1220 Arcturus Time

HS INSCRUTABLE

Ophellus (Lovell) System

Despite his early excitement at the prospect of some long overdue action, Taetus couldn't help but feel that something wasn't quite right. First, these three unidentified ships, were just that: completely and utterly unidentified. From the drive signatures, to their general silhouette, they didn't come close to conforming with the ships of any of the Council races, or even any of the lesser Citadel species. Some clandestine operation by a Terminus power maybe? Perhaps on behalf of a Krogan clan as he'd reasoned earlier. But as strange as the ships themselves were, it was what they were doing that confused him and his bridge crew the most. Upon detecting them, they'd painted his ships with detailed lidar pings but didn't try to run or hide. They just formed up around the largest of the three ships, moved away from the still-activating relay and turned to face his fast-approaching fleet. He couldn't understand it. Two frigates and a ship that barely classified as a cruiser? How could they possibly stand and fight against a whole Turian patrol fleet? Maybe they were attempting to surrender? But if that was the case, surely they'd power down and hail them, right? Or they'd at least respond to Taetus' hails, which they had not. He'd even made multiple more attempts than he'd wanted, a result of Nextra's nagging. But no, clearly they had no intention of co-operating.

"Range to targets?" Taetus asked from his command podium.

"Point 1 AU Sir!" Replied a young female sensors operator, whose name he'd never learnt. Not that he ever really bothered to learn names unless they were those of his more senior officers and command staff.

"Estimated time to optimum firing range?" He was annoyed that the operator hadn't pre-empted that obviously important information. Her predecessor was always good at doing that. Shame he left to join some merc outfit. Regardless, Taetus was an admiral dammit, not a mathematician and he would be damned if was going to make those calculations in his head.

"10 minutes Sir."

That's if they do indeed stand and fight of course. He didn't know the capabilities of the three mystery ships, but given their size, they could likely out-run all but his frigate squadrons. Spirits, he really hoped they didn't run. A chance to let the Inscrutable sink her talons into something? He hated the idea of squandering such an opportunity.

"Admiral! Powerful emissions being directed at the fleet on various frequencies." Came the urgent voice of his comms officer. "They must be trying to jam us."

"Switch all comms to tight-beam and get the VI to analyse the signal."

"Yes Sir!"

Taetus' confusion only continued to grow. You can't jam close-range tightbeam comms. Surely, they'd know we'd switch immediately? Before, he'd thought that there was some mysterious reasoning behind their strange actions, but maybe, just maybe, their commander was just plain stupid.

About five minutes later a shrill siren interrupted his musings, followed by red flashing warning on his holotank.

"TORPEDO LAUNCH DETECTED! TORPEDO LAUNCH DETECTED!" came the shout from the tactical pit.

If none of the previous actions had told him they were hostile, this confirmed it. So, they have chosen death?

"Tactical, order Frigate Squadron Praetor into intercept formation. I don't want any of their torpedoes reaching the main battle line."

"It's…it's only a single torpedo Admiral. And…it's slow. Far too slow. Wait! It's begun transmitting the same emissions as the ships did." Tactical replied. Why would the idiots launch just a single torpedo? More electronic warfare? Some bizarre new kind of WMD? Nuclear perhaps? The Admiral dismissed his theories as there was no way in hell, he was letting whatever it was anywhere near his fleet!

It was then that Nextra piped up again, "Sir, one torpedo could never be a threat. Shouldn't we consider that there is something else to this. Maybe their communications are broken and they're trying some jury-rigged method to talk to us. Maybe it's some kind of scientific experiment. Or maybe…" Her voice dropped nearly to a whisper, her subharmonics sounding almost panicked, "maybe they don't know any better. It could be the only way they know how to communicate? This could be a first co…"

"ENOUGH!" Taetus had finally had it with her. She'd been undermining his authority ever since this incident started and his patience was expended. "A good Turian follows orders CAPTAIN! Maybe you should go transfer to the Salarian Navy if you're so averse to my chain of command. I will have no more of your 'theories' or your wanton cowardice. Either do your fucking job or get off my Bridge." Nextra froze stock still in shock. She surely didn't expect such an angry and direct admonishment from her superior officer. Her green eyes swept the bridge looking for anyone that might share her concerns. Finding nothing but cold and disgusted stares, she turned back to Taetus and narrowed her eyes, her fringe creasing in impotent anger.

