Author's Note: Because of a lack of descriptions from the Bolo Series of the human ships, I have borrowed some concepts from Star Blazers, AKA Space Battleship Yamato, Babylon 5, and others. None of these concepts belong to me, I'm just using them for fanfiction purposes.
Additionally, I will also begin trying to upload these on Wednesdays. Ideally I will upload them weekly, but uploads could be erratic.
Cloud
Little Goose Valley was normally quiet, with birds chirping, deer grazing, and fish swimming through the river that ran through the center of the area.
Today started just like that, but around midday, a low and continuous rumble ran through the ground. Soon, the weeds and trees trembled in the wind as the rumble became a shudder.
Many of the animals fled to safety, while others, mainly the fish, were forced to sit where they were, with no shelter away from the noise up or downstream, and could only wait as it got worse.
Suddenly a crack appeared on one side of the river, and quickly widened to reveal a yawning darkness. As the opening grew larger, one side yanked out a section of the river, that looked oddly fake and artificial.
The rest of the surface area of the two moving sections was revealed to be artificial as well; carrying rocks, synthetic plant life, several layers of dirt were piled atop its surface.
Both of the sections connected to the rest of the valley seamlessly, all designed to provide maximum camouflage. The dirt hid metal plating underneath, covered with warning labels; the edges were covered by teeth meant to interlock with their opposites.
As the panels ceased their movement on the valley border, dozens of lights flashed into existence and began rotating; releasing beams of light red and orange in color.
Soon, out of the opening rose a massive vessel. Long but thick, it carried four three-barreled plasma torpedo launchers on its forward end, surrounding a pointed prow which extended past the weapons.
Within the prow was a tube, apparently meant to fit a weapon of some kind, yet it lacked the parts to be completed.
Behind the launchers were mounted two large turrets, one on top and bottom of the ship, and both bore double barrels.
The large cannons were supported by several smaller duplicates, a large cluster of which were positioned aft. Even these were assisted by smaller copies, scattered more evenly across the craft.
Emblazoned on the forward sides of the hull was the ship's name, CNV Spartacus.
As it rose out of the ground, the vessel's engines glowed with a dark blue color.
Upon becoming level the engines became much brighter, and suddenly the ship was far away, rocketing high into the upper atmosphere.
The Spartacus exited Cloud's thermosphere, and maneuvered into position as a group of smaller ships began to form around it. Not all of the vessels were smaller than it, there were two others that were roughly the same size as the destroyer.
One of the pair looked a bit like an old-Earth submarine, being long and thin, with a bulbous and wide aft engine section; a pair of conning towers were placed forward, on the upper and lower hull. The major difference however was that there was a canister-shaped rotational section; mounted slightly forward from the middle, with several rows of hatches that ran all the way around the module.
Faded and old, unlike the destroyer's label, was the name HLV Mirai. Weaponry of all kinds had been hastily added, from missile tubes to cannons of every sort.
The second one had a similar design of a central frame, but instead of a rotational section, this one had a hexagon shape in the center; there were several cargo containers affixed underneath the sides of the hexagon that stuck out from the ship. Its engines were also wider, and it was much less well armed. The name Cecilian Pirate had been hastily scrawled over an illegible older name.
Nearly every ship in the fleet was in tatters. Their paint damaged, their landing gear having trouble folding up, some had begun to shudder under the strain of maintaining orbit.
A running light tore itself loose from one of the larger ships, rusted and battered from age. The lamp ignited when it hit the upper atmosphere, bursting into fragments that were soon destroyed by the intense heat.
The crew of the vessel who noticed the lamp tried desperately to forget it, refusing to believe that there was anything wrong with the hunk of junk they had entrusted with their lives.
Most of the ships belonged to the Cloud Navy, though many did not, and all were not particularly capable in a fight.
Even before they had become obsolete.
There were shuttles, gunships, several dozen fighters, and a handful of weaponized civilian craft.
A number of freighters had been recovered, and modified with what the March had found around the weapon depots. Some had been converted into battlewagons(if they could be called that), while others were converted escort carriers.
