WIP: Chapter 1 - Orion's Last Stand

Dwarfing all other deep space combat ships, the Federated Hegemony spent five years and 200 billion credits in her construction. The FHS Thermopylae lacked the prestige and history of some of her more famous counterparts, the Enterprise or Indefatigable. Her mission was different, as were her crew. There would be no rotating off the Thermopylae and no shore leave. In fact, most of her crew never expected to see their homes or families again. Her story begins before her keel was laid...

On board the FHS Orion (CVS -77)

The red phone buzzing interrupted Captain Viktor Lenvov as he took the first bite of the dinner that his cook had prepared for him. His cook was good, keeping his diet healthy while still catering to his tastes; namely the timeless classic of a good cheese and pepperoni pizza.

Moving across the small distance to his desk, Lenvov answered the phone brusquely, "This is the Captain."

His Executive Officer, commonly called the XO, said, "Captain, this is the XO on the bridge. Sir, we've picked up an unknown contact. Tracking indicates it originated far from Hegemony space. Sir, it's transmitting a message."

His dinner forgotten, Lenvov left his cabin and rushed through the passageways. The smartest of the crew wisely gave way, the boots tried to salute. Racing by them, Lenvov headed for the bridge.

"Cap'n on the Bridge!" shouted the Boatswain, pronounced Bos'n, of the Watch.

"As you were ladies and gentlemen," Lenvov said.

Moving across the red lit bridge, Lenvov moved to the center of the bridge to the chair reserved for him was. In front of him was the BattleNet table, commonly called the footstool, since it doubled as such when not in use. Turning he took in the oval room of the Orion's bridge. To his right, stood the navigation console. To his left the tactical station. Each station was manned by one enlisted person. When the ship was at battle-stations, an officer would join the enlisted personnel at the two consoles.

"Mike, fill me in," rumbled Lenvov in his slight Russian accent.

"Aye, Cap'n," replied Commander Mike Hernandez in his light Spanish accent. His short and heavily muscled frame moved to the tactical station to begin his report. "Skipper, we just picked up this object 600 million kilometers out from our defensive bubble. We wouldn't have known about it until later but one of our patrol interceptors noticed it on their deep scan equipment."

"Speed and bearing Mike?" Lenvov inquired.

"Almost 300 million kilometers an hour Skipper. Bearing dead ahead. It's coming straight for us. Time to intercept is 2 hours," Hernandez stated professionally. "We've picked up a beam broadcast from it as well."

"Christ, that bastard is moving. That's almost two AU's an hour. And it's broadcasting?" Said Lenvov after doing some quick mental math.

"Yes sir, it's sending something," The XO confirmed. Checking his instruments he continued, ".

Lenvov cocked an eyebrow at this bit. An unknown craft, broadcasting on beam. Either this was going to be a historical day, or the worst day of his long career. Either way, it was going to be interesting.

"All right Mike, take us to Threat Level Two, prep a message drone and see if you can't get some coffee up here," ordered Lenvov.

"Threat Level Two, aye Skipper. Bos'n, toodle your pipe and make it happen," Hernandez said.

"Aye, aye sir," the Bos'n replied. Barely stifling a grin, the Bos'n reached for the microphone to broadcast the announcement. Raising a small silver pipe to his lips, the Bos'n began blowing a shrill series of notes into the microphone.

"On the Orion, set Threat Level Two. All hands muster to your duty stations, set condition x-ray throughout the ship. Department heads, make your readiness reports to the bridge. This is not a drill," announced the Bos'n.

The sound of a harsh klaxon filled the bridge. Additional crew members entered the bridge going to their assigned duty stations with the calm competency of seasoned professionals.

Reaching for the hand set next to his station Hernandez ordered "Communications, this is the Bridge. Prepare a communications drone to be launched on the CO's orders."

Punching another set of buttons Hernandez spoke into his hand set quickly, "Petty Officer Jones, this is the XO. The Captain would like some coffee sent up to the bridge."

Lenvov to himself why, his 21 year career, there always seemed to be a Jonesy on the other end of the phone when someone called for coffee.