"I may be a bad Turian, Admiral, but at least I'm not a blind and arrogant fool who may be about to attack a potentially new spe…"

"I SAID ENOUGH!" Taetus was beyond furious now. He turned to the entrance of the Bridge and made eye contact with the marine guarding the hatch. "Sergeant! Detain Captain Lorakian and confine her to quarters. She doesn't leave or communicate with anyone without my say-so. Understood?"

The marine sergeant snaped to attention and then advanced on Nextra, unfolding his Phaeston assault rifle as he went. She took one last furious look at the Admiral before being driven off the Bridge at gunpoint. But she didn't cower. She marched out with her head held high. At least that, Taetus could respect.

With the mutiny well and thoroughly squashed, Taetus stood tall on his Command Podium and loudly proclaimed, "I will not have disobedience or disloyalty on my ship. We are Turian! The Meritocracy and the chain of command are absolute!" He paused for a few seconds before continuing "I don't care who these ships are or why they're doing what they're doing. What matters is WHAT they are doing: activating a dormant relay. A moronic action expressly forbidden by the Council. An action that has the possibility to doom us and all of civilisation to this millennium's version of the Rachni Wars! Well, not on my watch! I want full Battle Stations across the fleet. Condition Red." His speech completed, Taetus spoke to Tactical without his eyes ever straying from the holotank in front of him, "Hectus, order Squadron Praetor to destroy that torpedo or whatever it is and then have the fleet assume Attack Formation Sectra."

Now this is where the fun begins.

1225 Arcturus Time

SSV BRISTOL

Near Lovell-Beta Relay, Lovell System

It had been more than five minutes since they launched their First Contact probe and Beth was starting to get worried. The approaching ships had not slowed down. In fact, they'd sped up immensely, almost like they were accelerating to attack velocities. The probe had covered about three quarters of the rapidly closing distance between the two groups of ship. She was hoping with everything she had, that the six frigate-sized ships that had moved ahead of the main body, were going to take the now stationary probe onboard and ascertain who they were. The signals package hadn't seemed to invite any response as of yet and her optimism was starting to wane.

Maybe we should have just legged immediately? FLEETCOM could have then sent a proper response. One better equipped to potentially deal with…that. She thought, mind on the immense alien dreadnaught.

Unfortunately, it would be her worst fears that would end up being realised. Beth and the rest of her CIC could only look on in horror as the holographic representation of the frigates fired on the probe and completely destroyed it. Not a moment later, the sharp alert whistle sounded again followed by Deng saying, "Conn, Sensors, massive heat blooms along the spinal axis of Sierra-9 through 21. Dozens of additional small contacts emerging from the cruisers." He had barely finished his report before Tactical chimed in with his analysis, "Captain! They're spinning up their main batteries and preparing to fire. Multiple squadrons of fighter craft launching and forming up. We need to bug out now!"

Her worst nightmare now realised; Beth didn't miss a beat. If she did, then she'd in all likelihood get every crewmember of her three ships killed. "Officer of the Watch! Heave to and burn All Ahead Flank back to the Alpha relay!" Without even waiting for Ouellet's acknowledgement, she started firing off orders to other people in the CIC. "Yeoman, make to Taskgroup: Retreat to Shanxi at flank speed. Do NOT turn to engage. Defensive action authorised as necessary." She paused less than a second to catch her breath before turning to her Weapons Team, "Guns! Spin up the main battery. Set GARDIAN systems to automatic and start feeding firing solutions to our defensive missiles. Engage and destroy any incoming threats to the taskgroup. Defensive action only. Do not launch any torpedoes without my approval." Finally, she turned to the young Fighter Controller, "Flight, secure Daggers 1-4 for fast transit but keep them fuelled and armed at 5 minutes notice." She was met by a chorus of 'Aye Ma'am's and 'Aye Captain's.

She keyed her comm down to the Engineering Control Centre. "Voigt? This the Captain. Shit has well and truly hit the fan. To what level can we overload the core?" The heavy accent of her Austrian-born chief engineer followed after a second of presumably silent contemplation on his part:

"Captain, were already running at peak efficiency. Any increase in output could cause significant long term…"

"I know that Voigt!" She uncharacteristically snapped. "I'm asking you if we can, not whether we should. I accept full responsibility for the effect on the machinery."

