Angels2200

“Status check,” Crone ordered to her fighter group as they approached their assigned corvette. The sensor silhouette labeled them as Canus-class, exclusively a Charan design if Crone remembered correctly. Their asymmetrical structure emphasized anti-cap ship ordinance on one side and heavy interceptors on the other, allowing the ship to defend itself from enemy fighters as it strafed its primary target at close proximity. One step above a Pele-class bomber in size, these were the attack dogs for the Confederation fleet, the smallest, fastest, and most agile of their capital ships. One-on-one, it would stand little chance against a missile-cruiser like the Morrigan. However, attacking in a team would prove more deadly, especially against a cruiser with its own ordinance now half-spent and its fighter escort crippled.

“Nova 7, standing-by,” Catnip called back, “all systems check, RIAS system online.”

“Nova 5, standing-by,” Seer echoed, “All systems check, no significant damage.”

“Keep an ear out for rebel transmissions,” Crone radioed to Catnip, “Pass me anything interesting.”

“Copy that.”

“Seer…, are you good to go?”

“No recent freak-outs to report, sir,” came the response, the tone a mixture of fear and levity so common to soldiers approaching battle.

“OK, team, standard triad formation. Everyone stays together. I’ll take point, Seer will cover, and Catnip fill flank. No one gets isolated, if you have to choose, you break-off a target over breaking formation. Understood?” The two pilots acknowledged and Crone turned her attention to the corvette’s escort. Each cap ship had five fighters, which appeared to be modified Sirens. “X-Jobs” Crone had heard them called back at the Academy, constructed from the adrift Alliance Sirens confiscated by the Charans in the immediate aftermath of the Genetic Plague. Four smaller, extra fins were attached to the fuselage, and used purely to mount extra maneuvering thrusters. The added agility upon the tried-and-true Siren design had been a modest success amongst the rebels, and seasoned Alliance pilots had been complaining for years that a similar mod needed to be made available for Terran-made Sirens. Crone frowned at thought of engaging these fighters. Being out-numbered was bad enough, but these mod fighters could now turn as easily as a Medusa, if still not match its speed.

For the moment, the enemy fighters were flying a defensive formation, hiding under the targeting canopy of their respective corvette’s interceptors. The Novas would have to find a way to coax them out. Crone knew that a sweep over the corvette’s side heavy with anti-cap ship weapons would be the most effective method, but if the fighters moved to flank them, they’d be caught in a nasty fighter-turret cross-fire. Speed was the key. If they moved in before the fighter could re-position themselves, then either the fighters would have trouble targeting them or they would be scattered as they tried to match their initial approach. The downside would be that it would take a while to turn-around for a second pass after such a fast sweep, and if the enemy took the risk of ignoring them they would be well-positioned to engage the trailing Omega fighters. Crone quickly outlined to the others their respective roles in her strategy, then pushed her throttle all the way forward.

“Engines at full and stay on my tail,” Crone called to her wingmates. “We’re passing the corvette at two clicks on her port. I’ll call the targets as we close in.”

Picking up speed, the Siren and two Medusas raced ahead, Crone hoping the rebels would take the bait.

Anatolja had some experience in passing out, so she could tell that she hadn't been out for very long. If she had laid on the floor for a longer time, her back and hips would've hurt and she would feel cold. But then, she didn't rest on the floor this time, but on something supple, yet firm, almost like a big pillow. A human body. The impulse to jump up trailed away quickly; not even the thought of resting on top of a corpse could freak Anatolja out anymore.

But then the "corpse" stirred.

"Do you mind?", it said.

Crone's element pulled ahead of Claymore's due to Banshee's slower Aries II. Things felt almost like some sim challenge back from distant Academy days with the Canus and all its smaller sub-targets rushing closer at breathtaking speed. The large anti-capital ship turrets and fire control radar domes were going to be the easiest targets. The torpedo racks and maneuvering thrusters were too small and too well hidden for a strafing run.

"Kat, hit any FCS systems you can. Seer, nail the first turret."

It was risky, but Aurora nudged her fighter onto a course that would sweep the hull of the corvette even more closely. As Kat had no missiles and it seemed like a waste for Seer or herself to use any in what was hopefully going to be a baiting tactic, the only way for their guns to be any use was to get underneath their target's shield layer. The Siren jerked suddenly as it punched through the invisible boundary layer and their run began in earnest.

