OBT Forum

Welcome Hanekem!

My suggestion would be to start posting in this thread. Doesn't matter if you think it's nonsensical gibberish, there are enough helpful people here to sort ya out. We're a good sounding board and I'm sure more than one member is a Macross afficiando.

Thanks, I will begin to do so shortly, though I do warn you all it is going to be mostly on the Macross side of things to begin with.

For those in the known, I am going to play with the macross canon a bit, AFAIC Mac 7 doesn't exist, it is just another series made in universe during Firebomber's height of popularity so the Supervision army weren't brainwashed dupes but one of the factions of the Civil war that tore the protoculture to shreds and burned a nice percentage of the galaxy (and, of course, there are still fleets of both sup army and zentradi going at it, somewhere or most wheres actually. the Galaxy is big and the Protoculture inhabited most of it before it all went to hell in a handbasket)

As for Battletech is concerned, I plan to have the corss happen around 3045 or so, mostly to have the clan invasion only a few years away, they will play a part in this story, though most of their weapon adv are going to be gone by the time they start slugging it out with house regulars (trainning and skill, OTOH...). i was looking for publications that might deal with these years, that is the just before the clan invasion as to flesh out a few ideas.

Thanks for the reply, I imagined there would be very limited amounts of data for the timeframe, But at the same time it made the best ground for the crossover.
Guess there is no way around it but improvise the blank spots.

One question though, anybody has any data on Wynn's roost? used to be part of the OWA.

Hi Folks, I am back here. Been busy writing but I needed to make a quick question, how far is from Terra, in Lightyears, Wynn's roost?

Further good news, I finished the Prologue, it is mostly macross so I am unsure if I should post it here.

Thanks in advance

THank you for your reply, Blacknova. Think I forgot to thank you.

So, I am posting this, it is mostly Macross at the beginning, but that is bound to change. do let me know what you think of the story. I am looking to improve it and improve my writing, after all.

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Prologue

System KTX-1748
May 4th 2048


KTX-1748 was a mostly unremarkable system. Its six planets had potential for industrial exploitation, but nothing outside the norm, even its star, a red dwarf, was rather uninteresting and disappointingly normal.
The only exception to this was Anatole, the fourth planet, and it wasn't anything from the planet itself. It was a barren rock, rich in ores, and a potentially interesting place for industrial exploitation, except it was in the middle of nowhere, so far.
The real price was the wreckage. Perhaps 70 years prior the Galactic Civil war, a war that had been raging for over 500.000 years, had come to Anatole. A Zentradi fleet had clashed with a Supervision Army force in and around the fourth planet. Leaving countless hulls in the Lagrange points, particularly the L4 and in orbit of Anatole itself. The planet also had craters and scorch marks conclusive with a massive orbital bombardment, one on the scale of the one suffered by Earth during the latter stages of Space War I.

To put it plainly, it was a real find.

Admiral Reuben Thomes couldn't help but grin at the report. The Space Navy, or Spacy for short, was always hungry for hulls even if they were second hand.
Thomes command, the 53rd Autonomous Exploration Fleet, was amongst the smallest standalone forces the Spacy fielded, with only 35 military vessels, and the large majority of them being Northampton Frigates. For him this was not only an opportunity to scrounge intel data on the local Supervision Army and Zentradi forces, if any remained, it was also a chance add something more to the 53rd order of battle.

“Currently we have all our survey teams combing the main field at the L4 spot” Stated Comodore Vifol Duperiale in her trademark monotone, “mostly on the hulls that match our needs, but I also have a team on the one Nupitiet.” She said referring to the only command battleship identified so far. “The hull is a total loss, I fear, but we might be able to salvage its datacore”. Vifol was of Zentradi descent, she was a tall woman with viridian hair and an athletic build and some said she was built like a Zentradi commander and had the disposition to match. Though never in her presence.

“Good, and what about the Supervision Army Hulks?” asked Reuben.

“I was hoping we could... delay that survey until the convoy gets here.” She responded with a hint of concern. Once they had made the find, they had contacted the UN command, both about the find and requesting permission to set shop, as it were. Reply had been swift, or at least as swift as possible given their current FTL lag, and even then a large scale convoy was gathering at Proxima and should be arriving within the next tree months. “however, if you wish for me to, I can order the 16th to abandon their current survey, a Quiltra Queleual LST and...”

“It won't be necessary,” he interrupted waving one arm “We better leave that to the Convoy.”
Truth be told Thomes was as apprehensive of messing with Supervision Army derelicts as much as the next man. It was a dangerous task better left to the professionals. Last time mankind had messed with one without care had ended up in the near extinction of the species, after all.


*****


System KTX-1748
Hull designated 227, Quiltra Queleual LST
May 5th 2048

It was dark, and quiet as a pair of Helot Mk 3 made their ways though the abandoned corridors.
The Helot was a modification of the Spartan II Main Battle Robot, one of the first generation destroids originally introduced by the UN in 2008. The Helots had been designed for a rear echelon role, and even for the civilian market as hostile environ survey units. Most of its weapon payload had been stripped and in place it carried tools and sensors within its twin pods.
Though most didn't mean all, they still retained the Anti air cannon and a pair of lasers from the pods themselves.
It was one of the many teams that had been scouring the ship for the last two days. Salvage was a dangerous job, not only they had to navigate though wreckage, but also mark unexploded ordnance for the demo teams and Salvage for the retrieval teams back at the base camp.

Atmo was long gone and so was gravity control, that meant they had to use the magnetic grappling to move around. That slowed the affair significantly
Surprisingly, there was still some power to the ship. But lightning was too dim to be of any use.
Not that it mattered to the Helot with their chest mounted FLIR, forward looking infra red, turret

In the cockpit of the Helot 107 “Devil Dog” Victor Enis was frowning. He had been a surveyor for the last fifteen years and yet this was the first time he was working on a derelict. Felt a bit too much like grave robbing to him.


The Ship hadn't looked bad in the outside, but the inside? That was a whole different thing.
It was full of detritus... detritus, yeah, call it by the proper name old chap, he though, corpses, junk, shrapnel, unexploded ordnance and what not. A nice clean name to an ugly thing.

The Queleuals had been designed by the long gone Protoculture to support ground action but they also served as support and supply vessels. Their three kilometers long hulls could dedicate large areas to hangars and cargo holds.
Weaponwise it was a bit of a lemon, at least for anti shipping duties. Still you always had to sacrifice something, and for the roles it filled, a large arsenal of weapons weren't as important, just enough to support invasion, chiefly bombardment, and to defend itself.
Hull 227 had probably been a supply variant, at least given the large amount of salvage and detritus the teams had found so far.

Victor Enis might have had second thoughts about the job, but it was his, and he was going to do it, even if he'd rather be at The Variation enjoying a nice cold beer.

“Well boss, what do you think? Is she worth it?” the Radio crackled to life. The voice belonged to Astor Phink, his wingman.

“It better be, Astor” he half muttered “Stores should be worth something at least, saw quite a few reaction warheads back in the last hold”

“Yeah, still, damn what a luck” Astor complained. Much like Victor, he wasn't too fond of abandoned warships

“Sigh, hey kid, its ok, we will be out of here in a while and be able to hit the Variation for happy hour”

“Heh, sounds good”

“Wait a sec, seems the bulkhead for the next store area is closed” Victor said as he stopped his machine. Zentradi vessels of the same class were all identical no matter were had they been built and they had the plans to them all. That was one of the lucky breaks for the salvage teams, it meant all teams not only knew were they where but where they were going.

“Huh, yeah. See it. So we call it up?”

“Nah,” Victor drawled as he flipped the master arm switch, “we got lazers kid. We'll burn a hole in and then I'll dismount and take a peak.”
Saying that, the Devil dog begun moving again, this time with a purpose, as the twin pods opened up exposing its weapons to the emptiness.
It wasn't the arsenal carried by its military cousin, but the pair of Astra lasers were all that was needed to make swift work, for a certain value of swift, of the bulkhead.

“Ok, go ahead, Devil dog” Muttered Astor, hesitatingly.

For his part Enis couldn't help but smile, it had been some time since he had used the Astra Lasers, but some things were easy to remember.

“Like riding a bicycle,” he muttered.

And with that he pressed the trigger.
The Hypercarbon alloy of the bulkhead first begun to scorch and then to burn as the pair of lasers unloaded their payload with surgical precision.

Twenty minutes later, the cutting done, Victor moved his machine forward and using the Norman Banks claws, his machine's “hands” he retrieved the cut segment and set it to a side where it floated obliviously.

“Ok, that took a bit longer than I thought” muttered Victor though the radio, “I am going to check my seals and prepare for EVA”

“Roger.”

With trained ease, the Surveyor went over the checklist and then accessed the mecha's survival locker. Most of it were non applicable for the situation, but the heavy duty flashlight on the other hand was a different matter. Specially given how dark it was outside.

It with an almost inaudible hiss that the main hatch opened, exposing Victor Enis' Cockpit to the vacuum.
It only took a swift action to undo the harness fastening him to the Helot and then, then, he was in freefall.

