StarDestroyer.Net BBS

The Ghost in the night

Walking down a alley, clad in black, a figure lurks in the shadows. He looks up into the darkness. "There's always someone there" he whispers. Quickly adjusting the package under his left arm, he thinks for a moment about what this small case contained. "Lies" flashed across his mind.

Far above him, lost in the darkness of a starless night, a shadow in the wind, watching but unseen, the ghost stalks his prey.

He was once a ghost, hidden in a secret world that few living men have heard of and fewer still have seen. In that time, he was a hunter of men, but now... he is something else. "No" He thought. "Once a ghost, always a ghost."

The man in black carrying lies, hears a sound, but doesn't turn to look. "I can't hide forever, I must help uncover these lies." He says under his breath, and curses the shadows that fell across his path.

He knows death has found him, and seeks to swoop down to take him away. "I've outwitted worse." He thinks to himself.

"I long to return to the land of light, to see those I love." He remembers the words to an old poem as even in his very thoughts there is an anguish that shudders through him.

"But this secret must not stay hidden."

Passing from the alley into the light he cuts through a large crowd gathered in the square. Standing at the foot of a mighty statue of some long dead hero there is someone speaking to the crowd in a raised voice, but he doesn't stop to hear the words.

"Lets see you find me in this mass of heat you pendejo," he says with a touch of arrogance in his voice.

His heart pounding and breathing heavy.

He was but a single life of untold billions, but at this very second his existence seemed far more important.

"There it is! I must hurry!" He thinks to himself as he sees the drop point.

Suddenly from behind he hears a disturbance in the crowd. Someone was no longer keeping hidden their intent to stop him from reaching his goal.

"The ghost gives chase in the open. Afraid to lose its prey I see." he says under his breath, giving a wry smile despite himself.

Across the square, sitting on a long wooden bench under two stone gargoyles that perched on the side of a great building was a man dressed in a perfectly pressed black and red Imperial navy uniform with scarlet edged gold epaulets on his shoulders, and golden aiguillettes draped across his chest. He seemed out of place in this bustling city square. He was too clean, too precise, a small island of military precision in a sea of imprecise humanity. The only thing out of place; a small silver chain hanging from his left chest pocket.

He reads a news tablet, with seemingly feigned interest in the events going on near him. All around him flowed a great mass of people some taking part in the local festival others simply waiting.

Near by a mother helped her son decide which flavor of ice cream he wanted from a vendor. Down by the street a young couple waited anxiously for a taxi barely able to restrain their affections. A little further down the bench an older couple simply sat watching Ballingrys tide ebb outward into the dark night and enjoying the cool breeze coming off that emerald tinted ocean. There was no angst in their movement, no naive understanding of a young life. No... the decades possibly centuries of life had long ago washed all that away. On a wealthy world you could never tell exactly how old someone was just by looking. An individual may look to be in his or her twenties but in actuality be many decades older. Advanced bio tech had long taken care of most natural illnesses and to an extent, even old age, but there was a limit to how much one could cheat mother nature.

"Just a little while longer now." the captain thinks while hiding his impatience. "Make the damned drop!" he muttered under his breath impatiently.

In that moment in an odd blur of movement, a figure stumbles by dropping something near the feet of the Captain. With an unnoticed kick it quickly disappears under the bench, yet another personal belonging lost in a public park. No one notices. The man vanishing into the sea of souls, gone as quickly as he appeared. The captain waits.

Several moments later a rather peculiar gentleman approached him.

"Excuse me captain, but you didn't happen to notice an unusually dressed man walk by earlier, or possibly which direction he may have went?"

"Playing dumb are we?" The Captain thought.

Even if this CSO agent did see anything, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about it. At least not here. Knocking off a rogue asset was one thing, picking a fight with the Imperial Navy was something entirely different.

"No, I'm afraid not," the Captain answered the agent. "I was rather involved in my news tab, the political satire columns always pull me in." he said with just the slightest hint of sarcasm.

The agent looked frustrated now obviously unhappy.

"Very well then, I apologize for the inconvenience sir. Now, if you'll excuse me." Bowing with all the dignity he could muster he quickly retreated.

The agent was agitated with himself now. The man in black had given him the slip, and now he was in danger of failing his mission if he hadn't already. Desperately the ghost searches, but it's too late, the prey is gone. Finally and begrudgingly he breaks communications silence.

"Phantom, how the hell did he know he was being tracked?" he says into his comlink hurriedly.

"You've lost him?" said an old voice through the channel.

"He must be here somewhere! I just need more time…" Agitation now becomes fear as the ghost's words trail off into nothingness

"We don't have more time, Shadow." The old voice answers.

"Why wasn't I informed that the target's drop off point was an Imperial officer?" Shadow fired back asked angrily. "That's enough! Return to the rendezvous point and await further instructions."

"Acknowledged." Said the ghost with a sigh that voiced his displeasure.

He then started making his way through the crowd casually, so as to not draw any attention, or rather any more of it, but something felt... wrong. Deep in his gut, he gets that sick feeling that screams "You're being watched!" by someone other than his masters. Soon he arrives at a public transport terminal, and while waiting for the access ramp to release for entry, he notes the arrival of several pedestrians and approaches the car, mingling with those around him in an attempt to blend in. There was nothing that set him apart visually, except perhaps that he may be a little overdressed for the warm weather on this world. He walks up the ramp staying close to nearby civilians, and as the doors to the tram car close behind him, he braces himself as a cold chill crawls up his augmented spine. He feels a shadow, a half seen shape in the corner of his eye that seems out of place. He turns, hand reaching for his weapon hidden beneath his heavy cloak, determined to not be taken by surprise. His weapon was set to kill and he knew the body could be quickly and seamlessly removed. A few memories molded here, something subtle added there. None of the people on this tram would know for sure what had transpired.

