Member
Helios
Hyperdrive
SgtEasy
xxjessicaxx
TexanJanus
Ezekiel
VampiretwilightCollab between @Sigma and @Enigmatik
The Galactic War may have ended, but to the Azulvistans stationed in Americana the fight still continued. The easy guise of protecting against New Terran aggression had gone, but that had only ever really been an excuse for the Republican Navy.
In truth though, it had been less of a war and more of the galaxy's most sluggish slapfight. Mass naval engagements had been a rarity, isolated almost exclusively to the earliest days of Azulvistan involvement. Instead, the two sides had taken to displays of force - here a massive GRA fleet would swing past Columbia, just outside of naval bombardment range, there a Yulzan fleet would fire off a barrage towards the Gateway, the void of space lit up with the pinpricks of interception fire. An uncomfortable status quo perhaps, but one that was unappealing to the Senate back home.
Maintaining vessels on combat duty required money. Paying navymen to flex the Gran Republic's muscles required money. The frankly irresponsible amount of lend-lease equipment that had been provided to Americana required vast sums of money. Results were starting to be demanded, and so a new dimension had been agreed upon.
Insertion onto Columbia.
Several maximum-security vessels had made their way across from Azulvista for exactly this purpose. Inside, isolated from their crewmen, spending almost all their time locked in a routine of non-stop training was the weapon that Azulvista had yet to unleash.
"This is Commandante Joaquim Rafel y Cavaller, Brigade Xenocide, reporting units ready for immediate action."
"Roger Commandante. This is Contralmirante Alvera de Arredondo of Strikefleet Lepanto. We're ready to begin your insertion - awaiting final confirmation from Almirante Catalina's flagship."
"Understood Contralmirante. May the saints guide you."
"And to you Commandante."
An hour later and Strikefleet Lepanto pulled away from the main Gateway fleet and begun to press forward, angled unmistakeably towards Columbia.
The Yulzan Ascendancy was sent into a panic as word spread of a foreign fleet punching its way past No Man’s Land, although in truth it was a small strikefleet, the mere fact a force of any size was able to cross the border was enough for concern. The stand-off long held maintained between the Yulzan, the FRA and its allies over Mojave had now in a moment’s notice, had been broken. In the chaos of the fighting, a small enough force from Azulvista had suddenly found itself in Columbian Orbit, prompting a rapid response.
Columbia, High Orbit
Throneship
High Ascendant Council
The High Ascendants all starred deeply into the holoprojection dead center of the room, a replication of Columbia, surrounded by dozens of green dots stretching all over the planet’s orbit, and a small cluster of red dots representing the Azulvistan invaders. “Impressive, it’s been long since the humans were bold enough to push past our lines” High Ascendant Nrac’shul spoke. “However, we must not underestimate them. We must swiftly deal with them and proceed with the final plan.” The others present nodding in agreement. Another stood up, High Ascendant Zalos. “I will begin immediate mobilizing of a fleet nearest to the enemy. Show them their little incursion will not be tolerated.”
The first fleet to heed the Guard-Master’s call to arms was the 14th Home Defense group, it was the closet fleet near the approximate entry point of the strikefleet, ready to either counter them and for its Admiral to redeem himself. Within the CIC of the fleet’s flagship, the Blissful Wrath, Admiral Hawthorn stared intently at the holomap, waiting for the moment for the enemy to arrive. His blunder during the Throneship incident had damaged his standing with many, he was lucky enough to keep his command despite his failure to capture or kill the would-be assassins of a High Ascendant. Now, however, this may be his chance to atone for his failure.
Alvera watched the tactical overlay intently. The response fleet had arrived... And about when anticipated, which was good. Their intel hadn't been too compromised by this... Naval trench warfare. "Wing 1 through 3. Move to engage. Wings 4 through 10,
Stiletto formation."
She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. "Remember, our only objective is to get the package into high orbit. Once it's out, we extract immediately." Acknowledgements streamed across the airwave. They had one last trick up their sleeves for this crucial moment...
"Gibraltar, this is Lepanto. Requesting superheavy strike."
"Copy Lepanto. Firing patterns established. Keep your course."
From across No Mans Land, capacitors thrummed to maximum capacity. War Galleons made minute adjustments in positioning, all waiting for the single word order.
"Fire."
Even with their phonemenal speed, aiming railguns at this range was more speculation than true gunnery, but nonetheless their bolts hurtled forward. Alvera crossed herself and issued her final command before battle was joined.
"Gracias Gibraltar. Lepanto initiating combat silence. Over and out."
Red alerts sounded off through every vessel in the fleet as the Azulvistan ships were on fast approach, the battle had already begun. “All ships, move in and engage the enemy! Encircle them and prevent them from an-“ The Admiral’s words were cut short as a shock wave was felt through the ship. “Sir! We just lost the Sacred Judgment!”
