, details immediately coming to the fore which were lost with distance previously. Angular, and seeming to possess wing-like structures, they almost reminded him of some form of robotic bird of prey. They were certainly alien, not having any of the characteristics of any human made vessel of any nation. Whether they were military or not was yet to be seen, if the aliens even had a distinction between military and civilian vessels…
Shit.
"Prepare the first contact packages, order the Fleming to prepare to flee back through Shanxi Relay should they prove hostile."
"Should we power up weapon systems?"
"No, no need to spook them."
The HMS Fleming swiftly flips head over heels with gratuitous discharges of her forward and aft RCS thrusters, and prepares to interface with the Mass Relay in a second's notice. Her job was of paramount importance, should the first contact turn hostile, it would be her job to warn Scafell to prepare to repel hostiles. Upon which she would have to return to Sol to warn humanity as a whole of the new threat. Everyone on either ship fervently hopes, or prays, that such preparations shall be unnecessary.
These designs were certainly unorthodox, and rather more clean than he had expected. They seem to feature externally affixed armour panels, on a thin hull. The closest he could think of would be a Batarian design, but they tend to far more utilitarian. No matter, the fact that the armour seems to be affixed externally just reinforces his theory that these are up-armoured civilian or disarmed ex-military vessels. Which in turn makes it all the more likely that these are pirates. Still, how and why they opened this relay was most important, or even how many they have opened, so he would have to capture them peacefully. Hopefully they would have the foresight to realise picking a fight with a Turian Cruiser tends to be a bad decision for a corvette.
He turns to Comms, "Prepare to send a message."
"Sir."
"Unidentified vessels, you have violated Council law, either through travelling through an unauthorised Primary Mass Relay, or through activating a Primary Mass Relay. Through the authority granted to me by the Primarch and Galactic Council, I order you to power down and submit to boarding. If you refuse to do so within the next half hour, I will be forced to open fire with intent to disable."
The fact that they had yet to power up weapons was odd. Pirates tend to do so immediately, even among other pirates, almost akin to how one tries to appear larger to scare of Varren. These ships have not. No matter, no law abiding race would open the relay, even the Batarians wouldn't, and these ships have the hallmarks of modification, so much so that they have no match in our database. They MUST be pirates.
"Have they attempted to contact us yet?"
"No sir."
This was odd, to say the least. They must recognise that this is a first contact, their ships are entirely alien to our own, or even any other Nation's navy. Of course, they could be attempting to communicate with us, simply failing due to the incompatibility of our communications technology, but Romeo vessels are explicitly designed to receive signals in all ways currently conceived of, if we are not picking anything up, then either they cannot be communicating with us, or are attempting to use a form of communication too advanced for us to be capable of receiving even if we wanted to. In either case, we must make our own effort.
"Comms, attempt to send the First Contact Package through all forms of communication we have, from tight beam all the way to signal lights. Something has to break through," as soon as he gave the order, however, something immediately came to mind, "Make sure to only use low energy levels in the tight beam attempts, we do not want them thinking we are attempting to fire laser based weaponry at them."
"SIR, CONTACTS ARE POWERING UP WEAPONRY! HEAVY CRUISER SPINAL MASS ACCELERATOR ANALOGUE IS PRODUCING GRAVITATIONAL WAVES IN LINE WITH PRE-FIRE CHECKS."
The hologram quickly changes the previously orange ships to red, and designates them as military. The fact that they are armed becomes immediately apparent. All mass effect based weapons generate gravitational waves as they fire, or in this case dry-fire, generally too slight and short ranged to be detectable, the more powerful ship-based Mass Accelerators generate waves strong enough for naval sensors to be able to detect them, and with two or more ships networking those sensors together, the source can be triangulated.
"Set alert level one, make all preparations for combat, WITHOUT powering up weapons. I am not giving up on a peaceful first contact yet." Their job becomes clear in an instant. They would have to hold off these aliens long enough for the Fleming to make a swift escape. It was in this moment their fate was sealed.
