"Level us off," Captain Strydom ordered to the helmsperson so that their orientation in the three-dimensional space matched the course logged into the nav-computer. "Maintain heading for the Westwind Quasar at 700 knots."
A Changeling manning the navigational station executed the order. "Aye, Captain. Course laid in, speed 700 knots."
"Right." The human female CO spoke with a thick South African accent, her blonde hair tied off to the back to prevent it from obstructing her vision. She commanded the 125th Viking-class destroyer RES Cully, departing the Alnitak-95 drydocks for Gateway back at the New Sol-Sector, as the system was called among human space travelers.
Most people that have forgotten their lost origin system of the Solar Sector had referred to the Equestrian system by that name, as they both shared uncanny similarities.
The Westwind Quasar was a common point of reference between deep-space locations in the Barnard 33 neighborhood and the Sol-Sector, as it prevented seamless FTL travel. Flying into an unstable celestial body was inadvisable at any speed, which dictated the practice of stopping short to its approximate sector and rerouting course around the quasar to continue the journey.
Strydom's Executive Officer stood close to her, leaning on a support structure at the center of the windowless bridge. He was a pegasus pony with regular Royal Equestrian Navy experience, judging by the service insignia on his uniform accompanying the 125th shield. "I didn't have time to ask back at A-Ninety-Five," He started to the Captain, "But what sort of upgrades are we supposed to get at Gateway?"
Strydom scratched the back of her neck and turned to the pony XO. "Fiber-optic combat systems and uprated vacuum drive. We're supposed to receive updated nav-packages and VI interfaces when we get to Sirius-68."
He whistled in wonderment. "Quite a change from REN dummy ships."
"That's an understatement if I ever heard one," She agreed.
REN perimeter vessels with basic navigation and combat systems were referred to as "dummy ships" due to their limited capability in contrast to more modernized spacecraft that are an Equestrian Navy standard. They are most uncommon in 125th service.
"Cut main engines and engage Light Drive on my command."
"Aye," The Changeling at the helm acknowledged and did as ordered, "Shutting down vacuum drive. Powering up FTL reactor core."
A small klaxon sounded near the control area, with the human Radar Technician checking various readings on his console. "Conn, Radar," He reported, "Anomaly detected in our quadrant."
"Radar, Conn," The XO responded, "Can you specify?"
"Conn, Radar, negative."
"Slow one-third," Strydom commanded, "Clear the baffles, sixty-degrees starboard."
The Changeling helmsperson was prompt in carrying out the command, rerouting the course into the nav-computer. "Aye, slowing one-third, clearing baffles at sixty starboard."
"Radar, Conn," The XO hailed to the control area, "Clearing baffles to the right."
"Conn, Radar, clearing baffles to the right, aye."
The spacecraft slowed and turned hard on its Y-axis, allowing the sensor systems to track electronic or thermal signatures hiding in the ship's wake, as the direct rear was a notorious blind spot programmed into the software due to the engine area confusing the equipment.
"Can't be CRAI," The XO voiced his thoughts out loud, "They wouldn't operate this far from the outer colonies. Probably a solar microflare."
The Radar Tech scanned his readouts thoroughly as the dead space became clear, stopping at a blip on the radar screen, translating to an artificial object in alarmingly close proximity. "Conn, Radar, TEM transient bearing zero-two-five at 500 knots."
"Rig for red," Strydom ordered, "Maintain heading."
All of the bright white fluorescent lights that illuminated the bridge were shut off and replaced by a dim red light that aided the crew's vision in the dark quadrant, which also eliminated glare on the CRT monitors.
"Radar, Conn," The XO hailed again, "Specify contact."
"Conn, Radar, contact on intercept course, maintaining speed!"
"Can you identify it?"
"It looks like a CRAI stealth cruiser! The ESS Vanguard!"
"What are CRAI doing way out here?" Asked the Changeling.
The XO turned to the Captain, his eyes stricken with fear. "We must've detected their attitude thrust. It's a bloody miracle."
"Man battle stations!" Strydom shouted.
