~Karos Military Academy, Planet Piton, Beta Universe~
Stelon jumped from his bunk and moved to line up in the barracks hall. The door to his little room slid shut with a hiss. The alarm bells ceased and the flight officer entered from one end of the corridor. Officer Ma'Tel inspected each cadet swiftly before moving onto the next silently. No one moved or spoke as inspections were finished and Ma'Tel exited the other end of the corridor. Stelon moved back into his room. He had been prepared for the inspection as had the other cadets. Their flight leader had warned them it was coming this cycle.
"Ready for take-off Stel?"
He turned to look at his pilot Mikal. They had been paired during the specialization training two lunar cycles ago. Mikal had been one of two he had been gunning for, second to be specific. Mikal was slightly wild for his tastes but was about as skilled as they came.
"Get our ship ready and make sure Baal is briefed on what she is supposed to do on this run. I don't want her to bring us down, you know those sciency types are."
Mikal saluted him and left. Baal was the replacement for their lost mission specialist. At least Cimak had known what he was doing. He had been a die-hard mission specialist who knew what it took to survive the war they were in. Baal was technically an education specialist and further along the information and espionage branch than Cimak had been. If he hadn't on their last encounter with Drek Cooperative raiders, they would be well prepared for this run. They were one run from Cimak getting his promotion and the whole crew qualifying for a better ship. That ship would have come with a payload specialist and a nice combat security specialist from the Consortium Force. A lucky shot from a raider spinning out of control blowing one of their pylons had knocked poor Cimak's skull against the hull while he was checking a wire in his helmet.
He packed his flight bag and headed for the hangar. Still, he couldn't complain about the dual-role fighter they had. It may not be as maneuverable as one of the two-man Stihl fighters, or as luxurious as the Kahm long range multipurpose fighter-bombers, but their Striek was pretty good. One of the more upgrade interplanetary fighters, it boasted a nice personal armory and some advanced equipment of its own. As Stelon entered the cavernous building he saw his crew doing preflight checks.
He approached Mikal and Mikal snapped to attention, hand striking chest, "critical systems and modules prepped and ready sir."
"Proceed to checking on-board systems pilot. Report EM."
Baal saluted, "all equipment pertaining to mission requirements are within specifications sir."
"As you were EM, proceed to internal systems analysis."
The pair boarded behind Mikal. Baal settled into her seat while he moved to sit next to Mikal at the nose of the ship. Their little ship didn't have more than a small med-bay and a small armory with a pair of weapons for each of them. Baal took up half the room in the specialist compartment. Even the seat had to be modified to make up for her added mass from her equine lower half. At least she wasn't one of those squat little know-it-all Falks.
Mikal finished his diagnostic and spoke over the comm, "all systems are a go sir."
"Copy that pilot. EM?"
"Equipment checks out mostly sir"
Stelon sighed, "mostly EM? What kind of check is that? Do we need to find another specialist?"
"No sir, equipment checks out sir. I just had a couple more to check out sir," Baal stammered.
Stelon shook his head and exchanged looks with Mikal. Mikal began flight prep. The fighter shuddered as the engines kicked to life.
"T-31 seconds," lights flickered on the console, "16," the floor began shaking, "3, 2, 1, 0," the cabin began to shake.
Slowly they began to move forward as the launchers hauled them into position. Suddenly they were yanked backwards into their seats as they were slung onward and upward by the initial launch rockets. The fuel was soon spent and released as the launch rockets were released for the ground crews to recover and refill. The sky rose to greet them and soon stars. Several dozen fighters waited to greet them. After a few more launches from five other ports, they were ready to set off for their carrier. Six more launch sets for as many carriers followed their short arrival to the fleet. Another 30 tics they were unloading to their crew quarters. This may have been the only benefit of having a Celaurtan on their crew. The beds alone were larger than they would have normally been given.
"Uh uh Mikal. You are at the back. You know I like to be closest by the door," Shelon spouted at Mikal.
"Of course, commander," Mikal snipped back.
They both chuckled. After two years of fighting side by side, they had developed a sort of friendship. Side by side when it came to a fight, maybe a bit of personal information, nothing too personal though. The wobble on their planet had given rise to two vastly different cultures based on their hemispheres. Being from different hemispheres there were still cultural differences that had not gone away in over 3,000 years. It was primarily the arrival of envoys from the Caloran Consortium that had given a stale peace. Even that was only a couple hundred years ago. They, accompanied by Baal, went to the mess together and slowly retreated to their crew room.