They have yet to respond to the warning. Sensors reported that they seem to have attempted to ping us using some form of low power laser, and began bleating in a massive variety of EM frequencies. The similarities between this and spoofing systems meant to overwhelm sensors and communications between ships… They are clearly not submitting for boarding. Something tugs at the back of his mind, a worm of doubt, but, he must do his duty.
"Prepare to fire with intent to disable, 25% charge, single shot," he pulls his mandibles in close to his face, "aim for the engines. They cannot be allowed to retreat through the relay." No pirate would be willing to sacrifice himself for the sake of another, the second the possibility of escape is removed, they will surrender. It is just how things are.
"What about the other ship, sir?"
"It is already too close to the Relay, we will have to follow it after dealing with the first." Something calls for his attention, urgently, but he cannot allow himself to become distracted in this critical moment. The moment that may finally allow him to escape his fate in a dead-end position. "Fire on my command…"
"Fire."
One second, he was hovering over the shoulder of his Comm's officer, watching his screen with as much tension as the officer himself, awaiting a response. The next, we was sprawled over the floor, tinnitus ringing in his ears, and a dull ache in his temple. Spinning red lights cast interesting shadows upon the ceiling. "S- We H-." The world spins. He must say, it is all rather dizzying, and the floor is beginning to feel rather comfortable, almost as comfortable as his bed back home. A small nap couldn't hurt, today was all rather busy. His mother had taken him to see the launch of HMS Dreadnought aboard the Royal Orbital Shipyards. An expensive trip, but it was worth it. To see her off, such a beautiful ship in a beautiful expanse of stars. He always wanted to explore those beautiful stars. His Mother, as she always does, assures him that he shall, as long as he studies of course.
Someone violently shakes his shoulders. "S-R WE H-VE SUS- MAJOR DAMA-." Even through the damned ringing, he gets the executive officer's meaning. The Inertial dampeners must have been damaged by the hit, what ever it was - wait, he knows what it was. "ORDER THE FLEMING TO FALL BACK, WARN SCAFELL, NOW." His hearing begins to return slightly. "Fleming has already set off… We are dead in the water, bloody bastards clipped the Fusion Reactor, had to be shut down for safety. The last thing Sensor's reported was that they had launched a number of smaller craft. We expect them to attempt to board us."
That could not be allowed to occur. They would know the location of everything. The other nations would hold Britain accountable. "Tell the crew to evacuate, and prepare to detonate the self destruct charges." It was a hard order to give, but the Agreement was clear, no Exploration ship was to be allowed to be captured. He just had to hope the Royal Navy would pull their fingers out of their backsides and sally forth. Who knows, this may be the uniting threat needed to finally halt the international squabbling. Bah, no chance of that.
"Sir, the crew already began evacuation when we became dead in the water. They will not activate their beacons until friendly vessels reach the system, or they begin to run out of oxygen. All escape pods have already been deployed." He pulls out his key. The Captain does the same.
This is it then, he tells himself. Quite clearly he was out of it for a fair while if his XO has already had the crew evacuate. At least he has no family to mourn for him, the stars were always his family. "It has been an honour." The keys turn in their sockets.
The bastards. Those primitive, suicidal, bastards. Who even uses dirty nuclear weapons these days? That detonation instantly evaporated half his boarding parties, the rest have been heavily irradiated, and are stuck in dead hulks due to the electromagnetic pulse. By the spirits, this was an abysmal showing, and he was sure to be stuck in his prison sentence of an office, if not demoted for incompetence. Fuck this. "Tell the Agilis to pick up the surviving boarding parties. The other four frigates will escort us. Prepare to follow them through the mass relay."
