Talk:Enceladus Aerospace Fleet/@comment-11135771-20140714014329

Warning: Massive post incoming.

 Enceladus Colony Central Military Command, 19:30 Local Time 

 Admiral Miranda Atkins checked her watch, for the fifth time in the past minute. ''7:30 PM. Time to launch.''

 "Alright everyone," she began, looking at the others gathered in the control center. "Begin launch sequence." Her headset automatically transmitted her words to the bridge crews of the relief ships, and through the control tower's windows she could see a bright blue glow permeating the seams in the engine cowlings of the four Condor-class heavy transport ships sitting on the tarmac outside as they prepared for liftoff.

 She had misgivings about this mission, had had them since the idea was initially proposed, in fact. This was a purely political venture; a statement of goodwill and hopefully something which would help discourage any potential attacks by some of the larger military powers. But it was far from being a win-win situation. Enceladus colony was low on fuel for their interplanetary drives. Very low. The antimatter reactors used to power the engines of their spacecraft needed a very specific blend of chemicals known as SNA-223 to safely create anti-hydrogen, a blend which only a very few of the Earth-based SAA facilities were capable of synthesizing. They had started to build such processing plants on Enceladus, but the nuclear fallout in Earth's upper atmosphere had reached critical levels before all the necessary parts could be brought up to the smaller planetary body, preventing the facilities from being completed. The Condor-class was not terribly fuel efficient, and this mission would use almost half of the colony's total reserves of SNA-223, leaving precious little for any other missions or unexpected contingencies.

 Below, the four massive transport ships began to lift off the tarmac, the low gravity of Enceladus allowing them to take off vertically by angling their engines downward, without assistance from the repulsion drives that were used when launching from Earth. Admiral Atkins checked the information displayed on her screen one more time, making sure that the ships' travel time was properly lined up with the necessary hole in the weather patterns on Earth, before giving the all clear. "Kite, Condor, Buzzard, Vulture, you are cleared for launch. Good luck down there."

 One by one, the ships slowly gained altitude, their holds laden with emergency supplies and their hulls specially reinforced against extreme weather conditions. The blue glow of their primary engines faded as the ships levelled out, before being replaced with the steady, bright green flare of their interplanetary drives as they rapidly accelerated away from the colony toward a tiny blue dot in the endless void. Their destination was far away, but the interplanetary drives the ships carried could accelerate them to a good portion of the speed of light, making the trip take less than a day.

 Atkins watched them as they flew off into the distance. This better be worth it, she thought as she watched them go. The flares of green were still visible outside, appearing as stationary points in the dark sky despite the incredible speed they would have accelerated to even in the short time since they had departed. Far more was riding on this one mission than she would have liked.



 Ten hours later 



 The EAF squadron finished their deceleration burn, rotating back to a forward-facing orientation and switching back to their primary engines as they settled into orbit.

 The Enceladus colony control center buzzed with activity, the various personnel at their terminals as they monitored the feeds from the four Condor-class transport ships, looking for the hole in the fallout-spawned weather that they had calculated would open up some time in the next few minutes. The lights in the building were noticeably dimmed as much of the facility's power was being diverted to transmitting over the FTL communications network.

 "Clouds are starting to drift apart over there," one of the meteorologists on staff called. "Our ships should have a clear opening soon, although I'm not sure how long it'll last with that storm to the northeast coming in."

 "Understood," Atkins responded, giving him a quick nod. She brought the video feed up on the large screen, overlaid with the computer's predictions.

 According to the computerized models they were using, the hole would be opening in about two minutes. All this was being relayed to the squadron over Earth as the meteorological software processed it, the FTL communicator updating the ship crews in real time about the state of the planet's weather below them.