“How in the hell did they manage that?!?” He exclaimed in confusion.
“Enemy projectile from unknown range it looks.” The officer replied. “They have us marked.” It now seemed the stakes for the Admiral had just gotten much higher. The Azulvistan ships present seem to be not only acting as a possible vanguard to a wider invasion, but they also seem to be acting as spotters for another set of vessels far from Columbia, and as long as those ships remain, the rest of the fleet is at risk of being sniped into stardust. “Break into loose formations and engage the enemy!”
The 14th defensive fleet, in fear of further long-range strikes, scattered as they attempted to encircle the Azulvistan fleet, unleashing a volley of railgun fire, followed by waves of smaller strike craft acting as screens for the main fleet.
A few muted celebrations went up on the bridge of [Shipname] as the Yulzan spread out in response to their supporting fire. This was what they had planned for: with their foes spread out, the tightly-arranged knot of Azulvistan vessels could press forward much more aggressively. Surging ahead, the first three wings of the strikefleet closed to an uncomfortably close engagement range and began loosing swarms of missiles and a withering barrage of projectile fire.
They just needed a little more time and a little more pressure. Columbia had gone from a distant marble to a good portion of the horizon... Only a bit further and they could deploy their package and start extracting, and every second they saved during this assault was less time for the jaws of the Yulzan defence to snap shut around them.
The battle had quickly turned savage as barrages of missile and projectile fire filled the space in between the two foes, fighters and bombers shredded to scrap when they dared make strike runs against the tight clusters. The Blissful Wrath stayed at the forefront, unleashing volleys of missile, projectiles, and the occasional plasma bolt from special retrofitted Yulzan-based weaponry, a rare retrofit reserved for a select group of Janissary warships, usually those commanded by higher-ranked officers.
While the warship stood strong, many of her smaller brethren would fall to the unyielding barrage from the Azulvistan warships. “Hold the line! Do not relent! And press on with the attack!” Hawthorn ordered with a renewed sense of zeal, he would not let his career end with another blunder.
"This is Wing 1, we're taking heavy casualties here. Lepanto lead, advise?"
"Maintain your course Wing 1. We can't back out now. Wings 4 and 5, move to support Wing 1, Wing 10, now or never, move to deploy the package."
"Copy that, moving out." Alvera grimaced. The tactical display blinked as two more Azulvistan vessels were destroyed - one vanishing entirely from view, the other turning from a single large pip into a shotgun spread of detritus. They're dying, and it's on your head.
It would be worth it. It had to be worth it. The Yyasum weren't going to leave of their own accord - it was only through blood and steel that they would see this system made free.
"This is Wing 10. We're only a click away from instertion altitude."
"All units, move to support Wing 10. This is it."
The Blissful Wrath begun to tremble as her shields weakened, projectiles and missiles penetrating her defenses, blowing chunks of her hull clean off. Within her CIC, Admiral Hawthorn lost his stand and fell to the floor, his staff erupting into an cacophony of noise. “Shields down to seventeen percent and weakening!” One voice screamed.
“We just lost the Truth and Judgment!!”
“Hull breach in central deck!”
The Admiral forced himself up, his expression now soured with rage. “Press on with the attack! Maintain current position at all cost!”
Alvera watched with bated breath as the tiny blips that were Wing 10 pressed closer and closer to the planet. Eight hundred meters. Six hundred... Five hundred meters... A vessel that had been standing against them spun wildly out of control and Wing 4 siezed the momentum to drive even further forward.
"WING 10! WE'RE IN POSITION! DEPLOYING THE PACKAGE!"
To cover the insertion, Wing 10 had to do more than just deploy the drop torpedos. As the carracks unleashed the package, their companion caravels also launched a massive swarm of missiles - some deliberately made as duds, so they would go wide and hopefully throw the scent off those aimed towards the planet.
"All wings, retreat now! Package has been delivered, it's all down to them. They go with the saints."
Within moments, as the swarm of missiles were shot down from a hail of bullets from point-defense guns, and the “dust” settled so to speak, the attacking Azulvistan warships had swiftly pulled back from the engagement, much to the confusion of the defending Janissaries. Admiral Hawthorn watched perplexed as the enemy signals on the map slowly flickered away as they left Columbia’s orbit. There were questions…however, that was for another time.
For now, it seemed Hawthorn’s career may have just been saved for the time being. Fending off a hostile incursion in Columbia’s orbit would look good in the eyes of the High Ascendants. “Enemy has completely withdrawn.” One of the officers announced. “Orders, sir?”