"Mike, anyone listen to that beam yet?" inquired Lenvov.

"Communications has it now, and they're analyzing it Cap'n," Hernandez replied.

"Good, I want to know what it's saying. Preferably before we're nose to nose with that.... whatever it is out there," Lenvov instructed. "Can we reach it with a beam of our own?"

"Hrmmm, just barely, another 10 minutes and it'll be in range for sure."

"OK, when it's in range, have our radio boys transmit all of the standard requests for ident, intent and such. All the usual noise."

"Got it Cap'n."

Lenvov typed out a quick but accurate report for the message drone. After scanning the report, he sent it down to and had it inserted into the drone, but held up the launch.

"Skipper, we're sending our message now. Communications reports that the message that.. thing.. is sending is short and keeps repeating."

"They got any clue as to what we're being told, Mike?"

"Not yet sir, but definitely repeating."

"Great. Now is it telling us to kiss our ass good bye or is it sending a recipe for apple pie? Have Comms load up a copy of the message on the drone. I've started to get a twitchy feeling in my gut about this." Thinking for a minute Lenvov then asked "Does our patrol have time to make a fly by before they're out of air?"

"Aye Skipper, but it'll be a bit tight for them."

"Have them do a fly by, then launch a tanker. Don't want our people turning blue on the way back."

Hernandez picked up his handset once again, and repeated Lenvov's orders into it. "Tanker is 5 minutes from launch Cap'n."

Lenvov nodded as he sipped his coffee. "Understood, put the patrol on the speakers. Let's hear what's going on out there."

The speakers on the bridge crackled to life with the slightly distorted voices of the two pilots.

"Jackal Flight, commence your fly by. Maintain minimum distance of ten thousand meters." ordered the voice of the Orion's operations center.

"Jackal Flight copies, Orion. We're turning in now. Keep the lights on for us." acknowledged the male voice of the lead patrol ship

"Wilco Jackal, good luck."

"OK Monkey, let's keep it nice and tight. This one's for all the marbles," ordered the male voice to his wingman.

"Trust me Wrench, it's just a walk in the park." replied the female voice of Wrench's wingman.

"Those two? Of all the days for those two to be together on the flight schedule." Lenvov murmured.

Picking up the handset that rested on the arm of his chair, Lenvov punched a button. "Orion Actual to Jackal Flight. OK you two goons, best behavior from both of you. Weapons safe, and don't get creative or fancy on me."

"Orion Actual, Jackal Flight copies. We're just the friendly neighborhood welcoming committee. Monkey has a cake over there with her somewhere. Just stopping by to say hello, that's all."

"I got your cake alright, Wrench. Tell your Mom I said Hi." retorted Monkey.

"Can it you two, or I swear I'll bust you both down and have you flying cargo ships full of staff officers," cut in Lenvov.

"Orion Actual, Jackal Flight copies best behavior."

Putting down his handset Lenvov couldn't help but smile. "One day I'm going to strangle those two."

"Not if the Wing Commander beats you to it Skipper." Hernandez commented. The number of ulcers Monkey and Wrench caused the Wing Commander, or Wing King as he was known, was the subject of much rumor, speculation and betting among the crew. Current rumor had it the Wing King kept a liter bottle of antacid in his drawer just for the occasion of dealing with "those two blasted miscreants," as he termed it.

"Monkey, hang back about ten thousand meters, no sense bunching up and making ourselves an easy target." Wrench's disembodied voice ordered.

"Copy that lead, moving to trail position at ten thousand." Monkey confirmed.

"Mike, bring up the tactical plot, I want to see those two," Lenvov ordered.

Silently Hernandez switched the plot from navigational to tactical view. Instantly the Orion sprang into view with her four escorts. Ahead of her showed the icons for Jackal Flight, as well as the circle that denoted an unidentified contact. Lenvov could see Wrench and Monkey putting distance between each other as they began their run toward the object.

"Orion, this is Jackal Lead, I'm going to start relaying my readings to you," Wrench radioed.

"Orion copies Jackal Lead, we're excited to see what you got out there," the Operations specialist replied.

