Edit (4/13/2023) Changed plot lines.
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Location: GRNS Venator
Admiral Carls Harlikan
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A portion of the Open Circle Fleet dropped out of hyperspace as 2 planetary bodies came into view: a moon and a planet.
Admiral Harlikan was not new to space combat, it was practically in his genes to be commanding a vessel, but that didn't hide the fact that he was a bit nervous about these so-called 'Terrans'. From his sources, he had heard they were a very quick society to develop which would most likely stunt their growth, which would normally calm him down until he saw their weapons.
He had been there above Ryloth when they first made contact with them. He had seen an entire Providence Class vaporized and violated by a vessel no longer than 2 Arquitens Class Light Cruisers as he remembered vividly a stream of blue light smashing through the massive CIS Carrier down the throat style. He later learned that the munitions used were solid projectiles, solid projectiles, which meant one thing, they used slugthrowers.
So here he sat looking out the window, his fleet subject to being a distraction. Or just be free kills to these Terrans. Then a bright flash happened outside the transparisteel windows, the glare coating minimizing the effects but it was still noticeable.
When he looked outside he physically felt his jaw drop and his stomach churn. The area in which the Venator Class Impenetrable was located was now filled with a blacked silhouette of what was once a powerful vessel reduced to a smoking blackened hull as an ominous orange bubble began to expand and dissipate over the fleet, its death-giving properties silenced by the vacuum of space, adding to the eerie effect.
"SIR WE LOST CONTACT WITH FLEET SECTOR A2!"
"We can't contact the Impenetrable!"
"Sensors are going haywire!"
"We have to warn the others!"
The Bridge was filled with chaos as people and personnel went scurrying about trying to find the source of the problem. Then another glare, and then another, soon 27 glares went off 32 ships went off the scanners as this added to the general chaos of the bridge.
"Radioactivity going off the charts sir!" yelled a pit officer as Harlikan felt numb and jelly like. Radioactivity, it can't be.
"Nukes," he sneered in a hush deaf tone. Nuclear weapons had not been used for millennia and now he was on the receiving end of the Weapon of Mass Destruction. Nukes used to be a common sight but were later phased out for more logistically component and arguably powerful Turbolaser emplacements, but it seemed the Terran's version took the nuke from the grave and made it a monster as what the Terrans did to all seemingly 'outdated' technology.
"Have the fleet bunch up and move forward, keep your scanners on, and be vigilant," he stated as the bridge returned to their normal duties but with a new haze of stress and cloudiness.
Another Venator combusted as another orange flame bubble came crashing down on the fleet.
As the fleet trudges on fewer explosions seemed to happen as the fleet seemed to finally make it out of the minefield.
Then all of a sudden blue streaks of light shot out and rocked the fleet of 737 vessels as numerous vessels fell out of formation as their shields stressed and cracked under the amount of raw kinetic energy being placed on them.
Then it stopped as Harlikan regained his footing.
"Where did that come from and what's the damage across the fleet?" asked Admiral Harlikan as he got up with a shaky breath. He looked out in semi-horror as he saw a Venator literally fall apart like Lego bricks as its spine collapsed, the superstructure folding in and breaking as a blue light shot out from its side and claimed another Artiquen Class Cruiser victim. Though space silenced any sound, Harlikan could swear he could hear the tweaking and groans, snapping of the durasteel plates and many composites that made the ship as if the Venator was screaming in pain and for mercy.
"We lost 63 vessels, sir! Many more are reporting massive damage to their superstructure as well! As for the origins of the attack, we have no clue sir!" said a pit officer, fear present in his voice as Harlikan turned around and nodded slightly, being snapped out of his trance.
"How long until we are within visual range of the planet?" asked Harlikan in a bit of a calmer manner, still shaken, however.
"Estimated time is 10 minutes, the other fleets are reporting 15 and 8 losses respectively to the minefields, they are following us and should be in visual range within 13 minutes," said a pit officer and Harlikan silently acknowledged the pit.
"Report losses to the other Admirals, keep moving forward, spread out and shunt the power to the forward shields and the engine blocks, launch fighter screens as well, and have bomber squadrons on standby," said Harlikan as the pit officers went to work carrying out his orders. Harlikan secretly wondered if he would be alive by then.
Another ship, an Acclamator Class vessel, became combusted as it was swallowed by Nuclear flame.
'May the force be with us' he thought to himself as he hardened himself for the future battle.
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Location: UTNS Black Eagle
Captain Makarov Dragovich
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Captain Makarov Dragovich stared out among the stars. He was one of the 25 picket frigates sent as a way to bleed the Republic dry of its ships, or at the very least make it easier for the more significant combined force of the Planetary Defense Fleet and Keyes Squadron to fight.