“Checking radio, you read me, Kid?” he rasped into his headset

“Loud and Clear, you sure you want to go through with this one, old timer?” came the prompt reply.

“Hehehe, of course,” he said with a laugh. Even if he was still apprehensive about the grave robing, he liked EVAs. Plus there was the curiosity of the surveyor in him, this had been the first Bulkhead he had seen closed, so far, which was strange. One would have expected most of them closed for combat ops.

Victor had no manned maneuvering unit, or MMU, but as a seasoned spacehand, Zero G ops weren't a problem. With a light movement he was free of his couch and of the cockpit and moving, floating, towards the gap he had created.

The hole was far larger than what he needed, but it was for the best, really. The edges were still glowing hot and would do so for quite the while. He knew better than to try for a snug fit.

“Ok, I am inside.”

While the outside had been in a twilight, the inside was pitch dark. No light fixtures seemed to have survived or, more likely, the last Quartermaster had turned the lightning off before leaving the room for the last time.

“So, see anything?”

“I am working on it,” he said as he fumbled with his flashlight. “Oh, there it go, now let me have a look...”

“Ah, old timer, you ok?” Astor's voice was somewhat hesitant. “Victor?” he said some time latter, using his senior's first name, somewhat nervous.

“Ah, sorry bout that kid, ah, we have a situation,” came the reply, an eternity, perhaps thirty seconds, latter.

“A situation?”

“Oh yeah, better contact the higher ups,” he said, as he watched the gigantic head, of a Meltrandi, a female Zentradi, floating peacefully on a, as far as he could tell, very active stasis chamber.


********

Admiral Reuben Thomes, looked at the report with a degree of disbelief and the hint of a coming headache.

“A full regiment of Meltrandi on ice?” he half muttered. Reuben had expected complications when he ordered the salvage ops. It was part of the deal, still the deal generally was dealing with unexploded ordnance, or to decide which hull would be salvaged first.
Moral issues weren't included or expected.

“We need to defrost them” Commodore Duperiale said matter-of-factly.

“That we do, I am more concerned about the how. This fleet has no miclone chamber and we don't really have the amenities to accommodate full sized Zentradi” he said with a sigh, “Still it does solve the issue on which ship we will be salvaging first”

“Silver lining?”

“I'd say. And once we have restored atmo to that hold we can see about defrost them” he scratched his chin, “In the mean time we will be moving the fleet to the L4 and dispatch the Fortune Eight,” he said referring to the Fleet's lone Tristar industrial vessel, “to dock with the Queleual. Though the Yardships and Whales are to stand by, I'd rather have them work on Quelamitz monitors. Though do contact the Whales and see if they can fab us a miclone chamber as well. They should have the schematics.”

With a salute, Vifol Duperiale left the room.
Reuben returned her salute and begun rereading the report. It was going to be a logistical nightmare, not to mention they were going to be dealing with programmed clones
He was going to have to talk to Dr. Fraga, maybe she could do something about the protoculture programming.


*******


Doctor Elizabeth Fraga was the Fleet's senior scientist. She was short and well past middle age, her hair once platinum blonde was now mostly white but was still vigorous and more than a little peculiar.
She also had a shark like grin, but that was mostly situational. It wasn't everyday your boss asked you to try something new.
The Spacy had dabbled with clones before, with the parentless generation following SWI, but not with the imprinting, at least not in the way the Admiral was asking.
During the decanting of the parentless generation, the clones themselves had been imprinted with some knowledge, there had been no time to raise an army of children, too much to do during those hectic years and the clones themselves had been adults, or of adult development.
But this was different, this was dealing or rather fine tuning an existing template into something more malleable.

“Oh, I can do it, no doubt about it, the question is, Sir, what are we going to overwrite it with” Dr. Fraga stated.

“Nothing too drastic. Just give them freedom, Elisabeth. We are going to walk a fine line as it is.” he added with a grim finality.



System KTX-1748
UNS Pioneer
May 14th 2048


The Macross class Freeman J. Dyson (SDF-37) was the heart of the 53rd. She, like most of her class, had been built following a derivative of the SDF-2 specifications, with one exception, instead of having two ARMD platforms permanently docked, for added Variable fighter support, she carried only one ARMD and one Marne LST platforms with the latter giving the fleet a much needed number of destroids. Most of them were of civilian make or civilian uses, like the Helots deployed by the survey teams, but they also maintained a reinforced regiment of military destroids.

She was, in many ways a marvel, and more than capable of squaring off against the newer New Macross class vessels. Cheaper too.

She was also in a very bad situation.

“Status” barked Admiral Thomes as he entered the combat information center

“Unknown, Sir. Defold activity started at 0400 Hs,” the watch officer stated, “and hasn't stopped since. We count at least five thousand hulls so far, that is five, zero, zero, zero hulls, all of Zentradi design and IFF”

Reuben Thomes could see the holoscreen dominating the room, in it the representation of the system was marked with angry red spots somewhere near the L5 of the second planet, Kest, where the Zentradi force was still appearing.

“Have they detected us?”

“No, not yet”

“Good, let's keep it that way, we will remain in the debris field so far. Assign Azure and Viridian as pickets and have them keep an eye for us.” He paused a second to analyze the data before him “They appear to be forming onto a fleet, but Kest is pretty bare bones for that.”

“We haven't surveyed these planets at any real depth, sir” Duperial added in her own monotone.

“True,” he admitted as he continued to watch the ships appear.

All told, it took a half hour for all the vessels, some 15.000 all told, to materialize in and around the L5 spot for Kest, after that they begun moving in a tight formation towards said planet.

“Very Strange.” stated Vifol Duperiale

“Agreed. They seem to be expecting battle, and soon.” he turned towards the watch officer. “What do you think, Commander Abramson?”

“I agree sir,” the younger man responded, “the formation seems to be Claw Blue, not only they are expecting trouble, they are expecting overwhelming problem.” Zentradi tended to go into battle with superiority of numbers on their side, most of their tactics centered around that fact, but they did had a few for when things weren't so, Claw Blue was one of these, perhaps one of the most pessimist of them as well. The fact that the Zentradi commander had chosen that formations furthered the mystery. “they are also moving at a very conservative speed.”

“So he expects all hell to break loose?” said Reuben while scratching his chin

“That would be my analysis, sir” came the prompt reply from Abramson.

Five hours later, the Zentradi fleet had taken orbit around Kest. Upon reaching the planet's geosynchronous orbit, the alien fleet opened up its formation a bit and then, their monitors opened fire at the planet below.

“They opened fire, just like that.” Commodore Duperiale said, looking at the screen, there was a tinge of disbelief in her voice that broke her usual monotones, denoting how bizarre things were getting. in a normal situation, the alien fleet would have taken orbit around the planet before unleashing their broadsides, but here they were just firing as they came into range.

“This is getting surreal, Vifol, you think the Zentradi Commander might be malfunctioning in some way?”

“I...” she seemed to struggle for the words, “That might be the case but...”whatever she as going to say got swallowed by an alert klaxon.

“Fold wave distortions detected,” stated the senior sensor officer “Intensity six, no eight. No," Her voice seemed to dry up for a second. “We have a dimensional fault reverberating thought the system, this is...”

Unnatural was the word unsaid. And it was. but that wasn't the real issue.

“We won't be able to fold” Admiral Thomes muttered. Inside he was seething, this was getting ridiculous. “A supervision army trap?” he asked his Commodore

“Not a very good trap if it is all there is to it”
That was something to consider. Even if the fold fluctuations would stop them from jumping out, there was nothing stopping them from slowboating out of the area of effect. Sure it might take a few months, depending how far the effect reached, but...
But it was too easy an answer for the effort it would have been needed to prepare the trap. The energy cost needed to create the number of faults alone was simply astonishing.

“No, I reckon you are right” he removed his hat and passed a hand though his hair “Still, contact Fraga, have her detail as much as her personnel onto this. Priority one.”

“Understood”


*******


Four hours latter, the other shoe dropped. Fraga's people came with the missing piece of the puzzle. It wasn't good news.

“The Sun is going nova?” again it was Commodore Duperiale's voice, and again it was spotting emotion. A whole new record for her on duty persona.

“At an alarming rate, Commodore,” Doctor Elizabeth Fraga chided.

“How long?” asked Admiral Thomes, this time it was him using monotone.

“A few days at best,” came Fraga's reply.

“Is there anything we can do about this?” Thomes asked.

“Well, there might be something, Sir.” There was a hint of a smile on Elizabeth Fraga's face.

“Doctor?”

“Well, Dimension Faults aren't unbreakable, they are just very tough to navigate.” the Dyson's chief engineer, Mitchelson, gave a look of disbelief.

“That is a real understatement, doctor.” Tadeus Mitchelson exclaimed.