"Orion, I have visual, approaching now. Monkey, stay awake back there, don't let anything crawl up my ass. Orion, are you getting these readings? This thing.. the size... it's tiny. It's about the size of my ship, and is shaped like an aerodynamic pyramid. It's looks beat to hell. I see score markings all on her. If she's manned, I couldn't tell you where they sit. Holy Shit!"

"Jackal Flight report. What's happening out there? Wrench, Monkey, talk to me" came the Op's voice again.

"Orion, Jackal, sorry about that. The damned thing just stopped. I don't mean slowed down, but just stopped dead in it's tracks. How in the hell did it do that?!" Wrench exclaimed.

"OK, that's enough of that, bring them in Mike, let's not dance with the devil any more than we have to," Lenvov ordered. "Load up Wrench's readings into that drone and send it. I want this back to the higher ups yesterday."

"Operations, Bridge, bring our people home." Hernandez ordered into his handset. Pushing another button he ordered the readings Wrench had obtained to be loaded onto the drone and launched as soon as it was ready. "Skipper, the drone should reach Fleet HQ in a day."

"Very well, that will have to do."

"Jackal Flight turn to bearing 160 elevate five degrees. Tanker is six two zero kilometers off your nose." instructed the operations voice.

"Jackal Flight copies Orion, Turning to six two zero degrees; elevating five. Monkey form up and let's go sip some juice," Wrench ordered.

"Two," responded Monkey indicating she had understood the command.

"Cap'n, Jackal flight's relief has launched," Hernandez informed Lenvov.

"OK Mike, let's have them establish a race track orbit around that thing. I trust as much as I trust my ex-wife," Lenvov intoned.

"Which one Skipper?" quipped Hernandez.

"All of them Mike, all of them," Lenvov joked back. With a serious tone he said "OK, let's get the ready five birds heading out as well. I don't want to be caught with our pants down if there are any more surprises today."

Speaking into his handset Hernandez intoned, "On the launch deck, make ready and launch the Alert Five fighters. Launch the Alert Five fighters."

Hernandez's handset buzzed seconds after he set it down. "Bridge, XO speaking," he answered. "Yes, I understand. Tracks one and two. Will do, Commander." Turning to Lenvov as he replaced his handset, Hernandez relayed his conversation to Lenvov.

"Skipper that was the Air Boss, launch tracks one and two are down, and three and four are in the middle of preventive maintenance. He estimates thirty minutes before we are launch capable again."

"God damn it!" Lenvov swore in Russian. Picking up his handset, he stabbed the buttons that would connect him to Jackal flight. "Jackal Flight, Orion Actual. Looks like you two are going to have to put off your plans for a shower and a meal. Launch tracks are down, and I need to you pick up the slack on the Combat Area Patrol. I got a bad feeling about this, so I want you both to top off your tanks."

"Orion Actual, Jackal Flight copies. We're going to drink our fill, then head back to the CAP position. I'm with you on this one Orion. That thing gave me a case of the heebies," Wrench replied.

"And I got the jeebies," Monkey chimed in.

"We'll report when we're on station," Wrench replied. "Jackal Flight out."

"Mike cut the channel. I can't stand to listen to tanking operations," Lenvov ordered. A pilot himself, Lenvov knew the last thing that he wanted was someone listening in as he would try to hook up with a tanker to refill his oxygen tanks. Fuel wasn't a worry for the Reaper Interceptors. It was oxygen. Small amounts of plutonium could power the Reaper's M drive for almost a century. It was the oxygen that the pilots needed to breathe that limited the time a fighter could spend on station. It was the oxygen that posed the greatest danger to the pilots. All it took was a leak in the containers and a small spark to turn the small nimble craft and it's tanker into a spectacular fireball.

Forcing down a shudder, Lenvov turned to the plot board. Examining the formation of his task force, he decided to take a defensive position.

"Mike bring us up to battle stations. Don't engage the rail guns yet. Let's not provoke anything," Lenvov explained to Hernandez.

"Bos'n, tootle it up," Mike ordered.