An alarm sounded briefly throughout the ship, with various crew rushing to their designated stations and preparing for battle. Indicators on a viewscreen nearest to the XO's location signified the readiness of each station from yellow to green.
Spikes on the Radar Tech's oscilloscope broke his attention away from the other readouts. "Conn, Radar, movement detected on their frontal quadrant. She's opening missile-bay doors, Captain!"
Strydom spun to the Changeling. "Helm, come about one-twenty!"
"120 degrees, aye."
The Cully turned to face the incoming CRAI vessel, the ESS Vanguard slowing its course in response.
"Decompress missile tubes one and two!" Strydom demanded, "Prepare to fire on my command!" Her order was acknowledged by the missile bay Fire Controlman as they exposed the missile tubes to the vacuum of space. "Get me a firing solution!"
"We have their conning tower logged in the targeting computer!" The XO reported.
"Conn, Radar, missiles incoming! Time to impact, fifteen seconds!"
"Launch countermeasures!" Ordered Strydom.
Several decoy units launched from porous openings arranged in a hexagonal pattern along the ship's underside, deflecting the Vanguard's incoming missiles and detonating them as a result of the disoriented instrumentation in the warheads.
"Missiles deflected, Captain!" The Radar Tech reported.
Strydom took a strained breath before her next command. "Fire missiles one and two! Load and decompress three and four!"
Both missiles launched into space from the forward missile tubes on the Cully, heading straight for the Vanguard. They were a more advanced type than the CRAI stealth cruiser was using, moving at a much faster rate and guided by almost foolproof targeting software.
The Vanguard managed to deflect one of the missiles with its decoys, but the other impacted a large region of the conning tower at the upper midsection of the hull. The force of the explosion caused the Vanguard to tumble off course, drifting dead in the vacuum.
"It's a hit!" The Tech shouted with excitement, though brief as he detected other signatures in the vicinity. "Oh, shit... Two bogies closing in, they're UCAVs! Coming straight from the Vanguard!"
The XO shook his head with confusion. "A stealth cruiser was carrying LARs?!"
"Finish her off!" Strydom almost screamed.
The third and fourth missiles were launched, destroying the Vanguard completely in a brilliant blast that resulted in a nova ring from the reactor being hit. To everyone's surprise, the LARs that headed for the Cully powered down, their velocity unchanged as they headed for empty space beyond the destroyer.
The Tech was in shock as he viewed the readouts. "They're deactivated."
The XO leaned against the support structure again, joining the rest of the crew in relief. "They must have a direct link with their companion vessels in order to operate correctly. That means they can't operate in deep space without a carrier nearby."
"Just like real pilots," Strydom remarked with a smile. "Fort Arsenberg is gonna love this report."
The XO laughed. "Giving the G4 nerds bionic boners since 2237!"
Another klaxon sounded in the control area, startling the watch out of their alleviation.
"Conn, Radar, new contact bearing zero-nine-zero at 800 knots and closing!"
"Hard to starboard!" Strydom shouted to the Changeling.
He acknowledged the order verbatim and proceeded to change course.
The XO ran to the Tech's console. "Another one?! Can you ID it?"
Another signature coming from the already discovered blip distracted him from answering the XO. "Missiles in the black! Missiles in the black! Time to impact... Oh Jesus, ten seconds!"
"Launch countermeasures!" Strydom ordered in desperation.
"Too late!" The XO yelled, "Brace for impact!"
Two missiles impacted the hull of the destroyer, decimating the entire lower half of the spacecraft. Compromised decks were purged of atmosphere in a powerful blowout, as several crewmen were sucked into space with pieces of the spacecraft scattering into oblivion. Two more missiles launched from the unknown and unseen vessel, obliterating the Cully completely.
Captain Mead hunched over a table in the Drydock 89 lobby of Gateway, examining documents on a digital tablet. He was reading reports on the Sirius-68 bound vessels, stopping at the status indicators that stated that some of them were destroyed or missing. Nine... Nine ships already. I hope I'm not flying twenty-thousand souls to their deaths today. As proud as he was that his idolized Athena-class supercarrier was finally in a recommissioned status, the reports eclipsed his joy with apprehension that he hoped did not cloud his judgement.