Suddenly someone bumped into him from the side and he quickly turned to face the person that he feared had gotten the drop on him and… It was just one of the other random passengers on the tram.

She was startled, frightened even. She could have sworn she hadn't touched him, yet there he was staring at her suspiciously as if she had committed some intolerable offence. She saw that he had one hand hidden beneath his coat as if reaching for something. A weapon maybe? Why would he need a weapon? Is he running from someone? On his face was a look of what must have been… fear? She realized now that he seemed to be more frightened than upset, as if he were being chased by some terrible monster.

"I'm so sorry." She blurted out entirely on impulse, but he didn't answer. "I didn't mean to startle you" She said as apologetically as possible, and yet again he did not answer. "I was just moving toward a less inhabited part of the tram, and must have ran into you."

"It's fine" He finally answered as his eyes darted around the tram, still trying to find what gave him that… feeling. After a few more seconds of visually searching the tram for the source of that sick feeling in the pit of his stomach, he found a place and sat down.

"Yes, it's quite alright" he said again, and managed a weak smile to try and alleviate some of the tension in the air.

She returned the gesture of kindness, and smiled in return, then continued passed the man that now seemed to have a demeanor of relief, and sat near the rear of the tram. Several minutes later he moved down to where the woman had sat, and took the seat across from her. He wasn't sure why he had perhaps it was her innocent demeanor, the way she smile or a basic human need to not always be alone.

"Sorry about that, miss…?"

"Oh, um… Klara" she said as she suppressed giggled to herself quietly. She hadn't expected the man to be friendly, let alone interested in conversation.

"My apologies Miss Klara. My name is Gorjiin"

"Oh it's okay. Nice to meet you Gorjiin. I was hoping I hadn't startled you too much. You seemed to be intently… concerned with something important" she said as delicately as she knew how.

"Oh it's nothing. Just hoping to get away from some merchants that were trying to get a quick sell. You know how persistent they can be."

"Well that's bullshit, you most be new here" She thought to herself. "Oh of course! Well it seems that you made the right choice to rush onto this tram. Doesn't seem to be anything after you in here."

He laughed despite the circumstances. It seemed this woman was obviously aware that his tale was untrue, but was more than willing to avoid stating the obvious. "What a rare quality in a person" he mused.

"How far are you going?" she asked

"Not far actually. Just about four blocks from Sanders Street." He said.

"Ah well I'm two stops after that. Looks like we'll get to chat for a bit" Klara said with an almost cheery tone to her voice.

"Indeed. There's nothing like meeting new people on a tram at night" he said, and then laughed.

When the transport finally arrived, Gorjiin stood, offered the kind women a few last words, and disembarked from the vehicle. He made his way to his apartment, not far from the tram stop. Once he entered he grabbed the bottle of whiskey from a counter made his way to the living room and found himself looking out of window from his fourth story apartment.

"Well tonight was a disaster and I fucked it up." he thought to himself. "But I can't shake that… feeling again."

There's was a noise from behind him. Something made a thumping sound. He turned quickly expecting… He only saw a tiny rodent scurrying under the couch. "I don't know what I'm expecting." He muttered.

"Really wish the agency would at least these make sure these places were clean before assignments" he said quietly to himself, and then breathed a sigh of relief.

"I'm at the rendezvous." he says into the comlink, and was answered with static.

"Phantom, do you copy?" he said, and that anxious feeling began to throb in his mind.

He turned to make his way into the office where his backup comlink was stored in a drawer, and then… something catches his eye to his right, something that he instantly recognized as quickly switched through the different visual settings for his augmented eyes. Suddenly all of his fears were realized. In a few lightning fast motions he reached for his weapon.

The ghost moved for his weapon faster than a normal man would even be able to follow, but it wasn't fast enough.

The nearly perfect form of a crystal cloak evaporated, and two hulking Navy Agents in full combat gear, and no doubt every combat augmentation that could be applied to the human anatomy, appeared in full stride to intercept the ghost from pulling his weapon. The first agent grabbed the ghost from behind wrenching him back by his shoulders, bone and alloy popped and cracked as a scream welled up is his agony. At the same time the other cyborg reach out with a humming blade, and separated the ghost's head from his shoulders silencing the cry before it could be heard with one clean strike. The two agents then placed the severed head into a "Ghost-box" that would preserve the head in stasis until they could retrieve the secrets that lie within then quickly made their way to the exit reactivating their crystal cloaks before they exited the room, disappearing into the night.

"Shadow do you read?" piped from the comlink that finally was receiving signals since the two Navy Agents had left. "Shadow, can you identify your hunters?" again there was silence, as the blood from the ghost's headless body began to pool on the floor.

"Shadow!" said another, much younger and more feminine voice this time, but still there was no response.

In a room lit only by the glow of various terminals, sat a man, his face invisible in the darkness.

"It seems we've just lost an agent…" He said in a resigned tone. "He got careless… and he payed for it." The Phantom said.