While the Bos'n made his announcement, Lenvov moved from his chair to the plot board. Studying it briefly, he made his decision. Yes that should work just fine, he thought. Moving back across through the disciplined busyness of the bridge, he sat down in his chair. Punching a few more buttons, he lifted his handset to his mouth.

"Attention Zulu Task Force. This is the Orion. As I'm sure you're aware, we've got an unknown craft dead ahead. Until the intentions of this craft have been made known and verified, I'm ordering all ships to assume threat level one and assume formation Sierra November 3. I say again, all ship to threat level one and formation Sierra November 3. Authorization Charlie Mike Tango Four Six Niner. This is the Orion. Execute."

Turning his attention back to the plot board, Lenvov watched as the destroyers Cutlass and Wager began to maneuver slightly ahead and off to the side of the Orion. The frigates Trenton and Perth dashed head of the destroyers to assume their forward positions. The formation looked like a V shape with the unknown object between the two frigates that acted as the opening of the V. Lenvov watched as all four of the escort ships turned from a blue to a blinking red that signified they had made the transition to threat level one. He noticed that Jackal flight had arrived at their designated patrol area, 300 kilometers to the rear of the Orion.

"Mike, bring up the Battle Network. Let's do this by the numbers," Lenvov ordered.

Hernandez deftly manipulated the buttons that would bring up the three dimensional display that would be projected from a round polished steel table that stood at the center of the bridge. The display sprang to life showing detailed miniaturized version of each of the task force ships as well as the four Reapers that were active in front and behind the larger ships. The strange ship that was the center of the task forces attention was replicated with the data sent back to the Orion by Wrench earlier.

"Does anyone know if we've figured out what that ship is broadcasting?"

"Communications is still working on it Cap'n," Hernandez informed Lenvov. "It doesn't match anything in our data cores, so they're doing it the old fashioned way. They're making progress, but it's slow."

"Let's have a look at what they've have so far," replied Lenvov. Pulling a small screen mounted to his chair by a swivel, Lenvov waited for the information to be displayed. When it arrived, he felt his stomach knot up and a sudden sense of dread come over him. As he stared at the partially translated message, he suddenly wished his former Executive Officer were still serving with him. Alexander Murray had a knack for situations like this, where Lenvov had to rely on procedure and regulations. Murray would have intuitively known what the next step should be in such a unprecedented situation. Pull yourself together man, you're in charge here, Lenvov chided himself. Alex is back in the Sol system and you're here. Focusing on the words on his screen he didn't need to wait for communications to finish its translating.

"Mike, have you seen this?" Lenvov asked swinging his screen so Hernandez could see for himself.

"Not yet Skipper," Hernandez replied as he turned his attention to Lenvov's screen. "Madre de Dios..." Hernandez said under his breath. "Does that say what I think it does Viktor?"

"I think so Mike. And I think we're in trouble," Lenvov confirmed. Locking eyes with his XO, Lenvov felt his uniform starting to stick to his back from sweat. His fear was mirrored in Hernandez's eyes. "Mike, prep another message drone. Dump everything we have into it. We've got to get this back to the Admiralty. As soon as the drone is off, I want the task force to start back off and give this ship plenty of space. If we're lucky we might still get out of this with our collective asses intact."

"Right Skipper, I'm very interested in that," concurred Hernandez.

Moving to the BattleNet station Lenvov studied the small unassuming ship. For such a small thing, you sure have us jumping through hoops, Lenvov mused. I'll make a deal with you, you keep doing nothing, and we'll do the same. We can be reasonable about this, and you want to be reasonable, don't you?

In answer to his question, the BattleNet displayed a new image. Directly behind the smaller alien craft a much larger ship sprang into view.

"Orion, Hunter Flight, we got a new development here," a tense female voice said over the bridge speakers.

"Hunter Flight, this is Orion, we just saw it appear on our screens here. Can you give us a clearer picture of what it is?" directed the Orion's operations specialist.

"Hunter copies. It looks to be much bigger than the Orion. If our instruments didn't tell us it was there, we would probably have missed it. It's color is black and is shaped just like the smaller craft. It's just sitting there. Orion, this thing is giving me the creeps," the female flight leader reported.