The Mirai was the lead escort carrier, the second biggest freighter they had found. Built like the jeep carriers of Old Earth, it was a slower vessel only valuable for carrying a couple dozen fighters.
A few of the heavier vessels were corvettes: arrowhead shaped, lightly armed patrol craft for dealing with pirates.
There were even five obsolete destroyer escorts. Even so, they weren't made for sustained combat, but for planetary defense, scouting, and hit-and-run attacks.
Despite their intended minimal role, these little boats usually had some good armament with them, a forward facing tri-plasma torpedo launcher, as well as two turrets in the center of the ship, triple barreled 5cm Hellbores.
Only one of them was up to military specifications, however.
The rest had apparently been purchased by various groups from military surplus, and treated about as well as one might expect.
Two had had their plasma torpedoes replaced with less powerful but cheaper missile launchers. Another had its gatling-lasers replaced with asteroid-defense railguns, a series retired centuries ago. A fourth lacked its point defense guns completely, and several key systems had to be replaced when it had been recovered; apparently whoever had bought it was planning to use the ship for spare parts.
This was better than most of the fleet, but only Spartacus was designed for frontline fleet action.
The Clackers(or Cluckers, depending on who you ask) would think it foolish that someone would send this pitiful fleet against them and their powerful warships.
What they wouldn't realize, is that the brave humans, charging into the jaws of hell with what they had left, weren't intending to win.
Their fleet surrounded a single, old destroyer-sized transport, roughly the same size as the Spartacus and renamed the Cilician Pirate; it carried all the civilians and ground troops that had been rescued over the past few months.
Around three-thousand refugees, not including those who manned the other ships.
It was supposed to escape towards Graakan space while the rest of the fleet distracted the enemy. Any of the fleet units who managed to break away would follow.
This strange plan began two months back. The March, that was what those who had been rescued by a Mk XXXIII Bolo called themselves, had stopped for the night on the way to a spaceport. In the days beforehand, they had contacted a friendly species called the Graakan, also at war with the !*!*!, who offered to take in the refugees.
Hector had gone off to distract the !*!*! from the camp, and Graham had gone with him, needing Hector's computer simulation systems to finish up a plan.
At first, when the Bolo was nowhere to be found the next day, many thought Graham had abandoned them in the night, to try and save himself.
Those with cooler heads sent out scouts, to see if Hector was just maintaining a communications blackout.
Recon located some of his tracks, and followed his projected path. A few miles from the camp, the Bolo had been trying to return...then the tracks just stopped.
His Contra-Grav systems were out, so he couldn't have flown, and he hadn't been destroyed; Bolo battles are hard to miss.
No one knew what had happened to the Bolo; it was as if Hector and their general had disappeared into thin air.
Colonel Waldon Prescott, commander of the March's elite combat unit, known as the Brotherhood of the Eye, and Graham's second, took charge of the refugees. He knew they couldn't wait around for Hector to magically reappear, and he wouldn't let them go back into slavery.
In an attempt to avoid Clacker sensors, Prescott ordered the march to split up into small groups, consisting of civilians and Brotherhood of the Eye troopers.
The Clackers had figured they weren't a threat, and moved their heavy ships out towards other fronts. They constantly kept an eye on the various groups of guerrillas though, and several had already been destroyed by hunter-killer teams upon attempting to free certain camps.
What was odd though was that they didn't try demanding surrender as they did during the invasion, and allowed several resistance units to go about their business; despite knowledge of where they were and what they were up to. One group of CDF soldiers managed to get away with several hovertanks from a depot, despite being under heavy fire from a !*!*! unit that should have been easily able to destroy them.
However, the March merely noted it, and decided to take advantage of the Clackers' lack of action; they would pay dearly for underestimating humanity.
The March spent nearly a month and a half participating in guerrilla warfare across the continent, aided by the occasional discovery of hidden CDF supply depots designed exactly for this purpose.
Eventually, it was discovered that when the Clackers invaded, a number of small inactive vessels were left intact.