"Should we send another? We have several more within deployment range." said a young woman standing to his right.

"That won't be necessary, nor would it be prudent." Said the Phantom as a quizzical expression spread across the assistants face.

"The Navy has other plans for the time being, besides I doubt the sudden silencing of our agent is a mere coincidence." He paused for a moment. "No... hold off operations for now, lets see what our Navy friends are up to shall we?"

"And the mercs?" She asked worriedly. "Probably a loss as well. If they knew of one plan then they most certainly know of the other." The Phantom stated.

"Should we recall them? Or let that knot tie itself" She asked already knowing the answer. He smiled. "We can always buy more."

Far above Ballingrys, docked in orbit at one of the massive trans-orbital station that circled this lonely emerald word, the Albatross hung in space. Aboard this magnificent albeit small private craft, first officer, Louis Gunneray, or 'Guns' as he was called by his friends and crewmates, was overseeing the installation of the electrical components that operated the new addition to the Albatross' weaponry. He had recently received communication from the captain that he had concluded his business on the planet, and would be returning to the ship before long.
An hour and a half later the pressure-lock opened with a hiss, and Captain Abasi Abudakar Castile stepped back into the ship he'd called home for near on a decade. Castile stood at the entrance for a moment waiting to hear the traditional horn roll over the intercom when the captain had just returned to the ship. 1st Lt. Batoun was standing directly ahead of him when the horn sounded and gave a sharp salute to the captain in true navy manner. Castile quickly returned the salute and suppress a small smile.
"Where is my first officer Lieutenant?" Castile said with a resigned look. "On the bridge Captain, overlooking the hardware upgrade I believe Sir." Lt. Batoun's gravelly old voice returned. Castile glanced over at technician who was standing by an open maintenance access point. The poor man was standing there obviously confused and trying desperately to pull off a proper naval stand at attention, but failing horribly. He clearly didn't know the captain was returning right at that moment or simply wasn't paying attention.
"uhm." Castile sounded with a grin and looked back at Batoun. "No warnings eh?"
"Not my fault he wasn't paying attention Sir." Batoun said trying to maintain his tight lipped composure.
"Indeed. You don't mind if I loosen up a bit do you Lieutenant?" He asked smiling as he undid the first button on his dress coat and started walking toward the bridge.
"Not at all Captain. So I've been meanin' to talk to ya…" Batoun stream off as he walked with Castile.
"Evenin' Cap'm!" Guns yelled out to Castile as he walked through the open bridge airlock as he came into view, catching him slightly off guard as he turned toward his command chair. His dress coat was now fully unbuttoned and open, his cap under his left arm and he was holding a small box in his right hand.
"How can I help you, Guns...?" says the Captain with a bit of apprehension, as he slid the box into a storage safe and closed it tight with a lock-code.
"Did you see the new particle beam we just installed?"
Castile grimaced."Yes I did, I'm going to assume that this new expense came out of your personal funds and not those set aside for maintenance? We have yet to pay off the last of your 'upgrades'."
"Those upgrades saved our asses." Guns shot back with a smirk.
"Even so... I won't disagree with that, Guns, but one can only argue with a debtor so many times before one starts to contemplate suicide."
Guns spun around and looked out through the view screen onto the planet below with a decidedly amused look about him. "Have all systems diagnostics came back green? I don't want any hiccups because of your shiny new gun."
An almost boyish glee came over Guns face that would have been plainly visible had it not been for the forest of whiskers he had so lovingly groomed into place which is precisely why he had it. "It's a 'particle beam' Sir! It's better than a gun! Oh and yes sir diags are complete and sensors are about to come back online."
"Good…" Castile stated with relief then paused briefly.
"Once the last of the techs are off safely spin up the core and get us to the coordinates we were given."
"Aye Cap'm" Guns answered back. "Everythings right on schedule I'm to assume?" He inquired.
"Unfortunately." Castile answered. "Have all senior officers report to my cabin briefing room in one hour."
There was one last knock on the hatch to the briefing room before it opened and 1st Lt. Batoun stepped in, and he was on time. 1st Lt. Jester Batoun was the very definition if an old war horse. He'd enlisted on his eighteenth birthday and served on more than fifty ships in a career spanning two and a half centuries.
During which time he never went above the rank of 1st Lt. Not because of bad behavior or incompetence but because he simply didn't want to leave his men. Batoun was a gunnery officer, this meant that he had full control over all weapons aboard the ship. Both small arms and the ship's point defence and anti-ship systems. During his long tenure as an enlisted man it actually became some what of a yearly tradition for his superiors to offer Batoun a promotion only for him to inevitably turn it down. In fact the event became rather the occasion.
At some point however he eventually grew tired of the navy life. During his long career he had seven ships shot out from under him.
He had been spaced twice only to be picked a few hours later by pure chance mere minutes before his oxygen reserves ran out. He had extensive cybernetic enhancements to his visual centers and data control abilities.
Finally on his two hundred and fifty first year of service while docked in a civilian port, the name of which he could no longer remember. He approached his captain and handed in his resignation.
That was thirty one years ago. Since that time he'd served on a number of small civilian and mercenary ships the longest of which and in his opinion best being the Albatross, however, the Alba was not a navy ship and as such things were a little bit lax while on board.
Even though Batoun had the utmost respect for Castile since he'd taken command and he'd in fact been greatly in favor of the navy like efficiency and respect he'd brought to the ship he had always managed to find the smallest and most inconsequential ways to remind the captain that this wasn't a navy ship. Batoun knew that such things would never fly in the navy and in fact took the greatest care to insure that his actions with either his crew or the captain would never put anyone in danger. Showing up thirty seconds late to the occasional briefing was normally one of those pleasures, but not today.
Batoun approached the seat second to the right of the captain as was customary and sat down.
Between the Captain and Batoun sat 1st Lt. Louis 'Guns' Gunneray the ship's first officer. Guns had been a gunnery officer himself at one point but unlike Batoun he had chosen to move up the ranks, at least until his career advancement came to a halt as the result of a disagreement with a superior officer. A disagreement that according to the officer in question had cost the lives of sixteen thousand innocents. That officer was lying. To say it was a prickly issue would be an understatement. The officer in question just so happen to be the son of a prominent senator and specifically one that had a seat in the Imperial Office of War Planning and Resource Requisition or ImWar for short. While his crew knew he wasn't at fault for what happened his career was effectively over.
So after twenty two years he resigned his commission and left the service. Eventually he found himself working as the first mate on a mining barge attached to a private operation deep in the Outer Core. He was sitting on a stool drinking his mind away when a tall very dark complexioned man dressed in a perfectly fitted naval uniform, minus the red sash, about his age maybe a little older approached him and introduced himself as Abasi Castile.
He informed Mr. Gunneray that he'd met a man named Finnes at a navy bar somewhere in the seventh sector who'd told him about 'Guns' and that he was the best damned first officer he'd ever served under. After a few more drinks and a few hours of reminiscing about navy life Guns left the bar and never looked back. He'd now spent the last nine years doing the navies job for it in places the navy would not or could not care to notice.
Seated directly to the captain's left was 1st. Lt. William Donnelly head of engineering. This meant he had the unenviable job of keeping everything running including the ship's weapons which brought on the occasional argument with Guns. Donnelly was a life long spacer. He'd never been in the navy proper or if he had he's never let on, but has long gotten use to the navy like precision that Castile brought with him when he took command of the Alba's crew ten years ago. He'd served with captain Wultz before Castile and voted against Castile as the captain when Wults retired, but he'd since learned to live with it gaining so much respect for the man that he now regrets voting against his captain.
Not much is known about Donnelly aside from his time on the alba and he rarely volunteers such information beyond the occasional bit of technical data that frankly he simply shouldn't know.
Seated next to Donnelly was 1st Lt. Tormond Reighs Communications officer. He also doubled as plotter which wasn't unusual for ships smaller than a heavy cruiser. Reighs was also ex-navy but got kicked out instead of retiring. Reighs was a good man and a good officer but had a knack from picking fights and gambling. Only in the navy four years he showed great skill in combat simulations constantly out performing all of his peers. Reighs was commissioned from the start unlike his other fellow officers save for the captain himself. After naval school he quickly rose from from 3rd Lt. to 1st Lt. in only six months.
Six years ago he was posted to the crew of a battlecruiser operating out of the Nero Sector. A notoriously fractious part of the empire it always seemed to be mired in a seemingly never ending civil war between the local soviet states and rival meritocratic dynasties.
What exactly happened no one knows but he and the captain. The only piece of information that seems to have leaked out is that there was an attack on his ship and that apparently he was the only survivor. Whether this is true is unknown, but from that point on he had changed. He became a brawler picking fights, drinking and gambling his pay away. Eventually he went to far and assaulted a dignitary from some small single world member state of the empire. In response Imperial naval command 'retired' him from service. He has now served as the communications officer on Alba for three years. After an 'exchange' with the captain in his first month on board he has maintained an orderly and honorable service record. While his ways when not in uniform haven't changed he once again respects that uniform.
"Alright gentlemen you all know why we're here I want to give you one last chance to change your minds. There's a shuttle docked in hanger two big enough to carry at least a dozen people. I've served with most of you over the last few years with pride I have nothing but respect for you and leaving now won't change that. I'm asking you to do something that no person should have to do. I know that this is isn't a navy ship, at least not for another day." Castile glanced over at Batoun then continued. "You do have a choice and I won't stop you from leaving."
No one said a word for several moments but it was clear that everyone had already made up their minds.
"Very well, and thank you." Castile paused for a moment in thought and then continued. "What about from the rank and file?" He asked.
"The cook left." Guns spoke up. "Good riddance." Reighs answered. "You just didn't like him 'cause he was jicari." Guns retorted with a frown. "I'm not going to deny that." Reighs stated simply.
"Well after today the navy will provide. At least the food will be better." Joked Castile as his laughter was joined by that of his officers.

