TCS FELIX (DDG-526)
ON PATROL,
REGILI TARSUS SYSTEM
GEMINI SECTOR FRONT LINES
1438 HOURS, CST
OCTOBER 12 2565
Commander Marcuso 'Marc' Xaiver watched the letter from his parents scroll by on hi terminal. He was in quite honest, surprised that the thing had reached him. The Felix was on a patrol out of Naval Station McArthur for the last month, slowly coasting from system to system with her drives powered down, her scanner array turned up to its maximum settings to detect anything on the edges of its range. Normally this sort of work was done by an entire Cruiser-Destroyer group, known in ConFleet parlance as a CRUSDESGRU, cruising through the system daring the Cats, or any pirates for that mater, to show their muzzles. Unfortunately, Gemini sector was not the most important of front lines for the Confederation. Where in Enigma and Vega sectors CRUSDESGRUs prowled about spoiling for a fight, in Gemini, they were kept close to the precious fleet battle carriers of the 5th and 14th Battle Fleets.
On paper, or should it be said on file, since paper was a rarity in the 26th century, Gemini Sector Command was a powerful command, counting two battle fleets, eight carrier task forces, and six CRUSDESGRUs to its name, along with all the unattached ships always so universal in a sector command. In reality however, Gemini was the largest of the three front line sectors, spreading the Sector Command's assets rather thin. Many times ConFleet actually relied on privateers, a strange combination of merchant and mercenary, to get smaller assignments done while leaving the larger assets to fight the major battles.
So, the TCS Felix, newest of the Southampton-class torpedo destroyer, one of the most advanced ships in the entirety of ConFleet, was on picket patrol instead of with a carrier battlegroup, her advanced sensors being put to a important, if somewhat boring use in the assigned mission.
Of coarse, Marc thought to himself, it could also be her commanding officer that got her this posting. At Twenty-five, Marc was on the extreme young side of capital ship commanders. Where Starfighter Command was a brutal battleground where much, if not most of the Star Wing and squadron commanders were in their twenties, Line Fleet was a bit different. In Starfighter Command when a fighter went up, you lost one, at the most six people if it were a Broadsword attack bomber. That made holes in the command structure open up, and those that were qualified, whatever the age, were promoted. With the Line Fleet, if a ship was destroyed, even money was the entire crew went with it before they could make it to the escape capsules. This lent to the old pre-war hierarchy of older officers remaining pretty much the same, since unless all the senior officers over you died giving you a chance to prove your skill, you'd have to work your way up the hard way.
Of coarse Marc thought morbidly, he would have to be 'lucky' enough to get that chance. Chief Weapons Officer aboard he TCS Cairo, the entire command staff had been smeared when a Kilrathi Grikha heavy fighter kamakazied into the bridge, destroying it. Marc, who had been in the Combat Information Center, or CIC, had been spared. In the entire fight after the bridge was gone, Cairo had acquitted herself spectacularly, adding two Kilrathi destroyers to her score card. It was clear that it was Marc's skill as a capital ship commander that had kept the battered ship alive, so at the next opportunity, while Cairo was in dock to repair all her damage, he was given command of the Felix.
Unfortunately, even in wartime there were idiotic prejudices in the military. Marc ran afoul of one of them, what was known among the younger destroyer skippers as the 'old gray line,' high ranking destroyer officers who wanted nothing to do with the younger commanders just now starting to make their appearance. So, someone had cut orders for the Felix to go to Gemini, most likely so he wouldn't be in the way or some other such nonsense.
"Captain, CIC," a voice brought him out of his wanderings as he tapped his comm. panel. A tradition from days long past, the commander of a vessel, no matter what his rank, would be known as 'captain' as soon as he stepped onto the deckplates.
"This is the Captain."
"Sir, we just had something real funny show up on the long ranged passive radiation scanners. Looked like two Jump-exit flares, real close to each other. They were coming from a Jump Point into Cat territory sir."