Presumably the Cluckers had left the craft alone to to save them for disassembly later, or just hadn't detected them due to their inactive power signatures.
The discovery that set their escape plan in motion though, was the finding of an unfinished CDF Clemson-class destroyer, in a secret drydock designed to escape detection in the event of planetary invasion. The ship lacked a few things, but it would fly.
What would become the Spartacus already had nearly all of its systems installed. Most of its major weaponry, life support, sublight engines, jump engines, navigation, short range communications(i.e. system-wide), and the primary cold fusion reactor were all active.
A neural interface hadn't been installed, neither had the Hellbores, or the railgun. The modular mass accelerator had been late a month before the invasion. Regrettably, this couldn't be helped.
Unfortunately, the secondary reactor had not been installed either, though according to the last report left by the dry dock supervisor, the fusion core was being shipped in...the day before the invasion, during which the transport had been destroyed.
The purpose of a secondary reactor was to ensure that warships would have plenty of power for any scenario, with certain types of vessels having five or more. This tactical thinking even made its way into the Bolos, as Hector had possessed three reactors.
Without the other reactor, they could fight, but would most likely take heavy damage and casualties, or be outright destroyed trying to escape.
Despite the slight problem with their best ship(and only hope), the March went ahead with the plan, having noticed the Clackers pulling much of their heavy combat equipment out of the system with Hector gone.
The plan called for the capital ship and the rest of the fleet to defend the freighter for as long as possible, until it could get to the surviving hyperspace gate in the system, or go to regular FTL.
As Spartacus arrived, the fleet was making an arrow formation, the destroyer escorts on the corners, the freighter in the center, and the odd mix of craft making the lines.
Spartacus took its place as the tip of the spear, and soon the fleet set out, passing one of Cloud's moons. As they went by, ion-bolters, lasers, and Hellbores all over the fleet rotated towards the !*!*! base laying on the moon's destroyed primary CDF base, and opened fire.
What was left of the dome was annihilated on the first volley, and the second destroyed a number of bunkers that had been hidden by Clacker digging machines.
As the fleet flew off to attempt an escape, they did not notice underneath the rubble of the supposed last layer, the corners of an intact bunker or two sticking out of the dust...
XXXXX
DAV728 sat aboard a !*!*! Battler, a light cruiser variant, right outside of a phenomenon his 5th brain called a wormhole.
After the !*!*! discovered that the primitive(an opinion that DAV strongly disagreed with) human fighting vehicle had disappeared, they had received very strange readings coming from the area.
After much investigation, they managed to find out what had happened. An unstable hyperspace window had appeared for a split second right where the Bolo had been, then disappeared.
It was of great interest to the collective to command this power as according to the energy readings gathered at the site, and hyperspace sensors, the organic weapon had been transported across a massive distance in a very short period of time.
It was hypothesized to now be located at a point between 180° and 210° on the X-longitudinal axis of the galaxy, and between 65° and 325° on the Y-latitudinal axis.
If they could gain control of this ability, it would prevent resource depletion for an incalculable length of time; they did not know exactly how many planets could be found and mined.
Using the surviving jump gate human, a stable version of this new window was established, but for some unexplained reason, they could not determine the location of the exit.
At the moment, they had very little sensor data with the other side, but that was irrelevant. They had been contacted by life forms on the other side.
They seemed to be another collective, that called themselves Reapers, possibly descendants of those groups that had split off during the Awakening War.
Upon discovery of each other, the counterparts exchanged information, utilizing standard, simple, free-space optical communication, relating nothing about their standard transmission methods with the primitive system. This was one of the few times either had ever negotiated with another race. Only other machine collectives could even come within the proximity of being equal to the !*!*!.
The !*!*! Collective was surprised to find that any other group could have made improvements upon problems their best scientists had extreme difficulty solving.
The Reaper Collective, unlike the !*!*!, had found a use for organics. They let the creatures harvest resources for them without even knowing, then would take the fruits of their labors to improve upon themselves.