Kat watched half in frustration and disappointment as she ineffectively raked the side of the corvette with azure plasma bolts. The approach was simply too fast for her to actually engage any of the designated targets. However, her other half was somewhat amazed that she actually figured out her cannons in time and didn't hit Crone's fighter ahead of hers.

The jolt from punching through the shields threw Aurora off her intended line. She struggled to get back on target in time to be useful, narrowly missing a radio mast protruding from the hull in the process. She managed only three volleys against aft turret she had spotted before she sped past it and pitched away from the hull to avoid the large engines output.

At the end of their short line, Cassie had similar luck with guns on her turret, but snapped off an unlocked missile, determined to do some damage. Its blast rocked her fighter, suggesting that she might have actually gotten the target, but she didn't dare look back to verify. Instead, she lined up on the turret Aurora had just passed and poured on more laser fire. It collapsed under the additional assault just before she had to break off.

"Got one!"

Her threat warning alert went off. "Uh, oh..."

The fighters hiding around the corvette had emerged in time to lock on to and launch a missile spread at the receding three Novas' exposed and glowing engines.

"Incoming! I'm painted!" Kat sounded scared.

"Full power. Stay together," Crone ordered.
This can still work.

Unfortunately, the enemy fighters seemed content to let their missiles do the work and refused to be drawn away from their escort assignment. Claymore's group was trading fire with the other BARCAP flight, but the two corvettes were drawing closer together and rolling to present their anti-fighter flanks as a pair while hiding their less useful sides between each other.

"Shit." Omega was not going to get what they wanted. Time to turn around as fast as possible, now.
"Cut engines. Vector for a starburst and drop flares in four... Three... Two..."

Now coasting from inertia and still in a rough formation, the three fighters pointed their noses away from each other and back towards the fight as much as was possible in three seconds.

"...One... Mark!"

Then, on Aurora's signal, simultaneously restarted engines on full afterburner and released missile decoys. Crone focused on trying to breath under the gees of deceleration while hoping the missiles would be mostly fooled by the chaff and the suddenly reduced energy signatures from their own fighters.

----------------

Held back by the big Aries, Ducky was "chomping on the bit" as it were in her agile Medusa, but Rhiannon didn't want to risk splitting up the mismatched formation when facing nearly two-to-one odds.
An' me in this dahm Siren Ah donnae fit inna tae properly. 'Ell, I should've paired th' two Medusas wh' o Siren... Ach, liv an' lern. ...Supposin' weh all liv thru this 'n, now.

With enough time to prepare, the defending fighters for this corvette came out to play, even as Rhiannon grimly saw the cap ship's anti-fighter batteries swing into line on them.

Well, lass, I 'ope that big bird 'o yurs's shields 'r as toof assa tech lasses claim...
She pulled hard left on the Siren's stubbornly old-fashioned yoke.
"Ducky, brak an' a'tak! Banshee, let 'em 'ave it, lass! Evyrathen' ya goot!"

Christine's smile would have frightened anyone who could have seen it. Doubly so since it was in the face of incoming high-energy blasts that distorted and set aflame the space around her fighter as they slammed into its defensive perimeter. The Aries II's TAG had a solid solution on all five of the opposing craft -- as well as several of the corvette's sub-components. She jammed down both the missile and gun triggers on the joystick, watching as missile after missile left the under slung launch rail to streak towards their targets, their exhaust plumes creating vapor that the lasers traced through. By some good fortune, the first missiles in all four tubes were cluster packs. Space between her and the incoming bogeys aburptly became filled with nearly a hundred homing sub-munitions.

The inbound attack formation disintegrated as the pilots took evasive action. The enhanced Sirens' maneuverability proved still too little, though; it was as futile as trying to dodge a shotgun blast at short range. Banshee's grin widened into some truly befitting her namesake as she watched small explosions break out all over the now disorganized fighters. The sub-munitions that missed continued on, resulting in another wave of fire sweeping over the forward hull of the oncoming corvette a few seconds later.

At least one Siren-X was knocked out by Banshee's trigger happy barrage. Claymore and Ducky each picked out one to tail from the scattered pack. However, things were going to go downhill from here, Christine realized. She at least one very agile opponent vectoring towards her, on top of a very angry and attentive corvette. Ashley and Rhinannon now had their hands full trying to keep a hold of opponents who were in craft as, or more, nimble than their own.

