Briefing on UNE Office of Naval Intelligence

The Office of Naval Intelligence is the official military intelligence branch of the UNE navy. Led by Admiral Henrietta Croce, ONI has transformed into a formidable force since the start of the war. Admiral Croce's reputation for ruthless efficiency makes her both highly respected and greatly feared by the rest of the Admiralty. It was she that carried out the Purge that beached or court-martialed dozens of senior UNE officers for negligence or gross incompetence, including Fleet Admiral William Hunt, then commanding officer of First Fleet. There are even rumors that Admiral Croce was behind the resignation of Fleet Admiral Leo Anastos, then chief of naval operations, shortly afterward. Regardless of the validity of these rumors, the Purge allowed much more competent replacements to fill the vacancies left behind. The only major colonial success since the Purge was the seizure of Foldpoint 1183.

ONI itself is officially divided into three sections, each headed by a captain or commodore. Section One is Operational Analysis and generates most of the reports used to brief field officers on enemy doctrine, weapons, and personnel of note, as well as compile relevant information for specific operations. Section Two is Economic Analysis, dealing with not only economic matters but also political analysis. Both Sections One and Two also are tasked with identifying targets of high priority for the UNE fleet to hit and generating whatever background intelligence might be needed by force commanders. Section Three is Counterintelligence, responsible for dealing with enemy agents and ensuring the UNE's own lines of communication are secure.

Finally there is Section Zero, which is not an official section in and of itself but encompasses all operational agents in the field. Section Zero is under the direct control of the head of ONI and is outside the normal chain of command, allowing them considerable freedom and flexibility in fulfilling their orders. Despite significant efforts invested, the CIN has only tentatively identified a half dozen or so members of Section Zero. Their anonymity is their greatest asset and Section Zero has proven as efficient and ruthless as their leader in preserving it.

Captain Rebecca Summers

Staff Intelligence Officer

Colonial Independence Navy

Chapter 4: All Who Come

The fighter was remarkably intact, a mixed blessing at best as the human that piloted it was nowhere as durable. All of the surviving pilots were gathered round as Harkens and his team cut open the fused cockpit and gently lifted crumbled form out. The pilot's helmet was coated with the frozen blood, making it impossible to see her face. That was probably for the better, as this way her comrades would not have to witness the moment death overcame her.

Reynolds stepped forward and pulled off one of the two identifier tags mounted on all pilot suits. She then offered one final salute before nodding for Harkens to roll the body out. The assembled men and women all came to attention and remained so until the stretcher was out of the hanger. Reynolds looked down upon the nametag again. Naomi "Viper" Saito. All too many times when a brother or sister in arms fell, there was no body to mourn. Now that she had Saito's tag in her hands however, Reynolds began to understand just why having a body was a mixed blessing after all.

A hand fell on her shoulder and she jerked back before relaxing.

"Sorry," she said to Adams.

Adams' hands flashed his own response as he looked at the tag.

Sorry.

"What for?" Reynolds said before shaking her head. "You're not responsible for her death, Adams."

Adams grimaced. Maybe.

Reynolds' raised eyebrow invited him to explain.

The strike suit needs to build up a charge before it can shift to strike mode Adams explained verbally. If I hadn't wasted a charge going after those torpedoes, she wouldn't have needed to cover me

Reynolds grimaced as she absorbed Adams' words and shook her head. "You couldn't have known. Yes we probably could have shut down the torpedoes ourselves, but you couldn't have known the Cindies were going to dogpile you like that."

Maybe.

In a way Reynolds could understand Adams' reluctance to accept her words. Everyone in the squadron had lost comrades before but Adams was the only one that had ever lost an entire squadron all at once. Such wounds took time to heal and a year was a pitifully short amount of time. Placing a hand on Adams' shoulder, Reynolds did her best to smile.

"Go get some rest. I'm going to want more details on this, strike suit, and I'm sure the captain will too, but I want you refreshed when we start grilling you."

Adams returned her smile even if his looked a bit more forced. He snapped a salute and turned to leave the hanger. Sighing, Reynolds watched until he disappeared before heading out herself. There was still one last thing she needed to do after all.

The wall aboard Arcadia was almost painful to look at. She had already visited it once to set down the names of the men and women that died at Sybille, men and women whom for the most part she had never met. Difficult as that had been, it was only now as she added Saito's name to the wall that her hand trembled so.

"Ma'am."