The !*!*! were still superior in other ways, however. The Reapers were currently unable to match the firepower of 45.69% of !*!*! units; their standard units tended to be inefficient; either too large or too small.
Their ground warfare capabilities required improvement as well; they lacked many powerful armored fighting vehicles, and utilized enemy soldiers to augment their own numbers instead of producing them.
75% of those AFVs the Reapers utilized had been taken from the organics, and the 25% Reaper-designed models had not been deployed for 10^5 standard planetary rotations.
How inefficient. The Reapers had yet to realize several key facts. Armored fighting vehicles designed by synthetics were logically going to be of a much better quality than that of the organics. In addition, to maximize efficiency, 90% of all combat units must be designed to survive all foreseeable environments.
Their AFVs were not designed as utility players, and could only function in 10% of the environments a type-14 !*!*! Main Battle Tank could.
The Reapers had explained that they would create variant units for whatever environments they came across.
A very poor plan.
Constructing variants of units to operate in hazardous environments was only to be done when necessary. Variants were very resource-draining, and any unnecessary resource use was banned by the !*!*!.
Their infantry were of worse quality than those the !*!*! operated. Use of such flimsy organic parts other than the central processing unit in combat environments had been considered and rejected by the collective. It would use too many resources to keep them functional during combat and to repair them afterwards.
The !*!*! needed the organic materials for research and resource collections anyway.
While the Reapers had freely given information of their combat capabilities, they had only given frustratingly small detail about their own mission, or several other key facts needed to judge them. They wouldn't even give them coordinates on their galactic position.
Why? Only organic species would ever attempt to combat one another.
As DAV pondered why the Reapers acted so much like many of the irrelevant species they had met, he suddenly sensed some sort of impact upon his primary data core back at the lunar base.
500.3 seconds afterwards DAV728 received a data burst from his 5th brain.
Schematics of various ships appeared, arrows pointing at their counterparts in a visual feed.
A motley and pathetic looking human fleet was heading towards his light battler unit.
They're coming, they're coming! They're coming to destroy everything! The brain called Jeff Fowler thought with the glee of an unstable organic mind.
DAV728 ignored the brain and instead called all other !*!*! military units to come to his position and assist the battlers in destroying this little fleet.
However, Light Battler 776089 suddenly exploded, its hull fragmenting and collapsing into the hyperspace window.
Unfortunate, though not unforeseen. !*!*! Fleet High Directors had sent the Upkeep Center 5^10 messages about that unit's very poor response time.
DAV728 fired all main batteries at a pair of class-1 human corvettes. Those few that had been destroyed in the invasion had not inflicted any damage, but like many human ships, they were constructed to hold up very well under fire.
Many ships thought disabled by weapons fire during the invasion had merely been deceiving the !*!*! ships, and caused several casualties.
Strange that the humans would build their combat vessels to be so robust. For the materials used in the construction of one of these light combat vessels, the Collective could make four of their own counterparts.
One took damage to a thruster strut, and the propellant exploded, forcing the vessel into an uncontrollable rotation. This resulted in a core overload as the organic pilots attempted to compensate. The crew continued to utilize the damaged core, and the vessel detonated as a result.
The other launched three guided missiles, one of which prematurely detonated for no discernable reason, while the other two impacted upon the battlescreens.
Not even its shattered wreckage would inflict any damage upon the hull.
The humans did not appear to possess any more ordnance that had the destructive power to eliminate another battler.
Sensors indicated that the largest spacecraft, a type-14 cargo transport, carried 3245 humans onboard.
The collective would want to know how these humans had gathered such resources in only 1/6th of a full orbit in this system.
DAV728 pressed the attack.
XXXXX
The Spartacus' battlescreens shimmered brightly, and darkened in a small area, as a heavy cannon barrage destroyed another emitter.
More fire weakened the total shielding strength, as another blast made it through to the destroyer's underside ion-bolter.
"Colonel! The #2 gun's out again!" A sailor called out.