"Omega! Hit thissa one while we 'ave 'er escorts busy! Crone, keep those o'dder ones busy an' away from 'ere, lass!"

„You Got it Novas”

The barrage fired by free-to-act Omega was something hardly ever to forget. Two of them ganged on corvette’s defences, one provided rear security, and the last one delivered a point-blank torpedo hit. The blast made corvette virtually jump and explode in three pieces.

Charan fighters broe off and regrouped,now aware of the feint they were victims of. Omega greeted them with evasive maneuvres and sometimes a shot or two.

„Now Novas, hit them so we can proceed to next target!”

As Novas regrouped. Kat noticed something on the very fringes of Her sensors’ range. After a few seconds’ analisys – something proved to be definitely interesting, and though hard to logically explain, somewhat reassuring.

„Claymore! I Got another capship coming hard towards the station and towards us. It has just emerged from the external layer of The Border. It’s signature matches the Alliance missile cruiser!”
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Kate Ross was trying to figure things out while dragging her precious piece of equipment wit her and trying to follow quick footed, mysterious OSI commander. They arrived finally to some backup hangar that Kate only remotely was aware of existing. Chalato flicked the lights on. Kate whistled. „Now what is this?”

Before them stood them small long-range shuttle. Big enough to take only 8 up to 12 persons, it still was capable of every long range operation, including gate jumping. Chakato spoke softly: „Our way out of here.” Seeing young technician’s amazed look she proceeded with explanation. „Every capship has at least one of these, Morrigan has three. They serve as courier ships when radio transmissions are not secure enough. Sometimes as a ‘tell our moms we did our best’ messages, should the odds prove fatal.” She quickly moved to the panel and engaded power supply to the sleepieng ship. „But this time let us hope it’s only the rats’ mean of leaving the drowning vessel.”

Suddenly there was a snap, a crack and a bang, as one of the air conditioning holes opened, crate falling on the floor, something dirty ans loudly cursing emerging from it.

The strange creature dropped what looked like a heavy bag filled with some crates on the floor, then jumped down itself. When it rubbed it’s face somewhat clean, it appeared to be the traitor Veneberg and it looked at Kate with a surprise equal to her own.

„What does she do in here?” sounded three women voices unisono. Only Kate was pointing at Veneberg, Venaberg was pointing at Kate, and Chakato…. Chakato was pointing at the little girl, no older than eight by the looks of her, whose face had just then appeared in the hole.

„Errr… she helped me find my way in the airducts.” Veneberg lass looked more than a little bit surprised.

„Do I look like a babysitter to you pilot?”

Adrenaline, the human body's very own and most effective drug. Awesome stuff as Anatolja had to admit. Enough of it would take you from out cold to wide awake in a split second, as she experienced herself this instant. Anatolja was sure she had never before been up on her feet so quickly.

She watched in horror as the not-quite-dead corpse slowly and clumsily rose from the floor, with a heavy groan.

"Mirunova, is that you?"

Although muffled with drowsiness, it was Sparks' voice. Why in all the world was it she who had to survive? Why not just anybody else?

"Oh thank God, Auto, I thought they'd come to finish us off." Sparks wiped her brow, still disoriented.

*smack*

The sound of Anatolja hitting her in the face with her fist. She watched with satisfaction how Sparks winced with pain.

"Ah! Ow, damn, are you crazy?! What the hell was that for?"

"What that was for?" Anatolja's voice was dangerously shrill. "How about starting a fuckin' mutiny! How about having your girls killing each other!" Anatolja pointed at Tibbs' body.

"Oh my God..." Sparks only now became really aware of the surrounding. "Oh God, no..."

"Yeah, nobody's gonna come to finish you off. They already have finished you off. You got lucky though. You get the chance to take a good look at the mess you created and feel sorry for it for the rest of your life."

"Mirunova, listen..."

"Shut up! Just shut the fuck up! I don't want to hear your excuses! I don't care for any 'whys' anymore." The motion of Anatolja picking up her old assault rifle from the floor gave her words so much more weight. Sparks stiffened visibly as it's barrel pointed vaguely into her direction.

"Oh no, I'm not going to shoot you." Anatolja said, much calmer now. "You're not getting away that easily. I'm going to see to it that you get what you deserve. I'm not going to be the only one who'll go to court martial. But right now I need you to get out of this mess. Now make yourself useful and disarm those booby-traps, will you?"