Startled, Reynolds spun around to see McBride standing behind her. Not just McBride, but Khaldi was also present. Then O'Reilly, Marks, more showed up. Finally Adams appeared, all of them still in their flight suits.

"What are you all doing here?" Reynolds asked even as she knew the answer.

"Tradition has always been the senior squad commander puts names on the wall alone," Khaldi said. "On the other hand, tradition can also go stuff itself."

Despite herself, Reynolds could not help but allow a small smile and nodded. She then turned back to the wall and stepped forth, her hands steady and firm as she placed Saito's tag next to all the other fallen.

"God bless Naomi," Reynolds said as the tears finally came. "And thank you."

There was supposedly a woman under all those wires but Reynolds was not sure how much was actually left as she looked over at Control. The predictive tactics AI was quite the sight with most of her body encased in a metal shell. Even her eyes were hidden behind a large helmet visor. Control's voice was most definitely feminine but there was a distinct mechanical echo that was not entirely natural.

"-and the missiles are derived from the Swarm X design, modified to use fold energy to achieve their flight performance."

"Fascinating."

Of the people gathered, the one most enthused with Control's explanations regarding the strike suit was probably Arcadia's chief engineer, Lieutenant Commander Samantha Tapping, though Harkens was a very close second.

"The flight performance on this 'strike suit' is ridiculous," the master chief said. "How the blazes are you squeezing that much power out of that small a plant?"

"The design uses a modified fold generator that directly feeds into the rest of the power system," Control said. "There is no additional power generation subsystem."

"Bloody hell, uh, excuse me sirs, ma'ams," Harkens said. "This is the first time I've heard of a practical implementation of a fold energy system for anything except FTL jumps."

"Thule was a classified research base," Tapping pointed out. "But I'm kind of surprised at some of the components you're using. These capacitors are at least a generation out of date, not to mention the shield emitters. They could almost certainly be tuned for higher output."

"The strike suit was a proof of concept," Control replied. "Diversion of current generation light craft components was difficult to justify due to the project's low priority."

"Well whoever assigned your project a low priority was an idiot, begging your pardon captain," Tapping said. "If we can get the strike suit into mass production, the Cindies won't have anything that could stand in our way."

"We need to win this round first," McCallum said. "You think the strike suit can do that as well?"

Tapping nodded. "I've taken a peek at the post mission debrief. Adams pretty thoroughly mauled the Cindy light craft squadrons and based off the missile performance I wouldn't be surprised at all if he could single handily take down corvettes as well. So long as he's properly supported, the Cindies are going to get absolutely reamed in light craft."

"If we only had light craft to worry about," McCallum pointed out with a wiry smile.

"True enough sir," Tapping conceded. "But at least we have one more edge now."

McCallum nodded. "That we do."

Can we make it sharper.

The other officers all glanced over at Adams.

Sir, ma'am the lieutenant added belatedly.

That drew a chuckle from both McCallum and Tapping though Reynolds felt more like rubbing her forehead to soothe the headache building up. Adams' irreverence had gotten him into trouble more than once back at the academy and it seemed to be mostly intact. At least this time he had corrected himself after speaking his mind.

"Did you have something in mind, lieutenant?" McCallum asked.

Lieutenant Commander Tapping mentioned the strike suit uses older components. Can those be swapped out.

"Now there's a thought," Tapping said. "If I replaced the capacitors, the strike suit could hold a bigger charge for its plasma cannon. I could also replace the shield emitters it has with something newer, boost its strength."

Better shields would be nice.

Though the statement was delivered in a complete monotone, Reynolds still felt as if she heard a tinge of regret in Adams' voice. She simply nodded solemnly in agreement, as did all the other officers.

"How long would these upgrades take?" McCallum asked.

"The emitters, a couple of hours," said Tapping. "The capacitors longer because they're tied into so many other systems."

"Alright, go ahead with the emitters but hold off on the capacitors," McCallum said. "I have a feeling Bowman is going to want to go hunting and you won't have that much time until we hit whatever target he picks."

This time grimaces appeared all around. Captain Jonathan Bowman was the acting commodore of their little taskforce by virtue of his seniority. While McCallum technically commanded a more powerful ship he was not likely to be able to convince the other ship captains to follow him over Bowman, at least not yet. Until the Mercury completed her mission, McCallum needed Bowman's support to survive.