Still dumbfounded at his supposed “victory”, Hawthorn slumped onto his command chair. “….Regroup at the Defense Station Echo, we need to make repairs, and I need to make a report…”
The Galactic War may have ended, but to the Azulvistans stationed in Americana the fight still continued. The easy guise of protecting against New Terran aggression had gone, but that had only ever really been an excuse for the Republican Navy.
In truth though, it had been less of a war and more of the galaxy's most sluggish slapfight. Mass naval engagements had been a rarity, isolated almost exclusively to the earliest days of Azulvistan involvement. Instead, the two sides had taken to displays of force - here a massive GRA fleet would swing past Columbia, just outside of naval bombardment range, there a Yulzan fleet would fire off a barrage towards the Gateway, the void of space lit up with the pinpricks of interception fire. An uncomfortable status quo perhaps, but one that was unappealing to the Senate back home.
Maintaining vessels on combat duty required money. Paying navymen to flex the Gran Republic's muscles required money. The frankly irresponsible amount of lend-lease equipment that had been provided to Americana required vast sums of money. Results were starting to be demanded, and so a new dimension had been agreed upon.
Insertion onto Columbia.
Several maximum-security vessels had made their way across from Azulvista for exactly this purpose. Inside, isolated from their crewmen, spending almost all their time locked in a routine of non-stop training was the weapon that Azulvista had yet to unleash.
"This is Commandante Joaquim Rafel y Cavaller, Brigade Xenocide, reporting units ready for immediate action."
"Roger Commandante. This is Contralmirante Alvera de Arredondo of Strikefleet Lepanto. We're ready to begin your insertion - awaiting final confirmation from Almirante Catalina's flagship."
"Understood Contralmirante. May the saints guide you."
"And to you Commandante."
An hour later and Strikefleet Lepanto pulled away from the main Gateway fleet and begun to press forward, angled unmistakeably towards Columbia.
The Yulzan Ascendancy was sent into a panic as word spread of a foreign fleet punching its way past No Man’s Land, although in truth it was a small strikefleet, the mere fact a force of any size was able to cross the border was enough for concern. The stand-off long held maintained between the Yulzan, the FRA and its allies over Mojave had now in a moment’s notice, had been broken. In the chaos of the fighting, a small enough force from Azulvista had suddenly found itself in Columbian Orbit, prompting a rapid response.
Columbia, High Orbit
Throneship
High Ascendant Council
The High Ascendants all starred deeply into the holoprojection dead center of the room, a replication of Columbia, surrounded by dozens of green dots stretching all over the planet’s orbit, and a small cluster of red dots representing the Azulvistan invaders. “Impressive, it’s been long since the humans were bold enough to push past our lines” High Ascendant Nrac’shul spoke. “However, we must not underestimate them. We must swiftly deal with them and proceed with the final plan.” The others present nodding in agreement. Another stood up, High Ascendant Zalos. “I will begin immediate mobilizing of a fleet nearest to the enemy. Show them their little incursion will not be tolerated.”
The first fleet to heed the Guard-Master’s call to arms was the 14th Home Defense group, it was the closet fleet near the approximate entry point of the strikefleet, ready to either counter them and for its Admiral to redeem himself. Within the CIC of the fleet’s flagship, the Blissful Wrath, Admiral Hawthorn stared intently at the holomap, waiting for the moment for the enemy to arrive. His blunder during the Throneship incident had damaged his standing with many, he was lucky enough to keep his command despite his failure to capture or kill the would-be assassins of a High Ascendant. Now, however, this may be his chance to atone for his failure.
Alvera watched the tactical overlay intently. The response fleet had arrived... And about when anticipated, which was good. Their intel hadn't been too compromised by this... Naval trench warfare. "Wing 1 through 3. Move to engage. Wings 4 through 10,
Stiletto formation."
She paused for a moment to take a deep breath. "Remember, our only objective is to get the package into high orbit. Once it's out, we extract immediately." Acknowledgements streamed across the airwave. They had one last trick up their sleeves for this crucial moment...
"Gibraltar, this is Lepanto. Requesting superheavy strike."
"Copy Lepanto. Firing patterns established. Keep your course."
From across No Mans Land, capacitors thrummed to maximum capacity. War Galleons made minute adjustments in positioning, all waiting for the single word order.
"Fire."
Even with their phonemenal speed, aiming railguns at this range was more speculation than true gunnery, but nonetheless their bolts hurtled forward. Alvera crossed herself and issued her final command before battle was joined.
"Gracias Gibraltar. Lepanto initiating combat silence. Over and out."
Red alerts sounded off through every vessel in the fleet as the Azulvistan ships were on fast approach, the battle had already begun. “All ships, move in and engage the enemy! Encircle them and prevent them from an-“ The Admiral’s words were cut short as a shock wave was felt through the ship. “Sir! We just lost the Sacred Judgment!”