Colonel Waldon Prescott growled at the report, and ordered, "Fire a naptime salvo! Let's see if we can give the repair crews some breathing room!"
Around him, sparks flew from every other direction, the lights flickered in and out, a fire was doused by a crew member, and here and there a soldier lay on the floor, injured and moaning, or completely still. Other crew members did what they could on computer systems; transmitting orders across the fleet, and depressurizing damaged hull sections to stop the fires.
Sailors winced as one corridor was depressurized, and a frozen body flew out into space.
Senior Tech Sergeant Alita Kyle, formerly a Bolo crew chief and now Prescott's XO, was in charge of ship operations, desperately coordinating strikes against enemy ships.
On the primary display, currently showing the view of the enemy battlers ahead of them, four panels flew off of the VLS bays near the camera.
The "naptime" missiles roared out, and flew into a formation of Clacker fighters and some other similarly-sized vessels, that were taking advantage of the ion-bolter's weakness.
Round disks were emptied from the rocket's' cargo bays, and within seconds all the Clackers lost control of themselves. Running lights died, as Newton's Law throwing them along their previous flight paths, but without adjustments, smashing into each other or flying out towards deep space.
The non-nuclear EMP warheads(NNEMP, or "nap") almost didn't make it in time. Lucky that the smaller Clacker combatants tended to lack electromagnetic shielding...for some reason.
Two destroyer escorts(or frigates) survived in the fleet, and were doing their best to fight off the Clackers, but neither were doing well.
Colonel Prescott cursed as he saw their most heavily damaged frigate get decapitated, then gutted by enemy fire.
Three patrol ships attempted to take the spot of the frigate, but one pinwheeled out of control as an engine was hit, crashing into a second.
Prescott brought his attention back to the battlers, as a crewmember reported the ion-bolter as operational again.
"Order the transport and our most heavily damaged ships to make a break for it, we'll try to slow down that battler!" the colonel told the communications officer, then said to the bridge at large, "Bring us around. Bow towards giant eyesore #2, and order the forward batteries to blast away at anything essential. Specifically on that ship, nothing else. "
As the young, but battered destroyer began to stab away at the enemy with renewed vigor, the Clacker ship only fired at the opponent's engines.
Prescott quickly noticed something was off, "They're not trying to kill us, they want us alive!"
At the thought of what they might do to the crew, Prescott's remaining hand went to his remaining eye on instinct, and he winced.
"You bastards aren't getting this eye," he muttered grimly, "Or this crew. Tactical, prime the plasma torps, and designate targets for the heavy torpedo tubes. Use the rest of the nova ordnance!"
In multiple massive salvos, the true firepower of the little ship was demonstrated. Primary and secondary armaments pounded away, as plasma torpedoes were spewed from their launchers.
The March, while searching for useful gear, had found the CDF Navy's flagship, the dreadnought Pencampwr(or what was left of it), crashed on the Everest II mountain. It had mostly been stripped to the bone, but they recovered equipment that had fallen into the mountain's extensive ice tunnels, including four nova torpedoes.
The novas had helped them to take down the first battler, and would hopefully kill the next one.
Ion-bolt rounds, laser blasts, and even a few railgun bursts tore into the enemy shielding, destroying emitters and overloading capacitors.
A volley of plasma torpedoes shredded the outer hull, made from an asteroid, and revealed the delicate interior. In the grand finale, the legacy of the Pencampwr entered the enemy vessel, detonating with a sound unheard on the battlefield.
Atomic fire blossomed into existence, a light which creatures all over the system, robotic and human alike, looked upon with dread or hope as the Clacker vessel was consumed in nuclear fire and radiation.
The victory was short-lived, as Sergeant Kyle reported with something that Prescott dreaded the most.
"Sir, the third Battler has intercepted and captured Cilician Pirate, the Mako frigate, and the rest of the wounded ships in a tractor beam!"
Colonel Waldon Prescott ordered the ship to come about, and prepare to fire the torpedoes again.
"Torpedoes are out sir!" On the viewscreen, a flash of light tore into the #2 ion-bolt turret, and the rapid repair jobs failed to protect it.