"That aside, I have some good news for you, chief," McCallum said. "I've managed to get in touch with a couple of our outposts and we should be getting three freighters loaded with spares, munitions, and general supplies within the next couple of hours. Reinforcements for your wing will take a bit longer, commander, but rest assured they are in the works."

Both Harkens and Reynolds nodded. The news was mixed but leaning towards the positive side. Considering the mess they were in, Reynolds was content to settle for that.

"This is goddamn idiotic," Reynolds muttered to herself a day later.

She and the rest of her squadron were deployed in a protective shell around Arcadia and three freighters carrying supplies for the taskforce. Bowman, in a flash of inspiration, had decided now was the time to try and draw the legendary Black Fleet out into an open battle. Now, when Earth was facing possible destruction, the captain wanted to go on a wild goose chase for the Colonial elite.

When McCallum briefed Reynolds on the mission, her first reaction had been disbelief. Her second was anger. Assuming they did not die within the next couple of hours, she might make it to acceptance, but something told Reynolds she would forever count Bowman as amongst the less than fit to command group of officers. The signs Adams made while walking with her to their fighters indicated his emphatic and outright insubordinate agreement, though since Reynolds doubted her wingman was at risk of being watched by someone else who knew sign language, she was perfectly content to keep his insubordination to herself.

And there the bugger goes.

In sync with Adams' message Bowman and the rest of the taskforce folded out, leaving Arcadia alone to stand guard over the freighters. No, the carrier was not exactly alone. Her wing gave her some rather long and sharp teeth and with the strike suit on hand they were more than ready to hand the Colonials their asses.

"Alright Reynolds, your priority is protecting the freighters," McCallum said. "Bowman might not care what happens to them, but we'll need their supplies if we're going to defend Earth."

"Yes sir," Reynolds acknowledged before switching to the squadron channel. "Alright boys and girls, it's payback time. Now that Reaper knows how to fly the damn strike suit instead of making it up as he goes, the freighters under our care should make this through without a scratch. Am I clear?"

I protest your assertion. I always make things up as I go.

As the text was sent to the entire squadron, laughter soon filled the channel and Reynolds herself grinned.

"Is that why you scored in the bottom half on all the theoretical courses at the academy?" Reynolds retorted.

Oh no, I did that so you had some chance of getting valedictorian despite coming in second on all the practical courses.

Ma'am.

The proper form of address seemed like an afterthought considering the delay, but Reynolds knew Adams had timed it well in advance. Her wingman really knew how to get a rise out of people and always in ways that left everyone involved, including the victim, in higher spirits. That by itself made him a valuable member of the squadron. Of course, Reynolds was not about to just let him raise the squad's morale completely at her expense.

"Don't see how you intentionally tanking your grades would have helped me any since you were always third in the practicals," Reynolds said just as the latest wave of laughter was dying down, fanning them again.

Better to be third from the bottom than second like you. Ma'am.

Adams was good, Reynolds had to admit as even she laughed at his response. Count on him to always have a comeback no matter how the odds seemed to be stacked.

"Careful Reaper, or you might find your competence noticed by the powers that be and promoted straight to a desk job."

They tried. I proved I was so competent I crashed the desk I was piloting. Ma'am.

Reynolds chuckled. "Alright, enough of that. Keep your ears and eyes sharp. At the very least we need to show the Cindies up."

The chatter died down afterward and for the next hour or so only brief status reports broke the silence. The enemy was certainly taking their time finding the taskforce, but then again space was vast. If Bowman had not laid the bait properly, the chances of the Colonials actually running into them would have been infinitesimal. As it was, Reynolds was hoping the Colonials would get it on with and hit them already. At least in battle she would not have time to dwell on past regrets.

The alarm blared as signals started popping up on the plot.

"Showtime," Reynolds said. "Incoming Cindy fighters, make it two squadrons. Engage at will and keep them off the freighters."

The squadron responded by charging forth to meet the incoming enemy. Targets were automatically allocated based on each fighter's relative position and as the two sides crossed, waves of missiles were exchanged. Unlike the Colonials who only let loose a single salvo, Reynolds' squadron fired off two waves. Those that hit from the first wave knocked out their target's shields, allowing for an easy kill by the following salvo. A few here and there got off EM bursts and emerged intact if somewhat battered.