“But not nearly as bad as you might think chief Mitchelson” Elisabeth paused, “One of my colleagues, Dr Andreesean, had suggested it might be possible to trigger a clear spot within a fault and use it to jump. A fold within a fold, quite an interesting concept,” she said with a certain fascination, “I never thought I'd be in a position to test it.”

“How big a hole?” Came the Admiral's question.

“Big enough for all of us, I think. I'd have to run some numbers, but given that we are in a Lagrange point ourselves, we should have room to spare. Though” she paused, “it might be a tad more difficult to hit the target location successfully.”

“As long as we are out of here... Chief what do you think” Reuben said turning towards his subordinate

Mitchelson remained silent for a minute, before we answered.
“It might work, but we might also end up with our insides out. I've heard of Dr Andreesan's theories, but they are just that, theories.” he rubbed his chin, “then again its not like we have any other options.” he turned towards Doctor Fraga, “Doctor, do you have any tolerances in mind for the fold drives?”

“There are some, yes, I will go over them with you afterward.” she responded.

“Then we are in agreement.” Admiral Thomes stated, “I am clearing all our available resources to work on this one, good luck to us all.”


******


It took two days to prepare the fleet, that included moving some of the derelicts within the fleet perimeter and moving others outside of it. The ships tractored in were mostly too engaged by the salvage ops to fully disengage within the time frame or were the ships already socked with the yardships or the Tristar.
In the end, Dr. Fraga and Engineer Mitchelson had agreed on the Highland class industrial ships as the ones to pull the twin folds.
The Highlands, sometimes called Whales, were originally Zentradi LSTs conversions. With a far lesser capacity than the purpose built Tristars and lacking the built in dock to accommodate warships for maintenance, making the Whales rely on the fleet's dedicated yardships.
Still, they were also more common and more cheaper than their purpose built cousins.
Additionally, the Ships' fold drives were both powerful, rugged and identical. Not to mention that, even in a worse case scenario, the fleet could loose them both.
Only skeleton, all volunteer, crews were left within their hulls.
The morale in the fleet had taken a plunge, but only so far, most people were busy and they were all working for their survival.
Too busy to fret, at least for the moment.

The Dyson CIC still showed the images of the Zentradi fleet, surprisingly they had kept bombarding the same spot of Kest but had made no other moves.

“Hard to think they've kept the bombardment for the past two days” Muttered Admiral Thomes. He turned towards a holoscreen. “Well Doctor, seems we might yet live though today”

“Posh, don't be such a Pessimist, Admiral. All is ready on my end” Came the prompt reply. The doctor had chosen to weather the jump from the UNS Detroit Blue, the Highland that was going to pull the second jump. Her clothing was stained and dirty, and so was her hair. It was a rather shocking image compared to the always prim and proper Doctor he knew, it somehow drove the point of how dire things were.

“If you say so, Doctor. All is ready on your end?”

“Yes, and I gotten word from Mitchelson, all is ready on his end over the Sao Pablo Gold” Much like her Tadeus Mitchelson had opted to oversee the final fine tuning aboard the other Highland. It was a bit reckless on their part, but it was also within their duties and it was a morale lift, something the fleet could use. And if it didn't work... but Reuben squashed that idea before it could fully form.

“Very Well, then the order is given” he said to the CIC at large, “commence fold operation.”

The holoscreen disappeared as the CIC burst into action. Countdowns begun to flash, and chekclist begun to be completed. For his part, Reuben Thomes, sat down in his chair and fastened the harness. He had done his part, now he was going to wait the consequences.

“Five mines to fold. All personnel to their jump stations, I repeat” the PA declared aloud. “five minutes to fold. All personnel to their jump stations.”

And then, an eternity latter, the familiar fold distortions started to fill the bridge.


In the end, they beat the shock wave by a full six hours.

Well, Carrying on. there should be some more action on this chapter. do let me know if I pulled the balance properly.


Unknown Location
May 17th 2048
UNS Freeman J. Dyson

"Defold Complete" the somewhat mechanical voice broke the silence.

Operating by reflex, Admiral Thomes undid his Harness and took a deep breath.

It had been a rough fold, probably the worst he ever experienced, but it was one he did experience, so he wasn't going to complain. Even if he was still seeing spots and his body was aching all over.
The lightning in the CIC was gone, replaced by the dim red glow of the emergency sets and there was a deep smell of ozone in the air.

"Status!" He barked.

"Unknown Sir,"Abramson, who was sitting nearby, replied, "Sensors are still down, but we seem to be in one piece."

"I see, Commander," the Admiral said. He paused for a second, "What is the status of the comms?"

"Comms are operational, but Fleetnet is offline" replied the comm. Officer from her station, "I am in the process of rebooting FleetNet, Sir."

As she spoke, the lightning dimmed and flickered for a second as the standard lightning was restored.

“Well, it seems we have proper lighting now,” said Abramson.

“FleetNet Reboot, successful,” the comm officer said not removing her sight from her station. “Querying the fleet”

"Switch holo table to FleetNet," ordered Thomes as he stood up.

The main holo table shifted to a representation of the fleet, included the tag along derelicts, as one by one the grayed out icons were replaced by green ones as they returned query.

"Fleet has transitioned successfully" added the Comm. officer as the last symbol turned green.

"Damage control teams are moving towards the Sensor array, we should have them restored within the hour" stated Commander Abramson.

"Sir, UNS Azure is reporting Sensors on line, reestablishing FleetNet protocol" Stated the Comm Officer as she worked to connect to the Azure sensor network. The fleet normally shared the information instantly but the fold had messed up the connection and they had to be restored manually.

"Good, well? What is our status, Ensign?" Admiral Thomes asked as he moved towards the Sensor operator.

"Receiving Data now, sir... I... Sir, we aren't in KTX-1770," stuttered the Sensor officer.

"Its okay, The Doctor did warn us we might end a bit off course, can you plot our current location?"

"I," he paused, "Yes sir, give me a moment," beginning to work frantically on his station to triangulate their current location using available astrogation information.

Five minutes later the sensor officer rose his head from his station.

"Sir, this... this can't be right" he uttered.

"What is it, son."

"Sir, we are off course. Very." He seemed to struggle with words, "I... this shouldn't be possible, we are somewhere near GLK-2526."

The alphanumerical prefix was all Thomes needed to know things gone weird. The Ensign was right, it was impossible. The prefix put them somewhere spinward and anti coreward from Earth, while they had been very coreward and so had been their fallback location.
“Switch holotable to Navigation” the Admiral ordered.

Before him, the massive holotable shifted again, this time showing a local map of the galaxy. There were three markers, one, red, marked their point of origin, a second, green, marked their planned point of arrival, both of them had been only 40 light-years apart.
Further out, there was a blue marker, this one marked their estimated location. The latter one was well over 5,000 light-years apart from the other two.

Again, it was impossible. The energy requirements needed for a fold of that level were, at least, an order of magnitude higher than what they had employed.

“Contact Detroit Blue and get in touch with Doctor Fraga, see if she can puzzle this one.” Thomes begun pacing the CIC, “in the mean time, query the fleet for their status and readiness and raise HQ while we are at it, they are going to want to know about this.”

“Sir,” came the voice of the Comms. Officer this time. “we have an issue, the local Beacon network seems... gone.”

This was going to be a long day. A very long day.



********


He had been right; thirty hours later, the day hadn't ended yet, at least not for the Command staff. Once the situation had stabilized, for a very relative value of stable, since they still hadn't been able to raise HQ, or anyone else, they had sent messages in the proper channels and frequencies, but so far there had been no reply, worse not only was the network gone, but there wasn't any traffic they could pick up.
But with the situation more stable, it had been the duty of the command staff to organize a debriefing of the event and to see exactly where they were standing.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in a bad way, off course and off contact. Anyone wants to start?” Admiral Thomes spoke first from his place on the table.

“That should be me,” stated Dr. Elizabeth Fraga. She was looking frizzed out and tired, her clothes were somewhat dirty and worn. If anything it was expected, the Doctor and all her crew had been pulling double shifts since the crisis begun.

"Very well. Doctor," he said motioning towards Elizabeth Fraga.

"I... have bad news, sir," she said, formally, which was an alarm sign in on itself.

“Doctor, we have had a few days worth of bad news, out with it” Came the voice from Colonel Kuang, the Destroid detachment CO. He was an oddity in the fleet given that he was Army instead of Marines, but like in many things, the 53rd was a weird fleet formed from off and ends.

“Yes, I am aware of that, Colonel,” she paused, contemplating the situation for a second. She smirked in resignation, “well so be it, I've never been good at mollycoddling things.” she took a deep breath and seemed to straighten out.

“I fear we have misfolded, yes Admiral,” she said raising one arm, preempting any complaints before they could fully form, “I know you are aware of that, regretfully, the degree of the misfold is considerably larger than what you suspect. Per available data we are not only over 5,000 light years off course, but about a millennium into the future, except, and here is the kicker,” the emphasized that last word, “it is not our future.”