~8 hours later~
Stelon rolled from yet another bunk not his own. He missed the air-soft bed on his home-world. How many lunar cycles had it been since he had since his beloved Kritara and felt her warm skin? His happy little Krel leaving his little footprints on the plush flel flooring of his three-bedroom house. Four years ago, him and his Krit had wed and a year later they had given birth to a little fledgling. He had only been a couple years into primary training at that point. Krit had just gotten her home-keeper degree and been with him dealing with his father in allowing him to join the upper officer training programs that would confer more combat and leadership options. Alarm sirens began to sound. Stelon slapped the bunks of his crew.
"Come on, let's go! Time for some blood!"
Mikal and Baal jumped to their feet and geared up as Stelon rushed through the door. The trio moved for the hangar bay with hundreds of other bodies. Luckily, regardless of their last failure, they had still been awarded with a bunk closer to the hangar where they were to launch from. They were among the first of the fighters to be prepped and launched. They launched into a spray of parts from a pair of previous fighters. Thousands of Cooperative fighters swirled around them. Mikal let loose with a spray of fusion gun rounds. He couldn't miss if he tried. The space around them was so thick with enemies.
"Vipe Three to Bridge Flight. Orders?"
"Bridge Flight to all flights, enemy fleet detected en route to Piton. Orders are to strafe enemy Capitol ships. We must stop their progress."
Stelon gritted his both sets of teeth, "roger Bridge Flight. Proceeding."
Light erupted all around them. The fleet must have entered a bel's nest. He wasn't sure which of the massive ships to target. Mikal chose for them and targeted the nearest behemoth. Their lasers couldn't pierce the shields before them. Retro-thrusters burst into action to slow their approach as Stelon flipped the switches for fission missiles one through three. They both watched the missiles soar away towards the enemy carrier. Baal called out as an enemy fighter took out one of the missiles. The two leftover rockets smoothly struck home in a pair of beautiful starbursts. A set of explosions followed the impact of their missiles. Mikal pulled away from the compression blast that followed. Their ship gently rocked from the waves that flowed out from their small victory.
"Target destroyed, proceeding to next Bridge. Copy," Stelon radioed out.
"Return to base ship Vipe Three. All fighters are to return to base for FTL to Piton."
Stelon radioed his acknowledgment and looked to Mikal who responded with a shrug. Their fighter pulled hard back and fired its afterburners as Mikal returned them to home base. As they left the gangplank, the other crew leaders were hassling engineers trying to reload ship weapons and check diagnostics. Things got even more hectic when Stelon approached the engineer heading towards his fighter.
"Look, I don't know any more than you do. We're being called back to the academy to take you kids back to some sort of drama there. You got any questions, take em to your wing leader al'right?" the engineer walked off.
Stelon and his crew left the hangar bay. What the fuck had the engineers so disturbed? And why were they being recalled while so many enemy fighters were still flying around? He ordered Mikal and Baal to their quarters but they barely made it fifteen feet before emergency FTL was initiated. All three fell against the walls among many others. They emerged to rattling and screeching. He ran to the crew hall where an officer was trying to quiet down the flight leaders.
The officer spoke into his microphone, "look, we don't know much more than you do at this point. Piton issued a top-level security request. Someone is attacking the academy headquarters. Lower level academy crew are trying to scramble but are coming under fire before they can leave the hangars. Casualties are currently heavy on the ground. Get yourselves together and get back to your crews. As a matter of fact, you essentially need to return to your shuttles and prep for immediately, I repeat IMMEDIATE launch prep."
A scramble erupted amongst commanders trying to return to their crews. Stelon squeezed his way out between two squat Falk commanders. Mikal and Baal were waiting close by. One of Mikal's redeeming qualities was his insatiable curiosity and this was just too much for him to ignore. Stelon waved Mikal along with him, Baal followed close behind. Stelon filled him in on the rush back to the hangar where their fighter rested. An engineer stopped them and waved them to a Kahm-class ship. He quickly briefed them on the situation. They were one of a few crews being upgraded. This ship had suffered an electrical attack that had taken out the commander, mission specialist and one of two marines assigned. Stelon nodded to them and settled into his seat. He growled at the former pilot who attempted to sit next to him. The former pilot moved to the former mission specialist's seat. Baal strapped herself awkwardly into the missing Space Combat Corp marine's seat.