Castile turned toward his first officer.“Now on to the business then. Guns.” He said and leaned back into his chair
“Sir. From what I’ve seen of the data we have on the enemy. We’re facing at least fifteen heavy cruisers possibly more. They outgun us and out mass us by a hell of alot, but we will have the advantage of mobility at least at first. My advice is unchanged. Any prolonged attempt to engage them directly would eventually prove fatal, the current plan to act as bait and draw them deep inside the system gravity well while trying to stay just outside their max effective missile range and drop a lock drone once between them and the planet once admiral Abnett singles his readiness seems to be our best option.” Guns paused unsure of whether he should continue. “Cap’m I have to know, are you sure we can trust Abnett? I ask ‘cause of the three times I’ve spoken with him… he… well frankly he seems to be hiding something from us and what that something is I’m not sure, but it worries me. To go even further he’s communicated twice now that he’s been delayed for reasons that are “not our concern”.” Guns was uneasy now and nervously alternating between stroking his beard and twirling his outlandishly sized mustache. It was a habit he’d developed a few years back when he grew the damned thing and it was as hilarious to look at as it was to describe.
“If I may be blunt Sir?” Guns asked and Castile nodded a yes. “Sir it ain’t just our asses on the line this time, but our lives as well and the lives of every person on this ship and on that planet. And placing the capture or destruction of fifteen old merc heavy cruisers above that of the protection of a planet strikes me as dishonorable.”