A silence fell to the room as the present tried to comprehend the situation. It was a bold claim, but then again Dr. Fraga was one of the best in her field, even if it had been her “sunny disposition” being the reason behind her signing up for the 53rd science department, quitting to a prestigious post near Macross City.

“Are you sure of this, Doctor?” asked Thomes, hesitantly.

“Regretfully so, I became aware to the issues with the misfold when I noted the stellar drift, and then compared the planetary orbits of the rocks in 2526,” she said referring to the nearby system, “and tried to match...”

“I understand, but how do you know this isn't our future?” there was some pressure to the Admiral's voice, a part of him wanting the woman before him to be wrong and another part of him almost certain she was right.

“Well, once the degree of misfold became apparent, I decided to run full tests... the quantum signatures, well, there were slight, but consistent, mismatches on all tests.” she scratched the back of her head, “to be honest I ran those on a whim, but like I said they are conclusive, this is an alternative reality, to put it in popular parlance.”

“Can something be done about it? A return course plotted?” asked Commodore Duperiale in a reserved monotone.

“Normally I'd say yes, but given that our point of origin is by now a nova, I... It will take some research” Responded Dr. Fraga, her tone firm but somewhat hesitant.

“Some?” came the voice from Colonel Kuang, sounding a bit incredulous.

“A lot, probably” Admitted Dr. Fraga, “To be perfectly honest I don't know how long or if it will be possible to recreate the conditions. We were caught up in some rather unique circumstances.”

“Understandable, Doctor, However this means we will be thinking long term here.” Admiral Thomes paused for a second scratching his chin, “Anybody wants to continue?”

“Certainly, Admiral” replied Vifol Duperiale, “I have the status report of the fleet”

“How bad off are we?”

“Surprisingly intact, the two Whales will need new fold drives, per Chief Mitchelson's report, but other than that we are about 75% readiness. Some vessels have suffered some very light and repairable damage. It should only affect our defense plans in a very limited manner.”

“Stores?”

“Well, we were expecting the convoy to replenish our supplies and deliver further replacement squadrons of VF-171s. As you are all aware, we still have a lot of obsolete Thunderbolts serving as the bulk of our space arm. Even with Shinsei's Block E upgrade they are seriously under-performing compared to modern designs. Not that the 171 is a large step forward.” she added with a very slight tone of sarcasm.
And it was true, the VF-171, the Nightmare Plus, was a sub par machine compared to the far more robust VF-19 Excalibur, but it was also considerably cheaper, as in nearly half as cheap and far simpler to maintain. The bean counters back at Macross City though it better to go with quantity, probably mistaking it for a 'quantity of reasonable quality'. A mistake in Thomes' eyes given whom their likely opponents would be, or now, might have been, over long term. But it was also a done choice. Thomes had done all he could to preserve the Fleet's assigned VF-19 squadrons, while upgrading and updating the aging VF-11 Thunderbolts, but beyond that there wasn't much the fleet could do. While they did have considerable industrial capabilities, they simply weren't in the same league as a Colony fleet.

“However, we have currently raw materials for ten months and our stock of critical parts is at 52%” she concluded.

“And our chances to do the replacement ourselves?”

“Tricky.” Interrupted the chief engineer Mitchelson, “We have the specifications so we could fab the tools and dyes, but I'd recommend against it before we get ourselves set up...” he paused for a second, puzzlement evident in his face. “We are going to settle down, right?”

“We'll have to,” replied the admiral, “however we might have an advantage here. Doctor, can you tell how similar this universe is in comparison to our own?”

“Like I said before, differences seem minute, outside of the time difference,” She answered, “so it should be, oh... I see, yes Admiral, things should be more or less identical, we should still check, but....”

“Good. That should save us a lot of time, but I agree. We should check first.” having said that, Thomes turned towards  Commodore Duperiale, “Commodore?”

“Yes Admiral?” replied Duperiale.

“What is the status of the First and Second Frigate Divisions?” he asked.

“Eighty-nine and Ninety-two percent readiness respectively. There are two units, the UNS Vensiford, and the UNS Fortham, that I would like to retain due to their damage. The rest should be available to perform any mid term mission as required.”

“Very well.” Replied Admiral Thomes,before turning towards the sole army officer in the room, “Colonel Kuong, how is the Destroid Force?”

“We are more or less intact Admiral. There was some damage to Bay 15 during or after the fold, one of the cradles failed,” explained Kuong, “but the damage was minimal and should be repaired within 48 hours. Additionally I have detailed a team to investigate the nature of the cradle failure.”

“Very good.” replied the Admiral, then looking towards Mitchelson, “what about our tag alongs?” he said referring to the derelicts.

“Well, its a mixed bag, they all need yard time, a lot of it too,” replied Tadeus Mitchelson , “but with time and resources we should be able to refit them all,” he paused contemplatively, “Five to ten years I'd say.”

“Not as fast as I'd expect, but given our new reality they might not be as important to the grand scheme of things. Not for the next few years, anyway” Thomes finally admitted.

“There is that.” agreed the chief engineer.

“How close is the 227 to being airtight?” the Admiral asked.

“The Meltrandi Hulk?” Mitchelson paused for a second, “Well,she is still a mess, but I can have the storage section with atmo in, say six days, four if I make it a priority. Power is going to be tricky, I'd recommend getting the gals before we try to restore main power.”

“And the miclone chamber?” Asked Thomes.

“Detroit Blue has two almost finished, say two days to completion, if we give priority to it” Replied Mitchelson, promptly

“Doctor?” Admiral Thomes turned towards Doctor Fraga.

“Well, I've worked on the adjustments, as requested, but I've obviously I haven't done the imprints yet.”

“How soon?” this time it was Colonel Kuong who asked the question

“That is going to be time intensive, but can be done as we defrost them. We could begin as soon as you give the go. Though I'll be leaving this in the hands of Doctor Ghant, he is the specialist in Zentradi cloning techniques in my staff.”

“I didn’t know we had one,” mussed the Admiral.

“It was his second Doctorate, something about trying to understand his wife's people better” Dr. Elizabeth Fraga commented nonchalantly.

“In that case,” Thomes said turning towards Mitchelson, “we should give this issue some priority, especially given how precarious their situation is.” Ideally it would have been better to wait till they had settled down, but with the risk involved it wasn't worth it, plus they could use the manpower.

“Well, Then it seems all topics are covered,” said the admiral, “except one, I will be talking with Mayor Logan next. I will break the news to her and then try to come up with a plan for the civilians.”



*****



Like all UNS fleets, the 53rd had a significant civilian component. Unlike a colonization fleet, the civilians were mostly dependents of the enlisted, entrepreneurs looking to sate the needs of the the migrant populations and always a few adventurous souls looking for the frontier, for instance many of the survey crews were actually civilian instead of military.
To administer their needs and to represent them in front of the military command, the civilians of the 53rd had elected Mayor Gloria Logan. She was an older woman, a retired marine and veteran of the Space war, she also was the ranking civilian.

She was also not in a good mood.

Her office was the definition of spartan, small, plain, with only the UN flag for decoration.
She was standing by her desk, looking away from Thomes and into the artificial sunset

“I told you grave robbing would get us into trouble, Reuben,” she stated giving her back to the Admiral.

“Too tempting to ignore, I fear.” Responded Reuben Thomes. He was standing before her, almost at attention. Some habits died hard.

“You were always a greedy one. But what is done is done, yes?” she replied as she turned towards the Fleet's CO, a light frown still on her  face.

“Haven't found a way of turning back the clock so far.” Said Reuben in a friendly tone. “But that is not why I am here”

“Always to the business with you, you will need to learn us older folks prefer to skirt the issue a bit”

“Gloria...” Started Reuben Thomes.

The soft sigh was the only sound she gave to her weariness so far, “yes, yes, you are right. These are dire straits, but in a way it might be a blessing.”

“Please illustrate,” responded Reuben a bit forcefully.

“Why, the survival of the species. It is what this is all has been about, our species, our way of life, our culture. I doubt many have traveled as further out as we did” She added with some humor.

“Heh, now you are being dramatic.” Reuben said, “But... you might be right, though it doesn't help us in the now. Not to mention it depends on how different this dimension is to our own”

“Ah, there is that” she slowly walked towards her desk “So, what are your plans? Has anybody mentioned the Global Protocols yet?”

“Not so far, but it is only a matter of time. For the time being we will remain here. I will be sending a few scouts to check some locations for us to settle if necessary but...  at the moment I'd rather concentrate on how to break the news to the population.”

“Hmmm...” she sat down on her desk, “Well there is no easy way to do it, specially given that we are, more or less stuck, if I am reading our little Fraga correctly. Personally I'd advice against giving faint hopes to the people.”

“That much I figured, to be honest I was expecting something more substantial”

“Well, we are more or less independent, resource wise, so a rationing won't be needed short term, but...”

“The machines will last for years.” he tried to be reassuring.

“Why yes, but the problem is long term, manpower, critical knowledge and the like.”

“I am not going to discuss the Global protocols yet.” he replied, forcefully.