Reynolds' own squadron had done much the same though far fewer had suffered missile hits thanks to better timed bursts. Those that achieved clean kills immediately latched upon new targets while those that did not gave chase to finish the job. Not surprisingly Adams' strike suit was drawing a disproportionate amount of attention, but that fixation cost the Colonials as Reynolds and McBride took advantage of the enemy's concentration to land hits from behind. Adams was doing equally well, engaging and destroying every fighter that crossed his path and leaving a long trail of wreckage in his wake. The few that managed to stagger away relatively intact had little time to enjoy their momentary fortune as other fighters pounced and slaughtered them.

The initial wave of enemy fighters was soon wiped out, but the battle was just getting started. More contacts appeared, four of which were larger than the destroyed fighters but still less than the capitals ships that were the true targets.

"Four tin cans incoming," Khaldi said. "They're vectoring towards Arcadia."

"Alpha flight, on the tin cans," Reynolds ordered. "Beta and Delta, continue protecting the freighters."

Even at full strength a flight of fighters was generally outmatched by a matching number of corvettes and alpha flight was certainly not a full complement right now. Nevertheless no one questioned Reynolds' orders as all knew that this time, it was the corvettes that were outgunned.

Having spent all this time building up his fold energy reserves, Adams shifted into strike mode the moment he was in range and locked on a full salvo on the corvette. The thirty odd missiles slashed in, closing so fast the enemy ship barely had any time to react and no time to actually make a difference. It disappeared under the rain of destruction and alpha flight did not even bother confirming the kill before moving onto their next victim.

This time Adams flew in closer, opening up with the strike suit's energy weapons. The bursts of fold energy ripped apart the corvette's hull, twisting armored plating and tearing through the superstructure. The second corvette succumbed quickly to Adams' attacks and in as many minutes two of the four corvettes had been dealt with.

Out of power.

Adams' ship transformed back into its flight mode and was quickly flanked by Reynolds and McBride. The three of them danced toward the third corvette, brushing aside the few Colonial fighters trying to muster some kind of response to the sudden onslaught. Despite Adams being up front, it was McBride that took the lead as she fired off missile after missile. Like the ones in the first salvo, these were specifically designed to short shields and leave opponents vulnerable for a short time. That brief window was all that Reynolds and Adams needed as they followed up with a storm of plasma and missiles.

The Colonial fighters scattered, the trio turning their focus to the third corvette.

"Enemy torpedoes away," McBride reported.

"I see them. Reaper, take them out. Brigit, cover him. I'll try to discourage the tin can from trying that again."

"Aye ma'am."

The strike suit and other fighter peeled away and raced after the torpedoes while Reynolds veered towards the now fleeing corvette. Alarms blared to warn her of an incoming missile but Reynolds pressed onward, waiting until the last moment before hitting the EM pulse. A glowing trail arced by her fighter as the missile lost its lock and wandered away before exploding harmlessly.

Reynolds returned the compliment as she locked onto the corvette, letting loose her own missiles. The damage inflicted was minimal, but at least now the corvette's attention was solely on her. Spinning on her approach, Reynolds was now close enough to let loose with the plasma cannon. Her first order of business was the turret that even now was tracking her to launch its next missile. One of her own and a quick follow up with her cannon put an end to that and she blew cross the corvette before flipping over to begin a second attack run. This time it was the flak turret that pounded away at her and the fighter's shields dropped quickly under the bombardment.

Despite this, Reynolds stayed her course and fired more missiles at her target. Only one impacted the flak turret while the other two struck the corvette's main body. That hit was enough to slow the turret however and Reynolds escaped further attention to her nearly depleted shields. Before she could make a third run, a stream of rockets smashed into the corvette and ripped through the ship's neck. Looking about, Reynolds saw Adams diving at the corvette with McBride right behind. The rockets finished what Reynolds' missiles had started and left the corvette a broken wreck.

"Three down, one to go," Reynolds said.

"He's running for it ma'am," McBride said.

"He won't get far," Reynolds replied as she hit the thrusters.

Adams was right with her with McBride just a second behind. The three forewent all finesse and simply charged the corvette, letting loose missiles, plasma, and rockets until the overwhelmed ship exploded before them.

"This is almost getting too easy," McBride said.

You're welcome.

Reynolds chuckled. "That's our line, Reaper. After all, who else is keeping you from getting shot up the ass while you go nuts with the suit."

Adams wiggled his ship side to side in response but sent no further messages. Reynolds shifted her attention back to the rest of the squadron and noted with pleasure that few Colonial fighters remained. Most of the survivors were either on the run or being run down and status reports from Arcadia and the freighters indicated little damage. That satisfaction quickly came to an end as new contacts appeared. Big new contacts.

