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#Post#: 1249--------------------------------------------------
The Ancient Chinese Curse Continues... "May You Live in Int
eresting Times"
By: Haegan2005 Date: May 26, 2013, 3:50 pm
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Year 452 Day 247 7:05 Darnell System
The Por'yr was a unique ship indeed, reflected Captian Thomas
Eidenbrack. She had served in nearly every major battle in the
Azine war, more then 60 years ago, and in more then a dozen
major pirate hunts since then. Her tiny cylindrical hull was a
mere 653 feet long, making her the smallest jump capable warship
still in the Imperial inventory. Even her assigned destroyer
escorts were longer then her by almost 300 feet. And yet her
ability to kill potentially outstripped her escorts by a very
large margin. She mounted a single point defense system capable
of killing fighters, missiles, and badly scratching large
freighters. But her real punch rested in her three short
squadrons consisting of six space fighters each. The squadrons
were composed of one strike squadron and two space superiority
squadrons for strike escort and CAP duties.
They had been on deployment for the past eighteen months and
had been looking forward to switching out with their alternate
crew. Eighteen months of relative quiet was something the crew
was all looking forward to. They would be dispersed for a year
of re-certification before coming back for reassignments. Some
would stay aboard, but many would be assigned to the far larger
escort carriers with some seniority already established. After
all, a posting to the Por'yr virtually assured combat of some
sort.
Her last Captain had often remarked how bad the Por'yr's luck
was. The question was, bad luck to whom? For such an old
antiquated ship, she had been proven surprisingly capable so
far, he mused. But, no matter her record, she was slated for
replacement soon. A brand new fleet carrier would carry on the
Por'yr's name and this ship was to be honorably retired to the
Azine war museum over Canisbur. The old girl certainly deserved
it. Captain Thomas Eidenbrack sat in his quarters and
considered the current orders. His task group, TF 6.27, was
returning from monitoring some of the more quarrelsome polities
near the Korgan-Imperial border. The Por'yr's presence had
dampened the quarrels to mere diplomatic shouting and overt
military posturing.
The problem was three marginally habitable, but currently
unsettled systems that no fewer than five of the nearby polities
had claimed and fought bloody wars for in the past. It had left
bad blood between them all and had encouraged them to militarize
to the point where their economies had been severely stretched
to support their fleets. Most had expanded their fleets to the
point where they had problems paying basic fleet maintenance.
One of his jobs had been to see if any of them warranted
Imperial backing. That had included assessing the polities
politics and past actions. The Tagari, an avian looking race,
were the best of the bunch in that they recognized allies, in
addition to predator/prey relationships. Or, he thought, maybe a
more accurate way of saying it was pack/prey relationships. At
least they were not a worry as of now. They were actively
debating joining the Empire and were not too concerned about how
the Empires laws would override their own. It could have been a
simple desperate move to prevent another war, but he didn’t
think so. He figured that by joining the Empire they would have
joined a bigger pack and would then be able to spread their
influence further. As it was, their freighters were limited only
to their three systems and had to be heavily escorted or fall
prey to ‘pirate’ activities. The sector was not a friendly
place.
The rest of them, including both the human polities, were way
further down the scale. He didn't trust them to keep their word,
or treaties for that matter, unless they had a battle fleet
tapping its foot impatiently on their door steps. He had not
had a battle fleet with him, but he could have whistled one up
inside of 72 hours from Darnell. But even that was not a
complete guarantee. The independents and even a protectorate
had attacked Imperial ambassadorial escorts and piracy patrols
before. It had caused more than a few abrupt government changes
and even a few occupations as well. Several of the worlds had
ended up petitioning the Imperium to join it once the occupation
ended, but most had ended up going their own way. The Imperium
really did not care either way. Occupation was hideously
expensive and attempting to force a planet to join created
unrest that tended to be very expensive and time consuming to
put down after invading them.
The primary case in point was the Sarigetti system. The Emperors
father had wanted access to the exotic ores in the systems
asteroids and had had his chance to seize the system when proof
came out that the system was acting as a hub for pirates who
were unloading captured freighters and merchandise there. The
Sarigetti's defense fleet had surrendered without firing a shot
when faced by a fleet more than six times their size in hull
numbers, never mind tonnage. That had been the easy part. The
old Emperor had spent the next twenty years, tens of thousands
of lives, and enough money to build another Capital Fleet,
putting down miniature uprisings, dealing with sabotage, and
even having rampant corruption amongst his own governing
occupation officials. All in all it had left a bad taste behind
that nobody wanted again. The current Emperor had made the
decision to let go of the system fairly early on in his reign,
much to the applause of the Senate. Sarigetti's new government
had then quickly become a byword for unbelievable corruption and
had lasted less than three years after the removal of Imperial
protection before it was overthrown by people reputed to be
ex-pirates. The resulting new government quickly applied for
entry to the Imperium. Quite likely because the old one had so
pissed off its neighbors to the point where they were getting
ready for their own take down that would have bloody at the best
and near genocidal at its worst.
His ear bug beeped, distracting him from near ancient history,
and he reached up to touch it. "Captain here." "Sir, emergence
is at plus five." "Acknowledged, XO. I will be there
momentarily." He got up and checked his hair in the mirror,
straightened his uniform with a few tugs and stepped out into
the narrow corridor beyond. Ten steps had him on the cramped
bridge.
"Captain on the bridge." Announced the tactical officer from his
shock couch.
"XO, status?"
The executive officer was a Thrombrid named Khyiar and resembled
nothing less than a dragon covered in bright yellow and white
feathers with strapped on webbing for assorted pouches and
tools. At almost fifteen feet from nose tip to the feathered
tail end, it was hard to imagine him getting around smoothly on
such a cramped ship, but he did, furled wings and all. In spite
of his appearance, what most people had problems with was how
human his voice sounded, even right down to the Capital accent.
"CAP is at 5 seconds and Hellion squad is at plus one. All
systems are within tolerances Captain.", Khyiar said as he
unwrapped his lower body from around the couch. 0
"Good. Turn over completed, I have the deck." He had made it
standard for the four ships of his squadron to be at battle
stations whenever they dropped from hyper. Standard Imperial
practice was to only do that in unknown or hostile territory,
but that left most Imperial ships badly out of practice and
prone to mistakes when the battle stations alert when off. The
four ships emerged from hyper a mere hundred thirty thousand
miles outside of the hyper limit imposed by the sun's gravity
well. It was, he thought, a masterful piece of navigation.
"Comm, get us our routing from station five. Inform them we are
happy to be home."
"Sir." Lt. Garamie Sheple flashed a grin as she went to work.
They were all happy to be home.
Seconds passed, and then Navigation spoke up. Lt. Pieron
d'Gambson voice sounded odd. "Captain, the navigation beacons
are down and automated routing is not receiving an answer."
Lt. Sheple spoke with an urgency, worry noticeable in her voice.
"Sir, communications with our HQ and sector HQ is
non-responsive. I am attempting to contact system defense head
quarters now."
Captain Thomas flipped the red plastic cover off of a small
button on his couches control panel and mashed it down.
Immediately the lights dimmed and sirens hooted, signaling
battle stations for all hands. Seconds later the ship shuddered
as the six Alert 5 fighters emergency launched.
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