Castle leaned forward slightly wondering if he should inform his officers of information that shouldn’t be their concern but undoubtedly now was.

“Sir the navy should of had a task force or battle group sittin’ here in stealth waitin’ for these sons’a’bitches. I understand the secrecy and not wantin’ to tip’em off but why have us do their dirty work for’em? We ain’t even navy yet. Sir.” Guns quickly added

Castile stood and leaned over the table with his hands place firmly at each corner of the old wooden antique .
“Because there were no such ships available. What I’m about to say doesn’t leave this room.” He glared in turn at each officer seated. “In twenty hours his majesty's navy, including the 9th Grand Fleet will be engaged in the largest conflict the empire will have fought in more than seven centuries. Their goal is the conquest of the entire western flank of the Dranix Confederation and all of it territories south of the Black Star Nexus. That is the reason Abnett has been delayed. Last I spoke with him he had gathered the equivalent of a full imperial battle group for use in this operation.” Castile stated as he was met with eyes wide with surprise. “Obviously saving this one world is not his primary goal. Once he has completely pacified any local security threats in this area his orders are to detach a small force cruisers and destroyers that are tagging along with the fleet to provide for this sub-sectors security needs. At which point we will, should we survive, be commissioned as Privateers Imperial, and attached to the local chapter of the imperial armed merchant marine. However you already knew that last part.” Pausing for a moment to let everything sink in castle continued. “Because of the nature of the current situation the navy simply can’t afford to have a fleet of refitted mercenary heavy cruisers whose services are for sale to the highest bidder flying around wreaking havoc behind the lines.” Castle’s face was now one of stone.
“It is for that reason we have been selected to act as the mouse for a very large cat.”

"Jump prep ready ma'am" The young XO informed Captain Kyisha. "One hour to go." she thought to herself. The mission was a simple one, get in fry the target and get the hell out before anyone saw, except for the nagging feeling in the back of her mind.

It wasn't really the mission itself that didn't sit right in her mind, she'd lead more than a few smash and dash runs in her twenty years as a ship for hire out on the edges of the far flung Andromedan Empire. It was the target that left her at unease."Those bastards are willing to wipe out an entire planet just to get one man?" She thought as the ship prepared to jump to it's destination. "Well if they're willing to pay the fortune then I'm willing to do it, doesn't mean I have to enjoy it though." Inadvertently she thought aloud trying to rationalize away her moral objections. "I'm sorry captain?" asked First officer Decker with an arched brow. Decker was a young man, probably too young for his position but she couldn't ignore his abilities, it also didn't hurt that he was good in bed… or so she'd been told.

Twelve billion imperial ponds. That was how much the lives of the three and a half billion inhabitants of Ballingrys where apparently worth.

Kyisha sorted in derision at the idea. "what a joke." She thought to herself. "No heat off my fins." She said turning to a confused Decker locking eyes for the smallest of moments. Abruptly she turned to the helmsman's plot. "Jump when ready helm." She barked then proceed to her command chair. "Let's not keep the gods waiting XO" She muttered as she took her seat and began buckling herself in. "Lets see if we can keep this merry band of misfits from shooting each other. At least until the job is done."

Kyisha's flagship was a sturdy old Balwork class heavy cruiser flying under the name Graf Spee. Apparently that was once the name of an old wet navy warship way back when. At least that's what the previous captain said before he sold it. She wasn't much of a history buff herself and tended to have little interest in such things but captaining a ship whose namesake had been a terror of old Earth's seas tens of thousands of years ago rubbed her ego in just the right way. The Graf Spee was joined by her sister ship Lancaster as well as thirteen Tribute class Heavy cruisers, Arc, Fredric, Star's bane, Hellhound, Emperor's bones, Dark breed, Jack Rab1t, Omega, Jicari's Blood, Hopeless, Singularity, Old timer's barge and the appropriately named Unnamed. To say that the crews had a ball naming their homes when they first came aboard would be cutting their efforts short.

"Thirty seconds to jump ma'am." Recited Lt. Paulu sounding as monotone and automated as ever. Kyisha ran through some last minute checks as she waited.

"Fifteen seconds." Paulu sounded again. Then Kyisha closed her eyes and leaned her head back against her chair.

"Five, four, three, two, one. Jump!" And the Graf Spee and her merry little band simply vanished from space.

The Q space jump drive was just possibly the most wicked way to travel faster than light distances in the known universe.