Voigt took another few seconds to reply. Whether that was because he was further contemplating what she said or if he was interrogating his terminal, she didn't know. When it did come, his voice was filled with resignation, "I can push the core and reactors to 107%, but no more. 107 is dangerous enough and will likely put us in drydock for months Captain. Any more though and we're looking at a complete cooling failure and subsequent meltdown."

"I understand Lieutenant Commander…Do it."

"Aye Ma'am."

The idea of a critical meltdown gave her an involuntary shiver. But given the situation, she really didn't have any choice. Her earlier words to Lieutenant Ouellet came back to haunt her with a vengeance. The loss of one of her four main thrusters might very well decide whether they live or die in the next few hours. If they had all been operable then at least she wouldn't have needed to resort to emergency reactor power to make up the difference. As it were, she still highly doubted she'd be able to replicate her ship's impressive maximum speed.

"Navs, I just got you about ten percent extra thruster output. Will that affect the calculations for your orbital slingshot?" The emergency nav plan her Navigation Officer had drawn up, involved them slingshotting around the, as of yet unnamed, blue gas giant whose orbit had it about of two thirds of the way back to the relay.

"Negative Captain. I've already made the necessary adjustments and the manoeuvre is still viable." Beth gave him a silent nod and he turned back to his console, presumably to forward on the amended plan to the Officer of the Watch in the Conning Pit.

And so, they ran. And not a moment too soon. Obviously, they had little insight to the capabilities of the alien ships, but if they were proportionally similar to her own, then Vance had postulated that they had been maybe a couple of minutes from entering their effective firing range. But Beth knew they weren't out of the woods yet. They may yet dodge the first bullet but the aliens still had a full magazine…

Unfortunately, despite the impressive speeds of the Bristol and her taskgroup, it seemed that the aliens, some of them at least, were faster. But not by much. In fact, as luck would have it, only the alien frigates seemed to be able to keep up. Their cruisers and that immense behemoth, on the other hand, were slowly falling behind, much to everybody's minor relief. The issue remained that they would still be outnumbered 2-1 by the closest pursuing ships. Ships with completely unknown capabilities, against her two frigates and a light cruiser? The odds didn't appear to be much in their favour when, and not if, they caught up. What a shit day this turned out to be…

1440 Arcturus Time

The desperate retreat had been ongoing for about two hours before the first shot was fired. The six closest predators trying to run them down had closed the gap to well within the Bristol's weapons envelope (if she'd been oriented the right way, that is) before they let loose. Beth had barely taken her eyes off the tactical display on the holotank for that entire time, so she saw the warning lights flash a couple of moments before Lt Cdr Vance shouted, "Conn, Tactical. Multiple torpedo launches detected. Counting 22, 24…now 26 incoming fish in a wide pattern. Likely attempting a multi-angle attack."

The Gunnery Officer took over, "Firing solutions acquired, targets assigned. Engaging!" A moment later, noticeable vibrations were felt throughout the ship as the Bristol opened her VLS silos and launched her defensive salvo. At the same time, the holographical representations of the Bristol, Bannockburn and Tours were blotted out by the mass of anti-torpedo missiles launching towards the approaching threat. The three ships had linked up their target acquisition computers to ensure that missiles weren't being wasted, but even with that, there was constant worry that the enemy may have the capacity to keep firing until the taskgroup had nothing left. At that point it would be down to the new and untested (in combat) GARDIAN batteries.

As she watched the missiles streak towards their targets, the first hint that they may have the aliens beat in at least one area gratefully surfaced. Anti-ship torpedoes, at least those used by the Systems Alliance, were designed to try and evade defensive missiles. They even had electronic counter-measures and decoys to help facilitate that. These alien torpedoes though? They manoeuvred to intercept their ultimate target but made no effort to avoid her missiles. Interesting…Does that mean that these aliens solely rely on point-defence guns or lasers. Well, I'll take any advantage I can get.

Only 1 out the 26 torpedoes managed to escape destruction and kept barrelling towards the Tours. But with only a single incoming, the frigate's GARDIAN batteries had no trouble dispatching it. A second salvo followed shortly after the first but was met with the same fate, something that spurred a thunderous cheer throughout the CIC. Even Beth allowed herself a smile but under the surface she was constantly running through every possible scenario. Now, she didn't know whether it was due to the aliens depleting their stocks of torpedoes or maybe their captains were urgently reevaluating their strategy, but they ceased fire after that second salvo. What she did know, was that whatever the case, the alien commander had decided to fully commit another six frigates against them. Combined salvos form twelve ships would undoubtably run her taskgroup dry in no time. Better get the hell out of here before they can run us down.

