CCS-Battlecruiser Undoubting Faith
The purplish hue of Ortas'Ortum's warship's bridge reflected off of his harness. He stood before the ships primary view screen with his arms folded. Numerous runes and symbols danced before his eyes, filling him with much needed information vital to a shipmaster's role in vessel command.
One rune caught his eyes. His eyes tracked this rune. This rune concerned him. This rune was unnatural—it was not normal.
"You," Ortas said, jabbing a finger at an underling nearest to him. "This rune defines an unknown signal—neither Human nor Covenant, but it may be familiar in some other form. Cross reference the signal with all of the records in our possession. When you are done, report your findings to me."
The underling, feeling embarrassed of not having discovered what his superior had, obeyed. When he had concluded his task, he looked stunned.
"Shipmaster," the underling began, a trimmer in his voice." This signal is completely unknown. It is Human, but its point-of-origin should not be possible. It is behind Covenant lines. While uncommon for one human craft to wander behind our lines—usually one of the cowardly ships the humans call 'Prowlers'— fourteen ships is not normal. Eight of the ships' dimensions are odd as well; they are larger than the Human's largest, most powerful craft. I do not know if they are armed, but it is best to assume that they are."
Ortas scoffed. "Is it possible that they are some form of experimental Human craft?"
The underling nodded. "It is very possible. Also Shipmaster, the signal is in motion, traveling roughly 13% the speed of light."
Ortas'Ortum was not one to undermine Humanity's potential; many of fool in the past had made that mistake, and Ortas was no fool. Fourteen ships were a small threat to the vastness of the Covenant fleet—but a threat nonetheless, and threats had to be surveyed, and then if at all possible, destroyed.
Battlestar Survival Group 1/Battlestar Columbia CIC
"Admiral, we've got a DRADIS contact on the board." A woman said, putting down her cup of coffee and inching her head closer to the screen before her.
"Is it Cylon? Human?"
"Neither sir," the crewwoman responded. "Unknown classification. She's talking in a code I've never seen before. She's got an unearthly shape as well…kind of like a warped teardrop or something."
Captain Hawk, a seasoned officer of the Colonial Fleet, paced back and fourth. He often did this when concerned, or when he was thinking. This time, the pacing was due to a combination of both. It was highly possible this unknown ship was of Cylon make—a new weapon perhaps. The toasters were advanced, and wouldn't have a problem whipping out something that could catch the fleet off guard and wipe them out without a moment's notice. He was always paranoid of something like that happening one day; they couldn't run forever.
Or perhaps…
No. That wasn't possible. Space is nothing more than a massive blank canvas that could only be painted with two primary colors: Humanity and Cylon. There were no other colors—no aliens. To Hawk, space was nothing more than a lonely place with wolves amongst the stars. Unfortunately for him, the fleet he was a part of was nothing more than frightened lambs with a few guard dogs to watch over them.
"Put the ship on full alert. Notify the fleet. Something tells me whoever that it isn't here to sip tea and eat crumpets."
"Yes sir."
CCS-Battlecruiser Undoubting Faith
"I have never seen anything like them Shipmaster. Scans indicate that eight of the fourteen ships are armed. They do not appear to possess the standard 'MAC' weaponry human ships retain. Three of the eight warships sport vast numbers of point-defense turrets."
Ortas turned to the underling. "How many turrets?"
"At least five-hundred and fourteen turrets, and twenty-four guns. These ships appear slightly different than their sisters. Also, they appear to not be crafted from the same materiel standard Human warships are forged with. The armor appears to be significantly thicker."
"And the others?" The Shipmaster asked.
The underling manipulated the hologram before his eyes.
"They are considerably more advanced, and more lethal. They are larger than the before-mentioned craft. They sport even more turrets, and, judging by their exterior layout, have more interior room. Besides the information I have provided you, their capabilities remains vastly unknown."
The underling glanced at his hologram image again. "We've detected movement. It seems they are arming weapons. Should we retreat Shipmaster?"
"Interesting." The Shipmaster purred. "And no. Fire a warning shot across that ship's bow. Let us see if their bite is as big as their bark."
The Shipmaster pointed to a ship at random, and the order was executed without haste.