Scafell was a new colony, bought from the Chinese in 2138 after their stint exploring the Mass Relays directly in the route of British Expansion, it was colonised in 2140. Still in the initial phase of colonisation in which its population is concentrated to a single city, it has began to reach the point where establishing new cities was beginning to become an apparent necessity. Asteroid mining in the system, named Shanxi by the Chinese Mass Relay Explorers, had begun to finally make substantial profits, and with the recently established Army and RAF bases, the local primary relay could be explored safely. As is the common practice, Scafell had a garrison fleet, considering Scafell's low population and importance, at least compared to other colonies, the fleet was small and outdated. However, Scafell was colonised at the perfect time, shortly before the Royal Navy began to assign outdated capital ships to garrison fleets. And so, the pride of Scafell, HMS Hood, the first British Battlecruiser, was assigned to her garrison fleet. Accompanied by 2 destroyers, 5 frigates, and a number of corvettes, all of which were heavily outdated and from the early days after the Prothean Archive was uncovered, the Scafell Garrison fleet was a matter of pride for the colony.
Of course, to the Captain heading the Hood, it was the exact opposite. As much as he was grateful for the love of his assigned baby to sit, it certainly did not change the fact that it was a babysitting job. Which he was doing in a Battlecruiser. He wanted to throttle whoever thought it was a good idea, yes, Home Fleet was still strong enough to bully all the other Earth navies combined, but as far as he was concerned there was nothing more important than concentration of firepower. Assigning a Dreadnought sized gun to babysit a backwater garden world which has barely even gotten its Asteroid mining industry up and running, was just a complete waste. Sure, the Hood may not be able to keep up with her younger, more spry, sisters, sure, she may have armour only comparable to a modern heavy cruiser, but she still had a 800 meter long BL 4-Inch MK IV capable of launching Tungsten kinetic impactors at one percent of the speed of light, firing what amounted to hyper-velocity Fat Man nuclear bombs every four seconds. And yet, here he was, sitting in orbit, over a tiny colony, named after a Scottish mountain.
"You are glowering again."
"Hmmpf, my apologies. Just contemplating the infinite wisdom present in assigning us here. I mean, this is just insulting the old girl. She deserves better." The fact that he feels that he also deserves better is left out of his complaint, though everyone on the bridge full well knows his views on the matter.
"We have been assigned here for over a decade, when will you stop sulking. You COULD just petition for re-assignment, or hell, even retire, you are certainly old enough." A decade that has felt like a century. The shear fact that he has reached this level of casual interaction with his bridge crew is a perfect signifier, back in his early days he would only interact with them if he absolutely had to. The way it should be god damn it, this assignment is eroding his discipline. "And abandon the Hood? Over my dead body. I have been with her since the start!"
Thus, the same age old debate, between the Captain and Executive Officer, that has been had on a regular basis since assignment to Scafell. For most ships in garrison fleets, the crew and officers spend most of their time in the colony, with only a regularly cycled skeleton crew aboard. For planets which have orbital stations suitable for it, these fleets will dock semi-permanently, but on a colony such as Scafell, the only station they have is a small pre-fabbed affair designed for asteroid mining purposes. HMS Hood ran differently, Captain Alexander Holland was old fashioned, starting service on the Pre-Dreadnought Battleships, before becoming Captain of the Hood when she launched in 2109, and still retains the old traditions of those early Battleships, refusing any offer of promotion. The Hood always had 2/3rds of her crew aboard at all times, with the 1/3rd down on the surface rotated on a quarterly basis. This arrangement would have been wildly complained about on any other ship, but Holland was well respected, his foibles and traditions well known. This practice was started because early Pre-Dreadnought Battleships had to be in orbit at all times, and required a large portion of the crew to remain remotely combat capable, unlike the Dreadnoughts of today which can arguably be combat effective with but a relatively small fraction of their crew, albeit at a lower efficiency, and with no damage control capability. Considering the role Garrison fleets serve, as pre-emptive measures to avoid, or deal with, insurrection in the British colonies, that was more than enough, and it is generally considered poor form of a fleet on Earth to fully crew the majority of their ships, as it is seen as a sign of preparation to engage in warfare.
Little did the Captain know, but his adherence to tradition would prove to be unintentionally integral to future events, which would result in a renaissance of these old traditions in the modern Royal Navy after the fact.
"Sorry to interrupt this incredibly important argument sirs, but the HMS Alexander Fleming has just dropped out of FTL in high Scafell orbit. They must have left in quite a panic if they did not stay by the relay long enough for us to detect them through sensors before they FTLed back here." The sensors officer spoke up, quickly bringing the exchange between CO and XO to an abrupt close.
