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Old May 10th, 2006, 12:50 PM   #12
Tabitha
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Join Date: Sep 2005
Location: Tempe Az
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Chapter Three
The Chrome Berets

Dargon Sector
CFS 191 Acropolis Guided Missile Cruiser
1/9/48 0820


Dim lighting and subdued sound gave the effect that the ship was sneaking along. Ships DRADIS Officer Lieutenant Harold Day was on his last hour of shift. The six-month cruise near jump point HPY-8715, monitoring all jump activity, was coming to a close. He was tired, bored, and horny. It was becoming difficult to stay awake, when suddenly the board lit up like some odd fertility celebration on Virgon. He had never been to one himself, but it was on his list of things to do before he died. The sudden sight of eleven Basestars reminded him of that list, since he was fairly sure it was a list he was about to finish, or fail to even begin. He opened the emergency comm. and had almost enough time for a final meaningful thought as he screamed one last breath.

Nine Cylon tankers followed the Basestars through the jump point. They proceeded on, without slowing, as the Basestars paused to launch their fighter compliments. The only fighters remaining behind, with the Basestars were the security escort. All the others were about to begin what was to be a suicide mission, to destroy the human Colonies. Behind the Tankers jumped in the rest of the Cylon Assault Fleet. The fifteen landing barges, thirty-seven planetary assault cruisers, and their escorting task forces numbered nearly a hundred ships.

Immediately one of the landing barges burst into explosive bits. The Cylon escorts began to scan the surrounding area for the cause, but it took only a few minutes to realize that the landing barge had jumped in right on top of a Colonial Cruiser. The explosion of the Cruisers solium missiles, as well as the solium bombs of the landing barge vaporized the two ships. The five surrounding ships were also vaporized, leaving the assault fleet short vital ships that would be needed later, but were irreplaceable. Fleet Commander, IL-219, also called Balthazar, began to revise the assault as he realized what bad luck they had befallen. He informed IL-770, also known as Satan, that he would only have one landing barge and a very small escort fleet for his attack on Virgon, which was the least challenging of all the Colonies, since it was referred to, by the Colonies themselves, as a peaceful resort planet, with a low indigenous population localized on a few small islands. This posed no challenge, so it was on the bottom of the list when it came to priority of asset allocation. Still, Satan had a little twist on the plan he had devised and was now about to implement it. He summoned his commanders and explained the plan, went over every detail, made sure they understood it. As they left, he merely waved his hand at their customary “By Your Command.” Satan had already assumed that victory would indeed be by his command.

CVS-33 Colonial Corvette Defiance
1/9/48 0955

The first officer alerted Captain Ronald LeCroix of the DRADIS contact immediately. The faint contact was well inside the jump point, which made it an Alpha One priority. However, the Captain had made it quite clear that he was not to be disturbed unless it was his wife calling him. First Lieutenant Ryan Domiano was excited, yet controlled as he informed the Captain that there was some faint Cylon contact on the Colonial DRADIS near the jump point, and that it was inbound.
“Send off two recon shuttles, make sure what we are seeing isn’t just a leaky microwave relay bleeding off signal.” Captain LeCroix decided. Cylons would not be in this location box without some kind of warning from the Destroyer that was assigned to patrol the jump point. Since no warning was given, it had to be something other than that. He went back to his law books, trying to find some reason that he could argue that his wife should not receive half his estate just because he had a little something on the side with a Socialator. Surely, there was some kind of law that would prevent that kind of thing. After all, it was only a few times, that they had evidence of.
“Begging the Captains pardon, but the relay leak has changed course and is on intercept course with us Captain.” The first officer said sarcastically. He wasn’t impressed with the half-assed response that Captain LeCroix had given and was not going to merely perform some asinine exercise in futility because the skipper was fraking some whore.
“You heard me say that it was a relay satellite leaking signal didn’t you sir?” Captain LeCroix said standing and walking out to the bridge.
“Aye sir, but your leaky satellite seems to be firing on us!” the Radio Intercept Officer announced looking at his board where Cylon beam weapons were being readied. The massive Cylon barges were able to fire far beyond the limited range of the small Corvette. All ready the Corvette was in danger, yet they were nowhere near within range of their own defense cannons. The ship shuddered with the impact. The light energy reflective shielding failed with the first shot, being designed more for taking on similar sized ships, not ships that were dozens of times its size. “Incoming sir!” the RIO screamed.
“Hard to port, shift power from all systems to engines and shield!” LeCroix ordered. Ryan flipped circuit breakers in a memorized pattern, trying to get the shields to rise at least one more time before the capacitors melted into slag.
“Impact in five seconds.” The RIO warned.
Ryan kicked the relays again, his hands pushing the assembly back down, into place. He felt his body grow weightless as the life support systems were backed down to allow the additional power to assist raising the shields. All the heat and air in the ship would mean nothing if they were just particle sized atoms in a few seconds.
LeCroix pushed the maneuvering thrusters himself, the helmsman fighting with the controls to bring the 280-ton Corvette around on a dime. It was desperation, and the crew knew it was only buying them a few more seconds of life. If not this shot, surely the next one.
“Energy discharge has missed Captain, another shot… impact in twelve seconds.”
“Target the energy beam, fire!” He commanded. The ships gunner tested himself with the shot, firing at another ships beam. It was never even considered, an impossible shot. He pulled the trigger, nothing.
“I have no guns skipper!” the gunner screamed in terror.
“Son of a…” was all that was left to say as the colonial Corvette took a hit in the starboard side, raking the starboard side engine, gun turret, and the life support systems. Tell-tales erupted all around the little craft. The five-man crew were thrown into darkness, their ship tossed by the mind-boggling amount of energy discharged by the blast. The Defiance began to tumble, the debris of what was her starboard side wing and engine dangled behind, while circuitry sparked and liquids bubbled away, like gasses venting from a dying ship, as that’s exactly what they were.
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