"How long till we are in range?" he asked in a deep, clear Russian accent as an avatar showcasing the old Russian Coat of Arms popped on the screen.
"Currently we are 5 minutes away from optimal MAEC range, CIWS are spun up and ready to hot as well as our Plasma Torpedo Bays, and Reach Defense Network is running smoothly," said the AI known as Two Heads in one of the most monotone voices Makrov had ever heard. Two Heads was one of the thousands of AI out of millions that chose an inanimate object instead of a biological organism, it had interested Makarov to an extent, whenever he asked why Two Heads would shy away from the topic and start talking about the Black Eagle.
It annoyed Makarov, every AI he had known he had made a connection with, which would improve the reliability of the crews and subtract any complications from rivalry or grudges. But Two Heads seemed to be different, always tactically aware and never really paying attention to anyone else. It seemed the AI had traded its humanity for significantly more processing power which would explain the lightspeed calculations the AI gave compared to others.
"What is the Republic's position," he asked in an authoritative voice as Two Heads began doing his calculations as lines of code turned red for a split second, he then turned to his original colors of the Coat of Arms.
"The Republic should be approximately 30 seconds away from the nuclear mines," said Two Heads as Makarov nodded his head. The Frigates were well outside the range of the Republic vessels who had just jumped into the system, now they waited for the Republic to spring the minefield.
Soon dull orange bubbles popped in the distance as the tactical map showcased these explosions with red dots. Makarov watched with a cold stare, 'poor bastards' he thought. He had seen the effects of nuclear mines, they were no joke.
He had seen an entire CAS Class Supercarrier wink out of existence from 2 of them when he was stationed near the Frontier System of Prairie to protect them from any rogue Covenant elements, it seemed to be no different for the Republic.
"What's the status of the Republic fleet and what do my weapons look like?" asked Makarov again he looked and saw Two Heads once again flash red, indicating him in the middle of calculating. More red dots on the tactical map indicated Republic casualties.
"The Republic fleet seems to be in disarray, we are 30 seconds till we are in optimal MAEC Range, guns are spun up, charged, and ready to fire, and firing solutions are provided to gunners," said Two Heads, his monotone voice having a rare cheery undertone echoing in the bridge. 30 Seconds of anxiety washed over Makarov as all of a sudden a frigate fired its cannons blue streaking out. This was the signal for the frigate groups to fire.
"FIRE!" yelled Makarov as the operator of the MAEC guns sent the order to the targeting computers of the 2 Series 21 Light MAEC Cannons as they sent a burst of fully charged 3 rounds each of 300-ton Ferro-Tungsten slugs smothered in plasmic material silently screaming towards the Republic Fleet at 10% to 15% the speed of light, blue entrails mimicking comets as they smashed into the Republic ships, cracking shields and durasteel as some passed through and caused collateral damages.
However some would miss, being so far away they were practically near the limit of the ranges of the Series 21 MAEC cannon used by most of the frigates in the battlegroup as they screamed past the Republic fleet, the Republic spared from silent death.
"Targets have been hit! Confirmed casualties! Estimated 70 plus! Charging and reloading frontal cannons!" yelled the operator as Makarov nodded silently. He liked his crew, they were tight and always in order and fast to talk about order.
"Regroup at staging ground Beta! Get ready for slipspace jump! Have those missiles and rail cannons loaded and charged when we exit!" yelled Makarov as the Black Eagle and its frigate brothers began to move away and regroup following a similar stream of orders. Soon the place of the Terran frigates was replaced with thousands of Terran fighters, itching to get their licks in, this would be only the beginning.
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Location: Z-95 Fighter Cockpit
CT-2933-2247 Bantha 'Scrapper 4'
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The Hangars of the Open Circle Fleet began to go into overdrive as final checks began to go around on the multiple fighters of the Republic. From the beefy and heavily armed ARC-170s and Y-Wings to the nimble stick figures like Z-95 Headhunters and V-Wing Interceptors engines roared as mechanics went to and fro, trying not to trip on the Gonk Droids and Astromechs.
A Clone fighter pilot with Bantha Horns painted on the helmet ran over to his Z-95 as he climbed in and was checked by a mechanic as he gave him the thumbs up sign. His name was Bantha and he was ready to shoot up some Terrans.
"Scrapper Squad this is Scrapper leader, comm check," said a voice as Bantha checked his comms.