Marc frowned as he reached for his dark blue uniform shirt slipping it on and tucking it into the matching pants. It was actually a variant of the old United States Navy 'khaki' uniform, ConFleet had used it for centuries, if it worked, why try to fix it? "I'll be there in a moment."
"Aye sir."
Within minutes Marc was in Felix's CIC. The lighting was a darkened blue, mostly washing over the personnel manning stations from the large situation display that dominated the compartment. This was where he preferred to command his ship, rather than up on the bridge. He had much more information here than there, and relaying of helm orders was no slower than if he were on the bridge.
"What is it Mick?" the fox asked as he approached the lieutenant handling the watch.
"Two jump flares all right, no doubt about it, first one was time stamped about 1432 hours, the next, less than two minutes afterwards.
That caused Marc to raise his eyebrows at the Kelpie standing watch. "Is someone suicidal today?" Because of the vagaries of Jump Drives and the fact that Jump Points were actually shifting in space a minute amount almost constantly, two minutes was considered the safety margin on Jumps to keep from materializing back into normal space inside another ship, causing a rather large, and fatal detonation.
"Looks like it sir, my money's on a couple of idiotic privateers that are trying to get an adrenaline rush."
Marc looked at the situation display, it showed only one track, classified unknown along with a course plot from the Jump Point. "No ID yet on the track?"
Lieutenant Conners shook his head. "No sir..."
Before he could finish his statement the track icon shifted from the pail yellow of 'unidentified' to the harsh red of 'hostile.' "I have it Captain, contact is a Kilrathi Ralathi-class destroyer. She's firing her weapons sir!" a petty officer manning the sensor console called out as he hunched over her station.
"Firing, firing at what?" Lieutenant Conners said in confusion. "Sensors is he firing at us?"
"Negative, we're out of range sir; I don't think he knows we're here."
Conners just looked in confusion. "Has he gone space happy?"
Marc looked at the board. "You said two Jump Flashes?"
That one caused the young lieutenant to wince. "Aye sir, so there might be someone we can't see."
Marc didn't like that, Felix had the best sensors that could be packed into a hull her size. "Mr. Conners, bring us to battle stations please." He turned to the chair specially set aside for him and touched a control. "Engineering, bring the mains online, we're going to full burn.
"Aye sir," the voice called out from engineering as the blaring warning klaxon of battle stations sounded as the CIC was lit with a deep red hue."
"Shields charged."
"Damage Control reporting in all stations manned Captain."
"Main batteries are energized, target solution plotted on cells one through four for torpedoes sir!"
Marc nodded as other reports came in, waiting for the last announcement to finished before he sat in the command chair. "Helm bring us about, intercept course, Engineering, full power to the mains."
"Aye sir!" the voices from engineering and the bridge called out as the plot representing the Felix on the situation board healed over.
Marc watched the count, frowning, what was it that the destroyer was firing at. He couldn't see another ship..."
"Sensors, are we picking anything else up other than the Ralathi?"
"No ships sir, just some space debris, looks like the remains of a ship that mustuv' missed jumped."
Marc blinked. "Sensors display the debris."
The young petty officer manning the sensors looked quizzically but obeyed, and a yellow blob appeared on the screen. Marc frowned, yes, it could have just been debris, but the Ralathi was firing right at it.
"Weps, time to range?"
"One minute thirty seconds sir!" the lieutenant looking over the shoulders of the three weapon enlisted men called out. "Now getting solutions on all cells for torpedo launch!"
Marc nodded, then turned to his sensors again. "Ping him, ping him real hard."
Again the collie at sensors blinked but did as ordered, her fingers flying across her console as she brought Felix's powerful suite of active sensors online. She focused the space that the sensors would scan to the area where the Ralathi was and tapped the 'active' command.