“How in the hell did they manage that?!?” He exclaimed in confusion.
“Enemy projectile from unknown range it looks.” The officer replied. “They have us marked.” It now seemed the stakes for the Admiral had just gotten much higher. The Azulvistan ships present seem to be not only acting as a possible vanguard to a wider invasion, but they also seem to be acting as spotters for another set of vessels far from Columbia, and as long as those ships remain, the rest of the fleet is at risk of being sniped into stardust. “Break into loose formations and engage the enemy!”
The 14th defensive fleet, in fear of further long-range strikes, scattered as they attempted to encircle the Azulvistan fleet, unleashing a volley of railgun fire, followed by waves of smaller strike craft acting as screens for the main fleet.
A few muted celebrations went up on the bridge of [Shipname] as the Yulzan spread out in response to their supporting fire. This was what they had planned for: with their foes spread out, the tightly-arranged knot of Azulvistan vessels could press forward much more aggressively. Surging ahead, the first three wings of the strikefleet closed to an uncomfortably close engagement range and began loosing swarms of missiles and a withering barrage of projectile fire.
They just needed a little more time and a little more pressure. Columbia had gone from a distant marble to a good portion of the horizon... Only a bit further and they could deploy their package and start extracting, and every second they saved during this assault was less time for the jaws of the Yulzan defence to snap shut around them.
The battle had quickly turned savage as barrages of missile and projectile fire filled the space in between the two foes, fighters and bombers shredded to scrap when they dared make strike runs against the tight clusters. The Blissful Wrath stayed at the forefront, unleashing volleys of missile, projectiles, and the occasional plasma bolt from special retrofitted Yulzan-based weaponry, a rare retrofit reserved for a select group of Janissary warships, usually those commanded by higher-ranked officers.
While the warship stood strong, many of her smaller brethren would fall to the unyielding barrage from the Azulvistan warships. “Hold the line! Do not relent! And press on with the attack!” Hawthorn ordered with a renewed sense of zeal, he would not let his career end with another blunder.
"This is Wing 1, we're taking heavy casualties here. Lepanto lead, advise?"
"Maintain your course Wing 1. We can't back out now. Wings 4 and 5, move to support Wing 1, Wing 10, now or never, move to deploy the package."
"Copy that, moving out." Alvera grimaced. The tactical display blinked as two more Azulvistan vessels were destroyed - one vanishing entirely from view, the other turning from a single large pip into a shotgun spread of detritus. They're dying, and it's on your head.
It would be worth it. It had to be worth it. The Yyasum weren't going to leave of their own accord - it was only through blood and steel that they would see this system made free.
"This is Wing 10. We're only a click away from instertion altitude."
"All units, move to support Wing 10. This is it."
The Blissful Wrath begun to tremble as her shields weakened, projectiles and missiles penetrating her defenses, blowing chunks of her hull clean off. Within her CIC, Admiral Hawthorn lost his stand and fell to the floor, his staff erupting into an cacophony of noise. “Shields down to seventeen percent and weakening!” One voice screamed.
“We just lost the Truth and Judgment!!”
“Hull breach in central deck!”
The Admiral forced himself up, his expression now soured with rage. “Press on with the attack! Maintain current position at all cost!”
Alvera watched with bated breath as the tiny blips that were Wing 10 pressed closer and closer to the planet. Eight hundred meters. Six hundred... Five hundred meters... A vessel that had been standing against them spun wildly out of control and Wing 4 siezed the momentum to drive even further forward.
"WING 10! WE'RE IN POSITION! DEPLOYING THE PACKAGE!"
To cover the insertion, Wing 10 had to do more than just deploy the drop torpedos. As the carracks unleashed the package, their companion caravels also launched a massive swarm of missiles - some deliberately made as duds, so they would go wide and hopefully throw the scent off those aimed towards the planet.
"All wings, retreat now! Package has been delivered, it's all down to them. They go with the saints."
Within moments, as the swarm of missiles were shot down from a hail of bullets from point-defense guns, and the “dust” settled so to speak, the attacking Azulvistan warships had swiftly pulled back from the engagement, much to the confusion of the defending Janissaries. Admiral Hawthorn watched perplexed as the enemy signals on the map slowly flickered away as they left Columbia’s orbit. There were questions…however, that was for another time.
For now, it seemed Hawthorn’s career may have just been saved for the time being. Fending off a hostile incursion in Columbia’s orbit would look good in the eyes of the High Ascendants. “Enemy has completely withdrawn.” One of the officers announced. “Orders, sir?”
Still dumbfounded at his supposed “victory”, Hawthorn slumped onto his command chair. “….Regroup at the Defense Station Echo, we need to make repairs, and I need to make a report…”