"Scrapper 4 here," he said in a deaf tone as he readied his fighter for space flight. He looked out into space as the Z-95 rose into the sky. He had been chosen to be in Scrapper Squadron, a unique group of 12 fighter pilots chosen in the Kamino Training grounds to be the elite of the elite.
"Scrapper squad we have detected a small number of fighters headed our way, snuff them out," said a radio operator on a Venator as Bantha obeyed the command, he was itching for a fight ever since the Sullust Campaigns, Scrapper Squadron had not earned this name out of luck, they were one of the most successful squadrons of this war, something that Bantha carried with pride.
"Ready to blast some di'kuts to pieces?" he asked as many of the other Scrapper Squadrons pilots laughed and chuckled.
"Sure Scrapper 4, whoever gets the least has to buy drinks," said Scrapper Leader, also known as 'Racker' in a bit of a dismissive tone, Bantha had always had a negative view on Racker, being so tied to the regulations and rules that it restricted Bantha's flying freedom. But it had allowed Scrapper Squadron to survive for the most part.
"Remember stay tight and stay within groups of 3, intel suggests that the opposing fighters can eat your fighters like nobody's business so stay aloof," said Racker as Bantha rolled his eyes and scoffed while his comms were off. He formed up with his wingmen, Scrapper 5 and 6, 'Gazer' and 'Yeller' respectively.
Then all of a sudden a missile warning began to squawk on Bantha's display as he was about to ask if this was only him or everybody, missiles slammed into the fighter screens as hundreds if not thousands of fighters winked off the HUD.
"Firefek! Scatter! Scatter! Scatter!" Yelled Racker as the fighters of the Republic began to do wild turns, most in vain though some got lucky.
Bantha was one of those lucky few as he took his fighter in a deep roll as he dodged a Terran missile by mere inches as his wingmen followed his moves.
"Inbound! Scrapper 4 above you!" Yelled Gazer as Bantha turned to see a Terran fighter on his ass, it was pretty big and beefy but looked like it would be nimble enough to outperform his interceptor.
'Firefek' he thought as he took his fighter in a series of tight twists and turns as he put the maximum amount of stress and G-Forces on his fighter as humanly possible trying to outrun the Terran.
He was saved by Yeller who managed to put enough bolts into the Terran for them to break off as the Terran fighter lifted its nose and fell back into the darkness of space.
"Thanks for the save, Scrapper 6," said Bantha as Yeller put his fighter wing to wing with Bantha's. "No problem brother, let's see what these Terrans are made of," he said as both Scrapper 4, 5, and 6's Z-95s dived down on a lone Terran fighter craft. The Terran put their craft in numerous twists and turns that had Bantha's head spinning, this craft was about as big as an LAAT and yet it was doing dazzling maneuvers.
Yeller managed to herd the Terran into Bantha's sight, firing lasers at the beefy Kestrel and lowering its shields bit by bit. "He's right here to pick Bantha!" yelled Yeller as Bantha laid down a stream of suppressive fire. Instead of blowing up the Terran fighter lost course as its wings sheared off as it veered off into the darkness of space.
"Scrapper squadron be advised, scanners are picking up a squadron that has killed multiple Republic pilots, be on the lookout for a spacecraft with 3 strikes," said a comms operator from one of the carriers, Bantha promptly ignored their message and savored their victory for a bit.
"Ya know, these Terrans are kinda slippery, not like them flying clanke…" Yeller was saying until a stream of yellow burst out of nowhere and sliced into Yellers fighter as a red mist was quick to disappear as the Z-95 combusted and spread its insides out.
"YELLER!" yelled Bantha as a Kestrel zipped past him, shrapnel hitting his fighter. He felt a wave of emotions and haze, Yeller like his Scrapper brothers was close to him, losing one of them was like losing family, he was snapped out of his daze by a blaring alarm indicating his fighter was hit. Then a Terran missile detonated in the proximity of Gazer.
Over the comms, Bantha could tell Gazer was struggling with his fighter
"KRIFF! Why don't they put some damned astromechs in these things?" Gazer yelled into his comms.
"Gazer EJECT!" yelled Bantha as distressed grunts came from Gazer's comm.
"I'm all right I'm taking this wounded bird ho…" but it was too late as Bantha heard a massive explosion as he saw Gazer's cockpit explode as the fighter spun out of control and slammed into a nearby Artiquens that was providing AA support, whatever good that would do as the Artiquens exploded from multiple missiles fired at it from the swarming Kestrels.
Bantha then heard multiple screams into his comms as he looked to see multiple Scrapper Squadron members wink off the HUD as their vitals went flat. He was losing his brothers as he got even angrier as the fighter zipped past as he tried to chase the Terran fighter that was ripping into a group of Y-WIngs with relative ease, making quick work of the bombers. The Terran saw the danger and did a cobra on Bantha the Terran got away and outran Bantha, as Bantha caught a glimpse of the tail of the craft.