"And without her sister no less, this is a bad sign, set alert level two, get the crew to combat stations. I would wager we do not have time to pick up the ground siders, tell our escorts to form up on us as quickly as possible." Holland had a hunch, a horrible hunch, international war would be horrific, but interstellar war with an alien race? He was always part of the faction that believed the Royal Navy should be better prepared to deal with extra-human threats, which, he suspects, is part of why the Hood and himself were assigned to this garrison duty.
"The Fleming says that they made first contact with an alien species, which turned hostile. HMS Isaac Newton is expected to have been lost. Enemy fleet presumed to be in close pursuit, one Heavy Cruiser, 5 Destroyers. They did not respond to hails," Comms reports, quickly adding, "Escorts report they are ready to follow our lead."
"Tell the Fleming to make ready for Sol, but to remain dark until we deal with the enemy fleet. They shall leave the instant the fleet is dealt with, carrying all the information they can about their performance. They are to inform London of the situation, and demand full mobilisation. I should hope that Operation Anvil and Operation Hammer will be acted upon. Tell the escorts to prepare for immediate FTL, we shall position ourselves behind the outermost gas giant, and we shall ambush these bastards the second they exit the Relay." And thus, to war we go. May god help us all.
"Sir, this system seems to have a small colonised world in it, it seems to have an under-developed orbital infrastructure as well. No military vessels spotted. No sign of the fleeing ship either," reports Sensors.
"This could be a pirate base, makes sense. It is coming together now, clearly they opened an unauthorised relay in the Terminus, and set up this base, to hide from authorities. No one would know anything unless anyone passed through that specific system with the relay. They just made the mistake of opening a relay that happened to open right up next to Turian space. We should be able to deal with this base ourselves." That should make up for the loss of the boarders. Discovering and taking out a pirate base hiding outside of the mapped Relay network? That would get him out of this rutt for sure, then all he would need to-
Suddenly, in a tight formation, the Battlecruiser and her escorts drop out of FTL. The Frigates and Destroyers both have similar designs which are distinctive from the Battlecruiser's, designed to be able to fly in atmosphere they feature aerodynamic lifting body hulls, long and thin up until it flares out to form a wide aft, designed to produce optimum amounts of lift and resistance for re-entry and to reduce the drain on the Drive Core to retain altitude in atmosphere. These sleek ships were also not compromised by jutting CIWS or GARDIAN turrets, both of which instead exist flush with the hull when not active. By contrast, the Hood was an old ship, instead of the continuous, almost sleek, armour panels of modern warships, each plate was actually three smaller overlapping plates. Arranged like all space-born warships of the Royal Navy, arranged with the four plates covering the entire broadside of the ship, from between 45 and 55 degrees to the vertical forming a flattened diamond shape. The inner hull was exposed between the top and bottom two plates, as well as the broadsides, however said hull was also protected itself in an all-or-nothing armour scheme.
The Frigates quickly dispersed into the standard picketing half-sphere, while the Destroyers retain their close proximity to their flagship. Of course, the Turians lack Battlecruisers, or Destroyers, in their naval designation system, which will lead to the rather misfortunate misidentification of the Battlecruiser as a full blown Dreadnought.
"CONTACTS! DREADNOUGHT ESCORTED BY 2 OVERSIZED FRIGATES, 5 UNDERSIZED FRIGATES! 20,000 KILOMETERS"
Well, that certainly changes things, this was clearly an ambush, and pirates with a Dreadnought? That is patently absurd. Wait… Those ships all have standardised designs similar to the corvettes we found, those were not botched together, those were built that way. That worm of worry came back full force, and the thought he had been suppressing this entire time came back with a vengeance. The dots his subconscious had connected had finally be connected by his conscious mind. This is first contact. Luckily, this must be young if this small colony is important enough to dedicate a DREADNOUGHT to its garrison, so not another Rachni war. He would wait to see if they would be hostile. He expects them to be, if that fleeing ship had warned them about what had happened, but if there was any hope for a peaceful first contact he must not make any sudden moves.