 Miranda looked over at a display which was showing the video feed from the Kite's front-facing cameras. The sun was coming up over the horizon, illuminating the planet below. Or, rather, illuminating the upper layers of the cloud of nuclear fallout which blocked the light from reaching the surface, resulting in the extremely low surface temperatures. Almost like here on Enceladus, with the exception of the eternal night down there.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> She looked back at the weather patterns. The northeastern storm the meteorologist had mentioned was closing in fast, too much so for comfort. According to the computer's predictions, there would be a window of under a minute to get into the lower atmosphere once the hole opened before the storm would block it.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Although the ships' hulls had been reinforced specifically to protect them from such violent weather, the unpredictable nature of the storms created by the effects of the fallout meant that even reinforced as they were, significant damage would be likely if they flew straight through the fallout layer, never mind a storm such as the one they were seeing. Additionally, with the Condor-class being as large and flat as it was, the ship itself would act as a sail if it were to encounter powerful winds such as those which the approaching cyclonic storm might well contain. Such a thing could potentially drag the ship into the ground and destroy it, and the loss of a Condor-class vessel, or several, would be disastrous.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Miranda keyed the mic on her headset. "Kite, Condor, Buzzard, Vulture, please prepare for descent. Our computer simulations are indicating that there is a hole opening between the most dangerous of the weather systems within the next minute or less. It's not going to stay open for more than a minute though, so you'll need or get through quickly. If you don't think you'll be able to make it through in time, abort. The winds and other meteorological phenomena we're seeing from that incoming storm might be enough to wreck your ships."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Responses came back from the captain of each ship, each indicating that they were ready to descend. Looking at the display showing the weather, admiral Miranda Atkins could see the hole between the surrounding storm systems beginning to open, as two dark banks of storm clouds twisted away from each other to allow a scarce few rays of the sun's light to strike the surface below. To the northeast, a vast, grey spiral of cloud drifted in to fill the gap. Although it looked slow and serene from her place behind a computer screen, she knew that those clouds were deadly things, filled with radioactive fallout, electrical discharges, and tearing winds.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> One by one, the supply ships began to make their descent. The Kite went into the breach first, angling its down toward the Earth and diving through the hole in the clouds. The Vulture followed it down, and then so did the Condor, the transport ships moving as quickly as possible in order to clear the gap before the incoming storm closed it. As the Buzzard began its dive in the wake of the Condor however, it was buffeted by waves of wind from the approaching cyclone, driving it against the wall of cloud forming the west wall of the gap, forcing the ship to fight against the wind's force instead of descending. Meanwhile, the storm continued to move in, its winds becoming progressively more powerful as it approached the struggling Buzzard.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Atkins had seen enough. She keyed her mic, hoping that the stricken vessel would still be able to receive signals through the clouds. "Buzzard, abort your descent and return to orbit immediately, that storm's coming in way too fast."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Admiral, whose supplies are on board that ship?" The question came from commodore Marcus Derialt, the head of the EAF's Defense Department.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "The Italians. They'll have to survive without them, we can't afford to risk losing that ship. "

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "But admiral, they need those supplies! You heard the-" His words were cut off by a garbled transmission from the Buzzard.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> 

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The bridge camera of the Buzzard showed nothing but grey now, and the control center crew could only watch helplessly as the ship was pulled into the storm. The video feed cut off.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Silence in the control center for a few moments. All communications to the supply ships were cut off as the storm passed above them, blocking all transmissions. Admiral Miranda Atkins finally broke the silence. "Barnes, try to reestablish communications with the other three ships. They should be moving out from underneath the storm about now, we should be able to transmit signals through the thinner cloud layer."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The communications officer nodded and complied silently, sending a high-power "ping" to the ships. It was a simple signal, meant only to confirm that the transport craft were able to receive through the fallout layer and to pinpoint their locations. The lights in the control center died for a moment before returning, the energy needed to send the ping through the clouds briefly drawing power from all non-essential devices.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Several seconds later, a response came back.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Ping ''. ''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Presumably the Kite's, as it would have been the first out of the storm.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Ping ''. Ping. '' The other two ships sent their replies, confirming their safety.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> And then, faintly, there came a fourth ping.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Silence for a moment, followed by low muttering between the control center crew.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Barnes, locate the source of that last ping in relation to the other three."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The officer tapped a few buttons on his terminal. "Several kilometres off to the west of the others... I think it's the Buzzard."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "You may be right. I hope you are. Maybe the hull reinforcements we made were enough to keep the ship intact. See if you can get a proper comm line open."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Negative, admiral, they're still too close to the storm for me to get anything through save for the high-energy pings."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Okay. Do you know Morse code?"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Barnes nodded. "Indeed I do."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Good. Use the pings to send the following message to all four ships: Continue eastward. Do you have visual or radar on Buzzard?"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The communications officer repeated the message, and then sent it, the lights repeatedly blinking out in the sequence of the Morse code as the FTL communications system stole power from the rest of the facility. Miranda flicked the lights off. They weren't really necessary anyway. ''We need to get a more powerful generator for this place... that flickering and dimming of the lights every time we sent an FTL transmission is annoying.''

