“Commander to the bridge, incoming priority transmission.”
The voice blared over the ship’s intercom, rousing Moondancer to the waking world. She groaned quietly to herself and rubbed the sleep from her eyes with a hoof, sparing a glance at the clock beside her bed. Barely four hours of sleep. Her quarters, despite being private, reflected much of the New Lunar Republic’s military doctrine; tight, utilitarian spaces with as much usefulness as could be compressed into as small a space as possible. The bare walls of her quarters were lit by the standard blue-white lighting that all Lunar installations and vessels were known for, and the space was little more than a place to clean herself and sleep between shifts. She quickly got dressed and scrubbed her face in her suite’s bathroom - one of the privileges of command - before straightening her Commander's cap and exiting her quarters.
The light cruiser Cherry Blossom was fresh off the line from Randalt Shipyards, and it was the first time Moondancer had been in command of a ship of her own. She’d served on two other vessels so far, and while those had been heavily armed destroyers, she was glad that she didn’t have as large of a vessel and crew to keep track of. It was a big jump up from communications officer to Commander.
She hadn’t had any time to get very accustomed to the ship or its equally new crew before she’d been shipped off to the middle of nowhere to patrol for pirates and defend against possible Solar incursions. The first few days had been exciting, full of unknowns as everypony got used to each other and the command structure of a brand-new ship, but gradually the days had lengthened into weeks, and the novelty had quickly worn off to be replaced with mundanity.
Now, three months since the Blossom had been posted in the sector, with the only interesting thing being a check-up from an NLR heavy destroyer a few days back making a slow, sweeping route around Lunar territory, Moondancer could feel the tension from herself and her crew. They wanted to finally be reassigned, or at least get some shore leave, before they all went crazy. Her sleep-deprivation, caused by further stress from a recent unknown blast drive signature, had kept her awake far past her last shift, and now she dragged her hooves on the way through the halls.
Shaking her head to clear her thoughts, Moondancer trotted quickly through the cramped corridors of her ship, ignoring the signs on the otherwise bare walls on her way to the bridge. After so long on the small ship, she could navigate through any part of it, even the maintenance corridors, by memory alone.
After little more than a minute, she keyed open the doors to the bridge, finding herself in a flurry of activity. Crewponies rushed back and forth from console to console, while the bridge crew were just relieving the graveyard shift and similarly taking their places at their respective consoles. Large, transparent viewpanes swept back from the front of the bridge, allowing the crew a clear view of anything in front and directly above the ship, while a dozen targeting and sensor systems fed information to tactical view screens all over the room.
Nodding to herself at the professionalism of her crew, Moondancer walked up to the command seat, took a second to straighten her not-so brand-new Commander’s insignia on her uniform, and tapped a flashing button on the tactical board in front of her.
“This is Commander Moondancer, accept incoming transmission.”
“Transmission resolving… Signal strength holding. You’re clear, Commander.”
The voice coming through the control surface in front of her flight couch was high and tinny, and Moondancer brushed a lock of her red mane out of her face as she spied a small dark shape through the forward viewscreen. Out there, in the blackness of space, positioned closer to the asteroid they’d been keeping pace with for the last three months, was the diminutive communications ship Gramophone.
The support ship was their only lifeline to the outside galaxy, as the Blossom wasn’t built for faster-than-light communications. The tiny communications ship, on the other hoof, didn’t have any form of blast drive in order to navigate deep space, and so relied on docking with the Blossom for patrol voyages.
Moondancer knew Lieutenant Whirlwind and every one of the Gramophone's twenty crewmembers by now, and she allowed herself a small smile, warmed by the fact that at least neither crew was alone out here.
The tactical screen in front of her resolved itself into the familiar face of a dark blue earth pony stallion, and she put on a more professional mask, quickly straightening up and saluting as she caught sight of the new, triple-silver bars on his uniform.
“Commodore Iron Grip, I apologize for the delay. We weren’t expecting a transmission for another two days.”
The stallion’s dark eyes bored into her, before he returned the salute and he relaxed, his gravelly voice coming off as extra-scratchy through the FTL transmission.
“At ease, Commander. You’ve done well at your post, and you and your crew should be congratulated, but I’m afraid that’s not why I’m calling.”
“Sir?” Moondancer tried not to let her curiosity and excitement enter her voice; only the Princess could know how much she wanted to get out of the dreary, day-to-day nothing of being stuck on the edge of an asteroid belt of an uninhabited system.
“You’ve still got a few days left in your scheduled patrol, but we’ve been getting strange blips all across the border systems and deep space listening posts, including the one your crew reported just yesterday. Your report was the latest, but the brass are getting nervous; they think it's some exploratory probing by the flameheads, and they don’t want to be caught unawares.”
“Sir, will we be getting any reinforcements at our position?”
The blue stallion shook his wrinkled head, the screen blurring together with static momentarily.