Launch pulleys fired them back into space seconds after their carrier left FTL. Two dozen enemy carriers sat orbiting the planet. He directed their fighter into planetary orbit. Enemy fighters swirled around them yet again. Mikal fired their fusion lasers into the enemy fighters. Explosions erupted all around them. Baal called from the back.
"Hostile fighters cleared in front of and beside us. More incoming from the carriers above. Academy is reporting catastrophic casualties."
Stelon looked down to the surface. The hangar below collapsed in a ball of fire. He hoped the ground crews made it out before the collapse. Smaller enemy bombers began strafing everything with indiscretion. Mikal spun their fighter into a vertical roll and rejoined the main fight moving through atmosphere.
"All pilots continue to push the offensive. Cooperative forces are on the defensive."
Baal interrupted the repeated broadcast, "sir, sensors are picking up massive energy signatures from the retreating Cooperative fleet. Something is pulling a lot of juice up there."
"Did you do a check on the sensors?"
"Yes sir. Sir, picking up weapons discharge off the charts," panic filled her voice.
A massive beam of light drove through the clouds followed by another and another. Large swathes of land below were scathed clean by purifying fire. Screamed echoed over the communication network. Pain and death from below mingled with loss and shock of those in the air and space above. Stelon yanked at the controls of their fighter as another beam surged by. Mikal still sat in disbelief while their right engine was struck. Their marine's head slammed forward into his console. The secondary explosion of the fusion drive spun them beyond any control. A muffled cry as the payload specialist was dissolved almost instantly in the blast. Stelon's body pulled at his restraints.
"Anyone listening, this is Vipe Three of Karos Military Academy. We are going down, repeat, we are going down. Crew is ejecting. Ship is lost. Not sure if we will find anyone else on the surface. This is a distress call to anyone who may be out there," Stelon clicked his radio off.
A loud clang signaled the ejection mechanisms releasing the entire roof of their fighter and the canopy shooting forward away from them. Air whistled by while he released Mikal's seat. Baal was already in the sky above them. Stelon opened his mouth as his ears popped. Around him debris filled the emptiness. Pieces of other craft fell in a torrential downpour into the smoke rising up to them. The onslaught seemed to have finally stopped from the Cooperative ships, but chunks of starships dotted the horizon.
He pulled down his visor to scan his surroundings. Signs of life dotted the landscape, far fewer though than had inhabited the academy and the land around it. With a population of nearly twenty-thousand individuals, the academy had been a bustling place. Now he registered less than four-hundred and that included the larger indigenous wildlife. Stelon slid through the burning canopy several feet from Mikal and Baal. He pulled the release lever and his seat lowered to the ground.
Baal approached, her gear already loaded onto her back, "sir, Mikal is getting his pack ready. What are our orders?"
"Standard procedure is to return to the academy. See what we can find out and help any survivors from the attack. Let's hope the damage isn't as bad as it looked from above."
An hour later their hopes were dashed as they arrived back at the academy only to find things far worse than they had looked. Baal limped into the rubble. A cut across her stomach left droplets of blood in the dust. Mikal approached her and began tending to the wound. Obviously, the seat she had been in wasn't designed for her body. Meanwhile, Stelon moved forward through the detritus looking for any movement. Limbs stuck out at unnatural angles from beneath blocks of stone. Occasionally he could make out a face.
"To any survivors of Karos Academy, this is Fleet Command. Shuttles are on the way for rescue. Please meet at the eastern hangar. Repeat, please report to the eastern hangar. A small crew will be left with supplies to attempt rescue and support for those who cannot make it to the recovery site under their own power. All others are needed for counter-offensive against the Cooperative fleet. Time is crucial. Command out."
Stelon looked over his shoulder to see if his crew had heard the communication. Both were on their feet and heading in his direction. He proceeded to the hangar. Finally, a small parade of figures moved ahead. He and his team joined the march. Personnel of all ranks and positions finished the short walk to the hangar to find a dozen shuttles waiting for them. An officer stood out among the Celaurtan marines waving people onto the waiting ships.
"Come on folks! Move it! We got a battle to win!"
Stelon grinned at his compatriots. The loss of their academy was tragic. So many had died in the attack. From radio reports between wing commanders above, very few of the Cooperative battleships had been destroyed. Now they would be able to bring the full brunt of the SCC down on the enemy with no distractions. Two more fleets were to join them as well. The coming battle would be a great victory in this seemingly eternal war.