"We've got cap ships inbound ma'am," McBride said. "Oh bugger, I'm seeing multiple frigates and cruisers."

A few choice curses ran through Reynolds' head but she did not give voice to them. The frigates were bad enough but the presence of cruisers suggested the Colonials were taking the taskforce seriously enough to commit heavy firepower to hunt them down. Like so many other things this too was a mixed blessing. Diverting that firepower might slow down the advance to Earth, but if the Colonials sent a big enough hammer then nothing the taskforce could do would see it survive.

"Reynolds, get your squadron back here," McCallum ordered. "Time to move onto phase two."

"Acknowledged. Alright 207, get back to the Arcadia and slave your jump computers to her systems. The goal is to lose the Cindies in the nebula, not get lost ourselves after all."

Technically the only ships any significant distance from the carrier was alpha flight so the order was somewhat superfluous. Still, she needed to pass it on if only to reassure everyone else the plan was so far working. Granted they had provoked a much more violent reaction than they were hoping for, but no plan ever really survived contact with the enemy. One just needed to be lucky enough that the goals the plan was made for could still be achieved.

Space, despite its name, was rarely empty. At a minimum there was always a low level of background radiation that required any worthwhile ship to carry some sort of shielding to protect its electronics and the squishy biological matter onboard. In a nebula, the situation was even worse with all of the ionized gasses. Of immediate concern to Reynolds was how the nebula made an absolute hash of radar and other electronic sensors, rendering missiles completely useless and making long range detection equally impossible. For this reason, the entire squadron had been cycled very quickly through the Arcadia to reequip with only rocket pods. Even the interceptors were so armed despite them having no business getting close to any target that generally required the heavier payloads.

Even the strike suit's electronic suite could not overcome the radiation, which meant Adams' biggest trump card was rendered useless for the upcoming engagement. Then again, the strike suit's energy weapons were plenty powerful and assuming he could get close enough, any enemy fighter would be reduced to scrap in very short order.

The interference from the nebula worked both ways however as it was obvious the Colonials were having as much if not more trouble than the taskforce. A squadron of heavy fighters had already blundered into them before being cut down, but at least one or two managed to escape. It was now only a matter of time before the enemy managed to bring its capital ships to bear.

The alarm sounded, indicating the wait was over.

"Enemy frigates inbound," said Khaldi. "Only two detected."

"No cruisers?" said Reynolds.

"None. Looks like we might have gotten lucky."

"Alright. Alpha and beta flights, target the frigate turrets. Delta, stay back and help the interceptors. Do not let any torpedoes through."

Orders issued, Reynolds threw her fighter about and was joined by the other six in advancing toward the closer frigate. Almost immediately the escorting fighters peeled off and charged forth to meet the 207.

"Well at least they've got guts," McBride commented. "Not much for brains though."

"Makes our job easier," Reynolds said. "Beta flight, break!"

The four fighters of beta hit their thrusters and sprang forward, putting themselves between the enemy escorts and alpha. The sudden tangle of light craft sucked in the enemy fighters, allowing alpha flight to break through and begin attack runs on their target.

The forward turrets on the frigate lit up, peppering the approach with plasma bursts. The impacts shook her fighter but Reynolds paid little heed to the draining shields. It would be close but she should be able to make it through and hit her target before the shields depleted completely. To her side the other two ships continued their own advance, rolling and spinning but never to the extent that they were diverted from their run. All three ships reached attack range effectively simultaneously and unleashed their payload of rockets.

The top forward plasma turrets were ripped to shreds as was the single heavy turret that could have threatened Arcadia. The three fighters broke off, Reynolds swinging her fighter around hard and racing away from the frigate in a wide arc. Adams braked hard and flipped the strike suit around before fleeing in the same direction he came from while McBride emulated Reynolds.

The three regrouped quickly and began a second run aimed at the remaining point defenses. This time however beta flight was right with them, having smashed the escorting fighters. With so many attackers the frigate's defenses were quickly overwhelmed and the warship found itself helpless as Arcadia opened up with its beam cannons.

"One down, one to go," Reynolds said.

The second frigate was already engaging Arcadia, letting loose salvo after salvo of torpedoes and pouring plasma fire at the carrier. The former were being handily dealt with by the fighters and interceptors hovering protectively around the carrier while the later was not quite powerful enough to breach Arcadia's armor. That would eventually change with enough time, but the frigate would not have that time.

