[center][b]SENSOR OUTPOST ECHO-5-5-8[/b][/center]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/mPZF6mh.jpg[/img]

“That’s not right…”  Setting down the coffee she’d just gone to collect from the sensor outposts antique drip machine Erika stared into her work stations holographic monitor and ran her hand through the projection in bemusement, but the red blips obstinately remained.  For three years she’d monitored that projection, and for three years the most exciting thing to have materialized on it was the uncommon diplomatic vessel like the one that’d passed by earlier.  This was decidedly not that, and no later than she’d had the thought the lights switched to an ominous red and a klaxon blared as warning messages popped up identifying the unknown blips as Musashi fighter interceptors.

For a moment she sat in disbelief, there had never been a Musiashi incursion into Confederate territory before, that was the bloody reason she’d taken this job in the first place.  Being crammed into an apartment sized sensor outpost would have been hell for some, but the pay, and more importantly the peace and quiet, had made it worth it.  After all, what could possibly happen?  Swearing to herself and cursing her wretched luck Erika panicked and in a feverish motion slammed the only physical switch on the holographic monitor, a button set to initiate a direct data uplink to the capital station in the case of an emergency.

Almost instantly the face of a concerned military officer materialized, the sudden appearance giving her enough of a start to knock her forgotten coffee off its precipitous resting place.  In retrospect she’d look back at spilling the hot liquid with wistful longing after hours of briefings left her exhausted and hysterical, but for the moment it was the least of her concerns.

[center][b]PARADISE STATION, DEJURE CAPITAL OF THE SOVERIGN STAR CONFEDERATION[/b][/center]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/uzfqOBl.jpg[/img]

Drifting idly in space the vast city that was Paradise Station loomed far above a dead world, the rocky super terran’s crated face visible even from the distant lagrangian point where the station lounged.  Ships zipped around it like a hive and to all it seemed like just another day in and around the hub of Confederate governance, but within the spectre of chaos had reared its head.

Within the chamber of the cabinet aides whipped in and out in a frenzy, each one delivering some bit of hearsay or some vague report, none of them carrying the crucial piece to understanding the events unfolding on the border.  At the great tables head and rubbing her brow in frustration Kaela Sevaren, elected First Chancellor of the Confederation, was desperately trying to parse through all the information.  Tired of the clamour she finally spoke out above the din, “Everyone without a verified report, [i]leave now.[/i]  We will not be acting on gossip.”

The room withered at the admonishment and one by one the minor officials filtered out eventually leaving only the 18 Chancellors and herself.  Looking around she sighed, “What we know for certain is that Musashi has dispatched an indeterminate number of fighters that have violated our border after sending a supposed diplomatic mission.  We cannot fret over the details and waste time as if we have it.  I move that we dispatch the closest assets we have to intercept the Musashi fighters and capture the diplomatic vessel.”

Around the room murmurs sounded before Sandro Espanta, the Chancellor of the Iberian Commonwealth, spoke out, “I agree that we can’t spend all our time debating the intricacies of the situation, but this hardly seems like an invasion and we mustn’t escalate it to one.  I agree we dispatch the closest assets, but as an addendum we should stipulate that they mustn’t engage unless fired upon.  For now I believe we should capture the diplomatic vessel and await more…  Coherent intelligence.”

Across the table Steve Woolsey, the Chancellor of the New British Republic, slammed his hand onto the table, “Perhaps it is easy to suggest such a timid response when it is not your people being gambled!  The First Chancellor is right, we need to engage Musahi before they reach the system of Edinburgh and threaten us directly!”

Kaela interlocked her fingers and leaned back, “As much as I sympathize Woolsey, Chancellor Espanta has a point.  That said, we cannot allow Muashi to go unchallenged in our territory regardless of their intent, hostile or not.  I propose that we compromise by establishing a line; we capture the diplomatic vessel and deploy our forces around it.  If Musashi attempts a run at the ship we engage, regardless of whether or not they fire first.  There is too much we don’t know to work with half measures.”

Espanta and Woolsey both nodded their assent—however begrudgingly—and the matter was put to a vote.  Within the hour it would be known that the Cabinet decided unanimously to deploy Confederate forces to the border to meet Musashi intruders, a decision that would shape the foreign policy of the Sovereign Star Confederation in the days to come.

[center][b]THE LIBERATION CLASS CARRIER SSCSS WEBBER[/b][/center]
[img]http://i.imgur.com/H9fbO6v.jpg[/img]

The Webber had been running anti piracy patrols along the Musashi border for nearly a year now, just like a dozen other Liberation class carriers.  At face value it, and its brethren, would have been dismissed as a token deterrent set up to dissuade any particularly ambitious moves from Musashi.  After all the Musashi border was where they sent the fuck ups, everybody knew that.  Just thinking about the stereotype made the Captain smile.  All in all he’d never imagined a little bit of rumor and gossip coupled with a few false transfers would have been such effective propaganda.  The truth of it was the Webber was one of the most elite vessels in the military, stocked with seasoned veterans and ready to respond to any incursion.  Like all her fellows on the border she was a part of the Confederate strategy to avoid provoking Musashi with excessive security, but to be prepared for any attack by ensuring what military presence there was could punch well above its weight.

Taking a moment to regard his bridge Captian Terrance Muller knew he was ready, but if it came to that this would be the first real battle they’d fought in a year.  Needless to say he was antsy, confident in his pilots and crew, but antsy nonetheless.  The 3rd Interceptor Wing had been launched as soon as they’d dropped out and now the Webber was close enough to see the Musashi fighters on its own scopes.  Even more so they had finally begun to bear down on the diplomatic vessel.  Whatever was destined to happen would come soon now.

 Looking to the Comms officer to his lift he ordered, “Issue a command for the transport to surrender, if they refuse follow up with a warning shot from the ships main gun, and tell the fighters to relay our intent to the Musashi forces.  If they cross the boundary we will reply with force.”

A short aye sounded and he turned to the flight control officer, “Once the boundary is in place put the 12th Bomber Wing on hold, they might pull in larger guns yet.”

Yet another affirmation, and then all that was left was a question.  Still…  Somewhere inside Terrance knew the answer.  Whatever had motivated Musashi to send fighters after that ship would motivate them to violate the defensive boundary, but he was ready, no matter the tattered state of the fingernails he’d chewed in anticipation.  Their unwelcome guests would be in for a rude surprise.