Contact, grid one-three-four, two-nine-seven, five-five-three. Range 100 kilometers. ETA 4 assault ticks. The dry voice of the Weapons Officer rang out across the quiet bridge of the Strike Cruiser, G.E.S. Gerana. Engaging IFF protocols... target confirmed as an Alliance MS-112 Medium Freighter. Awaiting orders.
The G.E.S. Gerana was returning from a raid on an Alliance weapons convoy which had been open to attack after its escort stopped to refuel. The raid had been short and easy, and the Geranas cargo bay was full of captured armor plate systems. Six freighters had been destroyed or disabled, and only one Galactica Fighter-Bomber had been destroyed in the fighting.
Can you get a reading on the cargo type? Asked Captain Heraba Fermaszy, an Azdgari whose wide eyes and gaunt features made him look something like a walking corpse.
Negative, sir. 50 kilometers. Awaiting orders.
Activate missile pods and load all tubes. Give me EMP warheads. Arm all Miniguns and power outer shield layers. Fire at will.
Freighter is now in weapons range. The officer turned to the navigator. Give me a quarter turn to c-grid five-five-six. The navigator did as ordered, and the Weapons Officer began to rapidly push buttons on his console. I have weapons lock. Weapons are launching.
4 Mass Missiles streaked forward out of the Gerana, leaving a glowing trail behind them like a comet as they neared the Alliance Freighter. As the missiles reached their terminal attack phase range, they accelerated to huge speeds and peeled off towards various areas of the Freighter.
The Freighters shields flickered and died as the first two missiles hit them. At such speeds, the nonmilitary shields on the Freighter were nearly ineffective. The missiles slammed into the side of the freighter, the first one fracturing and then the second one puncturing the armor, causing a hull breach. The third missile slammed into the engine nacelles with even greater force, not slowed down by the shields. A burst of point defense chaff and some clever maneuvering from the freighter sent the second missile shooting off into deep space.
Missile 4 has not made impact, noted the Weapons Officer, still with the same dry, nonchalant voice. Freighter is nearly disabled. Firing Miniguns now. The Ion Miniguns spun up, then sent their bright blue-white rounds hurtling at the Freighter. The turrets kept firing until the Freighters engines failed and the massive cargo ship was disabled. Captain, are we boarding?
Yes. Navigation, bring us in on approach pattern 4A, 3 second thruster interval.
Yes, sir... Docking is now complete.
Team ready? yelled Lieutenant Mor, a muscular Voinian.
Ready for boarding, confirmed the team. Weapons are loaded.
A computerized voice came over the airlock speakers and stated, Ten seconds to boarding. The troops, mostly Voinian with a few Igadzra mixed in, shuffled and checked their weapons one last time. They were using the latest rifle technology, Inferno Assault Rifles. The now outdated ship-to-ship weapon had been miniaturized and approved for personal use.
With a loud hiss of air being transferred, the airlock opened to reveal a darkened corridor onboard the disabled Freighter. Alright, soldiers, Vision Enhancement Systems on. ordered Lieutenant Mor. Team A, come with me and lets get to the bridge. Team B, the hold. Team C, secure whats left of engineering and set some antimatter charges.
The soldiers poured out into the hallway, all going their separate ways towards their destinations. Team B was the first to reach their destination, the cargo hold. 2 targets, upper catwalk, one team member whispered to the team commander.
Got em. The commander leveled his rifle and squeezed off a few bursts of glowing orange Inferno bolts. The 2 people up above didnt have time to react before they were incinerated by the weapons of the Galactica boarding team. As the soldiers fanned out around the cargo bay, they began to look for signs of what was in the multitude of metal crates.
Ive found a cargo manifest, said one of the soldiers. Looks like this is a medical freighter. Plovars vaccines, medicine sprays... even some Trackers syndrome stuff.
Good job, replied the teams commander. Ill radio the lieutenant as soon as we verify that.
Team A waited with the lieutenant in the corridor outside the bridge. Looks as if theyve engaged a backup generator somewhere on the bridge... the crew managed to shut these blast doors when they realized we were here, one soldier noted. Lets go ahead and set up a breaching charge.
The lieutenant nodded and motioned for a few of his troops to go and set a small shape charge on the door. As they finished, they waved the rest of the team down the hall as one of them pulled out a remote detonator. Everyone clear? The team nodded and the explosives technician continued, Three, two, one...
The heavy bridge security door flew inward and smashed the nearest control panel, sending sparks flying towards the large viewscreen. Following the door closely, 6 large Voinian troops poured onto the bridge, guns blazing. The air was thick with the noise of Inferno Rifles on full automatic, the yell of elated Voinians, and the screams of the helpless Alliance Freighter crew. The metallic terminals and railings on the bridge melted under the intense heat of the weapons fire. Soon, the bridge was charred and blackened, and strewn with the corpses of the crew, who had apparently taken refuge in the bridge after the troops had boarded the freighter.
Lieutenant? This is Sergeant Gerra. Come in, Lieutenant... The voice crackled over the radio in Lieutenant Mors pocket.
Yes? replied Mor.
Weve determined that this is a medical supply ship. Looks like its headed for civilians. Shall we order Team C to remove the charges and pull out?
Im inclined to say no... we have no obligation to leave their medical ships alone. Besides, weve already taken care of the crew. Ill radio the Gerana. Lieutenant Mor switched channels on his radio and then said, Captain Fermaszy, my men have determined that we have a medical barge here. Do I still have permission to detonate my charges?
Go ahead. Ive been informed by High Admiral Fera that all Alliance craft are to be destroyed if possible, after determining if the cargo is worth taking. Get back here and well detonate the charges. responded the captain.
A few minutes later, the system was empty save for debris as the G.E.S. Gerana jumped into hyperspace.
Such was the way that the war went. For the most part it was a stalemate, with each side taking losses fairly equal to that of the other. Galacticas Support Cruisers formed an impermeable border between the inner worlds of the Galactica Empire and the hostile Confederate Alliance. Strike Cruisers and Fighter-Bombers participated in raids on Alliance shipping, which also helped gather information of Alliance fleet movements.
The Emperor, BattleDoctor, spent most of his time either on Voinia or on Galactica Station. His medical condition restricted him to areas that could be kept hot and dry, like his native environment. Occasionally he would make visits to other places for short amounts of time, but it was hard for him. He hated the Alliance with a passion, and wanted more than anything to see them destroyed.
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"NEVER EVER EVER stick a Habańero pepper on your **** !" -forge
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