At that moment sensor data from Hunter's Reapers, the frigates and destroyers began to flow to the Orion, sharpening up the image of the new ship displayed. The BattleNet in turn relayed the aggregated information to all the ships, providing the task force with cohesive tactical view of the situation.

His hands suddenly slick with sweat, Lenvov spoke into one of the BattleNet's handsets, broadcasting his voice to the flotilla and Reapers, "This is the Orion. Hunter Flight, pull back to 100 kilometers. Let's not give our new friends any reason to do something silly. Everyone else maintain weapons safe. I repeat, weapons safe."

As Lenvov turned to Hernandez to solicit his thoughts, a digital voice issued forth over the bridge speakers, "Attention Zulu Task Force. This is Admiral Selthro. We welcome you to the Pesathalian Empire. We welcome your contribution to the Greater Good. You will power down your weapons and prepare to accept our integration team. Failure to comply will result in punitive actions. You have ten of your minutes to fully comply."

Recovering from his shock that the secure BattleNet communication stream had been just compromised, Lenvov addressed Admiral Selthro, "This is Captain Viktor Lenvov, commander of Task Force Zulu. On behalf of the Federated Hegemony of Humanity, I..."

"You now have nine minutes 45 seconds to comply."

Lenvov signaled to Hernandez to cut the BattleNet microphones with a slashing motion at his throat. Hernandez quickly silenced the microphones.

"I don't think their ideas of punitive actions are going to be sending us to bed without supper Mike," Lenvov said, feeling the cold sense of dread falling across the bridge.

"I'd be OK with that Skipper. Hell, they can have my breakfast as well," Hernandez murmured. In a steadier voice he continued, "I guess we don't have to finish waiting for the decoding of the message. I'll bet you the only thing different in what we just heard was the time limit."

"Mike, I think your right. Let's see if we can find out what 'punitive actions' are," Lenvov stated. "Open up the mics again."

Hernandez reactivated the microphones and nodded to Lenvov when they were operating.

"Attention Pesathalians. This is Captain Lenvov. We require clarification." Lenvov spoke in the air.

"Captain Lenvov, state your request for clarification," the synthesized voice replied.

"Thank you. Please define punitive actions," Lenvov requested.

"Captain Lenvov, clarification is as follows. Punitive action will be the destruction of Task Force Zulu," the Pesathalian replied.

"Surely we can negotiate or discuss the reason for this," Lenvov offered.

"The Greater Good requires no negotiation. It can not be subverted or altered. Your choice is simple, become part of the Greater Good or be eliminated as a threat to the Greater Good. We are not unreasonable. We offer you this choice," the Pesathalian explained.

"These choices are unacceptable Admiral Selthro, there has to be another option," Lenvov inquired.

"No other choices are available Captain Lenvov."

"Admiral Selthro, I'm not authorized to agree to join an empire, surely you must understand this."

"This is regrettable Captain Lenvov. The Pesathalian are not with out compassion or honor. We will allow you five minutes to prepare your defenses. We will withdraw our monitoring of your communications Captain. Life to the victor," The Pesathalian stated ominously.

"Mike, I'll be damned if I'm waiting five minutes," Lenvov growled. "XO, you have command of the Orion. Seems it's time to put on my Commodore's hat." Picking up the BattleNet handset Lenvov, began to assume direct sole command of the task force as Commodore, "Attention Task Force Zulu, this is Zulu Actual. I am assuming command of the task force. Authorization Delta Delta Four Six Two. All ships, weapons are released. I repeat weapons release. Our target are both alien craft. Orion, launch the Wing. Destroyers Cutlass and Wager, co-ordinate with Orion's Wing King. Frigates Perth and Trenton, close in a best speed . Take out that probe then help the destroyers and give the bad guys something to worry about other than the fighters."

Lenvov felt the heavy thudding vibrated through the polished blue floor of the bridge as the Orion started launching her wing. Watching the BattleNet display Lenvov watched as the wing orbited around the Orion forming up into their predetermined formations. He took note that Jackal Flight remained on station at the rear of the group. He thought about asking the Wing King why he was keeping them out of the fight, but decided the Wing King knew his job, and didn't need his interference.