'Three strikes' he thought as the craft disappeared into space as his anger began to rise.
Terran fighters were starting to flood the Republic screening detachment as the battle was slowly turning towards the Terrans.
"Small number of fighters? Are the vac head sensors working? They're flooding us!" Yelled Scrapper 9 into his helmet piece as static followed, indicating his death.
"This is Scrapper Leader! Command has advised us to pull back! We are taking heavy casualties, Scrappers 10, 8, 7, 3, 6, 5, and 9 are down! We lost at least 53% of our fighters! We'll lead them to the fleet and AA will take care of the rest!" yelled Racker into his comm as Bantha just shook his head.
"Scrapper 4 get back here!" yelled Racker as Bantha peeled off his fighter and charged toward the Terrans. He was too angry to listen to Racker. Racker to him and the rest of his squadron was an outsider, why listen to him?
"Respectfully sir, no! I am not following orders! These people killed my brothers and I won't stand it and I also have some business to settle with these 3 strikes kriffer!" he said as a tear streamed down his face though he refused to take off his helmet to wipe it.
"Bantha, THAT IS AN ORDER!" yelled Racker as Bantha just turned off his comms and sped towards the Terran swarms, his determination swelling in his chest.
"Sorry sir, no can do," he said as he chased a Terran fighter that seemed to be lagging behind, he put a whole slew of blaster bolts inside the Terran fighter it belched smoke and flame as it fell out and started to drift in space.
He turned his attention to another one that seemed to be wounded, it had an interesting paint job, having what seemed to be 3 claw marks on its wings as he fired on it, a golden bluish glow emanating from the fighter as it began to do wild turns, alerted to Bantha's presence.
He chased the fighter all around the battlefield, not letting it go and harassing it, not realizing where it was leading him to. The Terran fighter started to approach a nearby Artiquens that was part of the screening force. The Kestrel vectored its ion thrusts as it did a cobra and instantly shot up and out of the way of the bridge area of the Artiquens, dodging AA fire all the while.
Bantha looked in shock and horror as he narrowly dodged the bridge but he clipped it as it sheared off a wing his fighter went out of control as he tried to gain control of the failing fighter craft. The Console began to spark as Bantha began to panic then out of the corner of his eye he saw the fighter with three strikes he was chasing scream back towards him. He closed his eyes as a burst of 50mm cannon fire slammed into the cockpit.
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Location: SF-115 Fighter Cockpit, UTNS Spirit of the Pacific
Captain Hudson 'Three Strikes' Cadanski
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"All Fighters begin launching sequences! Repeat, begin launching sequences!" said an intercom announcer as the hangars of the Orca Class Light Carrier, Spirit of the Pacific became lively as aircraft taxied here and there from storage, getting fitted out with weapons, or preparing to launch as they streamed out of the shielded hangar bays, their ion thrusters accelerating them towards the Republic fleet.
One man rushed to his fighter, his helmet decorated with 3 scratch marks, as he walked to his SF-115 Kestrel, his name was Hudson. He entered the craft and got a quick aircraft checkup on his HUDs and systems as he was given the ok sign by the Aircraft director as he shuttled his craft to the area to lift off. The powerful Milky Way Defense Systems MWDE-F286 MK.27 Ion Thrusters powered up as it glowed a faint blue color as a soft electrical whirr began to rise.
"Copy this is Three Strikes, Nebula Leader to the watchtower, ready to launch," he said as he checked the pressure of the cockpit as he was sealed in what was essentially a titanium-nano carbide tub. He looked out the reinforced transparent titanium as his HUD lit up with a mission objective, a Wild Weasel mission.
"Copy Nebula leader, you are clear for takeoff, happy hunting," said the control tower operator as Three Strikes led his fighter out of the hangars and into space. As he looked around his fighter began to disappear as the augmented reality began to kick in he looked down to see his feet seemingly hanging out of the chair and dangling in space. It was a surreal experience for the first few flights but at this point, Hudson was used to it.
Soon thousands of fighters of various designs ranging from the light, nimble, and heavily armed SF-115 to the heavy, lumbering, and surprising flexibility of the F-42EX Super Broadsword covered the skies as they rocketed towards the Republic fleet.
"Comm check Nebulas!" he yelled somewhat into the comms as he switched from the standardized channels to the private ones with his mind. The Kestrel allowed the pilot inside to connect with neural interfaces, meaning that the pilot could mentally multitask while flying the fighter, such as switching comms.