"Vance, considering the distance the fire group opened up, how long until that second group reaches firing range?"

"If they follow us through the manoeuvre? Three hours Captain." He replied, not even looking up from his console.

"And Navs? ETA at the relay?"

"…2 hours 55 mins Ma'am"

Beth loudly scoffed "Obviously…" Too close. Far too close.

1535 Arcturus Time

The Bristol, Bannockburn and Tours were only minutes away from conducting the slingshot manoeuvre that would hopefully guarantee they at least had a fighting chance of making the relay, but there was a problem. They had clearly been made. Not that they could have done anything to hide it even if they'd wanted to. Nevertheless, Beth watched in resignation as four of their pursuers broke off pursuit and burned to a position perfect to ambush the trio as they sped out of the slingshot. She was now confronted with a difficult choice. Abandon the manoeuvre and avoid the ambush, but probably end up being run down and destroyed in the end. Or, carry on as planned and hope to weather the assault. The advantage of the latter being that if they got through, the four ambushers would effectively be out of the fight as they'd never be able to catch up before she jumped away. In the end, the original plan really was their only option.

"Yeoman, Captain. Connect me directly to the captains of the Bannockburn and Tours."

"Aye Ma'am, connecting you now."

After a few moments the lively voice Bannockburn's captain came loud in her earpiece, "Hiyah Commander. I guess you're seeing what we're seeing huh?" Before Beth could reply, Raquel Martinez, Tours' captain chimed in, "How can you sound so excited Makute?! Do you not understand the situation we're in?"

Makute chuckled but it was clearly just for show. He lacked any real mirth. "Oh, I know Raquel. I definitely know. I may not sound it but I'm taking this very seriously."

Martinez sighed and Beth was sure if she could see her, she'd be shaking her head in exasperation. Before they could continue bickering she took control of the conversation. "That's enough you two. As you know we're about run the gauntlet. I've considered the alternatives as I'm sure have you but I don't really see any other option. Objections?" When neither of them said anything, she continued, "right, here's the plan: Once the slingshot is complete, I want it to look like a decoy hurricane out there. Even if it doesn't do much, lets try to confuse whatever sensors they have as much as humanly possible. Simultaneously, we launch a full salvo of torpedoes, at worst, it should disrupt their formation. At best, we could take at least one of them out of the equation permanently. Then we burn as hard as we can and Bob's you uncle. Thoughts, queries, criticisms?"

Makute didn't skip a beat with "Actually my uncle's called Emmanuel. Outside of that, I'm game."

"Works for me as well Commander," said Martinez in a much more sedate voice. But then, very much out of character, she added, "but sorry Ma'am, my uncles are Paulo and Nate."

An unfortunate amused snort escaped Beth. Bloody Hell! Things must be bad if Martinez is cracking jokes. "Alright then, see you on the other side George, Raquel. We're well overdue a strong drink."

"Only if you're buying" Makute joked.

"Good luck and happy hunting Ma'am." Replied Martinez.

She disconnected the comm link and watched on the holotank as the three ships entered the slingshot orbit. Well, the die is cast I guess.

She'd made sure to brief her crew beforehand but she could feel the unbridled tension and fear permeating the compartment. There was a distinct possibility that none them would be getting out of this and they all knew it.

"Time to exit – 60 seconds. Standby to launch decoys. Torpedoes to automatic." Came the announcement from Vance.

The ships came out from behind the shadow of the planet and as feared, the ominous winged hulls of the alien frigates appearing like angels of death to the men and women of the Bristol. And now they were amongst the waiting trap…but could they trap the trappers? Beth spoke to the room, "good luck everyone. Standby. 5, 4, 3, 2, 1…Engage Engage!"