"...But we just lost half a dozen more laser cannons and #2's offline!"
Prescott looked at the screen on his command station. The Mirai was being swarmed by enemy fighters and was barely able to hold them off. They couldn't help anyone.
The last battlewagon freighter flickered off of the screen, taking an arriving !*!*! destroyer with it.
Many of the patrol ships were captured or occupied with the extremely difficult task of trying not to die.
Those gunships and fighters left uncaptured were doing their best to protect all the free ships.
Barely anything else was left except for wreckage.
Prescott could only think of one thing to do.
"'Damn the torpedoes, full speed ahead'!" He cried, taking the famous quote of an ancient Terran naval commander.
The Spartacus' engines flared to life once more as its commanders aimed it at the tractor beam holding many of the crew's friends and families hostage.
Prescott gritted his teeth, and braced for impact, as did every other crewmember aboard.
The Battler spotted the ram attack, and began to turn; engines moving at full burn, the superstructure groaning in protest.
However its massive bulk; normally an advantage in combat, was now a weakness. It could not accelerate enough to avoid the small agile craft
The CDF destroyer impacted upon the hull, scraping along the side then smashed into the tractor beam emitter.
The ship careened off the enemy hull as its engines took flak, and the few gatling laser cannons remaining inflicted little damage upon the enemy.
"Colonel!" the engineering officer shouted, "Engines have failed! We're getting dragged into the gate!"
The initial sensor results had suggested that the gate had become extremely unstable recently, and the computer had sent out dozens of warnings about it.
Either a year without proper maintenance had finally done the ancient gate in, or someone had done it deliberately.
Whatever the case might have been, they weren't supposed to go through it.
"Fire maneuvering thrusters!"
They did little to help. The destroyer bounced off its escort as they got sucked in, fighters bouncing off one another, many avoiding destruction thanks to maneuvering thrusters and good pilots, though one unfortunate pair impacted upon a gunship.
The explosion seemed to distort and faded much quicker than it was supposed to. In fact, hyperspace seemed to be acting strange as a whole. It was still the patchy red and black, yet...something was off.
The cameras were acting up; the field of ships around them seemed to flicker every few seconds, or stretch, as if they were dropping back into normal space before snapping back. Everything was just off about it.
Not that many were paying much attention, everyone was merely trying to stay alive.
After a quick, but extremely turbulent ride, the freighter made out of the tunnel unscathed, along with the CNV Spartacus, the destroyer escort, the surviving corvettes, and a handful of fighters and gunships. Somehow even the Mirai had made it into the window through space. They drifted in space, engines momentarily disabled.
"Status!? Do we know where we are?" Prescott demanded.
"Sensors are back online!" Sergeant Kyle reported, and after a moment communicated the fleet's status, "We're only in the next sector over, a few systems away. The fleet reports heavy damage from the battle, but the Cecilian Pirate and most of our single ships are intact. The Mako reports that their torpedoes are offline, and their Hellbores have taken heavy damage. The Mirai says that most of their Cobra Bays are heavily damage, there's no guarantee they can launch very quickly without repairs. Our corvettes aren't transmitting, or we aren't receiving, can't tell."
The sensors officer interrupted, "Sir, we've detected an unknown ship! It's charging weapons!" The tired technician pushed a few controls.
Onscreen static flashed, and a grainy picture appeared. The image was unsettling to most, for the ship looked like a...cuttlefish.
It was purple in color, with two distinct hull sections; an upper head-like area, which seemed to have a spinal-mounted railgun that ran down the middle of that section. Below its "eyes" was a lower body-like area where the tentacles were mounted.
They could see the telltale glow of engines on the upper area of the "head", as it began moving towards them.
"We're detecting strong AI heuristics!"
"Damn. Tactical status?"
"Torpedoes still offline! Main cannons still out!"
Technical terms failed the systems officer. "Sensors are...uh...they're just all fucked up!"