Reynolds' fighters repeated their previous tactic, only this time alpha flight engaged the enemy fighters. The squadron only had so many rockets available and spreading the expenditure would hopefully allow for more tactical flexibility later in the battle. It would also ensure any losses they suffered did not suddenly cripple the squadron's offensive power.

It was soon apparent just how outclassed the Colonial pilots were as alpha flight engaged them. Almost all the enemy tried going after Adams, apparently believing that sheer numbers would overwhelm the strike suit. Had he been alone, such a tactic would have been effective if properly employed. With Reynolds and McBride covering Adams, the Colonial fighters were like lambs to a slaughter.

"Who the hell trained these guys," Reynolds muttered.

The Colonial Independence Navy was a very uneven force, with some brilliant fleet commanders but a mixed bag for its rank and file, regardless of how motivated they might be. The UNE Navy had for many years suffered from the opposite problem. The quality of its fighting forces was generally high, but too many officers were careerists with little operational experience and an overreliance on simulations. Reality was much messier however and the disasters orchestrated by these so-called officers had cost the UNE countless men and women while giving the Colonials time to train their own forces.

In this particular instance, it was abundantly clear the fighter pilots facing Reynolds and her squadron were very green. It would not have surprised the wing commander if they had originally all been part of some quiet little colony's sole defense and were only pulled in because the Colonials needed every ship they could get to pull off the Earth operation. Reynolds knew fully well that the time would come when the 207 would face far more competent opponents such as the Colonial elites of the Black Fleet, but for now she would count her blessings and not complain about the ease with which the Colonial fighters fell.

The second frigate was now in serious trouble with most of its point defenses trashed and Arcadia shifting its full attention over. Its heavy plasma cannon continued to thunder defiantly but that too was soon silenced as the UNE fighters finished defanging it.

"We've got additional fighters incoming," Khaldi said. "The survivors don't appear interested in bugging out."

"Probably more reinforcements on the way," said Reynolds. "Their cruisers still haven't found us after all."

A rather loud alarm suddenly began blaring and Reynolds cursed.

Jinx.

"Oh stuff it," Reynolds retorted at Adams.

It was always possible Reynolds' comment was completely innocent and had nothing to do with the bringing about the sudden appearance of the two Colonial cruisers. Pilots however were a surprisingly superstitious bunch as their survival in battle tended to be as much down to luck as individual skill. That meant despite her protests, Reynolds could not be completely sure she was not responsible for the timing of the enemy cruisers' arrival.

"Reynolds, Bowman isn't responding and I don't know if he's even getting our transmissions," McCallum said. "I need you to take down the heavy turrets on those cruisers now."

"Acknowledged. Alright, alpha and beta flights, priority target are the cruiser heavy weapons. We can't let them take down Arcadia. Delta flight, keep watch over the carrier."

"I really hope we're not supposed to take out those cruisers ourselves ma'am," Brigit said.

"We just need to declaw them," Reynolds said. "Worst case, Boomer and his boys and girls can shove a couple of torpedoes up their asses after we soften them up."

What's our approach.

A Colonial cruiser mounted three beam cannons, two topside and one slung underneath. Of the three, the rear topside cannon was closest to the banks of plasma turrets that served as the primary point defenses for a cruiser while the bottom turret was fairly exposed.

"You've got tougher shields Reaper," Reynolds said. "Take out the rear topside beam cannon. I'll get the fore cannon. Brigit, you take bottom."

"Understood."

Don't think they want to let us through.

Adams' comment was on the mark as several Colonial fighters zipped about, trying to keep Reynolds and the others back.

"Blow through, we'll clean them up after we deal with the cruiser."

The three fighters hit their thrusters and accelerated towards the target. Here and there enemy fighters got off a glancing shot but hitting such a fast moving target would have been difficult even for missiles. With only their guns working in the nebula, the enemy had little chance of stopping alpha flight.

The beam cannon before Reynolds exploded in a fiery display after a trio of rockets smashed into it. Reynolds veered to the side by stayed close to the cruiser in case the others were not as successful and required a follow up run. Fortunately, the smoldering holes in the cruiser's holes indicated that would not be necessary and all three ships made a clean break.

"Ma'am, we could use a little help here," Khaldi suddenly said. "Bender just bought it trying to take out the rear cannon and it's throwing up too much flak for us to make a second run."