Seeing the frigates moved into position in front of the assembled wing, giving the Cutlass and Wager room to target and launch their missiles Lenvov nodded. OK guys, let em rip, Lenvov silently urged the destroyers. In response a swarm of hundreds of missiles left the Cutlass and Wager, heading for the Pesathalian ship. Controlled by an encoded beam from the destroyers, the missiles assembled in their own formation. As the missiles reached halfway to the enemy ship, the Perth and Trenton swooped in to their wake leading the formations of fighters and bombers from the Orion.

The Pesathalian suddenly sprang to life. Firing it's own armaments, it aimed at the screen of missiles that where headed for it, trying to stave off destruction. Lenvov had to remind himself to breath as he watched the missiles approach. Come on you beautiful babies. Show mothers little darlings what they're up against, Lenvov cheered mentally. Several minutes passed in deathly quiet as the entire bridge waited to see how the opening moves would play out. Watching the countdown on the holographic display, Lenvov repeated to himself, 5...4...3...2...1. He watched to see how many of the missiles would survive the Pesathalian's defensive measures.

For the first time in his career Lenvov felt fear's icy grip on his soul as he watched his missiles start to wink out of existence. Impossible! They couldn't have gotten them all! he despaired in his mind.

"Mike, are we getting accurate readings?" he asked in shock, hoping that it was a malfunction.

"We are Viktor. They knocked all of our missiles down," Hernandez replied with a hint of terror creeping into his voice.

"Recall the wing, Mike, this is suicide. Get them back on board and we'll do an emergency scramble," Lenvov ordered.

Turning back to his display, Lenvov was about to pick up his hand set and order the frigates to break off their attack.

"Orion, this is the Perth, we're taking fire. We've hull ruptures on our port side, Missile batteries 1 through 8 are down. Rail guns are still operational," the Captain of the Perth informed the task force.

"This is the Trenton, they're targeting us as well, on our starboard side. We've lost Missile batteries 15 through 23, and rail gun mounts 2, 5 and 7. We've lost our auxiliary bridge as well. Viktor, we can't take a pounding like this, I've got 103 dead and wounded so far," Trenton's skipper said.

Speaking into his handset Lenvov ordered, "Perth, Trenton, break off, break off, regroup with Orion."

"Orion, we just lost our main starboard thruster," Declared the Trenton. "We'll cover the Perth's six."

"No need Trenton," replied the Perth. "The bastards just took out my port thruster."

With the frigates unable to move at full speed, their greatest advantage was neutralized, Lenvov knew. He made a snap decision, and spoke into his handset, "Cutlass, Wager form up on Orion. Orion, flank speed, we're going in to rescue our people."

"Cutlass copies Zulu actual, we're moving now," acknowledged the commander of the destroyer.

"Wager acknowledges. Hold on Perth and Trenton, the Calvary is coming. Cutlass, let's plow the road!"

The Orion shuttered as her massive engines roared to life and began to propel her toward the two stricken frigates. Her engines seemed to understand the urgency and shrieked their own battle cry. With the two destroyers leading her, the Orion raced toward her companions. As the distance closed, the Cutlass and Wager launched barrage after barrage of missiles hoping to overwhelm the Pesathalian's ability to defend itself. The crippled frigates, determined to give as good as they got, also launched their missiles and fired their rail guns. Lenvov watched all this on his display. Good lord, are we even hitting them he wondered silently. Once again the Pesathalian started knocking down missiles. Lenvov noticed that there was a hole in their firing solution. Oh my God, we're hurting her, Lenvov thought. When Lenvov touched the hole in the aliens defensive fire, BattleNet sent the corresponding coordinates to the destroyers.

"There! Cutlass, Wager, aim there!" he barked into his handset.

Perth and Trenton were giving it all they had, but they were running out of time. The two smaller ships weren't built for a slug fest like this. Lenvov saw their images reflecting the massive amounts of damage they were sustaining. They kept firing desperate to cause enough damage and help buy their rescue the time they needed to arrive. Missile swarmed around them guided to the holes in the Pesathalian's defensive screen. Fighters and bombers buzzed around the alien ship like a swarm of angry insects, firing missiles, and unleashing torrents of cannon fire upon it.

