The sleek destroyer pulled away from the Alabama Station dock. On the command deck, the chair in the middle was unoccupied for now for the captain of this vessel could not contain the energy within her to actually remain seated for this, her first voyage as commanding officer.
"Helm, make your course of the Omega-15 jump hole."
"Aye, ma'am, course laid in and plotted."
"Engage cruise engines."
"Cruise engines engaged, aye."
Abigail could feel the pulse of the cruise engines through the deck plates under her feet. The vibrations coming up through her legs gave her a feeling inside greater than any physical pleasure she had known. Her face turned slightly red as she realized that the excitement of this command for her was quite obvious to the rest of the bridge crew. She felt a hand upon her shoulder as the one supernumerary person on the bridge came up behind her.
"Sit down, girl. I know you're happy hell, we ALL know you're happy. But it'll still take us 20 minutes to get to the jump hole." The man speaking looked like he was old enough to be Abigail's father.
"Yes, Dad err, yes sir."
"None of your sass, young lady. You know you're responsible for at least half of these gray hairs on my head."
"And starting up a transportation company after you retired is responsible for the other half, I know. I've heard that one before." Abigail finally sat in her command chair. "I'm just glad you were here when we were ready."
"You don't think George or Max was going to let my little girl go out on her first combat patrol without some kind of send off, do you? After the miracles that we've pulled off getting Dabadoru up and running, they owed me at least one little favor. Alyssa can handle the Sagittarius for a couple of weeks without me."
Abigail looked at her father. "You're not going all the way out Dabadoru with us, are you? I thought we were dropping you at Rostock."
"Well, actually since there's a convoy of APM ships heading out there. I'm technically the commodore in charge of the Sagittarius, the Capricorn, and the Pisces. We're rendezvousing at Rostock and you're providing one of the escorts."
"Nice to know I was informed of that in advance." Abigail couldn't conceal the bite in her voice.
"Actually, you're not supposed to know until we get to Rostock. Max told me about this run last night over the neural net."
There was quiet on the bridge of the Pallas Athene as the Thresher class destroyer finished her run around the edge of the ice cloud in Omega-56, and neared the jump hole. The bridge crew knew they had been privy to a conversation they shouldn't have and their commanding officer felt both embarrassment and anger. The awkward silence was shattered by the sound of the proximity alarm.
"Captain, we're detecting an unauthorized ship using the jump hole!"
With no hesitation, Abigail hit the red button on the left arm of her command chair. The alert klaxon began sounding throughout the ship. "Thank you, Mr. Williams. Weps, combat stations. Commodore Phelps, please be seated. Comms, notify the fighter patrols and be ready to open communications."
The destroyer slid smoothly to a stop two thousand meters from the jump hole exit. On the view screen, Abigail saw the nose of a Zoner gunboat appearing from the jump hole. She frowned upon seeing this.
"Ma'am," the comm officer said, "ship is broadcasting IFF of a freelancer, ship ID is Mustang."
"Open system frequency. Mustang, this is the Pallas Athene, Commander Abigail Hearns. Cut your engines immediately." She toggled the comm switch. "Weps, let's get a cruise disruptor headed his way. Engineering, close at full speed."
From over the speakers came a response. "This is the Mustang. I go when and where I want to."
"That's a negative, Mustang. You have entered a closed system. You will cut your engines now or you will be destroyed."
"You have got to be kidding. I don't put up with this kind of treatment from anyone, let alone someone who's trying to be a big bully."
The gunboat started to spool up cruise engines. At that moment, the cruise disruptor came streaking in. A countermeasure shot out the back of the gunboat, but to no avail. The CD exploded, disrupting the cruise engines of the gunboat.
"Ma'am, we're in weapons range."
"Let's see if we can REALLY get his attention. Take his shields down."
Two battle-razor energy projectiles shot across the narrowing gap, impacting the Mustang. They depleted the shields on the target by 80%, and the weapons officer quickly switched to their main guns. A quick volley of Cerberus shots finished off the shields.
"Hey, what the hell do you think you're doing over there? I've never had any issues out here in the Omegas."
"Now then you were ordered by me to cut your engines. You refused to do so. I suggest that you consider complying. Consider it strongly."
"Ma'am, the fighters report that he has some sort of IFF scrambler. They can't get weapons lock on him, and are disengaging."
The freelancer pilot of the gunboat noticed that the fighters were breaking off from their formation, and took that as a sign things were going his way. Without warning, two missiles launched at the Pallas Athene.
"Incoming!" shouted the weapons officer. "Firing counter-measures!"
"Well, Mustang, this is going to become very painful for you. Maybe you shouldn't have trespassed here."
The gunboat began moving at full speed away from the jump hole, attempting to use the greater maneuverability of a smaller ship to take position on the destroyer. The two missiles were drawn off by the countermeasures and exploded ineffectively.
Sitting in a free seat on the bridge, Jeff Phelps watched as his daughter commanded her ship with the skill that he had hoped she had possessed. The face she showed to the world now didn't have the gleam of a child on Christmas morning opening presents under the tree. This was the face of a focused hunter on her prey.
"Helm, bring her around, and keep her nose at him. Reverse thrusters so she turns quicker. Weps, hit him with our razors and get those shields down again, and then keep on him with our main guns. Com, get on the horn to Rostock and Capetown, see if they have any ships available for back-up that won't be bothered by his IFF spoof in case he slips by us."
The razors tracked in on Mustang. Two quick shots and his shields vanished. The weapons officer quickly began cycling the Cerberus main gun turrets firing them fast enough to cause damage without totally draining the capacitor beyond the ability of the engine to refill it.
The gunboat was like a butterfly in a net trying to escape the pin of the gun, yet unable to do so. The pilot of the Mustang frantically called over the radio, "Stop! Stop! I can't take much more of this!"
A feral smile crossed Abigail's face. "There are consequences to your actions. In this case, those are" She quit speaking as holes appeared in the hull of the gunboat, showing the atmosphere being vented followed by the body of the pilot.
"Com, contact the repair ship at Capetown. There should be some salvage on that ship we can get some cash from for the ship's fund."
"Ah, you did learn, didn't you?" Jeff asked.
"Anything extra that would normally by rights go to the Captain goes into the ship fund for the crew, since they're the ones risking their lives. You told me that when I was six years old and sitting watches with you on your bridge, learning my job at your knee."
"And more importantly, you did learn, not just listen. I'm proud of you, hon."
"I'm your daughter, after all." Abigail turned back to the bridge screen, where the repair ship 'Rescrew This' could be seen locking onto the hull of the Mustang. "Helm, we've a combat patrol to do. Let's get going."
(11-21-2013, 12:53 PM)Jihadjoe Wrote: Oh god... The end of days... Agmen agreed with me.