"Nebula 2 here," asked Lieutenant Kelly 'Comet' Andersson as her Kestrel synced with Hudson's as they flew, wingtip to wingtip. Andersson was one of the more experienced pilots around, someone Hudson could rely on.
"Nebula 3 calling in, whoever has the least amount of kills has to buy drinks!" yelled a somewhat enthusiastic voice from Flight Lieutenant Forrest 'Jupiter' Hallah. Forrest was more the nationalistic pilot, being young and nationalized by the USTG, gave Hudson worries but he would handle it.
"Your buying drinks then I take it?" Said a voice from the intercom as a Kestrel came up and around and flew above them as it gradually lowered itself to the level of the other 3 fighters. The voice belonged to Lieutenant Rosseta 'Starstruck' Fords, an ace with way too many penalties to count that if counted would have landed her a dishonorable discharge and most likely 2 years in prison for the amount of buzzing flybys she had done over the years, but her flying skills saved her for the most part.
He was most of the same, it was the reason he wore the three strikes with pride after he was wrongly accused of killing a Terran Senator, it was later found it was an imposter part of a larger conspiracy from the Senator's homeworld and Hudson was allowed to go free, he was a troublemaker for the most part but he was able to keep himself together.
"Hey! It ain't gonna be like last time alright?" said Jupiter as Starstruck just chuckled a bit. Last time Jupiter had been swamped by them, the Rouge Covenant, no matter how inexperienced they were, didn't save his horrendous killcount.
"Better have your wallet ready," she said as Jupiter rolled his eyes as Hudson intervened, "Alright Nebulas huddle down and get ready for slipspace jumps to Point Alpha!" as he was returned with a bunch of "Yes Sirs".
Hudson engaged his neural link as the AI in the Kestrel quickly and efficiently mapped out coordinates for the Kestrel Slipspace Drives thousands of portals opened up as Kestrels and Broadswords rocketed towards them as they entered the mesmerizing tunnels of Slipspace.
The dark colors had a soothing effect on Hudson, being a veteran fighter pilot with over 15 years of experience, it was nice to let go of the controls for a little bit and look out into the interdimensional rifts of Slipspace. So he sat for 3 minutes as he closed his eyes and meditated for a bit, he had been briefed on the plan for the fighter pilots, their mission, cause as much chaos as possible and leave.
Soon the tunnel began to lighten, indicating that the trip was nearly over. Then Hudson took back the controls as the Kestrel zipped out of the tunnel as entered the fray of the Republic screening detachments.
"Copy Nebula Squadron! Form up on me and enter wingman formation!" yelled Hudson as he moved into a wingman formation with Jupiter.
"Get ready to fire Zero Missiles on the mark! Prioritize those chunkier ARCs!" said a voice over the intercom that was identified as the flight leader for all Squadrons stationed on the Spirit of the Pacific. Three Strikes hovered his fingers over the release switch for the Zero missiles equipped on the extensive hardpoint network of the SF-115.
"Clear copy!" said Hudson as well as the other assortment of Squadron Leaders in the formations of the Terran swarm of fighter craft.
"LET LOOSE!" yelled the flight commander as Hudson let fly 2 of his 8 Zero Missiles, as they zipped through the vacuum of space and impacted the Republic fighter screens. The clone pilots had no chance, the Zero missiles accelerated at vast speeds only rivaled by that of their fighter itself as multiple slammed into the clueless and confused clone pilots like a stick being plowed into an ant nest.
"Confirmed Kills! Let loose another round on mark then reassemble into adaptive formations!" said the flight leader as Hudson readied his fighter for another round.
"WEAPONS FREE!"
Again a similar scene played out as missiles slammed into the Republic fighters, though this time they were a little more prepared as they began launching their limited countermeasures and began to turn and twist and wild patterns only rivaled by the missiles following them.
Hudson switched his comms to Adaptive Combat Mode (ACM) as he looked over at Jupiter.
"Ready kid?" he asked with a dad-like voice.
"YES SIR!" said Hallah with a very enthusiastic voice eager to learn.
"Let's boogie then, weapons free!"
Hudson took his fighter in a complicated series of twists and turns as the Terran swarm of fighters mixed with the Republic screens as any order of formations quickly dissolved as a frenzy began.
"Jupiter! I want you to get on that group of tango's ass' right over there! Herd them to me and we'll split the prizes," he said as Jupiter led his fighter to herd over what the BattleNet tagged as V-WIng Fighters. Hudson had a small slight smile as he put multiple V-Wings into his sights which were herded by harassing strikes by Jupiter. He pressed down the triggers for both his guns and his missiles as both Zero and 50mm Cannon fire slammed into fragile V-Wings he was tagged with 4 kills as Jupiter joined late and gained 2, both from cannon fire.