She opened her eyes just as Lt. Paulu gave the final jump order. What she saw in that moment had been seen by countless other travelers over the eons. But no computer ever built had ever been able record or even begin to understand just what she was seeing. It seemed as if the world around her folded in on itself and became focused into a tiny sphere, almost like looking through an impossibly distorted lense. Everything around her seemed to be warped into long filaments stretched over a surface that seemed to be both infinitely large and infinitely small. It was nearly instantaneous but felt like a lifetime. And then came the 'Pop' or jump shock as it was universally known. Jumps drives function by connecting to points in space to one another and then, using brute force, proceed to rip the small spatial hole between them open wide enough to literally swallow a ship a whole. The side effect of this ripping is an anomaly called a "gravity shear" that forms at the center of the incoming jump zone and then radiates outward in every direction at the speed of light the shear dissipates within fractions of a second. However should the expanding shear encounter anything, say a another ship or station, the effects could be devastating. Which meant that ships in the same fleet had to jump in groups with several ships using the same singularity. It also meant that upon completion of a jump the various groups were often spread out over a vast distance with millions of kilometers of space between each two or three ships. The jump was also accompanied by a resounding and sometimes physically disorienting POP! It sounded kind of like a sonic boom gone horrible wrong. She heard someone loose his lunch behind her somewhere. "...and there goes the rookie." She smiled ever so briefly.

"What can we see?" asked Castle as he approached his first officer now dressed in a proper red and black naval commanders battle uniform complete with the customary red sash of an active duty imperial officer. Something he hadn't worn in a decade. It felt odd to be wearing it again after so long. Almost alien… but so did the reasoning to give it up and resign all those years ago.

"Well there's no sign of the mercs yet or pirates for that matter cap'm. Relativistic sensors are picking up all kinds of chatter between civilian vessels moving in and out of system. But nothing of any interest to us at the moment."

"And FTL coms?" Castile asked impatiently. "No changes, same ghost hits and false positives we were picking up when we left orbit but it all matches local wrecks and landmarks." Guns stated matter of factly giving a helpless shrug.

Under normal circumstances in the event of imminent attack such as this the system authorities would be informed and all necessary precautions taken to ensure the damage to local infrastructure was as limited as could be managed. Unfortunately the enemy in question in this instance wasn't some pirate menace or an invading power but rather one the empire's own factions. To be specific the mercs were hired by Cybernetic Special Operations (CSO). Often referred to as the 'Ghosts of the republic' as it was originally formed and maintained by the Andromedan Grand Republic the largest member state of the empire. The organization was formed during the Cyber war, more than eighteen hundred years ago, to combat the inhuman capabilities of the rogue Cerberus AI. Eventually being placed under the command of the imperial senate the organization is as ruthless as it is effective.

"Why the CSO would go to such lengths to keep whatever is in that data block out of what should friendly hands..." Castile thought as he glanced over his shoulder at the locked safe. "...is far beyond me."

"They must know by this point that the data is no longer ground side. So why go through with the attack?" Castile thought to himself out loud.

"Contact!" Gun's warning snapping Castile out of his thoughts.

"Red IFF hits Cap'm, most likely your mercs."

"Any changes in the movements of nearby Imperial ships?" Castile inquired.

"No Sir, the frigate next system over is 'delayed' conducting routine cargo and contraband checks." Castile nodded in approval.

"Good, they won't be much help against a fleet of heavy cruisers even if they are just some refitted old rust balls and we don't need someone popping into system right now scarring off our catch." He remarked as he quickly scanned through some of the preliminary sensor reports that were coming in.

"Gods…" Lt. Reighs spoke up. "Local FTL and relativistic chatter just went crazy." he added.

"Anything of use to us?" Reighs shook his head giving a hesitant but firm no. "System shipping control is trying to hail the new arrivals... " Reighs paused. turning to look as if at the planet itself. "...No response." He finished.

"Well I suppose that answers the question then." Castile reached out and patted Guns on the right shoulder and turned away.

"Alright everyone buckle up." He declared.

Castile walked over to his command chair and sat down. Buckling himself in he made a short upward motion with his right hand while looking at a small circle on the floor directly ahead of him. Suddenly a number of tactile holo panels appeared in front of his chair listing off system wide tactical information as well as various ships systems, com relays and readouts from the sixteen autonomous drones the Albatross had deployed throughout the system.

"Activate shipwide cyber coms." He said leaning his head back and waiting calmly. An instant later a smooth almost pleasant chime rang through his mind as a flood of status checks began softly clicking in from numerous stations throughout the vessel. Weapons, tactical, medical, propulsion, engineering and so on...

"Any updates on what the enemy weapons fit are?" Castile thought to Guns.

"Many of these patterns aren't recognised, but I do see what looks to be slow tracking bombardment weapons, point defense and a lot of missile tubes. Right now they're still about two AU outside the redline, accel is a leisurely six hundred Gs. They clearly aren't in a hurry. I suspect they'll have nukes loaded to quickly deal with any light craft that pop in on a routine sec run. Last thing they'll expect is a Falcon popping out of no where." Answered Guns. "Unrecognized patterns? What do you think? Wanna take bets those are the dumb impactors meant for the planet itself?" Guns looked over at Castile with a grimace. "Gods I wish you were wrong." He said audibly and mentally.

"Destroy the station, kill the target along with everyone else on the planet, and use the rocks to make it appear to be yet another terrorist attack on a world just wealthy enough to be of note but not wealthy enough to have proper defences. Heartless bastards." He added as an after thought.