Reynolds grimaced as Khaldi reported the death of another brother in arms. Going into this, she had known Saito was only the first of many that would fall. That did not make the loss any less bitter.

"Understood," Reynolds said. "Alright Reaper, you're up again. Make Bender proud."

A click and Adams circled about with Reynolds and McBride right behind. The strike suit maneuvered until it faced the cruiser head on before blasting forth, accelerating as hard as possible. The angle of approach was a good idea as it reduced Adams' exposure to the point defenses. The tricky part was the cruiser could dive and thus bring all of its guns to bear against the oncoming attacker and getting back out from their field of fire was not the easiest thing to do, even for a nimble fighter.

As Adams made his run, it appeared the enemy cruiser captain was going to try exactly that and the bow of the warship dipped. Adams however continued accelerating, trusting his shields to withstand the barrage of plasma and flak as he entered the field of fire of more and more guns. The moment he was in range, Adams braked hard and flushed a torrent of rockets at the enemy cruiser's last beam cannon. Without waiting to confirm the kill, Adams hit his thrusters again and skipped over the cruiser's tower before making a break across its rear. The few guns mounted there tried to track him, but the rest of beta flight had taken advantage of the distraction and moved in to run interference.

"Arcadia, cannons scratched," Reynolds reported. "We could use some bombers out here to-"

Suddenly, bursts of blue light erupted as three more ships appeared. Whereas last time Reynolds had been overjoyed at the sight, now she only felt frustration and even anger. Had Bowman not taken his sweet time getting here, she might not be down a pilot. Had Bowman given a solitary damn about his duty, he would not have concocted this idiotic plan in the first place.

"Alright, the big guns are here," Reynolds said. "Target the surviving light craft and keep them off our ships. We'll let Bowman handle the cruisers."

B's late.

Reynolds shared the sentiment, but refrained from voicing her agreement. After all, she did have a responsibility to respect the chain of command. Still, she would restrain herself from asking Adams whether that B stood for Bowman or something a bit more creative and appropriate. That could wait until this battle was over and the two were off duty, when she could excuse his lack of respect on something a bit stronger than the liquids accompanying their standard rations.

Reynolds woke the moment her terminal started beeping. Looking over at it, she saw she got all of six hours of sleep. Her body was demanding at least another six before it would be satisfied, but duty called. Deciding she would prefer not to be seen in her undergarments, Reynolds accepted the call with voice only.

"Yes?"

"Sorry to wake you ma'am," Khaldi said, "but Captain McCallum has called a briefing."

"Lovely," Reynolds muttered. "I assume we have a mission?"

"Yes ma'am," Khaldi said. "We're going to hit Hydra."

Despite the fogginess of her recent sleep, Reynolds felt a spike of alertness flare up.

"The supply base?"

Khaldi nodded onscreen.

"Alright, I'll be up in a sec. I assume we're meeting in the conference room?"

"The meeting's scheduled to start in twenty," Khaldi said.

"Alright, see you in twenty."

It nearly turned into twenty-one thanks to the wait for the few showers onboard. Reynolds had ultimately been forced to pull rank and bump all of the other women behind to make it in time. Even so her hair was still wet when she entered the conference room. As she sat down a ration pack slid to a stop before her. Reynolds looked over, seeing Adams with a pile of the packs next to him.

"You're free to eat while we work Commander," McCallum said with a smile as he picked through his own pack. "We need to find time when we can for the essentials of life."

"Thank you sir," Reynolds said as she glanced over at the other officers present.

The conference room was completely packed with the other squadron leaders present. One new face sat at the table however and his insignia marked him as a fighter squadron commander.

"Some good news arrived while you were resting," McCallum said. "Allow me to introduce Lieutenant Matias Caster, commanding the 312th. Lieutenant Caster also brought along another flight of interceptors and with these reinforcements, your wing is almost back to full strength, lieutenant commander."

"That is good news sir," Reynolds said. "And it's a damn pleasure to see you here, lieutenant."

"Thank you ma'am," Caster said. "Hopefully my squadron will be of some help."

Tapping his console, McCallum brought up a plot showing a single star system.

"Now that we're here, let's get to business. Our next target is Hydra, a Cindy forward supply base. Or rather, the forward supply base for all Colonial forces in this region. Based on some number crunching by Control, the main Cindy fleet must have shot themselves dry to destroy the combined fleet at Sybille. That being the case, they'll need to be resupplied if they want to make the push to Earth."