“Negative, Commander. As of 2200 hours yesterday, all reserve and outer patrol vessels are being pulled back to the colonies. The neutral systems don’t like either us nor the Empire, but they hold little strategic value, so no one at the top is willing to send ships and personnel into the outskirts of colonized space for the sake of freebooters and criminals. The Blossom is to make ready to get underway, drop a listening probe, and bring the Gramophone to Centauri Alpha to link up with Battle Group Halfaast.”
“Aye sir, I’ll rouse the crew myself if I have to.” Moondancer stood up straighter, while a flurry of commotion and a round of "shh's" behind her, let her know that everypony on the bridge was already listening in. She probably wouldn't even get the chance to make an announcement before the whole crew heard the news.
"You have twenty four-hours to finish up any scans and secure the crew and cargo for the jump. I'll be seeing you soon, Commander. Iron Grip, out."
As soon as the final syllable left his mouth, the transmission window cut to static. Moondancer sighed and pressed her console to terminate the connection from her end, before she tapped a spot and opened up a channel to the comm vessel sitting a kilotrot away in space.
"Gramophone, this is Cherry Blossom. New orders, effective immediately: our patrol route has been terminated; we are to get underway within 24 hours, after which the Gramophone will dock with the Blossom and we'll make a blast jump to Centauri Alpha."
Realistically, it would take an hour or two tops to lock down all essential information and cargo on both ships for the jump, though Moondancer supposed the Commodore wanted to make sure everything was done to regulation standards.
"Aye, Blossom, Gramophone copies. Have we been given a reason for the divertation?" Lieutenant Whirlwind's voice sounded through the speaker.
The unicorn shook her head, frowning as the action caused some of her bright red mane to fall over her eyes, then blushed as she remembered the other pony in the call couldn't see her.
"Apparently Naval Command thinks the Solars are probing our defenses and gearing up for an attack."
"They think the sunnies are testing our defenses?" Moondancer heard a snort over the line, and could imagine the stallion rolling his eyes. "How do they figure that? Skirmishes happen all the time in the free zone systems and along open border space. Those don't count as probing our defenses?"
"Apparently not." Moondancer said with a huff. "We've been getting reports of blast tunnel "ghosts" all along the edge of Lunar space, just like the one we detected yesterday, and it's enough cause for concern that we're being reassigned to Commodore Iron Grip's battle group."
A low whistle sounded out over the radio.
"Alright- I mean uh, aye, copy that. We'll load up and deploy a listening beacon and prepare for the docking procedure. Gramophone out."
The Commander sighed and stepped back from the main console as the connection ended and she glanced around to see all the other bridge crew watching her eagerly from their stations.
"So?" Lieutenant Zipporwhill, the young, sandy-colored pegasus at navigation asked. Her eyes were bright behind her blocky, black glasses, and the huge smile on her face was at odds with her straight-cut brown mane and pristine uniform.
Moondancer raised an eyebrow and tried not to giggle at the sight.
"So what? You all heard the Commodore, let's get to work, everything in the ship has to be secured for the jump!"
She shot a look at Ensign Dusty Crop, the earth pony stallion at communications. His straw-yellow mane stuck out from under his cap in every direction, and he offered up a sheepish smile.
"That includes digital data storage, Ensign Crop." Moondancer narrowed her eyes threateningly, but the effect was ruined somewhat by the round of chuckles being drawn from the rest of the bridge crew.
The Commander rolled her eyes and sighed, turning back to the command console as the rest of the bridge quietly sniped at the Ensign's expense. Hissed retorts of, "it was one time!" and, "no one told me they were so delicate!" Were all that Moondancer could make out before the bridge lapsed into relative silence, each of the other ponies behind her focusing on their tasks and locking down any stray data so it wouldn't be lost in the upcoming jump.
+++ Three Hours Later +++
Commander Moondancer sipped her coffee slowly while she leaned back on the command chair as much as it allowed. No matter how she sat on the darn thing it never ended up being comfortable for long periods of time, though throughout her tour of duty so far it had gone from “factory-fresh stiffness” to “relatively inflexible”, so she could at least be grateful that she wasn’t sore after sitting in it for whole shifts.
Though the crew had plenty of provisions still; Republic warships could carry in excess of five times the required food and water for the crew, but the coffee Moondancer now had swirling around the bottom of her cup was special. She had brought a single can of Brown Bear Coffee from home with her on board as part of her personal luggage, and she used it very rarely. She had made one cup on her first day on the Blossom, and she had made some when the ship had crossed patrol routes with the heavy destroyer Sawtooth. Today was her third time opening the can of coffee, and it tasted oh so much better than the standard military fare, though as it had cooled and the wait had stretched longer, her mood had taken a downturn, and the coffee was having less and less of a positive effect on her.
Drinking the last of her cold coffee, she dearly wished the Cherry Blossom could begin the docking procedure with Gramophone, but while the smaller vessel had dropped the listening probe, some sort of interference kept scrambling its sensors and they needed to be recalibrated every few minutes.
While the Gramophone was busy remotely restarting the device for the upteenth time, Moondancer had gotten a sneaking suspicion about the cause of the delay, and so had ordered the Cherry Blossom around the asteroid and set to sweeping every angle of space in around them with the cruiser’s more powerful sensor suite.