The shot passed over Columbia's bow, but her anger had been coaxed out of its shell. A barrage of missiles and turret fire spewed from Columbia's side like fire from a dragon's jaws, filling the void with streaks of exhaust and other pollutants. The civilian ships, ordered to flee to a safe location, jumped away in blinding flashes of light, while the remaining battlestars ignited their engines and joined the fray, their guns blazing, their missiles roaring towards their target.
The unknown ship stood its ground and allowed its shields to absorb the punishment. The energy shield's hidden grid pattern revealed itself. The high-velocity shells impacted the ship as well, causing the shields to glow ever the brighter.
The shields broke. Ortas'Ortum had jumped the gun. He had made an error—a fool's error. He had underestimated humanity.
The missiles and shells tore into Undoubting Faith with an unmerciful viciousness. Her hull began to buckle and crumble. She was taking massive damage.
She began launching seraph fighters in an effort to calm the storm.
The Human ships let loose a swarm of hornets. Hundreds and hundreds of angry hornets.
As the hornets and seraph fighters brawled, the ships continued to hammer Undoubting Faith without remorse, while the enemy ship returned fire with her plasma batteries. The plasma locked on to the closest battlestar—battlestar Athena— and struck her side. The plate armor, now mangled and dented and partially melted, vented oxygen in large swaths. Some of its turrets had been burned away completely.
Undoubting Faith, instead of retreating like a ship with sense would, maximized its engines and began heading straight for Galactica. The hornets, having destroyed their foes, concentrated their fire on the incoming ship. They let loose missiles and cannon fire.
CCS-Battlecruiser Undoubting Faith
Ortas'Ortum looked about him. He gazed at the wrecked walls of his dying ship. Hunks of metal hung from the ceiling, and he could feel the ships internal atmosphere seeping out into the darkness. An explosion rocked the ship once again, sending a dead carcass spiraling across the flooring. The carcass belonged to the underling who had informed him of the new ships moments before. A jagged piece of metal protruded from his chest.
The Shipmaster had not expected this to happen. Combined firepower and numbers were a major factor to consider in the art of war—but to this degree? The simple use of primitive "missiles" and "shells" had brought his ship down. There were no nuclear weaponry utilized, no multi-tonned projectiles that could be propelled at ungodly speeds were aimed at his ship.
He had no time to react—this battle was too much.
As the image of the chosen victim grew considerably larger on the hologram projection with each passing second, Ortas'Ortum wondered if he should have chosen to remain in the Sangheili Armed Forces. At least there he could excel.
The rumbling that was Undoubting Faith's engines had ceased its reports. The ship had lost all power, and with it its shields. Its weapons were now also offline, leaving the ship to the mercy of the unknown advisories that lay outside like hungry lions. Ortas'Ortum knew no fear; he was Sangheili, and he would not let his ship slip into the hands of the Humans. He exited the destroyed bridge to rally what remained of the ship's crew. A formable defense had to be mounted.
Perhaps these offshoots of the Human species were weaker than their already frail brothers and sisters.
Battlestar Survival Group 1
The battlestars, realizing their enemy was near death and was aiming to ram Galactica, ordered their vipers to attack the ship's engines. They succeeded in slowing the ship down to a crawl.
Most of the battlestars began jumping out of the combat zone to join the civilian fleet in case other ships of similar make were prowling nearby, while Battlestar Alexandra and Battlestar Triton remained behind to analyze the destroyed craft that lay before them. Gathering marines and enough weaponry to fight a way if need be, both battlestars unleashed a combined detachment of Raptors and Vipers.
Six Raptors with a Viper escort were soon inbound for the charred husk. Aboard each Raptor waited a fireteam of colonial marines.
The Raptors focused the lights that sat beneath their noses on the crippled ship. There were no visible entrances that led into the vessel's innards, so each of the Raptors had to attach themselves to strategic parts of the ship. Scans indicated that the ship was riddled with winding hallways, and maintained an oxygen rich atmosphere. It was draining quickly however, and the teams had to work fast. It was decided that they would forgo the appropriate gear to deal with a situation such as this; they had to travel light and fast. CIC estimated that the ship would be completely uninhabitable in roughly two hours.
After what seemed like a millennia, the marines finally managed to puncture the ship's tough hide. The human soldiers, oblivious to the inner workings of the ship, cautiously stepped into the alien spacecraft, uncertain of the dangers that lurked within…