Castile's intention was not to engage a fleet of heavy cruisers. The Albatross was a sleek fast and a powerful cruiser in it's own right being a member of the Falcon Class cruiser line. In fact it was one of the newest ship designs being produced by the imperial navy, but it was still just a cruiser. The issue wasn't even that it was less capable than the two and three hundred year old second hand refits that the mercs were employing. It was a simple issue of tonnage. The smallest ship in the merc fleet, if the preliminary scans were correct, was a three hundred and thirty year old Balwork heavy cruiser whose IFF listed it as the Graf Spee.

At four hundred ninety one meters long it out mass the three hundred and ten meter bulk of the Albatross by more than four hundred and sixty thousand tonnes, and there were fifteen heavy cruisers in that fleet and all but one were of the slightly newer Tribute Class heavy cruisers which were even larger than the Graf Spee.

"Graf Spee? That name rings a bell somewhere but damned if I can recall where I last heard it." Castile chided himself quietly. "I know it's old but I can't remember just how old." Castle made a mental note of it and moved on.

"Set us on a trajectory intercept course, accel…" He made a few quick calculations. "three hundred thirty gs." Castile mentally barked the command.

"Aye Sir. Three three zero gs." Helmsman Adamar confirmed

"Cap'm that'll have us cross their current trajectory approximately seventy million km directly forward of the lead vessel in approximately one hour. Nice chance to shove a broadsides worth of kinetic warheads right down the sons'a'bitches throats if you're willing to take the chance." Guns thought to Castile with a tint of humour. "One step at a time Guns..."

The idea was to place the incoming ships at a ninety degree angle off the starboard bow the moment the Alba's path crossed the enemy fleets trajectory. Drop a deactivated lock-drone directly in the path of the oncoming ships which once activated would allow admiral Abnett and his battle group to jump directly to that point regardless of his current position. What the Alba's job was after that was to deactivate stealth and light itself up on FLT giving away its presence and if possible fire off a full broadside right down the throat of the lead ship. This would hopefully cause all or at least part of the enemy fleet to either turn and run for the redline now knowing that they weren't alone, presenting their rears to Abnett or to alter course in order to hunt down the Alba before it reached the redline itself and destroy it before it escaped which once again, would present Abnett with another perfect opportunity to cross the enemy fleet's T and fire through their weaker rear barriers.

"I'm making some minor adjustments to the ROE." Castile said as Guns' face went a peculiar shade of pale. "You know I really hate it when you say 'minor adjustments'." Guns actually turned and spoke directly. Castile looked at him with one raised eyebrow. "Because they're never just 'minor adjustments'..."

Castile chuckled in spite of himself, but there was no joy in it. "You know me to well Guns." He muttered. Refocusing he quickly brought up coms and engineering. "Lt. Donnelly prep a second lock-drone to be dropped at these coordinates." He typed in a new set of coordinates and sent them through. Then switching to coms. "Lt. Reighs contact Admiral Abnett and inform him to have his barriers and webs active on jump, also inform him that if he could have combat jump procedures in place I would very thankful." Two soft clicks of affirmative later and it was done.

"Attention all crew this is the captain speaking. Battlestations! Combat status active, seal suits and vent atmo from non essential areas. this is not drill, I repeat this is not a drill. May the gods be with us."

Then the clock began ticking.

LadyTevar wrote:A little awkward with the info-dump. Not sure how to fix it, tho.

Imperial ships are often referred to as 'flying cigars' because of their long cylindrical shape. While not all space faring species build their warships according to the same construction principles. Humans as a whole and most major galactic powers in general tended to rely on this particular design principle as it provides both maximum resiliency and efficiency of protection at a slight cost of the number of weapons a captain could bring to bear on an opponent. The primary defence method for most warships is at this time a plasma based barrier system. Each barrier emitter projected a flat, invisible 'plate' of armor directly above the hull. These plates, depending on the size of the ship and the number of shield layers it was designed to mount would be both stacked one above the other and interlocked creating an effective barrier layering, depending on the trajectory of the incoming warhead, that could be many times the actual thickness on the ship's shield. However there was one downside to this design philosophy. The bow and aft or 'throat' and 'kilt' as it is sometimes referred to do not benefit from this overlapping effect as much if at all do to there being a minimum size to the area which a barrier can cover this means that generally speaking the most efficient way to destroy or disable enemy ships was, to use an old naval turn of phrase, "cross the enemies T" or in other words to fire a broadside directly up his kilt or down his throat.

"The fleet is… trying... to get regrouped ma'am." Growled Decker with none to little aggravation. "Commodore Vasily has ordered resumption of course" He paused. "Old man's barge is requesting linkup, and…" Decker looked oddly at his readouts. "...he's using tightbeam? Maybe he thinks something's up." Decker informed her as ready signals streamed in.

"Tightbeam?" She asked while studying the squadron's unwieldy layout. "Well if there's anyone out here waiting for us they'll have a hell of a surprise waiting for'em." She joked. Then an alert started flashing on her command channel display.

"That'd be him now ma'am." The XO hastily informed her.

Quickly activating her display she wondered about the commodore's sudden weariness.

"Kyisha." Vasily expressed warmly, but there was an anxiety in his tone that lurked behind the man's normally rigid face.

"Commodore." She answered. "Is there something bothering you Vasily?" She said trying to present an air of genuine curiosity.

"Is there something bothering me? This whole damnable endeavour is bothering me. First the overt contact methods then luring us into signing that forsaken contract…" He trailed off his frustration becoming more evident. "I assume you saw that pathetic entrance? They didn't give me the time needed to whip this would-be liberation force into to proper shape. I can only hope there's no surprises waiting for us here." He sighed deeply then focused on something off to the side.