There was a flutter in the deck, and a booming echo from beyond bridge's main hatch, accompanied by a distant scream. "A circuit just blew back there, comms have died too! All we've got left is a few of our gatling lasers and only one barrel of the #1 ion bolter!"
"Sensors? Any hostile actions from the unknowns?" the colonel asked.
A loud beeping resounded throughout the bridge, as the ship shook from an impact.
"Well, that answers my question," Prescott growled again, "All batteries, open fire!"
Kyle's hands raced across the controls as she ordered, "All fighter squadrons! Link targeting computers to the Spartacus and hang back as the second wave! Target vulnerable hull sections and maintenance hatches. Gunships, you're the first wave, target weapon emplacements and power conduits, punch a hole for the 2nd wave! Interceptor squads, pull back to protect the fleet."
The initial probing attacks had little effect on the enemy ship, but gathered intelligence needed for the Spartacus to calculate an attack pattern.
Colonel Prescott checked his own control panels; examining initial sensor readings of the enemy.
He had been correct earlier, the cuttlefish mounted some sort of spinal railgun, though the computer was unable to calculate the yield. The dimensions of the weapon did not match up with the vessel's energy output.
Its battlescreen was apparently ancient, according to the computer. It looked to be a dual-ply type, but was very poorly designed; It was still able to resist some energy weapon fire, but lacked the ability to draw power from enemy fire.
How very strange.
He would puzzle it out later, they had a battle to win.
The enemy ship tried to cut through the fifteen small craft that raced to get to their attack points. Three ships got knocked down on the way in, but the rest managed to get a few shots off.
Close-In Weapon Systems(CIWS) were helpless in the wake of the fighter attack; several detonated from direct hits or power conduit damage. Hull sections ballooned outwards or exploded as the humans pressed the advantage.
Prescott winced, and several bridge crew members looked away, as a heavily damaged fighter flew straight into an opening
The brave pilot bought his fellows some time to make another pass, his craft having somehow hit something vulnerable. A dozen guns and running lights on the cuttlefish shuddered and died with him.
The blue bolts of energy released from the capital ships found their marks and continued to batter the hull. Though lighter laser-types and railguns had trouble with the battlescreen, it did little to halt the inevitable.
The massive vessel, nearly four times the size of the Spartacus, shuddered under the fire, and internal explosions blasted the tentacles clean off.
It made one final spasm, then its engines died.
A cheer went up through the bridge, as sensors confirmed the cuttlefish ship was crippled.
"Everyone back to your posts," Colonel Prescott said, quieting down the celebrations, but barely hiding a smile, "We may have escaped Cloud, but we're not out of the woods yet."
Something abruptly echoed through the ship's speakers, the crew covering their ears in pain at the ringing.
"You...are insignificant. You...cannot stand before the power of the Reapers...We will-"
The sound was cut off as abruptly as it came, several fighters sweeping around on their way back to the Mirai.
"Target has been confirmed terminated, Spartacus. Have a nice day. Green Leader out." The lead fighter reported.
Kyle looked at Prescott, and raised an eyebrow, "'Reapers?'"
He shrugged, "Probably some Clacker special ops unit. Psychological warfare most likely, with that noise. See how lightly armed it is?"
The colonel pointed at the wreckage outside, "Its armament isn't right for its size."
The sergeant nodded, "That explains how weak it was."
Prescott ordered "Let's begin repairs, and get out of here. I'm sure the Graakan will be happy to see us."
Within a few hours, the CDF fleet was ready to move.
The biggest ships in the fleet, the Spartacus, the Mirai, and the Cecilian Pirate pushed apart from each other, with the rest of the fleet separating into groups accordingly.
The Cecilian Pirate had the surviving frigate limp into its group; wasn't much, but its offensive firepower would at least give them a fighting chance. Three of the seven surviving patrol ships joined it as well, along with the least damaged fighters.
The Mirai took the majority of the damaged fighters, the ship's weapon systems were still intact. A pair of patrol vessels escorted it as well.
The Spartacus took almost everything else, the odds and ends, the other two patrol ships, and anything that couldn't jump.