Lenvov watched them impact, imagining they explosions and destruction they were causing. He felt hope starting to rise. Maybe he could get his people out... maybe.

Then the Pesathalians targeted the Orion. Lenvov felt every impact of their strange and deadly accurate weapons. He heard the damage and casualty reports coming in. They were taking out the Orion's weapons.

"Orion, this is Cutlass, they took out all of our missile batteries and rail gun mounts. Viktor, I got nothing left."

"This is the Wager, we're in the same boat Viktor. I couldn't spit at them if I wanted to."

Vengeance filled Lenvov's mind, his sight became tinged with red. He checked the status of the Orion's weapons. His blood lust increased when he found that the Orion had been stripped of all her weapons. Her wing was still in commission, but just barely. In the short amount of time it took the Orion to close, only ten fighters remained.

He would not allow these Pesathalians, whoever they are, to encroach on Hegemony space. The buck stops here, pal, Lenvov thought to himself.

Snatching the handset to his face, he barked orders, "Jackal Flight, alter course 180 degrees and make best possible speed out of our range."

"Orion, Jackal Flight. Sir, you're ordering us to run away? Let us in the fight, we can hurt the bastards," Wrench pleaded.

"Negative Wrench. Listen up you two goons. I don't have a lot of time, so I'm only going to say this once. I don't have time to launch another drone. You two are the only way I have of letting the Fleet know what happened here. I'm dumping all our sensor data to you both. This maybe the only time you hear me say this, so enjoy it: Get Creative. You two idiots do what ever you have to do to stay alive and get this information back to the fleet. Acknowledge."

For the first time in Lenvov's memory, neither of the two pilots had a witty reply, "Orion, Jackal Flight copies. We won't let you down Skipper. Godspeed Orion."

"Attention Task Force, this is Zulu Actual. We're in bad shape people. We are out gunned and over matched. But we will hold the line. Right here, right now, we stand fast. It has been my distinct honor and privilege to serve with you fine men and women. I could not have asked for a better trained command. Thank you all. All ships, your new bearing is the Pesathalian ship, at the best speed you can make. We stop them here and now!"

"Wager acknowledges Zulu Actual. The honor is ours sir. Let's hold the line."

"Cutlass acknowledges. We're with you Zulu. No mercy."

As the ships oriented to their new course, the Pesathalian stopped their assault. Apparently confused by the movement. As the ships surged forward, the confusion didn't last long.

"Captain Lenvov, this is Admiral Selthro. You are beaten. I offer you mercy. Order your ships to cease movement."

Lenvov ignored Selthro. He was presenting the Pesathalian with a horrible third option.

"Hail Mary, mother of God, the lord is with thee," prayed Hernandez.

Lenvov tuned out all the other sounds and sights of the bridge as he focused on the BattleNet display. He saw the other four ships adjusting their speed so that they would all impact at the same time as the Orion. Even now, after I ordered us all to our deaths, they still believe, Lenvov thought at his heart hitched in this throat.

"Captain Lenvov, this is not necessary, break off, you're on a collision course," Selthro said.

Moments before impact, Lenvov uttered his last words, "I'll see you in hell, Selthro!"

Jackal flight watched resulting destruction of four ships impacting the Pesathalian's ship at once. The ships seemed to fold in on their selves before breaching the hull and pushed into the core of the alien ship. As the Task Force ships lost their engines, the five ships sat in space motionless for a calm and quiet moment. The Perth's engine was the first to explode. The resulting devastation caused the Cutlass and Wager's engines to detonate. The Trenton detonated seconds after the destroyers. Huge chunks of the Pesathalian's spaceship blew away from the twisted wreckage. The ship was damaged, but it started to move. The Orion's detonation ensured that Jackal Flight were the only survivors.

In the still aftermath of the battle, Wrench and Monkey began the long wait, hoping rescue would arrive before they ran out of air.