"Is freedom really worth three and a half billion lives? My heart says no Kye." He leaned back into his chair his face sinking into shadow away from the view-screen's light.

"Twelve billion pounds Vasily. Twelve billion pounds and the freedom of our people. Do you realise how many old mothballed relics like this we can buy with that much money plus the ships we have now? We'll be able to build a fleet more powerful than anything the cartels can manage and finally kick them out of our system..." Her thoughts tangled in a web of emotions as she spoke. "...and return to them many fold what they've done to us." She added without saying."Our people deserve that and I'm willing do whatever is needed to achieve it." She snapped, the sudden barely restrained anger seething through her veins. "Don't you dare back out on this now."

"I've no intention of backing out Kye." He rebuked. "And I too am willing to do what ever it takes." The resolve in his mind flashing briefly. "I've done things out here that I'll always regret and I always knew why I did them, but this… is trading an ocean of innocent blood for our people's freedom really worth it? How many of our own have died for the greed of another?" He leaned forward staring at her image with cold black eyes.

"Kye, promise me that if this goes bad you won't forget why we really came here, please." He spoke softly his hard eyes softening ever so little.

Kyisha tried to speak, but her voice had disappeared as suddenly as her anger. There was a moment of silence on both ends of the com link when Vasily finally interrupted.

"Here…" He spoke up changing the subject. A moment later and his image was replaced with that of a system map detailing the limits of the local gravitational redline.

"You and I both know that it's possible this is a setup. So I spent some time looking over the area's gravitic geography using what information was available on the net since we weren't allowed to do any scouting, and I think I've came up a good evac route…"

SCENE BREAK

"Lock-drone Alpha has been launched at the secondary coordinates Sir!" Piped Donnelly over cyber coms.

"Alright helm put us back on our original course. Increase accel to three hundred seventy five Gs" Castile ordered "Have to make up for lost time." He thought to himself.

"Guns I've got something I want to run by you." He thought making a quick hand motion.

"What have you got in mind cap'm?" Guns inquired opening up the tactical overlay castile had transferred to his station.

"Look at the Gravity wake of the two Balworks at the head of the enemy formation. What do you see?"

Gun's countenance took on a rather confused look for a moment as he studied the data intently then it dawned on him.

"Those are some mighty big ripples coming off the bow those old HCs they must have upgraded more than just barriers and weapons in the refit. Modern military grade by the looks of it." Guns paused then realisation dawned and he glanced back at castile once again. "You think they've got updated sensors as well?" Castile nodded slowly and thoughtfully.

"It's possible. If they do, that means the maximum effective range for their ship-to-ship missiles is far longer than we anticipated. That would also mean that a sufficiently skilled technician could pick up that someone is out here even if they can't see us directly." Castile stated.

Guns grunted in dissatisfaction.

There was very little that could be done to alter the situation. If any changes were made to the ship's stealth patterns, which there were no effective changes that could be made, it would throw off errors in the enemies sensor suites as suddenly a patch of apparently empty space that contain one set of chaotic readings one instant then suddenly had an entirely different set of chaotic readings the next. Minor fluctuations in gravity fields were normal with smaller, but never quite non-existent changes farther away from significant bodies of mass and larger changes the deeper one traveled into a systems gravity well.

Modern stealth systems operate by masking a ship's artificial gravity wake to make it appear that nothing is there and to, in effect, help the vessel blend in with the natural background flux. The downside of this process is that particularly skilled sensor controller who was also aided by a modern FTL sensor suite would be able to detect this masking effect by noting the rate of change of a given area compared to its surroundings. This meant that a ship was limited not only in the top speed it could achieve while in stealth but also in its acceleration.

SCENE BREAK

"We've just passed the redline captain. Target is six hundred million km forward." Lt. Paulu informed Kyisha.

"Any sign of local security? She asked passively.

"Eighteen ships, varying tonnages, nothing larger than a destroyer. They're holding position about one million km off the planet between it and the squadron." He answered.

"And the imperials?" She asked hesitantly.

"Nothing yet." Came the answer.

She sagged back into her seat falling into old memories. It was thirty years ago today, she remembered, since the Barrathis Cartels flooded into the Tyburn system. She was home on leave down on the surface of the system's innermost habitable world Luton when the attack happened. The Tyburn system is one of those few treasures left in the universe. A system with not one but three human compatible garden worlds, and until that point it had managed to survive for more than eight hundred years untouched by the maelstrom of violence that defines the Blacklands. Lying crushed between the galaxy's only two hyperpowers this region which was once known for its abundance of cultural diversity and unparalleled artistic quality has devolved into more than eleven hundred fractious and often totalitarian regimes. A victim of near constant political meddling and proxy conflicts often fought in the name of, and financed by its much more massive neighbours.

The cartels were brutal in their conquest. Displaying uncharacteristic training and methodical precision. They tore apart the Tyburn Republic's small but well armed navy with ease. By the time Kyisha had made it back onboard her assigned ship the system was all but lost and the order to evacuate had been given, the last memory of her home world being a flood of pleas for rescue and a savior from the disaster befalling them.

"Will they really fight? They must know there's no hope." Kyisha spoke quietly to herself as every fiber of her being pushed her to turn away from the task. "There is no other way. No one else cares about a forgotten world."