Those ships too heavily damaged to go on were stripped for parts and scuttled.
Three orange vortexes appeared before each of the larger ships, as their engines flared in greeting.
The vortexes yawned into darkness, but weren't threatening; they seemed to almost beckon the refugees to enter hyperspace.
Every engine in the fleet charged with power, and advanced into each of their according jump points
They were headed to one of the larger Graakan colonies, the Dranek star system, where friends were believed to be waiting.
CDF Codex Activated
Entries Downloaded
Neural Interface- Needing another edge over the Melconian Navy's massive numbers of ships, Concordiat engineers introduced an invention soon before Operation: Seed Corn. The interface is designed to allow for better reaction time and connects the crew's thought processes to their combat computer. Was commonly used aboard heavier vessels at first due to the cost, but Cloud quickly adapted it for use in nearly all of their vessels CDF Navy, as well as air and ground vehicles.
Nova-class Torpedoes- It was discovered during the Quern War that military vessels needed a quick kill device upon breaking a large enemy vessel's shields. Destroyers would commonly use up all their expendable ordnance trying to take down Quern battleship shields, and found themselves helpless before a large enemy vessel. A large production line was produced, universal sizes but of varying yields as time progressed.
Hyperspace- FTL drives created by the Concordiat carry ships through hyperspace, a pocket dimension that allowed for easier travel through the galaxy. The Concordiat invented two forms of FTL travel after Earth's recovery from the Great Collapse, in 2221. Hyper-light is a form of FTL that only skims hyperspace, and was discovered during initial experiments with faster-than-light travel. It was found to be slower than the second "hyper-window" type, but required much less energy and cost less.
The second method is through the use of jump points or gates, and was created after the discovery of a series of wormholes leading deep into hyperspace; that allowed for much faster and easier transit. Natural stable wormholes were commonly used at first, but jumpgates were built to stabilize unsafe hyperspace windows, or create new ones in systems lacking them. Eventually ship-portable hyperspace generators were built, but are most commonly mounted on large military starships.
Though hyper-windows are faster and make commerce easier, navigation is a major problem, and hyperspace routes did not connect to each and every colony in the Concordiat. Hyper-light is the method utilized most often, due to the low cost of the drives, and requires much less energy than hyperspace engines.
Gunships- A heavier class of fighter used in support of larger attacks on enemy capital ships, They are used for breaking through attack waves, escorting the fighters, or assisting interceptor craft.
Clemson-class Destroyer- A light class of destroyer constructed originally by the Concordiat Navy during the 25th century; it was used sporadically throughout history up to the eve of the Final War due to its modular and upgradable design, and inexpensive production cost. The Cloud Navy began constructing them once again during the initial stage of fleet assembly when large capital warships were unavailable; the Clemson class proved to be extremely effective in place of them during the Vovoin War and the Outreach War. Armed with a primary armament of one mass accelerator, the majority of its parts can be removed and replaced, and the entire assembly can be removed if necessary or for construction purposes; if the necessary pieces are not available. Secondary armament is two 12 centimeter casemate-mounted Hellbores, and two heavy Ion Bolt infinite repeaters. Tertiary armament is, supported by batteries of light ion-bolters, gatling laser point defense guns, and a VLS missile system. Can carry squadrons of fighters and several shuttles, depending on the mission package.
Piranha-class Frigate- An obsolete frigate rushed into service during the Outreach War, and designed to be cheap and able to be constructed in large numbers; its intended role to take down enemy capital ships en mass if properly supported. Though like all human ships, they were robust, and inflicted many casualties upon the enemy, they were not designed to stand up to major fleet battles; the class took heavy losses as a result. Those that survived the war were immediately retired and decommissioned, falling into the hands of privateers, police forces, and private companies. It is lightly armed with six 5cm Hellbores mounted in two three-barrel turrets, a triple-barreled plasma torpedo launcher, and a point-defense gatling laser system. Mounts two 5D-Skyhawk shuttles for auxiliary craft.