"Keep weapon systems powered down for now, we do not know if they know what happened in system 314."
"Sir, but-" The first shell impacts the cruiser, rocking it from bow to stern. "Kinetic barriers holding steady at 72%. Enemy Dreadnought seems to feature a Cruiser grade mass accelerator."
Ah certainly hostile then. "Launch fighters, power up main gun, 100% charge, shoot to kill. Tell the Frigates to deal with the enemy escorts as they see fit."
Well, this actually provides and opportunity. The Council would never approve the Turians taking another client race, it would not align with their public stance against imperialism, but if we were to form a Suppression fleet and force this new species into clienthood before the Council realises they exist… They could only gesture and shout about it being an "Imperialist Adventure", but they would never be able to force us to grant them independence.
Another impact rocks the ship. "Barriers holding at 64%." They seem to fire slower than our dreadnoughts as well, almost at half the firerate. If this is all they are capable of, it should be easy to deal with them.
"Sir, our shot did nothing! Their barriers held!"
"WHAT? That is impossible! Gunnery! Sustained Fire! If we cannot gut it in one shot as we had hoped, we can just overwhelm their barriers through shear volume of fire." Clearly, their kinetic barriers were a damned sight stronger than British ones. The Captain was about to give another order, but then his breath was knocked out of him as his entire reality shifted right instantly.
"We have successfully evaded their first shot! EAS system is capable of handling their munitions' velocities at this range, though it is working hard!"
"I could feel it. Blow Out Thrusters, no doubt. Enemy missiles?"
"No sir, they have not launched missiles. Their Heavy Cruiser did launch fighters though. Certainly an odd design choice, it seems to only carry two dozen or so, hardly enough to be worth the displacement."
"Order the Frigates to fall into a short-radius defensive formation. We will hold position, let them come to us." A gamble to be sure, and certainly not what a Battlecruiser is designed for. Battlecruisers are supposed to be deployed to the flanks of battlelines, for flanking attacks where they are supported by other Heavy Cruisers, and the most they have to deal with is enemy Cruisers. This bastard seems to have a gun as powerful as our own, despite being but a heavy cruiser. Scafell cannot be left undefended though, as much as babysitting the place is boring, this has gotten so much more serious than babysitting.
They dodge, and except for that first shot, we dodge. We need to close the range, clearly they are comfortable at this range, not even their escorts are comfortable closing with us, seeming to close in around their Dreadnought. Clearly indicative of their weakness. We need to finish this quickly.
"Move us closer, 10,000 kilometres." At that range they should be easily able to hit them, no matter how potent their evasive capabilities. Their main gun is considerably lower velocity than his own, which is rather funny considering the fact that that is supposed to be a Dreadnought. How pathetic.
"Prepare ship-to-ship missile batteries to fire on my mark." The enemy flotilla was growing closer, and we are scoring more and more hits, but as are they. Our barriers have already fell, and most of our BO Thrusters have been entirely cooked, we are relying on our armour. A statement that every Battlecruiser Captain dreads. We have to overwhelm their defences, all at once, if we are to attain victory. The range falls, 18 thousand, 17 thousand, 16 thousand… 12 thousand. "Fire ship-to-ship missiles. Now."
Suddenly, from the stern of the ship, thousands of missiles are launched both up and down relative to its decks. After a few seconds they gracefully turn to face the approaching enemy with puffs of their onboard RCS systems, running on monopropellant rather than the fusion-heated steam found on larger ships. Their tiny computers networking with one another, calculating the optimal trajectories to their designated targets, to decrease time to impact, reduce chance of interception from what can be determined to be GARDIAN systems or CIWS, all the while seeking to maximise damage dispersal. As the enemy fleet closes to within 11,000 kilometres of the Hood, their engines ignite simultaneously. Missiles previously nigh impossible to detect due to not producing any substantial amounts of heat, blaze into existence upon the sensors of the enemy.