In a cacophony of vibration, and light, the Bristol launched a full 50% of all her available torpedoes at the would-be ambushers. The Bannockburn and Tours followed suit before all three ships dumped a veritable sea of chaff, decoys and eezo flares. The alien frigates must have been caught off-guard because they hesitated for a full 15 seconds, time enough that Beth's ship had already begun their escape burn. However, to think they'd get away so cleanly would be very naïve and it was then that things started going awry. First off, the defensive systems on the enemy were clearly excellent as they swatted many of her torpedoes out of the sky. Of the few that got through, all but two seemed to detonate early on a shimmering blue bubble of energy that phased into existence in conjunction with the hits. They have kinetic barriers? I thought that was still only theoretical. You idiot Beth! Theoretical to us, but evidently not to them. Way to underestimate the enemy. However, the last remaining duo of torpedoes that did make it past a presumably overloaded barrier, produced a very favourable result. The concurrent explosions of the two anti-ship warheads hitting the enemy in the bow and it's starboard "wing", immediately knocked her out of the fight.

But the Alliance ships had no time to celebrate as the remaining three alien ships were now shaken from their stupor. Evidently knowing that their own torpedoes had been ineffective, the aliens instead opened up with their spinally mounted main guns. And they hit hard. Very hard. Being beam-on to the enemy, meant they'd crossed the T, providing them with perfect targets. Three high velocity mass-accelerated slugs hit fast and true, quickly followed by three more. Beth had expected for her ship to be the focus of the enemy's fire. She was the largest and most dangerous of her battlegroup after all. But most unfortunately for her and her crew, it was the Tours whose luck had run out. Beth watched helplessly as the Alliance frigate was hammered by the brunt of the first fusillade: four of the initial six shots. The slugs perforating her belt and bow armour, like it wasn't even there. The Bristol wasn't escaping punishment either though, She took two hyper-velocity slugs amidships, tearing through the galley, junior enlisted dining hall and the primary accommodation deck. The shots had punched right through both sides of the ship and exposed those areas to the cold, hard vacuum of space. She knew that the Galley and accommodation deck should be cleared for action but that dining hall doubled as the assembly point of Damage Control Team 3. Beth tried to steel herself and not think about the two dozen of her crewman who had likely joined many of the Tours' crew in their fate.

She could hear her Yeoman desperately trying to get in contact with the Tours, who's engines had now cut out. Her hull was peppered with impacts that had flash melted sections of plating into white hot slag, even in the absolute zero temperatures of deep space. She still had her momentum from the slingshot and subsequent burn so maybe they could rescue survivors once they'd cleared the ambush. Because survivors were all she was realistically getting out of the Tours from this point onwards. She knew a dead ship when she saw one.

I'm so sorry Raquel. We should have run the second we saw these murderous bastards! Maybe you and your ship wouldn't have had to pay the price otherwise.

As it were, they weren't out of the woods yet either. They'd proved lucky to avoid a few more incoming shots but that wouldn't last. With the Tours dead in the water and launching escape pods, the enemy's attention turned to back to her light cruiser. Come on you bitch! We're nearly out of the firing envelope. Just a minute more.

"Captain Ma'am! All enemy ships turning to fire on us!" Beth had never heard Vance so panicked, or even emotional for that matter. But I guess impending death can do that to even the most stoic of individuals. She'd love to say she had a plan to share or an order to give but for the life of her, she had nothing. In what she presumed to be her last thoughts, she regretted she couldn't be with Hannah and Harry. And then there was another massive shudder as the ship took another hit, destroying the forward sensor array, but to her surprise it wasn't followed up. She was about to ask if the other two enemy ships had fired yet but was brought up short by another horrific sight – At the last moment, Makute had conducted an emergency flip-and-burn up over the Bristol's bow and charged straight into the incoming shots. Damn selfless fool! Why would you do that George?! You had the best chance of escaping the ambush. Why!? Fuck…Another brave ship's company I've led to their deaths…

The Bannockburn had been gutted from stem to stern and was now drifting forward as a barely recognisable mass of shredded metal. Yet another pointless grave for hundreds of brave Alliance men and women. Why? Why did this have to happen? Why do that George when we'll likely just die alongside you anyway? What if I'd acted differently? More quickly? Fucking fuck…What a pointless waste of life. It now seemed inevitable that the Bristol would join the rest of her battlegroup in the howling dark. Inevitable were it not for the drifting wreck of the Bannockburn choosing that moment to vanish in a blinding ball of brilliant blue-white light. Her reactor had gone critical, detonated and by the way of a growing debris field, obscured the Bristol from what most likely would have been a killing blow. And so it was, that the Bannockburn in her death throes, gave the Bristol and her surviving crew that vital window to escape, battered, bloodied and alone.