“And it is a lovely idea, but we will have to discuss them eventually.” she added with a grim finality.

“I know, but I... Not yet. I need to know first.”

“Oh?”

“Like I said before, how close this is to our own dimension,” Reuben said with a smile, “if there is a humanity, the protocols would be mostly non applicable, and if there is a UN or a UN like organization...” He knew he was stalling, and so did she, but it took a lot out of a man to order something like the Parentless Generation to happen again.

“That is... very optimistic of you.”She replied carefully, “But you are right, we can wait a few months.

“Thank you. Now, regarding the speech...”


***********

GLK-2526 System,
May 18th 2048 (Fleet time)
UNS Freeman J. Dyson

The Variation was one of the Dyson's most popular bars. Being close to the military complex made it insanely popular with the off duty personnel, particularly the surveyors, though some of the VF jockeys also made the place their home.
Some said the owner, Jessica Snipes, was in fact the granddaughter of the Legendary Rodger Mall, the owner of South Atalia's Variation and that she had access to his own beer recipe but that made no sense, specially since the original Variation had been a cafe not a bar. Still it wasn't bad as rumors went.


Victor Enis was nursing his beer at the team's chosen table. It had been a very long day, fold and all, and he was feeling worn out.
While the survey job had pretty much died the moment the Zentradi arrived, they had had other jobs to keep them busy, like preparing the derelicts for the fold. He hadn't been too happy about it but orders were orders. After the fold it had been Civil Defense work, mostly. The fold had been particularly rough and there had been some damage to the civilian area, the Town as people called it, and they had been deployed to help keep the situation normal, or rather help turn it back to normal, but now, it was finally over, well not totally, but their share of the job was.
He was in his favorite bar, with his team and enjoying the break. That was all that mattered

“So boss, what do you think will happen now?” asked Astor Phink.

“Well, they will get in touch with HQ and then, dunno, guess we will go back to what we do, maybe offer us some downtime in some colony or something.” he rambled.

“That sounds kinda good, though I doubt we will find any colonies in our neck of the woods”

“Stop being such a pessimist, Astor” Said Marge Beuchamp, as she playfully slapped Astor in the arm “some of us,” she gestured toward Victor, “are sensitive folks and hate to have our dreams crushed.”

“Marge...” started Victor.

“Oh, you are no fun. Seriously...” she joked.

“Meh, would you guys keep the comedy act down? I am trying to get a look at the show” replied the fourth member of the team Marcus Goto, while he watched the closest holoscreen

“Its a re-run, Marcus.” Deadpanned Marge.

“Yeah, well, it is” he defended, “but it is one of the good ones. Firebomber sings one of their best.”

“Can't see what he actually sees in the show,” stated Astor.

“Well, you know, fantastic monster from beyond attacking one of the colony fleets?” replied Marge

“That I get, the music part I don't. I mean, Firebomber is ok, but guitar commands? Who thought of that one.” was Astor's reply.

“Hmmmm.... maybe he wants to guitar the commands to his ride?” Mussed Victor aloud

“You know, that is a good possib...” Started Marge.

“You guys, quit it, I don't go picking at your likes.” Pleaded Marcus.

“Ok, ok, you big boy, you are right” Came Marge's playful reply, she then turned towards Victor, “Chief, you know when the normal Broadcasting's gonna resume? Some of us are missing our favorite shows here.”

“Not a wizard here,” he said taking a sip from his beer, “But give it a couple of days till we are back synced to the network.”

It was then when the holoscreen changed to the Dyson Broadcasting System's symbol, much to  Marcus  dismay, it was in the middle of the song, after all.

“This is a fleetwide broadcast” stated an announcer, “Admiral Thomes will be addressing the fleet shortly.”

The bar fell eerily quiet. It wasn't normal for the Admiral to address the fleet, after all.

And a few moments later it faded in to reveal a podium standing before a large UN Spacy flag. With Admiral Thomes Standing behind said podium side by side with Mayor Logan.

“People of the 53rd we have emerged from the ancient trap still strong and proud. However, there was a complication with the fold,” stated the man, “We have misfolded to parts unknown, beyond the boundaries of our own reality.”

“Did he just said what he think he did?” whispered Marge.

“I think so,” whispered Marcus in return.

“Shush the both of you” came Victor's voice.

“It is my Sad duty to report that this jump is unplotable, given the known circumstances of our flight. But even as I speak, research teams are busy charting this new reality. This goes above and beyond the operating protocols of our mission, but like always we will adapt, we will endure and we will succeed.”

He paused and leaned towards the podium.

“We are now a colony mission. In the following days we will begin to screen our population in preparation for our new role. I will be asking a lot of all of us in the coming days, but keep in mind that at the moment we are the sum of our culture here.”

“We have a monumental task before us, but I know we can do it, we have proved we can work under pressure, under the worst of circumstances, now let's show the cosmos the full length of our might and our resolve.”

“This is only a setback for us all, in the end, we will prevail. That is all”

The screen once again transitioned back to the DBS logo and, a second latter, back to the show.

The Bar had seemingly fallen into silence with the exception of the odd holoscreen playing Totsugeki Love Heart.

“Well, shit...” was all that Astor could say.

For his part Victor had a reserved expression. It wasn't as bad as it could have been. Though that was probably what Global had thought, back then.
They were all drifters, in one way or another, few people that signed on long term missions had much in the way of bonds, or they were running from things or they were seeking adventure.
The group eyed one another for a few seconds before Marcus decided to return watching his reruns, the show had resumed and shit and all, he was going to enjoy it even if he was still out of sorts.

“This changes things” came Astor's voice, deep in disbelief.

“Yeah...” Agreed Marcus, still out of things.

“I'd never thought I'd agree with you two,” stated Marge.

To that Victor snorted.

“Chief?”

“Look at you, acting like lost lambs. So yeah, we are in the ass end of nowhere and with no way back to boot, but we are alive. So there is that, and we are also together, so there is that too” he said emphatically.

“Well, yeah, but we aren't a colony fleet” complained Marge

“We are now, “ muttered Marcus from his vantage point.

“We always were, or else why do you think we have always been so self sufficient? Sure we aren't in the same scale as one of the official colony fleets, but we have all that we need to restart anew, more than that now, I'd say.”

“Maybe you should have gone into politics, bossman,” interjected Marge, “that is enough to convince me.” she finally smiled

“But, but...” Astor seemed to stall.

“Now, calm down, Astor, and tell me how much this changes things for you, you personally.” he paused for drama's sake, “don't tell me you were you planning on leaving us?”

“Well, no, I...”

“Hey and most of your family is here, right?” this time it was Marge adding her two cents

“Er, yeah.”

“There is that too,” commented Victor. “come on kid, its all part of the adventure, and beats the hell out of the alternative.”

“Heh,” Astor finally laughed, “ok so I can't beat you.”

“Does that mean you will join us?” asked Marge with an impish smile

To that Astor laughed, “I guess I have no choice, do I?” asked the team's youngest member.

“No” chorused Victor and Marge, both of them smiling.

Victor turned towards Marcus, he was still making himself busy watching his rerun, half listening to the antics of his teammates.

“What about you Marcus?”

“Well, I guess old man Mutchinson is going to be happy I am gone, at least.”

“Who?”

“Heh, never mind that. Yeah, I'll join your little club, so what will we be drinking for?” he asked casually as he turned from his holo, “our new found job security?” he paused for a second, “because we are going to be drinking ourselves silly after this, right?”

Marge laughed, “of course we will, as to the toast...” she turned towards the chief, “So bossman, what are we going to drink to? Oh great pool of wisdom of ours?”

“Yeah, oh great pool of wisdom,” bellowed somebody from the next table who seemed to be Martin Lawrence from team three.

Victor paused, and took a look around, maybe he hadn't been as quiet as he though as most of the bar was looking at him. Ok, so he had wanted to reassure his team, that he did, but now... Now it was time to man up and accept the consequences. Though next time he as going to sit his team in a booth. As far away from the rest as possible.

“What about the future? Its a bit cliched but...”

There was a mumble of agreement across the bar.

“Never though you'd be an idealist, Victor,” bellowed the normally quiet and laconic Barman, “but what the heck, next one is on the house, as long as we drink to the future.”  That was probably the first time those words had been said by Variation's Barman. That shut down the crowd, at least for a bit.

“Well, what are you waiting for,” chided a voice from the crowd.

“Very well, Very well” Victor said standing up. “The future” he said raising his mug.

“The future,” echoed the rest of the bar as they too rose their mugs, shot-glasses and steins.


******

GLK-2526 System,
May 19th 2048 (Ship time)
UNS Freeman J. Dyson


Commander Eric Lestrade, CO of the Northampton UNS Azure was worried.
It was not every day that you received a briefing from Commodore Duperiale And Admiral Thomes and it wasn't every day you had most of the First and Second Frigate Division’s Captains in the same briefing room.