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> A set of pings came back from the Kite. Barnes translated the Morse as it came through. "Heading east away from storm. Clouds thinning. Can likely transmit normally in a few minutes. No sign of Buzzard."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The admiral nodded. "Send th-" a second set of pings interrupted her sentence. Barnes translated again: "Buzzard sighted to west. Appears to have sustained moderate damage. Slowing down to let it catch up and attempting to establish radio contact."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> She sighed, relieved that the Buzzard had survived, but still far from convinced that this was a worthwhile mission. The Kite had reported moderate damage after all, and ship repairs were fairly expensive what with Enceladus Colony having only recently broken connections with the SAA. And regardless of the fact that the ship hadn't been destroyed, the important thing was that it could have been. Sure, this relief operation would help international relations relations, but not enough to be worth losing a Condor-class transport ship over.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> A message came over the communicator, this time as a voice transmission (albeit a somewhat garbled one) instead of a set of pings. "Kite to Enceladus Command, do you read?"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Kite, this is admiral Miranda Atkins. We read you, over."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "We're reestablished contact with the Buzzard, though they report that their FTL communicator is fried from the radiation. They say most systems are fine and they're good to continue the mission."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Glad to hear it. Proceed east to the designated point and then split off for your respective destinations as planned."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The transmission ended, and the video feed returned shortly after. It was interrupted from time to time by bursts of static, as the layer of fallout disrupted communications to some extent. The Buzzard could be seen flying to  the port side of the squadron, a bit worse for wear, but still airworthy. The ship's matte grey hull was scarred and pockmarked from the impacts of pieces of debris caught in the storm, several of which were still embedded, and the edge of one of the vertical stabilizers was torn off. The storm had done sufficient damage to necessitate performing some rather costly repairs, but everything that could be radiation shielded was, and the wind had luckily hit at an angle which allowed the ship to survive.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Some time passed without incident, and everything appeared to be going according to plan. The Buzzard hadn't suffered any additional systems failures, and the squadron was about an hour away from the point at which they would split off and go to deliver their supplies.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Admiral, we have an unidentified class three radar contact coming in behind the squadron," one of the officers in the control room called out. "Twenty eight kilometres and closing."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Miranda turned, looking at the screen the officer was at. "How did something that large just show up like that?" she asked.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> He shook his head. "No idea... It just appeared out of nowhere."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The Condor radioed in, followed by the other two ships which still had functional communicators. All wanted to know just what was happening. "Enceladus Command, a massive, unmarked warship just decloaked behind us. Please advise, over."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Atkins remained silent for a moment. ''How could such a large ship possibly have cloaking capabilities? And more importantly, what on earth was it doing there?'' "We see it on your radar," the admiral responded tensely. "We have no ID on it yet, nor do we know why it's here. Open a hailing frequency and route it up here, over." She turned back to the officer who had alerted her about the ship. "See if you can identify that vessel. Check for its warp drive signature, stealth capabilities, design, speed, anything you can get."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Another transmission came through from the Condor. "No response, admiral. They're maintaining course straight toward us, and that ship looks mighty unfriendly. Over."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Understood. Break formation and head to your destinations at full speed. I don't think you can outrun that ship, but it can't be in four places at once. We'll get some warships in the vicinity in case it tries anything, over."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Atkins turned to commodore Derialt. "Get two Tranquility II-class carriers and four Mantis II-class battlecarriers ready to warp to Earth. It'll burn the rest of our SNA-223 reserves, but we can't afford to lose those transports."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The commodore nodded quickly and made a call to the requested ships.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The officer next to Miranda spoke. "Admiral, I'm getting readings that are vaguely in line with a Prometheus Corporation A-11 warp core, the same as the Shadow of Darkened Skies II uses. Much more subtle though, you'd never be able to detect it unless you were looking at the exact spot the ship was in."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Prometheus!" Commodore Derialt exclaimed. "What the hell do they want with our ships!? We've never done anything to them, they have no reason to attack us!"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "It's not us they're interested in..." Miranda replied, the realization of what was happening here slowly dawning on her. "Those ships are carrying supplies that the recipients desperately need to make it through this winter. If they don't get them, their populations might be so weakened that the infrastructure needed to support their militaries would be gone for years. They'd be pushovers for Prometheus to make a big land grab. We just painted a giant crosshairs on our heads by launching this mission."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "But how did they know exactly when and where we were launching? And how did they get a ship that large-" Derialt stopped to answer a call from the hangars. "Serenity, Ataraxia, Dragonfly, Yellowjacket, Hornet, and Wasp report that they are ready for launch and standing by for your orders, admiral."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Atkins switched to the right frequency on her headset. "Serenity, Ataraxia, Dragonfly, Hornet, Wasp, you are cleared for launch. Remain above and behind the target and wait for further orders. Transmitting warp coordinates now."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> She turned back to Derialt, shaking her head slowly. "I suspect they've managed to tap our communications somehow... either that, or we've been infiltrated by their agents, probably fairly high up in our command structure. Either way, you and the Defense Department are going to have a lot of work on your hands... and so will I."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The launching ships' warp drives spent a few seconds warming up, and seconds later six EAF warships emerged over the North Atlantic, tailing the larger Prometheus vessel, which was now in pursuit of the Vulture and quickly closing in. The camera feeds from the fleet appeared on screen in the EAF command center, showing the giant craft clearly for the first time. It looked like a massive, bulky tuning fork, with the pronged end facing forward and the entire thing covered in weaponry. The ship's rear gun swivelled to face the newly-arrived EAF fleet.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Serenity, hail them one more time. Tell them to disengage immediately or our fleet will shoot them down, over."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> There was a short, tense silence in the command center as the Serenity attempted to contact the Prometheus ship. "No reply. They're almost in range of the Vulture."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The admiral closed her eyes, thinking. She didn't want to fire on a Prometheus vessel lest it spark a war against a much stronger adversary, but at the same time, the EAF couldn't afford to lose their transports. ''There's no choice here... we have to protect our ships. At least we should be safe until this winter ends. Do it. "Open fire on the Prometheus ship. Take out its weapons and engines first, stop it before it gets within firing range of the Vulture.''"