Reynolds nodded in agreement with the logic as McCallum finished at the natural conclusion.

"On the other hand, taking out Hydra will leave the Cindies with nowhere close by to resupply. Hydra's supposed to have the biggest stockpile of munitions in the sector. Losing it should weaken the main fleet significantly, maybe even enough for us to take them."

"Just say the word sir," Reynolds said.

McCallum smiled grimly. "You might not be so enthusiastic after you hear what I have to say next. The commodore has declined to employ the taskforce's capital ships for this attack."

The room fell deathly silent for several seconds before the shock erupted from Reynolds.

"What!?"

"The commodore feels that the capital ships should be held in reserve instead of deployed against such a, in his words, 'secondary target' as Hydra. He still seems intent on forcing a confrontation with the Black Fleet."

Idiot.

No one but Reynolds and perhaps Control could have read Adams' sign but all likely inferred the meaning.

"While I disagree with the commodore's reasoning, I have not been able to convince him of the error in his judgment. Just getting him to authorize the strike at all took some doing. In addition to only being able to deploy your wing, the commodore has set a very strict timetable for carrying out the attack. Control, if you would."

The officers all shifted to face the main screen at the front of the room. The display split with a small box showing Control's face and the rest displaying tactical data.

"The Hydra outpost is composed of distinct districts," Control began. "Platforms are scattered throughout the system to allow for easy resupply, with the largest at Lagrange point 2. The main system control station is at Lagrange point 1 while a perimeter command station is located at point 3. Based on available resources, the attack will be limited to these three targets.

"The attack on the main command station will primarily be a diversion, though it is desirable that as much damage as possible be done to the supply platforms. One squadron of fighters should be sufficient to prevent the Colonials from responding coherently to the other attacks. Another squadron should also be sufficient for destroying the platforms at Lagrange 2. The Lagrange 3 platform will require a bomber force to threaten in a meaningful way. An interceptor escort will be necessary to help them penetrate the station's patrols."

Once Control finished laying out the basic plan, McCallum turned to the other officers.

"That's the gist of it. We can pull off the attack with your wing, commander, but we'll be stretched to the limit, not to mention that damn timeline."

Reynolds nodded. Control's distribution of forces made sense and Reynolds herself would have likely done much the same had she come up with the plan herself.

"At least with Arcadia staying back with the rest of the taskforce, we won't need to worry about covering her," Reynolds said.

"To be honest, I'd rather join in the attack," McCallum said. "Sending you out alone and without support doesn't exactly sit well with me."

Reynolds smiled. "The thought's appreciated sir, but we'll get the job done."

"Should we perhaps focus on fewer targets?" Khaldi suggested. "Lessen the risk of our forces becoming isolated and overwhelmed."

"For the primary objective to be achieved, the selected targets are the minimum," Control said.

"If we had more time, we could focus the wing into a single force and take the targets one by one," McCallum said. "Unfortunately, we don't, and not just because of Bowman's asinine timeline. Once we take out Hydra, we need to start heading back towards Earth and start consolidating our forces. Hopefully Caro'll have completed his mission by then. For now though, we'll need to assign the targets."

Before speaking, Reynolds glanced at the plot again. "Control, if I'm understanding the mission, our goal is to cripple the Cindy supply line."

"That is correct, lieutenant commander."

"Alright, in that case my squadron will take on the outer platform. Caster, your squadron will run interference at the command station."

McCallum's head tilted slightly. "Your reasoning, commander?"

"If our goal is to punch out the supplies as quickly as possible, then Adams' strike suit is the best choice for that. Cargo containers aren't exactly armored to take a beating, so one salvo from the suit should be enough to flatten everything on a platform. That way, we can be in and out before the Cindies even knew what hit them."

The captain nodded. "A valid point."

"Be advised that there will be additional platforms at the other two targets," Control said. "Those should also be destroyed if the opportunity presents itself if the goal is to maximize damage to the Colonial supply line."

"I'm sure it will," Reynolds said, "but priority one is getting home alive. We're not much good to Earth as plasma vapor after all."

"Agreed," McCallum said. "You've already pulled off two miracles commander, and I have no doubt you'll pull off a third. In fact, count that as an order."

End of Chapter 4

I'm slightly less busy these days, so I'll try to work out the backlog for both this and Victory, especially considering both are actually fully written. That should at least reassure those readers of mine who don't want me splitting my attention even further than it already is.