The First operated the Fleet's group of Block K Northamptons like the Azure. They were built for exploration, generally folded ahead of the fleet, functioning as trailblazers and scouts. Unlike the standard Block F, the Current fleet mainstay, the Block K was Twenty meters longer, had a more comprehensive sensor array, better shielded to boot, and slightly more efficient thrusters at the cost of armor, not that the Northampton carried much of it to begin with.

The Second, for its part was composed by the far more mundane Bock F, most of them brand new, even. But it was the workhorse of the fleet for a reason, armed with a mix of anti ship, anti aircraft and anti missile batteries, it also was able to carry three full squadrons of Variable fighters and still have the hangar space for a pair of assault shuttles and a landing Barge and their stealth systems, both active and passive, were second to none. Of course that versatility came at a price, she wasn't the most armored ship in the fleet and relied more on its pinpoint barriers and stealth systems for survival than the strength of its hull. In short, she was a tin can, a very hard to hit one, but a tin can none the less.

 â€œCommander?” asked Johanna Stern, the Azure's Executive officer, as she poked her Commanding officer.


“Uh, sorry 'bout that,” he replied sheepishly, “was in deep thought.”

“I thought so, sir.” came the prompt reply.

In away, it was to be expected. Things were no longer normal, not that working for the 53rd had been normal to the begin with. Each formation had their own idiosyncrasies, their own rituals and customs. Even those as small as the 53rd were, in many ways, nations unto their own.
But after the misfold... it had made things official.

They were all sitting in one of the Dyson's smaller briefing rooms, and even then it was enough room to sit all sixteen of them and then some. Only Captain and Executive officers in this meeting, with The Admiral and the Commodore standing near the podium and facing towards the crowd.

“Now that we are all here, let us commence,” started Admiral Thomes. With that he gestured towards the commodore who had an active holoterminal.

Before them, the local cluster appeared.

“The details haven't been released to the public, yet, but will be in the next few days. To put it simple, we have jumped into somebody else's future. According to the experts nearly a millennium or so.” He purposely paused there to let it sink. “However, the same experts believe this is a very similar universe to our own so your mission is going to be two fold. First we need to identify possible colony locations, we have the maps and know a few good planets in the local area that should be acceptable, assuming our data holds. And that ties in with your secondary mission. To find out how close this universe is to our own.”

“How close it is to our own, Admiral?” asked Commander Kurata Daichi. Captain of the UNS Rapids

“According to our specialists, very. So, before anybody asks, yes, we might be able to link up with the local humanity, if it exists. Heh, for all we know they already span the cosmos.” he said with a dry chuckle,

“And if we are detected?” asked the captain of the Viridian, Commander Robert Palmer

“In that case it will be up to you to decide the best course of action, but do remember that this fleet's future depends on your choices.” responded the Admiral.

“Ladies and Gentlemen, we are in a very unique and potentially difficult situation, I know that some of the targets will put you well outside of real time contact, as such you will have to rely on your own judgment, I know none of you are cowboys, so keep it that way.”

There was a murmur of agreement across the room.

The Admiral cleared his throat. “Is that understood?”

“Yes Sir,” the room echoed.

It was, yeah, it was a bit worse than a normal misfold, a millennium, though Eric, was a long long time, even if they would have been on their own future... he killed that train of thought. Now it wasn't the time,

“Very well,” continued the admiral, “I see you get it. Commodore?” he said motioning towards Vifol Duperiale

“You will be operating in mixed pairs with overall command assigned to the Block K CO. This is a scout mission first and foremost. You will all be hitting several targets in your assigned course. First priority, as the admiral said, is to look for suitable planets for our colony base. Teams will be as follows: Alpha, UNS Azure and UNS Rapids; Beta, UNS Viridian and UNS Coriandr; Gama, UNS Glowworm and UNS Rapier; and Delta UNS Kodill and UNS Flatline.”

Team Alpha, thought Lestrade as he eyed Commander Kurata who nodded in acknowledgment.

“As for the particulars of your assignments...”
And with that the Commodore launched into the details of the briefing,


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


New Albuquerque System
June 3rd 2048 (Fleet Time)
UNS Azure

Early afternoon, Ship time, found Commander Lestrade in his ready room, sitting before his desk and going though a large pile of paperwork, of a virtual variety but still paperwork.
The ready room was small, after all the Azure was only a Frigate, even with her 270m of length, space was at a premium. The decorations were sparse, the Seal of the UN Space in the desk, a few pictures of the Azure, cruiser shots as some called them, the Flag of the UN in a corner by his desk, perhaps the biggest prize, holographic windows to the outside. It wasn't quite the same as an observation deck, but ships as small as her weren't rated with one to begin with, at least not a real one.

The mission itself had been mostly routine so far, see a planet, compare it with the data they had, report back and move on. To make things interesting, their data had been valid, so far. It was eerie.
Then about six days ago, they had made it to New Albuquerque. It was one of the main spots of the journey, a naturally inhabitable planet, if dryer than earth, with only a 50% of water on its surface, and even less freshwater. It had one satellite, smaller than Earth's moon; it had also served as a fleet node base in the elsewhere they had come from. It was one of the leading candidates for colonization in the here and now.
 
There hadn't been a fleet base in the now, which was a let down, but there had been habitation which had been a bit of a surprise. It was far from the New Albuquerque that existed in the ship's database, if anything it looked like a backwater. Still they hadn't been able to determine a backwater of what or of whom. Emissions from the planet were either codified or encoded in an unknown format. His people was working on it, but it was slow going, in part it was because they were still lurking the outer system, but orders had been clear, and while moving closer might have let them hear some shortwave and other less codified emissions, it hadn't gone to the point, not yet.

It was then when a chime broke the relative silence of the room, announcing somebody at his door.
Quickly looking at a small holoscreen, he saw the form of his XO, standing in attention before the closed door of his ready room.

A quick click latter, the door opened letting Lt. Commander Joanna Stern into the room while Eric Stood up to face his subordinate.

“Skipper” She gave a quick salute.

“Ms. Stern” he replied with a quick salute of his own “any situations?”

“No sir, just wanted to discuss the bogies.” she replied with a slight nod.

That had been a cause for alarm; four days prior two objects defolded, or rather FTLed out, near the star's Zenith Null-gravity point and disgorged a quartet of parasite crafts, then begun deploying some sort of appendage, a solar sail of sorts, if remaining immobile at the Zenith. The parasites, on the other hand, were somewhat small, but fast,though slower than his Azure at any rate, and were all heading towards New Albuquerque, or however the locals called it.

It had been puzzling. Why had the starships remained at the star's Zenith point? Why had they defolded there, why not near the planet? Why they remained at the Zenith instead of jumping again or even slowboating towards the planet and why had they deployed solar sails?
There were quite a few theories going around, but none could explain the whole situation.

“So, Chief Rogal made a breakthrough?” he said referring to the Azure's senior engineer.

“In part, he has gone over the sensor data available to us and is convinced that it is a fold signature of some sort, but very inefficient he said.”

“So does he think they are running long range folds?” he said frowning. It was hard to think of a fold so extreme it needed to use such a large natural weak point like the Zenith of a star, but not impossible. Still, it was all pure conjecture so far.

“It is an option, the other is that they are limited to the easy points.” Joanna said.

“Doesn't explain why they didn't use the Lagrangian points, then.” he paused for a second, “ for all we know it is a standard operating procedure, a customs stop.”

“A bit far from the customs office.” she replied.

“True,”he scratched his chin, “but some people might be nervous about having a multi-kiloton starship nearby. Do keep in mind we are rather sure this is a backwater of some sort. Besides, bureaucracies hardly make sense.”

“I'll agree with that, but... I am concerned with the increase in emissions from the planet itself.”

“Why would you be, it might be the big event of the year for the folks planetside.”

“Careful sir, you are anthropomorphizing the aliens a bit too much.”

“Well, it is not like we know many aliens, and the ones that we do know...” for all their alieness, Zentradi were human-like and to the point that they were both compatible and capable of producing viable offspring, Something that, like many thing, pointed towards an Earth-Protoculture link some time in the past.
Hell, there were even rumors that the UNS had found something back on Earth, in the South Pacific   to that end, but  it was just a rumor, a legend even.

“A point,” she conceded.

“So what do you think,” he asked.

“Don't have a formed opinion, not yet. But I can't avoid feeling something is off.”

At that, Eric Lestrade grew serious, “you mean besides our own situation?”

Joanna nodded.

Eric sighed but before he could continue the comm. panel chimed.

“Lestrade here,” he said activating the intercom.

A small holoscreen materialized showing the watch officer, Edgar Bloomfield. The CIC could be seen behind.

“Sir, this is Lieutenant Bloomfield, we have broken the encoding.” the Watch officer paused for a second, “you need to see this, sir.”

Eric and Joanna changed glanced and nodded. The planet had emitted a considerable amount of EM radiation, but was emitted in an unknown format, maybe even under a encryption, so he had detailed a team to try and crack it.

“Understood, me and Commander Stern are on our way to the CIC.”


*******


As they entered the CIC, Eric noticed Bloomfield standing near the door and quickly exchanged salutes.

