Birds Of A Feather
Posted on Sun Feb 27th, 2022 @ 9:02pm by The Narrator & Major Samuel Braddock
Mission:
S2:4: If Not Like A Mirror
Location: Carpathia System, Canopus Station Approach Corridor
Timeline: MD-1 10.00
"That's not something you see every day."
The voice came from the Weapons System Officer seated in the gee couch in the back of the Gryphons cockpit. And he was right, in a way. The sight out of the demi-sapphire canopy was of the long sloped hull of a Reciprocity starship. Long and narrow like a shark, its tail that of two nacelle's stacked vertically with a conning tower like fin rising from amidships. RCNS Fearless was emblazoned on the side along with a hull number. Though what caught the attention of the WS Officer were the neat twin rows of weapons ports lining the waist of what was clearly a warship.
"A starship with a broadside battery," he muttered. "Wonder what she's packing under the armour, Sir?"
"Probably nothing we want to get too close to. Get me a complete systems analysis- do they have any reactors or external sensors we can target if things get hairy?" Sam asked, his hand tightening around the stick. On this flight, sensors and heavy weapons targeting was delegated to his 'Wizzo' or Weapons System Officer but Sam would still be responsible for their release and keeping them from getting blown apart.
"Copy that," the WSO said. "Okay...link the scan data from the rest of the Squadron. From what I'm seeing Sir that thing is thick-skinned, she's a warship from the keel up. Weapons compliment is...well the broadside tubes look like standard rail launchers, same as you'd see on a Fleet ship. No idea what's loaded on them, and from the sensor hash it's spitting out I bet it's got fire control enough to layer effective guided salvos. Power readings are...off the chart and this is is one of the smaller ships in the flotilla."
Something flashed past the cockpit viewport, close enough that the inertial compensators wobbled the Gryphon at its passing. Another flickered past, and then another.
"Starfleet Fighter, this is Fearless flight control. You are being escorted out of our area of effect for your safety." Came a gruff, no-nonsense voice over the commlink. "You will comply with this directive."
Sam smirked and sent a silent text message to the rest of the defensive group to send. "This is Starfleet Fighter, Callsign EAGLE. You have entered a Federation Controlled Approach Corridor and we will maintain a defensive screen. Stop or heave to or we will initiate defensive action. Eagle Out." Flipping his comms to the rest of the group, he began issuing commands. "Alert Squadron, Break into elements of three and power weapons but do not fire unless fired upon."
A chorus of responses began to chime in, and again the Gryphon wobbled as again something dark and fast zipped past.
"I got it," the WSO. "Small mover, spitting out hydrogen-...whoa readings say metallic hydrogen is in that thing. SHIT!"
The WSAO's helmet knocked off the canopy glass beside him, as on the far side of the canopy one of the fast-moving darts was loitering. The size of a beer can, it looked like it was welded invisibly into place, as it kept perfect pace with the Starfleet fighter. It wasn't really dart-shaped, more of a pointed lance flaring out to a complicated-looking thruster assembly that was hazed in a halo of silvery gas.
"Two more on the port side," the WSO said.
"Starfleet fighter," this time it was a woman voice in Sam's ears. "This is Valkir Alpha Flight Leader to Call sign Eagle. You are in danger. Please desist and depart Fearless's area of effect. The exotic drive effect may cause damage to your craft. Please follow my remotes to a distance of fifty kilometres from Fearless. One pilot to another, I say this: you are in danger Eagle."
Sam gripped the stick and pressed downward. "Eagle to Valkir Alpha. Message Received." he quickly cut the communications off reduced his speed, allowing the fighters to speed ahead of him. "Let's back off but keep a weapons lock on them and bring sensors to full. I want a full ARCHER scan of that drive effect they're talking about. While you're at it, I'll need a tactical analysis of those damn remotes." clicking the power reassignment menu, he adjusted power to sensors and shields and brought up the ARCHER system so he could see everything his WSO was seeing.
The Airborne Real-Time Cued Hyperspectral Enhanced Reconnaissance system or ARCHER for short was a sensor module built into most of the Gryphon Class to allow it to scan the molecular structures and emanations of most organic and inorganic materials to give them an idea of any anomalies. It could also use other fighter and starship sensor nets for nearly instantaneous data sharing and increased processing power. As an added bonus, their readings could be projected into a pilot's Heads Up Display, highlighting any anomalous objects within a small radius and giving their vital statistics.