He was brisk and healthy for his age of 62, though his leathery face with unkempt, gray beard, and tired eyes gave a contradictory impression. His appearance was that of a stereotypical salty sea captain, which he embraced as he amusingly associated the analogous personality traits of his own.
Mead had been in the human Navy for as long as he could remember. He remembered fondly the early days of becoming an officer, commanding his own vessel for the first time, the ESS Portland, a Challenger-class frigate. They were different times, as the Earth starship prefix meant something entirely different to everyone.
Mankind had a benevolent interest in reaching the stars, no matter what conflicts emerged to challenge their integrity. Now they fly a different prefix to signify an alliance. They were Royal Equestrian starships now, and others that belonged to the antagonistic coalition that resisted in present times retained the old system, tainting its meaning like the ancient Axis did with the once peaceful image of a waterwheel swastika.
"The new recruits are arriving in ten minutes," Commander Gregory reported to the captain.
Commander Gregory was the captain's executive officer aboard the RES Dreadnaught. He was a much younger officer than Mead, with equally less experience in naval warfare. His record serving on the now decommissioned ESS Ajax, however, was enough to promote him to 125th service aboard the Dreadnaught. He was with Mead since it was decommissioned twenty years ago and joined him in the melancholy of the event. He even sported a similar beard, but better groomed and lacking of silver strands in the rough blackness.
"Very well," Mead responded to the anxious XO, "Go meet them at the terminal and bring them here."
"Aye, Captain." He saluted his CO before leaving.
Mead returned to the tablet, reading the crew manifests of the ships that were lost to CRAI attacks. So far none of them were recognizable, but it still invoked a sense of grief to lose such valued members of the fleet. Then he came across the RES Cully.
For the first time in REN service he gasped out loud at a report about a lost ship, raising his hand to cover his mouth. His mind struggled to digest the cold blue text with a pit in his stomach. He had known Captain Strydom since the pilgrimage to Equestria. She was his warrant officer for three years before finally acquiring command of her own vessel. She had been under his wing like a family of father and daughter. His entire crew always felt like a family to him, and to lose a member that he had been so close to in the past nearly gutted him.
He tossed the tablet onto the table and leaned forward in his seat, covering his uncontrollably watering eyes. This war was going to be long and painful, and this was just the beginning.
"Aria viziata!" A human passenger shouted in Italian from within a crowd of people and ponies disembarking from the shuttle, "My old friend, we meet again!"
A gruff pony by his side gave him a look of perplexion. "Really? Praising the station atmospherics? You've been stuck in way too many AMRs."
"Ah, mio amico, you know nothing of what makes real Battlewings soldiers. Reactor fumes, the shock of bare control nodes, banquets of death pillows... Ahhh..."
His pony counterpart snorted. "You're delusional."
Chief Engineer Alessi was part of the old Dreadnaught crew, having known every gear and circuit in the aft region of the ship as if it was an extension of himself. He knew the ship almost as well as the man who commanded it, and always pulled through when something went wrong. It was no surprise that Captain Mead personally requested his transfer back to the old supercarrier.
The same could be said of Electro-technical Officer Onyx, though a fresh addition to this particular family. He and Alessi both served on the RES Renovatio before being transferred back, the Italian engineer having taken a liking to the well-experienced ETO. He admired his meticulous attention to the technical nature of starship propulsion systems and limitless problem solving potential, which Alessi and Mead both agreed were skill sets most desired on the 125th vessel.
Though they bickered like an old married couple, unconventional to their rank hierarchy, their companionship was undeniable and true. Trust was important on board any naval spacecraft, and trust was definitely had between the two engineers. No matter how much they got on each other's nerves at times.
"What do you think of the fresh meat?" Asked Onyx.
Alessi shrugged, shifting the heavy duffel bag slung to his back. "Eh, they look okay. Hope they can last."
"Freshies like them rarely do. That one with the rainbow hair won't last a single tour."
Alessi snorted in agreement. "At least they won't get lonely here. You know how it is... a thousand spacers ship out, five-hundred couples come back!"
"Oh, for Celestia's sake..."