"Enemy missiles detected. Thousands of them."
"Full power to GARDIAN systems, full reverse thrust. We should be able to-" Then it registers, thousands, they must be small, but numerous, the GARDIAN systems cannot hope to intercept them all, even after granting them increased time to act by reversing their velocity. "Order the fighters to assist in interception. We need to shoot down as many as possible."
The swarm approaches at constantly increasing velocity, suddenly dispersing into thousands of distinct vapour trails which quickly dissipate into the void. Fighters try in vain to hold back the horde, some even sacrificing themselves by colliding with the offending weapons, GARDIAN turrets begin to turn and elevate at absurd speeds, shooting down missile after missile with invisible beams of concentrated photons, but it is not enough. The entire ship is suddenly coated with hundreds of explosions. Far less devastating than the thousands that would have happened otherwise, and far better than any Human ship could achieve on its own. Shortly thereafter the scorched hull of Cruiser pushes forward through the cloud of missile debris. Heat passes directly through kinetic barriers regardless of the kinetic component, and one cheap way to bypass them is to simply detonate a warhead upon the barrier, allowing the heat to reach the hull. Of course, in a vacuum, the potency of an explosion rapidly decreases over distance from ground zero, so the best protection is to have barriers that are positioned further away from the hull. Combined with hull and armour designed specifically to be able to shrug off such damage, such weapon systems have lost their popularity among the Council races, due to their lack of direct effectiveness. However, the Royal Navy had realised something. These weapon systems do not need to get through the armour, if they are instead just powerful enough to overheat, if not destroy, Kinetic Barrier emitters, which have to be mounted on the external armour for efficient barrier projection.
"SIR, Kinetic barriers are down!"
This was it. It had worked. Suddenly, the Hood's main gun began to actually impact the Heavy Cruiser's hull and armour, and quickly began penetrating and doing tremendous damage. By this point, the enemy escorts had attempted to rush our own, and now the battle was split into two distinct parts, the knife fight chaos between the Destroyers and Frigates, and the duel between the Hood and her alien counterpart. The other benefit of the missile barrage, it forced the cruiser to stop firing to focus all its energy generation to its GARDIAN systems, which was surprising as it seemed to entirely lack conventional CIWS. This gave time for the Hood's barriers to recharge, even if only slightly.
"Sir, barriers are down again." Oh well. To be expected he guessed. Though, he had hoped it would last longer. The armour had held so far, he was sure it could survive long enough for the killing blow to be struck-
In an incredibly brilliant blast, the Hood's drive core detonates. The knife fight happening around her is instantly vaporised by the violent explosion. An explosion so violent that it was seen in the night sky of Scafell, or at least, so the locals often claim. It was determined later that the cause was the unique construction of first generation Dreadnoughts and Battlecruisers. As the Royal Orbital Shipyards were not yet complete, the armour plates, which in modern ships are continuous along the length of them, had to be produced in sections. This resulted in a weakness where two plates met, which was supposedly overcome through having them overlap. This proved ineffective, the shot of the heavy cruiser having hit at just the right angle to effectively push the two overlapping plates apart, travelling through a large portion of the length of the Hood, before directly hitting the drive core, taking down the ship, and her crew with her.
The Hood had not failed in her mission, however, as that was the last shot the heavy cruiser would ever make, the instant after it fired one of Hoods own shells penetrated the reactor. The ship did not instantly explode spectacularly, however she was dead none the less, with a broken superstructure, and a reactor actively growing less and less stable. Despite the hard work of her crew, she could not be saved, and when the Agilis passed through the relay, she evacuated the crew. Shortly after they left, the Cruiser would slag itself into a molten misshapen lump of ceramics and metal. The Captain would go on to take the Agilis back to Palaven, relay the information, before turning himself in. He was quietly discharged from service, a dishonourable discharge having been too loud to risk the Council realising what was happening. The Turian Hierarchy decided to invade the race, apparently new to the stars, planning to puppet them through force before the Council could realise what was going on. Thus, a Suppression Fleet was quickly formed in secret, and quietly whisked away to relay 314…