Space was lit up as the ARCHER system spun up to full power, nearly blowing out its main processor from the raw data it was receiving. The Fearless was bracketed by rippling bands of gravimetric force, moving in a ripple from bow to stern. The gravimetric sheer in those bands would have torn the fighter to atoms, let alone shreds.
Aside from that ARCHER also picked up the ghostly beams of tracking systems and optical scanners, and other less knowable radiation forms coming from the Carcoasian warship. The little metal darts remained in place, hardly seeming to move at all as the Gryphon manoeuvre, and then as one, they snapped away, flicking on tails of silvery exhaust.
"Excellent flying Eagle," the woman voice said again. "On your starboard wing."
Black as a cat at midnight, the Carcosain fighter's hull plates flickered as whatever active camouflage system disengaged to reveal the sharp angles hidden within. Smaller than the Starfleet Gryphon Mk3, the Carcosian fighter looked razor-sharp: a pointed nose, wings like knives, and two engine nacelles nestled behind the cockpit that under ARCHER's gaze were spitting out the same silvery exhaust as the remotes. In fact one of the beer can-sized objects raced up to the fighter, and neatly docked in the blink of an eye in a belly hatch that whisked open for it.
"Utopia Planitia..." the woman voice, Valkir Alpha, said the unusual word in her thick accented Federation standard. "That is on Mars, is it not? The hull plate I'm looking at seems to suggest your left fuel port was made there."
"Squint, what the hell was that?" Sam said, jerking the stick left and right trying to jink the thing off. This object had docked and was making his displays go absolutely bonkers. "Shit! We're getting tapped! Polarize the hull, get out and smash it with a crowbar, just give me something to take this thing off!" he ordered, executing a barrel roll and noting that his controls were becoming more sluggish as power was being drained. "If we don't get this thing off soon, we might have to get out and push." Opening a channel to Valkir Alpha. "You have declared hostile intent." flipping to the squadron channel. "Weapons Free. I say again, weapons free." Little did he know that external comms were being cut and nothing he was saying was getting out.
"Negative Eagle. You are merely being escorted from
"No chance in hell." Sam quipped and fought with his fighter to force it towards the blue corona of the Fearless' stardrive in order to temporarily evade his pursuers and hopefully overload the thing that was trying to siphon data from his systems. Shutting down power by hitting the emergency cutoff switch and adjusting the thrusters- the only system that didn't rely solely upon computer control or main power aside from the passive sensors, he brought them into a loose spin towards the scintillating blue light, their visors automatically darkening as they drifted closer.
The jagged black fighter craft kept in pace with Sam for a moment longer, before with a burst of light from its narrow thrust vent it shot away, spiraling off into the darkness. Then it did something odd, as a sudden dazzle of thermal energy blossomed in its wake, fanning out like a sonic boom in the vacuum. A countermeasure? Whatever it was made a big, bright, clear trail that illuminated the fighter craft that had been shadowing Sam.
Sam re-engaged main engines as he heard a loud mechanical release. "What the hell are they running away from?" he asked, mystified at the sudden change of behaviour from one of the fighters. "Squint, tell me you got that!"
"Got it!" Came the reply. "I'm getting a Master Caution light on hull integrity, but we're not falling apart yet. We're still streaming all scan data back to Canopus Station."
"Canopus Tower to Eagle. I have Canopus Actual wanting a direct comm with you at this time." Barked over the comm system. Canopus Actual was Captian Ingram, and 'wanting' was a polite way of saying he was probably hanging the fate of the traffic controllers career in his hands and wringing it like a dish cloth.
Sam nodded. He could hear the stress in the controllers voice, which was something that you never wanted. A stressed controller made mistakes. "Eagle is standing by to receive Actual, over."
"Major Braddock, this is Captian Ingram. Consider yourself ordered to return to Canopus Station immediately," Ingram's voice had that strained tone of voice best described as 'Don't Make Me Come Over Their: No9'. As opposed to No10 which would have set Sam's hair on fire.