"Good job kid! I got another squadron of ARCs above, you're going to do the same thing as last time, split'em up and we'll split, weapons free!" said Hudson as Jupiter responded enthusiastically.
Jupiter put his fighter once again up in the 'air' as he split the group of 6 ARCs in 2 as 3 veered to the left and 3 down to the right. Hudson took the opportunity on the ones that did a frantic turn-up to the left as he fired 2 AIM-189 Missiles and a whole slew of 50mm Cannon Fire as he shredded whatever shielding the ARCs had with pure brute force as he was tagged with 3 more kills, Jupiter was much of the same thing as he dived down on the remaining ARCs that went down and to the right as he fired an AIM-189, 50mm Cannons and 2 of his wing-mounted energy projectors as they sliced and diced into the beefy fighters as all that was left were mere metal carcasses.
Hudson dove to the left and dived down with Jupiter following suit as they shredded into multiple Y-Wing Groups, the bombers were no match for the Kestrels as their turret gunners fired multiple rounds and slammed into Jupiter's fighter as it glowed a bright gold but it wasn't enough to save them as they were quickly eliminated.
"You good kid?" asked Hudson in a worried voice, concerned about his wingman. Jupiter was more of a son to him ever since he started flying with Nebula squadron 5 years ago straight out of flight school, he was like a pupil to Hudson, always willing to learn what he had offered.
"Yeah, I'm good, just a bit bruised, I'll make it," said Jupiter as Hudson felt reassured by his calm attitude.
He then saw a trio of Z-95s herd a lone Terran Fighter and blast it to pieces as he got an idea.
"Jupiter, on my lead, turn to the left and up and commit a scissor maneuver on the lateral X-axis!" said Hudson as they both lined up their shots. Both fighters shot left and right as they corralled the clueless Z-95s. Hudson pressed the trigger of the 50 mm cannons as he sent a short but accurate burst of 50 mike mike into a Z-95s cockpit with Jupiter launching a missile that exploded nearby seconds later.
Near them Comet and Starstruck were also busy at work, eliminating a whole slew of Republic fighters as they zipped past Hudson and Jupiter, missiles and cannons blazing away.
"I don't think you wanna be spending your paycheck on drinks, let's get back to work!" yelled Hudson as Jupiter nodded as he followed Hudson through the fray of chaos. Then another group of Y-Wings popped on his HUD as he vectored towards them as Jupiter followed.
"Spread em out and take em out!" said Hudson as Jupiter moved up and to the left as he dived on the Y-Wings, SPlitting them and spreading them, making them juicy targets for Hudson's remaining 4 Zero missiles as they left their hardpoints and activated their Ion thrusts as they slammed into the group of 12 Y-Wings as Hudson's HUD marked him for 5 kills as Jupiter gained 3 as the 4 other Y-Wings began to peel off and make wild turns as their tail gunners fired frantically trying to hit the Terrans attacking them.
"Three Strikes! Up above 4:00 high!" said Jupiter as Hudson turned to see a Z-95 up high that seemed to be filled with revenge and anger it fired its laser cannons on Hudsons Kestrel as he pulled up and away as he put his fighter in a cobra position as he rocketed back and past the Z-95 as he pulled up and away from the fighter.
He then saw another Z-95 that was streaking across his view as he pressed his triggers for his cannons the Z-95 quite literally ran into his stream of fire as he fired another AIM-189 at another bystanding Z-95.
"You good captain?" asked Jupiter as he went wingtip and wingtip with Hudson.
"Yeah, look out for yourself though kid, we got 5 minutes till command wants us to pull out," he said as Jupiter nodded but this was interrupted by a slew of more blaster bolts as they slammed into the weakened shields of Jupiter's fighter as the fighter began to careen into space.
"SHIT JUPITER!" yelled Hudson as he lost contact with his wingman, he was sure he was still alive since the fighter didn't explode but he wasn't certain. He looked to see a fighter scream past, it was the same fighter he was being chased by earlier as it looped around and began to fire on him. He hit the throttle and pushed the Kestrel to the max thrust it could do as he pulled at least 30 G's in flight as most of it was dampened to the point he would only feel 2 G's. He did dazzling twists up and down he went as he was relentlessly chased by this mystery fighter.