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> The EAF ships complied, and the command center crew watched as the fleet deployed its munitions and aircraft toward the enemy. The Prometheus ship, seeing this, fired its rear-facing guns and then cloaked, making it significantly harder to hit despite the fact that the EAF vessels were locked on to its warp core signature. The larger ship's volley of 204cm shells impacted the Yellowjacket, causing moderate damage to the port side.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Evidently realizing that it wouldn't be able to win against such a numerically superior force, the Prometheus vessel opened its surviving missile silos and deployed a swarm of MCMs. Instead of attempting to defend itself for long enough to warp away however, the ship directed all of its missiles toward a single target: the Vulture.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Three of the nine MCMs were intercepted mid-air by the AMS lasers mounted on the Tranquility IIs, but being such large weapons, they took a while to destroy even with dedicated anti-missile defenses. Six flew on to hit their target. The transport ship, heavily armored as it was, was still not designed to take the impacts of multiple dedicated heavy anti-ship missiles, and upon impact it was blown apart by the detonations of the massive warheads, exploding in a tremendous fireball.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Several seconds later, the Prometheus ship's cloak generator failed from the sustained fire of the EAF ships, and it reappeared in the sky behind the falling bits of debris that used to be the Vulture. The EAF fleet continued firing as the enemy craft turned to face them. Despite its relatively heavy armor, the Prometheus ship had taken too many hits by this point, and it managed only a single salvo of its main battery before a wing of fighters from the Ataraxis delivered the killing blow with a volley of missiles that tore off the starboard prong of the "tuning fork" design, sending the burning vessel spinning into the ocean below.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> "Serenity to Enceladus command, target is down, but we've lost the Vulture. We couldn't take out that ship's missile silos quickly enough."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Miranda didn't respond immediately. She was very, very tempted to just tell the fleet and the transports to regroup and head back to base, lest Prometheus try going for the other ships. But the mission must go on, she thought. ''If I call it off now, we'll have taken a huge loss to no reward whatsoever. If we continue, maybe, just maybe, someone will be sufficiently indebted to use to recoup the cost. Not much point in keeping the warships there though. Knowing Prometheus, they either had just that one ship in reserve to exploit the hole in the storm we found, in which case keeping a fleet nearby wouldn't do anything, or they can warp in as many additional ships as they like, in which case, well, our fleet still wouldn't do anything and we'd lose almost a fifth of our entire military strength. "Serenity, Ataraxia, Wasp, Hornet, Yellowjacket, Dragonfly'', set a course for home. There's nothing more you can do down here. We'll feed you the meteorological data so you'll know when another hole in the fallout opens."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Of course, since that jump burned the last of the EAF's SNA-223 reserves, the fleet would take weeks to get back under conventional thrust.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Miranda turned back to face commodore Derialt. "Derialt, I want you and your department to start working on fortifying Enceladus colony. I'll get the research team working on better detection systems. Prometheus has just proven that they have some kind of new class of stealth cruisers which can take down most of our ships one on one, and which we can't detect until they either decide to decloak or start shooting. The base would be toast if they sent a group of those after us, and since we just blew up one of their ships, they actually have reason to attack now. I'll warn the SAA on Titan too, maybe with both of our R&D teams working on countermeasures we'll be able to get something up in time to deter an attack."