“Ensign Taylor,” he motioned towards the comm station, “has done a terrific job” he said as they walked towards the station

“As expected, ” Lestrade admitted.

Ensign Samantha Taylor was young, then again all ensigns looked young to Eric these days, but she had a definite preternatural talent with computers, it had been an easy choice to assign her as head of the team cracking the encoding.
She was looking halfway to exhaustion, probably had been pulling all nighters to try and prove herself to the command.

“Ensign?”

“Skipper,” she saluted.

“Go ahead, Ensign,” replied the Lieutenant, “Play the file.”

“Yes Sir,” she enthusiastically replied. “this is one is four days old.”

With that one small holoscreen materialized. Inside a woman could be seen... human from what he could judge, she was also very attractive, and was speaking... English? The accent was a bit strange, actually it was very strange and he couldn't place it, sharing a glance with Stern told her she didn't either.
The woman was standing before a scenery of some sort and to be honest, Eric Lestrade thought, giving a newscast.

“In following News, the Local authorities have yet to respo...”

“Thank you Ensign,” replied Commander Lestrade. “You have done well.” this changed things, he thought with a mental chuckle, it was as earth shattering as the misfold itself. Real live humans that spoke English of all things. The accent was a bit strange, actually it was very strange and he couldn't place it, sharing a glance with Stern told her she didn't either.
Sill, things were definitely looking up. He shared a glance with his XO and nodded knowingly.

“Thank you sir.” the Ensign said

“This changes things.” Lestrade said to Stern, with a small chuckle “seems the Admiral was right about that, huh”

“Yeah, Skipper, it does. And you are right, he probably expected it too.” she paused for a second, “should we contact the Dyson about this?”

“Not just yet.” he responded, then turned towards Taylor, “Ensign, start monitoring the local networks, see what we can learn about the locals,” and then towards Bloomfield, “Lieutenant, detail a team to the task, I want 24/7 coverage and a full in depth analysis. This one is all yours.”

“Thank you sir, won't let you down, sir.” he replied with all the enthusiasm a junior officer could muster. They exchanged salutes and he turned to leave, with Stern in tow.

He had been walking towards the exit when he heard Ensign Taylor “Sir! you need to see this.”

He paused for a second, and considered a chastisement, but tone spoke of urgency and decided to play along. At least for the moment. There would be a talk on proper protocol later, though, He shared a glance with both his XO and with the watch officer.

“Very well, Ensign, show me.”

The holoscreen reappeared though instead of a beautiful woman standing before bluescreen scenery, there was only a symbol, perhaps the stations own.

“...of Emergency has been declared for the Wynn's Cradle and Landing regions. A pirate incursion is imminent. All citizens are encouraged to seek shelter. I repeat, a State of Emergency....”

Ah, that was the other shoe dropping, a part of Eric Lestrade's mind mused, so that is how it feels.

“Shit,” he muttered. His eyes wandered towards the plot table, showing the four bogies in detail, they were very close to the planet, already in their final decel phase. A part of himself knew he could dodge the issue, as they weren't his people and he was under orders to watch first. But letting a pirate band rampage though a continent was a poor way to start a relationship. Assuming the Admiral would go for it. And it would go against his own morals.

“Are we sure this isn't a prank; a War of the Worlds scenario?” he asked the Ensign.

She paused for a few seconds second as she worked her station “No sir,”she finally said, “it is on every channel I can get to, if it is a prank, Sir, its a very good one”

Commander Lestrade nodded.

“What is our comm lag?” he asked. Even FTL comms weren't instantaneous. They were very, very fast, but given the distances involved, lag was inescapable when dealing with interstellar distances. Of course, it was still possible to be in instantaneous contact even a few dozen Light-years out, but...

“Less than an hour, sir, but...” replied the Executive officer, but, she left unsaid, between sending the data and waiting for the reply from the Dyson, it would be too late to stop the raid itself.

Eric grimaced, so not good news, he thought. “Contact them, send the overall situation, then contact the Rapids, Relay the info to them as well and request a comm channel to Commander Kurata.”

“Roger, Skipper,” replied the Ensign.



*******


Daichi Kurata was not a happy man when he learned of the situation. He was not happy with the pirates or with Eric's actions. He could understand them, though, and would obey them, but...

“We won't be able to catch up with the parasites before they enter the atmosphere,” Stated Lestrade with certain regret, “so we will go after the Motherships first.”

“Are you sure you want to do this, Eric?” asked Kurata, respectfully

“I...” Eric started.

“I understand your situation,” Daichi said, interrupting his friend, “but I think you are letting your baggage cloud your judgment.”

“The question is, then, will you counterman my order?” asked Lestrade.

“Hm. No, not this time.” was Kurata's hesitant reply

“Then...” started Eric.

“But,” interrupted Daichi, “Shouldn't we at least contact the planet first? We could be butting in, after all.”

“You... I” struggled Eric, “you... are probably right.” He sighed,”Sorry if I am being a bit gung-ho at the moment.” he paused for a minute, rethinking his plan “Let's do this, I will take the Azure to the lunar L1 point and contact the locals; if needed I will remain behind to assist against the Pirates.”

“That might put the Azure at risk.”

“Maybe,” admitted Eric, “But you are right, we need to get the Okay of the locals and at this distance...” they were roughly 40 AU from the planet, there would be a lag of over five hours for any sub-light communications towards the planet. “Besides, Daichi, you have seen the sensor data we have on the parasites and the Starships, They shouldn’t pose much of a problem.”

Daichi sighed, “Shouldn’t is not a good word to use in these circumstances.” he paused debating his response, “Very well, what do you want me to do while you go contact the natives?” he finally asked.

“Be ready to defold at close range of the Starships. I will transfer some of my marines and their shuttles to you.” he scratched his chin, “if we go ahead, we'll go with the standard operating procedure; a couple of warning shots and demand their surrender. If they don't, disable Target Alpha. Bah, you know the drill” Alpha was the larger of the two at about 650m in length, though it seemed to be in a worse state of disrepair. Telescopes had seen different shades of the hull, signifying patches at the very least, while Beta, was about half its size, and was in a far better state.

“I am not sure if that is the best of ideas, Eric,” he added, “the Pirates on the ground might go ballistic” Lestrade nodded, it was a concern, cut off from escape, a raid could be turned into a hostage situation, or even a conquest. Though given the size of the parasites,  the pirate force had too be too small for that.

“True, but they might also surrender. On any case our options are limited at this time, outside of blowing them up as they enter atmo...”

“That would make for a bad day for anybody beneath,” completed Daichi.

“Yes, it would. Hence we will have to do it the old fashioned way”

“The old fashioned way, huh” Kurata scratched his chin, “I can transfer one of my VF Squadron, call it a fair trade for the marines.” offered Kurata with an impish smile.

“That... might come in handy.” Eric nodded, “Yes, consider that offer taken.”

“Excellent, I will order the Rangers to transfer ships ASAP. But,” Kurata looked up from his PDA, “Eric, if this goes wrong, even if this goes right...” Daichi said diplomatically.

“I know and I will take full responsibility,” admitted Lestrade, “but I can't sit idle and let this happen.”

“I understand,” Kurata finally said.

“There is one more thing, if we do move against the Starships, I want them alive, Daichi, Especially  the ranking officers.”

“If they are anything like the pirates back home, most of then they would be with the raiding party”

“Most of them, yes, but you never know. And it would make our job easier”

That he agreed, even if he found it unlikely. But t was, given the circumstances, the best plan they could put together in such a short time frame.

“I'll fold in as soon as the Rangers are on board. Get your people ready and...” Lestrade seemed to pause for a second, “Good luck old friend”

“Same to you, Eric, same to you.”

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

New Albuquerque System
June 3rd 2048 (Fleet Time)
UNS Azure

“Defold Complete” the voice of the Navigator was calm and collected.

“Very well, Status!”

“Detecting a small bogie, Grid quadrant Forty Seven, elevation Zero Five. Classifying target as Gamma,” came the voice of the sensor officer. “Sir, it is one of the four parasites.”

The holotable switched to the location almost immediately. Showing a small bulbous thing.

“Status of the Bogie?”

“In geosynchronous orbit, so far oblivious,” the sensor officer replied as she worked her station “Data indicates it is less than two thousand tonnes and well under a hundred meters in length. No match in the warbook.” The latter was expected, but damn it was small. Now why was it remaining in orbit?

“Have a firing solution drafted against it, in the mean time, let's contact the locals.”

“Roger.”


*********** 

Wynn's Roost System
September 23rd 3040
Wynn's Court area, Rook City.


Wynn's Roost was dying, it had been dying for a long time, a slow death. Ever since they seceded from the Outworlds Alliance a hundred and seventy-two years prior, they had been dying. No, they had been dying before that, since the Great Trade Houses left for the Alliance core, which had been the cause for the secession, then came the great raid of 2890 that more or less shattered it's back. Oh, the militia succeed in pushing off and punishing the pirates, but the damage ended up being too great. A Pyrrhic victory in the best of cases.
At the rate they were going they might last one or two more raids before what was left of the militia was expended.
Assuming they survived this raid.

