[CENTER] [img]http://i.imgur.com/cG1bCYP.jpg?1[/img] [/CENTER] [COLOR=#00ff00]0605 Hours December 12th 2899 Universal Earth Calender. Fortress Planet Cerol, under siege. 4 hours into the initial assault.[/COLOR] [i]-krrsshzz- Command come in! This is -kssssh- Falcons, requesting support![/i] [center][i]This is the Tempest, our main reactor has suffered critical damage, Godspeed fifth-[/i][/center] [right][i]Sir! The Massachusetts has been lost with all hands.[/i][/right] [i]Command we're getting torn up out here! Where's some goddamn support?[/i] [right][i]We've lost all contact with 8th Squadron![/i][/right] [center][i]Watch that debris! Watch it! Watch it! Aauggh-ksssh-[/i][/center] [i]I can't shake him! Fuck oh fuck oh fuck, get him off me! Get him-[/i] [right][i]We're experiencing catastrophic detonations throughout the hull, all hands abandon ship! All hands abandon ship![/i][/right] There was absolute chaos as the invading Coalition fleet engaged with the Ulysses Space Dock and its defense fleets. Orange and white flowers of fire bloomed in the blackness of space, wilting as suddenly as the appeared, as blue flashes of light from thrusters twinkled in the great empty like fireflies; all the while yellow streaks of tracer rounds and the blue lines of plasma lanced between them. Ships on both sides exchanged fire, plasma blasts and mass driver shells slamming into one another as ships bled atmosphere and flames. Aerospace fighters did combat with MAS, as tight wedges clashed into one another with barrages of firepower, only to break apart and begin individual engagements until one side won. Occasionally, the fighter squadrons would come out on top of the fight; usually, the MAS teams would. Ulysses station was a wreck, constant plasma and missile barrages had torn apart a full two prongs of its docks, the resulting debris scattering throughout the battlefield alongside the rest of the wreckage, two of its three U-Docks had been rendered utterly unusable, as Coalition ships blasted at UEE ships still stuck in the docking clamps, and the third had suffered massive damage from MAS attack. The central station itself, didn't fare much better, multiple breaches in the hull caused it to violently vent out material and personnel, and the dock desperately gripped at the space elevator below. Cerol's planetary defense fleet had been utterly destroyed within the first hour of the engagement, its small fleet of defense vessels quickly overwhelmed by concentrated fire from Coalition ships and precision strikes from Coalition MAS teams. The larger 2nd and 5th fleets weren't faring much better. Much of the 5th fleet was already damaged from previous campaigns and had been docked at Cerol to refit and repair, as a result, their underequipped and damaged ships were for the most part easy pickings for the Coalition fleet, with only a handful of their ships fully battle ready by the time of the battle. The 2nd fleet had thus far bared much of the brunt of the battle, its forces getting a chewed up by the surprise appearance of the Coalition superfleet. Of the 5th fleet, the EENS Solace was one of the few ships to still be in working order. Though much of its escort had been destroyed, save for a single Dervish class destroyer, had been destroyed from ship to ship weapons fire. Its MAS squadron, the elite 3rd Squadron, also known as the "Wargods", had thus far admirably combated Coalition assaults against its mothership, though the losses were beginning to mount up. The Wargods had already lost 4 of their 12 pilots, and more Ferir II's seemed to be on their way. [i]Tac-Com to Wargods, brace yourselves, we've another 8 Ferir II's heading our way. Keep them away from the Solace.[/i] Came the voice of XO Rexer to the remaining pilots of the 3rd squadron. [color=lightgreen]"Acknowledged Command, alright Wargods, lets get ready for round- whatever round this is."[/color] called out the confident, yet tense voice of their squadron leader, Simms. Despite his even tone, a slight pant could be heard in his voice, he was tired. They'd been fighting nonstop for the past 4 hours. [color=firebrick]"Alright Commander, We're back in the fight!"[/color] Came the voice of Max 'Ham' Steiner, his MAS had been downed an hour back, but he'd manage to limp back to base and swap out into another Gladiator. The Gladiators had been godsends for the survivability of the 3rd, the superior machines provided the 3rd squadron with a considerable edge over their more numerous Ferir IIs. Only recently off the production lines, the Goliath's had made a real splash with the pilots of the 3rd, and almost the entire hangar of the Solace had been swapped out for Gladiators. [color=thistle]"I don't know about you guys, but I'm feeling uneducated, undisciplined, and decidedly unsafe."[/color] came the confident, english-accented drawl of Tommy 'Brit' Sanders. [color=lightgreen]"Command said 8, I count 8. Alright Wargods, lets give them hell!"[/color] cried Simms as the aforementioned squadron of 8 Ferir II's entered their local battlespace, supported by a pair of Coalition destroyers.