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> She made the necessary calls, and Derialt headed off to hold an impromptu meeting with the Defense Department to try and get some better defenses operational with the limited resources available to the colony. That done, Miranda checked once more that there was nothing too pressing happening, and then climbed into the cot she had brought into the control center. It would be a few hours until the remaining Condor-class ships reached their destinations, and she'd barely slept for days now. She slept in the command center most of the time nowadays; it was impossible to get a good rest with all the constant interruptions, and by practically living in the command center it at least saved the time it took to walk to and from her quarters every time she needed to come here. The extra few minutes of sleep were worth the added discomfort.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt"> Meanwhile, the rest of the mission went smoothly and uneventfully. The remaining Condor-class transport ships; the Kite, Condor, and Buzzard, successfully delivered their cargo to the nations huddled in their bunkers under the ice, and departed. The NSRA, however, would have to survive without their share of supplies, as said supplies were currently sitting on the bottom of the North Atlantic, along with the wreckage of the ship that carried them. Some factions had made offers of fuel, and though appreciated, none of them were capable of producing the SNA-223 compound needed for interplanetary and warp drives. Therefore, after dropping off the supplies requested by the Regia Marine, the Israeli Naval, and the Dragonfire Privateering League, the EAF ships took off to meet with the battle group which had intercepted the Prometheus vessel earlier, waiting with them for another hole to open in the eternal barrier of nuclear-spawned storm clouds covering the planet so that they could begin the long trip back home.

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt">

<p class="MsoNormal" style="line-height:18.0pt">tl;dr: I would put a tldr, but seriously, if I spent hours writing this, you can spare a few minutes to read it. If not, you just won't know what's going on in RP.