Robert Fenwood, Commanding General of the Wynn's Roost Militia, was in the forward operating post in Rook City. It was a pretentious title for a position that held less power each year.

He was worried it had finally arrived, the final raid.
Oh, he had enough boots on the ground, but painfully few heavy equipment, only a handful of man portable SRMs, a few Dozen towed pieces he was digging into the city plus a few combat vehicles ,he was also digging in for urban warfare, and perhaps four BattleMechs if they could make the stubborn Grey and Angry move.

On the air he had two AeroSpace fighters, it should have been twelve, the ones that survived the Great raid of 2890, but time, neglect, outright sabotage, and lack of critical parts had ended up with the need to cannibalize one bird, one at the time, to keep the others flying. It was a loosing proposition, but traders rarely came their way anymore and their own ASF manufacturing plant was a 170 year old crater in the ground. He did have two squadrons of atmospheric fighters that they could barely keep supplied, but they were no match against ASFs and using them in that role was sending people to the slaughter.

The 'Mech situation was even worse, of the original two companies only a lance remained, but none of them were originally militia machines, they were salvage, painfully reconstructed along the years, FrankenMechs, as some people called them, or borderline so. But again it had taken several machines to keep one going.
It had been years since a friendly trader had stumbled upon them, it was as if they had been forgotten by the Galaxy.

Two Unions, A Leopard CV and a Mule. Two 'Mech carriers, an ASF carrier and a cargo ship. It wasn't big in the grand scheme of things, but for Wynn's Roost Militia, it was an insurmountable obstacle. And probably its last, he thought bitterly.

The Unions and the Mule were, according to the tracking station, heading towards the Magrotta plains, some twenty miles off the city, But the Leopard had remained in orbit, probably waiting for Fenwood's few ASFs and conventionals. They were going to be disappointed.


“General, sir,”came the haphazardly salute of one of his junior officers, a kid far too young and far too untrained to be in the field, but... the boy looked winded and worried. Then again, he had just ran his way here from the comm tent.


“At ease, son,” he tried the paternalistic approach, hoping it would help calm the younger officer.

“Sorry sir, it is the colonel, he says,” he gulped air greedily, “he says you need to come to the tent, something's happened.”


********

Robert Fenwood was out of breath and staring at Colonel Kobake in disbelief. Trying to puzzle what his left hand man had just said.

“They said 'Spacy'?” asked Fenwood.

“Yeah, that's how they identified themselves, United Nations Spacy.” replied the Colonel.

Fenwood began pacing the tent. He remembered the United Nations from lessons long ago, but it was mostly a footnote, a sorta predecessor to the Western Alliance. Was it perhaps the OWA Returned? A part of his mind wondered.
On any case this was the cavalry in the proverbial nick of time and that bugged him, it was too easy, to neat but... he didn't had much of a choice.

“And they are asking if we need help?”

“Yes.”

“Well we do,” Fenwood stated, “Tell them we are in dire need of help, give them the pirates LZ,” he paused, “and tell them to hurry.”



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


Wynn's Roost System
September 23rd 3040
SS Rockhound, Zenith Point.


Buster Devries had been sleeping when it happened. He preferred to sleep though raids, that way he wouldn’t have to hear the gory details till after the crews returned. And even then, he'd rather not listen to them at all.
And then the ship shook, taking Buster from his sleep.

He was still groggy when one of the deckhands came to get him. Urgent the boy had said. Good thing he slept with his clothes these days.
His quarters were close to the bridge itself, he was still the captain, so the trip took only a few minutes.

“What.. what happened” he asked as he cleared the access hatch.

“We... we had a new jumper, we think” added Esther Lowell, pale-faced. She was also part of her original crew and about as happy as he was with the current state of affairs. Not like they could do much and at least they were still alive and whole.

“Show me.”

The holotable showed one contact at very close range, perhaps 200 Km, looking unlike any JumpShip he had ever seen, delta shaped, about the size of the Rockhound but the configuration was all wrong for a jumper, it had no docking points that he could see, no attached DropShips and he really couldn’t see how one would be able to fit a KF core in it.

“They gave us an ultimatum and...”

“Out with it woman,” he replied, impatiently

“Shot us with some sort super PPC across the bow” she added worriedly, “I think it is a WarShip.” she added hushedly. WarShips were a legend these days, tales told by spacers to frighten children into obedience. But... but Esther was not one into fear-mongering. And that frightened him deeply.

He turned towards the Claw's “bodyguards”. The damned bastard had assigned them to his ship to keep them “safe”. They all looked so young, then again people grew fast in the Periphery, you had to. And were looking nervous to boot.

“Any word from the Elisai?” He asked about the Tramp that had become an ever present traveling companion since that day. He had to wonder where the Pirates had gotten their hands on a Tramp, those things were very rare these days. Still given how the Elizai looked, it was probably a leftover of better times, like most things these days a part of his mind noted.

She shook her head, “None at us, anyway, but a lot of expletives towards the new arrivals.”

“That Giskard is a hothead,” that was nothing new, their new friends had a laundry list of defects. Then again, it might be the part that they were now “friends” whether they had wanted or not that chaffed the most with him.

“That he is, but what are we going to do?”

“I... I don't know” he admitted, as much as he wanted to surrender, he doubted the bodyguards would let him, not without having Giskard throwing the towel first “But contact me with Giskard, I'd rather not get shot today.”

It was not to be, as Giskard Rovan, the Captain of the Elisai, chose that moment to open fire on the two contacts.
The Elisai, unlike most JumpShips, was armed with a dozen Laser batteries, a sign that the good old days hadn't been that good either. Probably a different kind of suck, Buster thought.

“Its returning fire,” Said one of the younger techs, in disbelief. People normally didn't fire at JumpShips these days, even the Elisai's broadside had been mostly a warning as none of the beams came close to the strange ship.

The vessel, Buster would learn latter it was called the UNS Rapids, had returned fire, with just one shot and from its secondary batteries at that. It struck the Elisai towards the stern, and simply boiled though the thin armored belt of the Elisai and then kept going, killing its reactor and eventually emerging from the other side of the ship, all in the fraction of a second.

Still between the pinpoint accuracy and the firepower, Buster could only surmise Esther had been right. WarShip.

“What the...” muttered Buster.

“Sir, they... they are repeating the Ultimatum, and giving us Five minutes before they fire again,” Replied the comm. Tech in disbelief.

“How is the Elisai?” Buster said in automatic.

“She is drifting and operating on battery power.”

He looked at the young 'Bodyguards' “There is no escaping this, kid,” he said to the ranking one, he was called Marcus, he thought. The boy nodded. He was a pirate, yes, but he wasn't suicidal, not when standing next to heavily armed vessels with no compulsion against torching jumpers.

Seeing Marcus' reaction, Buster made his choice. Not like there was any other one open to him at the moment.

“Call them, we surrender.” he said, worried of what the future would bring.

Five minutes latter, there were at least a dozen small craft en route towards his Rockhound and the ailing Elisai, bulbous things, probably boarding craft of some sort.

He took a glance towards the Elisai and frowned.
At some point, he was going to have to explain to these folks it wasn’t their party and they weren't really pirates, probably soon, in the mean time, he turned towards the lead bodyguard. He was a kid from the ass end of a periphery world turned pirate kingdom, Onverwacht, if he remembered correctly.

“This is over for us Marcus,” he said in a neutral tone, gambling on the boy's name, “will you put down your arms as well?” he asked, politely

“I... yeah, I will,” he turned towards his men “you heard the man, boys, secure the weapons and put them back in the armory, we don't want to piss off these folks. At all.” Marcus said to the rest of his team.

In the end it was a good decision, the heavily armored marines that stepped into the ship ten minutes later wouldn't have been bothered by the slugthrowers too much and not only did their guns looked deadly and in good repair, they seemed to know how to handle them far better than Marcus and his people did.


********   


New Albuquerque System
June 3rd 2048 (Fleet Time)
UNS Azure


“Sound to General Quarters” Demanded Lestrade.

“Understood sir, sounding General Quarters” acknowledged XO Stern, as she worked her own station.

A moment later the alert klaxons came to life as the PA system called the crew to their battlestations.
Meanwhile within the ship, bulkheads closed and Damage Control teams rushed to their stand by locations as the Azure prepared for battle.

“Range to Gamma” Lestrade barked.

“Target Gamma is within eight thousand kilometers, that is eight, zero, zero, zero kilometers.” They were well within their weapons range.

“Fire a warning shot and demand surrender,” Lestrade said to his crew. “No point on this being bloody,” no point on drawing it out either, he thought.

“Understood” replied the gunnery officer, 2nd Lieutenant Vask Pascal. A few seconds later the number Two turret turned refocused itself and fired a particle beam towards the Parasite.

Immediately after, Ensign Taylor, the comm. officer, begun tr