“TNS Morrigan, this is the Persephone. We’re on approach. Within attack range in 15 minutes.”

The announcement was broadcast over an open channel, and Crone soon realized why. The remaining Canus would soon be sandwiched by the two cruisers. It changed course abruptly, setting a vector that would take it quickly away from the central kill-zone. The change would make its strafing run far less effective than it would have been otherwise. Crone felt the first real surge of hope in her heart. If the Persephone was truly friendly, the Morrigan might still have a chance of surviving this engagement.

With the other Canus dispatched, the rest of Dark Nova was racing to catch up to its sister ship. Along with them came the remaining rebel fighters from the failed escort who were now desperate to protect the remaining corvette, creating a high-speed fire fight as the two groups rocketed in. Omega trailed behind them, and it was going to be a close call as to whether they would arrive in time to do any good. As for Crone and her charges, they had successfully avoided any significant damage from the missile spread and had managed to make their way back to the corvette quickly. However, there were no fewer fighters still guarding her, and the anti-cap ship guns were now being brought to bare.

“We don’t have time for feints anymore,” Crone called into the comm. “We’ll have to engage them directly. Follow my lead.” With that Crone came in shallow toward the ship’s aft, safe from the now-destroyed rear turret. Lock tones sounded again as the X-Sirens responded to the threat. With a straight shot before her, Crone let fly a pair of missiles towards the main engines. The lock tones ceased as the enemy fighters hurried to intercept the incoming warheads. Seizing the opportunity, Crone led her element down underneath the corvette which the intercepting X-Sirens had now left unguarded.

“Split three and rendezvous above!” Crone shouted, and the Alliance fighters broke away, each one heading upward from a different side of the corvette. Turret fire sprayed past Crone’s cockpit as she pulled up hard, rounding the nose of the vessel. Catching an enemy ship off-guard from below, the sliver-haired girl sent up a hail of gatling laser fire. The ship split in two and Crone’s own Siren raced by in-between the spreading debris. This time, as the three Navy fighters regrouped above the corvette, they were pursued in earnest. Crone looked out and noticed that Seer’s Medusa was sparking.

“Seer, you alright?”

“Turret fire crossed my backside,” the pilot replied. “My engines are failing.”

“Cat, form up on me,” Crone said, a twinge of fear threatening to rob her focus. “We’ll need to keep the rebels from harassing Seer.”

******************************


“Chef? What are you doing here?” The guard seemed surprised to see the husky woman walking down the corridor toward the brig with a covered serving plate. The guard had never seen the chef outside of the mess hall before.

“I bring food for the prisoner,” Claudia announced in her deep voice, lifting the lid to reveal its contents. The guard assumed that it must be a casserole of some sort, but couldn’t guess what it was made of.

“I’m sorry, Chef,” the guard said in a nervous tone. “I have orders that no one sees the prisoner except those who Verulian authorizes specifically…. Why are you bringing food, anyway? There hasn’t been a request for it as far as I know.”

“I hear that prisoner is a man,” Claudia said, a slight but mischievous smirk coming to her face. “I remember old rule that men are more cooperative after eating.” The guard seemed to relax a bit at this.

“Heh, maybe so. But orders are orders.”

“I just slip it in,” Claudia insisted. “That’s what food slot is for, right? Please.” After a moment of indecision, the guard relented.

“Well, you did bake that delicious lemon cake for my birthday…. I supposed that warrants a favor in return. Ok, fine, but do it quickly before anyone else sees you around here. As you’d expect, everyone is suspicious of everyone else lately.”

Claudia nodded and bent down. As she placed the food tray, she leaned in to regard the lone male figure shackled to the far wall.


******************************


As often happens in war, confusion reigned at the convergence of many separate military elements. The Canus corvette began its strafing run just as Claymore’s element arrived on the scene, still dueling with the enemy Sirens. The corvette’s large guns fired toward the Morrigan’s port side, and the cruiser returned fire in kind. Over the course of a few moments the space between the capships was awash in deadly plasma bolts. Shields crackled and some bolts got through on both sides. Scorch-marks and holes began to appear on the hulls. Interceptors from the Morrigan were taxed at trying to shoot down the missile salvo now heading towards it. Crone saw this from a distance, unable to assist as she and Catnip struggled to protect Seer’s wounded fighter from a trio of enemy fighters.