The active sensor suite aboard Felix came to life in an instant. Powerful enough to scan hundreds of thousands of kilometers around the Felix's position, focusing the scan on one bearing brought all the power to bear on a single point. Sarcastically known as 'pinging' from the days of submarine combat, the active pulse served in essence as a warning most times to anyone to wave off. If close enough it could actually blind the passive detection arrays of many ships, and fry the electronics aboard a starfighter. In this situation, it served a third purpose.
"Sir!!! Centurion-class vessel in the... wait it was the debris field sir!! It must have one heck'ava sensor baffling system on it, it confused the heck out'a my passives. That's what the Ralathi is firing on sir!!!"
"Well, that explains something," Conner said in surprise. "Now would someone please explain why that ship is here and getting shot at?"
"Sir the Ralathi's changing coarse, she's coming to bear on us! I think we got its attention with that ping!"
Marc nodded, that had been one of the things he had hoped to accomplish with the ping. "Weps? Time to fire?"
"We are in range captain!"
"Shoot, cells one through four, ready five through eight for a second volley, bring point defense online and set to Armageddon."
"Aye sir!! Firing!!!"
Through the deckplates all aboard the Felix felt four successive shudders as four long, slim Mark VIII ship-board torpedoes were kicked free of the vertical launch cells they had been stored in by a 'kick' engine before their primary drives lit off, arcing over onto an intercept coarse for the Kilrathi destroyer. Different from the Mark VI torpedoes carried by starfighters, the Mk VIIIs used the sensor suit aboard the firing ship for terminal guidance instead of their own computer brain, dispensing with the need to slow for a attack run. While it might have seemed that the Mk VIIIs would have made starfighters obsolete, torpedo destroyers and cruisers simply did not carry enough of them to make prolonged strikes practical. Also they had to fire at a greater range than starfighter torpedoes, giving ships much greater time to react.
"One through four away and running nominal!!!" Weapons called out. "Time to impact, twenty seconds."
Marc looked at the display track, simply nodding his response to his officer as he watched the four bright orange arrows representing his torpedoes streaking towards Ralathi. As they were about halfway to their target, a series of angry red blips appeared on the screen racing away from the Ralathi.
"Enemy torpedo launch!!!"
"Helm bring us to port twenty degrees," Marc ordered. While that gave the Kilrathi weapons officer's the best look at the Felix, it gave his point defense systems the best shot.
"Torpedoes one and three intercepted!!!" weapons called out as two of the Felix's torpedoes disappeared, leaving the others to continue on, impacting the Ralathi. "Direct hits on two and four sir! She's coming too port. Point defense is now firing!!!"
Though he couldn't feel it Marc new that two of the four dual mass gatling mounts mounted on either side of the Felix's superstructure were going into action. Based on the same principle as the ancient Phalanx system of the 20th century, the mounts purpose was to spray as much mass into space as possible, hoping that it would detonate the incoming missiles.
Felix was luckier than the Ralathi, it was able to intercept two of the three torpedoes fired at it before the last impacted against the shields, setting of its anti-matter warhead, shoving Felix to port before the attitude control thrusters took hold. "Damage report!!"
"Shields at 65 percent, hull plating holding, minor fluctuations on power grids with deck three and five sir!"
"Weps fire cells five through eight."
"Five through eight away!" Weapons called out as four more shudders were felt. This time the Kilrathi didn't even try to shoot them down, either she was already dead in space, or her point defense systems were damaged. In moments, it didn't matter, the track phased out as Felix's torpedoes struck the Ralathi. "Target destroyed sir!!!"
There was a cheer from the crew, their first real engagement, and it had been a winning one. Marc nodded and looked across his CIC. "Damage Control secure the ship, Sensors get a lock on that Centurion so Weps can pull him in on the tractors, I want to talk to whoever it was that got the Cats upset enough to send a destroyer after them."
After hearing the chorus of 'aye sirs' Marc left CIC heading for the tiny docking bay, sure he wanted to be there when whoever it was they just saved showed their muzzle.