'Let's see how you like Anti Aircraft motherfucker' he thought as he accelerated his Kestrel to the max and made an attack run on what the BattleNet tagged as an Artiquens Class Cruiser. Once near the bridge, he pulled up with all his might as he cleared the bridge, in the princess pulled almost 40 G's as he felt light-headed and numb as put his fighter in a spiraling turn as he saw the Z-95 wasn't so lucky and had its wing sheared off.
He fired a burst of 50mm Cannon fire that slammed into the cockpit and exploded as he saw the Aritquens next to him combust from the number of cluster munitions it received.
"This is Flight Leader for any surviving Spirit of Pacific Squadrons, commit slipspace jump to Point Beta!" said a voice over the comms as Hudson put his fighter on a trajectory to Slipspace.
"Shit," he said as he passed by Jupiters fighter, trying to regain contact with him however failing to do so as
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Location: UTNS Calypso
Admiral Donathin Keyes
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"Sir frigate picket groups and fighters are returning, we seem to have dealt a lot of damage to their main fleet, however, it seems they have 2 more in reserve," said Henry as his avatar returned to its normal silverish color of his armor.
"Good," said Keyes. His voice was a bit monotone as he read the casualties report. He had lost at most 20% of his fighters that were assigned to the 8 Orca Class Light Carriers of both the UTPDF and UTSC in exchange for a significant portion of the Republic fighter screen. But he still had other matters to take care of.
"Tell the Sangheili vessels to spread out and assist sectors Alpha and Beta," said Keyes. His opinion on the Sangheili had soured over the past 3 years or so, but he knew that he wouldn't judge a book by its cover, maybe he would be saved by the species that had once made it their life mission to eradicate his.
His visit to the commander of the Sangheili naval forces was one of surprise, one Fleetmaster R'tas Vadamee. He had known him to be one of the more daring and successful commanders on the Covenant during the First-Contact War, he was comparable to Admiral Preston J. Cole and was one of the key founding members of the new government of Sanghelios.
He had wondered what a person with such honor and skill was doing out here, in Andromeda. He had heard rumors of R'tas butting heads with the Sovereignty of Sanghelios multiple times, each being more punishing for the former.
But that was not his concern right now, his concern was the defense of Strangreal, a world that rightfully belonged to the USTG.
"Sir, the Republic fleet seems to be bunching up and consolidating their forces, they are closing in and will be in firing range within 8 minutes," said Captain Juste Bourreau, his voice reflecting his French accent as he passed information gained from the sensors.
"Alright, try to find the lead ship and contact them, let's see what they have to say, get MAEC capacitors and chargers online and tell the Sangheili to fire up their plasma lines as well as to fire on my mark," said Keyes. Henry nodded and turned red for a bit until finally, he located the enemy flagship as a ship on the tactical holo map turned red, highlighting its use as the flagship, as well as the MAEC Guns operators working overtime to get a firing solution as well as coordinate the firing with the rest of the task force.
Soon a man with a grayish but still orderly Republic Admiral uniform popped on the screen as Keyes composed himself for whatever bullshit would spew out of this man's mouth.
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Location: GRNS Resolute II
Admiral Wulif Yularen
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"Sir distraction fleet is reporting most of its fighter screen is gone as well as heavy ship casualties from an unknown assailant as well as a massive fighter attack, they are pulling back and joining our fleet," said a pit officer as Yularen sighed. In all of his years of space combat, he had never heard of vessels scoring kills from tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of miles away from their targets.
"Very well then, tell them to integrate into our formation and continue further," he said as the pit officer nodded. Yularen was a bit shaken when he saw ships that were considered the prime of the Republic burst into flames from nuclear fire, he had seen General Skywalker's reaction and it wasn't pretty. But now General Skywalker was readying his troops to hit the ground and wasn't on the bridge to say curses to the opposing admiral, something Yularen secretly found relief from. Though Anakin was a friend, his headstrong attitude was a little tiring at times.
Who would have thought nukes to be this effective in this day and age? Truly primitive weaponry at its best. But how would you consider this civilization primitive? Cause they were younger? If anything this civilization was probably near if not older than the entirety of the galaxy itself and was most likely more productive than what the Terrans called, Andromedans.
Yularen wasn't a history fanatic like many officers in the Republic but he knew that most of the technology used by the Republic and most of the galaxy came from an entity called the Rakatan Infinite Empire which was essentially a cheat code for the Republic. But the Terrans had no such access, instead using their extensive knowledge to make their own technology and improve old designs with their own unique flare, to Yularen it was honestly inspiring.
"Sir we are in visual range of the Terran Fleet, we will be in weapons range within 9 minutes" said a pit officer as Yularen nodded as he looked out to see blocky silhouettes dotting the space outside.
"Quite blocky aren't they Admiral? Wonder what's powering them," asked Jirax Sidal, pointing out the rather ugly beauty of UTSC vessels. Yularen could agree they were quite blocky, but it seems they were built that way, they were supposed to be built that way, they were meant for war, not a fashion show.
Yularen was usually a sticker to the classifications of the Anaxes War College. But if he were to stick to those classifications then the Terrans seemed to have multiple Star Dreadnoughts on their hands, not 'Star Destroyers'. Massive vessels seemed to gleam in the Strangreal sun, their paint reflecting its grayish-blue hues and standing out from the blue-green marble of the USTG world as he saw what seemed to be swarms of smaller vessels and space fighters whose black silhouettes dotted the Terran task group.
What Yularen noticed that the others didn't were 3 purple vessels, 2 looking to be the same in design and the other being significantly larger than the other 2, all having a quirky design trait of being beautiful with the natural curves, the star-making them all look like 3 scattered gems in a rock face.
"Yes but I wouldn't say that would make them any less powerful than they are," he said, trying to highlight the dangers of the vessels in front of them as Jirax just rolled his eyes. Yularen had the same questions as Jirax, what was powering these vessels? Because the energy reading was as low as the Republic's economy right now, so what would propel these gargantuan vessels?
"Whatever you say, admiral," said Jirax as he snorted and flipped back his hair. Now Yularen wished Anakin was still on the bridge.
"Sir contact requested from what seems to be the flagship," said a pit officer as Yularen nodded.
"Put them on the holo table we'll see what they have to say," said Yularen as he moved to the near back of the bridge of the Venator. He was joined by Jirax and multiple other officers, mostly captains and lieutenants.
Soon an image of a man with a stocky but still tall structure popped on the screen, his uniform showing off its streamlined white, black, and golden encrusting as the man wore few decorations and was capped in a hat that had an emblem of Terra being clutched in the claws of a large avian creature known as the Terran Eagle if Yularen could recall from his meeting with some officers of the UTSC when they first met on Coruscant.
His eyes blazed a light blue as he was flanked by another officer that looked to be of lower ranking as evidenced by the lack of medals and awards but who looked to be as determined to kick the Republic out of the system as the Admiral.
Then there was a whole slew of figures in the background, all seemed to be bridge personnel as he saw what looked to be a person in a bizarre outfit, they were on the table though quickly flickered out of existence as Yularen snapped out of it, he had heard the Terrans used AI's, maybe that was one of them? But that wasn't on his to-do list right at this second, his to-do list was to announce the intentions of the Republic first and foremost.
"This is the Grand Navy of the Republic Ship Resolute II, I am Admiral Wulif Yularen, I bring this message to you and the USTG from the Republic, under orders of the Galactic Senate I ask you to stand down and surrender your vessels as well as your world to Republic military and judicial authority, the Republic has decided that you have been nothing but trouble and have decided that…"
"No"
Yularen was a bit taken aback, the Terran Admiral in front of him literally replied with one of the most simply formed answers, 'No'. His eyes were authoritative when he said that, it was as if Yularen couldn't respond.
"Excuse me?" asked Yularen, dumbfounded.
"You heard me, pal, No, as a member of the UTSC it is my job to protect any civilian in Terran space and my job will not be compromised by a bunch of idiots on a high horse, I also won't allow you to rampage around and suck planets into your little war effort against what is essentially an insurrection," said the Terran Admiral, whose voice was as flat as a desert plain of Tatooine, devoid of any emotion or inflection.
"I regret to inform you that your forces are outnumbered 18:1 if anything you will lose," said Yularen hoping the Terran would see through to it.
"Numbers don't matter on a battlefield, it's how you use those numbers, as far as I'm concerned your fleet is nothing but made entirely of newer vessels with even newer sailors with no experience whatsoever going up against seasoned veterans, so I'll give you the chance to leave this system with your pride intact," replied the opposing admiral his voice still authoritative as his stare sent chills down the necks of others.
"So you and your overestimated fleet chose war then?" piped up Jirax, his smirk making Yularen want to slam his head into the console and knock the arrogance out of the Jedi.
"Let's see what you got," said the Terran Admiral, smiling a small but still cold smile that dripped with malice as Yularen could physically feel his spine shaking in his body. The feed cut as Yularen just sighed.
"Make way for the planet and tell General Skywalker to prepare for the inva…"
"ENERGY SPIKES DETECTED! ENEMY FLEET FIRING!" yelled a pit officer as Yularen looked out the durasteel windows with dread. He saw multiple Bluish dots lined up and ready to rain hell on the Republic fleet.