Moondancer was finally roused from her musings when a stallion’s voice reached her ears, one urgent enough to garner the attention of the whole bridge.
“Commander, I’ve got something! Traces of Clover Radiation coming from heading oh-six-five by oh-one-nine; sector fourty-four.”
The Commander stared hard at the crewmember sitting at the sensor console, a cyan-blue pegasus sharp, red eyes, her mind racing. She quickly pulled up the navigation charts, but she had a bad feeling of what that region of space was.
She pulled up the star map and sucked in a breath, and stood up, blood suddenly pumping faster from something that had nothing to do with her coffee. Her cold drink forgotten, she turned and yelled to the bridge crew, snapping them into action.
“Ensign Twisted Wire, I want a positive lock on any Clover Radiation you find from now on, continue full range scan. Lieutenant Zipporwhill, bring us about on heading two-seven-nine by zero-zero-zero, engines at fifty percent, get us behind the asteroid again to link up with the Gramophone. Lieutenant Firefly, open silo doors one and two and warm up the main gun.”
The entire bridge crew stared at her, unmoving after her final order, so she lit her horn and slammed down on the command console with her magic. "Now, people! Something's trying to sneak into our sector from the Sunheads' territory, and I don't care if it's refugees in a cargo barge or an Imperial invasion force, we have to be prepared for an attack."
"Ensign Crop, contact the Gramophone, I need a secure channel to Commodore Iron Grip."
"Aye, Captain!"
The Ensign jumped into action upon being called by name, and as if a spell was broken, the bridge became a flurry of activity as everypony else went about their duties.
Commander Moondancer closed her eyes and let out a deep breath, feeling the deep rumble in her bones as the Blossom changed course and accelerated. Klaxxons began to sound somewhere in the ship, bringing the crew up to alert status, and a ping from her console interrupted her thoughts.
Cracking an eye open she looked at the notification; the Gramophone had contacted the Cleft In Twain.
Straightening up once more, she pressed the button to open the channel and did her best not to wilt under Iron Grip's gaze.
+++ Ten Hours Later +++
Moondancer ran her hoof through her mane for what felt like the hundredth time as she leaned over Ensign Twisted Wire at sensors. He worked furiously, calculating the origin point of every photon of radiation that came their way.
She knew she shouldn't be breathing down the Ensign's neck like this, but after nearly half a day of chasing this "ghost" through EM frequencies, Moondancer had just about reached the end of her rope.
"Here's another one… nearly full blast! The last one was practically facing away from us; are they just jumping back and forth all day for fun?"
Moondancer didn't bother to answer the Ensign's question. It was the same as all the other readings they'd been getting all day. Whatever was causing all the radiation spikes was most certainly a ship, or many ships, though with the constantly changing intensity of the superluminal radiation reaching them, it suggested the vessels were playing the biggest game of interstellar leapfrog that Moondancer had ever heard of.
And this had been going on for hours.
Frustrated, Commander Moondancer plodded back to the command station and sat down on her flight couch.
"Notify me of any new developments, Ensign Wire. Ensign Crop, any updates from the Gramophone?"
"Negative ma'am. Probe's been picking up the same radiation flares we have." The stallion shook his head as he replied, tossing his unkempt yellow mane about. He'd taken his cap off and his mane stuck up in random places, a testament to how much he'd been rubbing his head in confusion throughout the day.
"Ma'am? Engineering's on the line again, they're asking to power down the Lockdown Cannon again to let the gun coils and the reactor cool down a bit." Lieutenant Firefly piped up from her place at weapons. The grey unicorn always seemed too cheerful and eager, despite having survived six engagements with Solar Empire forces. With that much battle experience, Moondancer sometimes wondered why a talented officer like Firefly wasn't in command of a ship of her own. When she'd asked as much one day, the answer surprised her.
"Telling everypony what to do and where to navigate a ship is fine, but I mostly just like pressing the buttons and seeing things go ‘boom’.”
Moondancer had been slightly put off by the Lieutenant since then, but both before and after she'd confronted her, Firefly had stuck within all the confines of military professionalism that was to be expected of a Lunar Naval officer, so she couldn't fault the infectious smiles her crewmate brought to the workplace.
Moondancer sighed and waved a hoof in a half-hearted gesture to the other unicorn before replying.
"Permission granted. Power down the main gun, but keep the silos open and the point-defense matrix spun up. I want us at the ready in case anything happens."
Commander Moondancer watched as Firefly turned back to her station and dutifully reported the news to the engineers in the reactor compartment, but she didn't miss the stolen glances and irritated glares of the other ponies around her.
Moondancer sighed, pulling off her glasses and rubbing a hoof over her eyes. She turned back to look out of the forward viewpanes and the sparkling backdrop beyond. The stars twinkled in the night's eternal embrace, and green-brown wisps from the nebula they were in seemed to reach around the view, like fingers closing in around them.
It all looked so serene, and for a moment, Moondancer forgot about the last thirteen hours of stress and fatigue, of the additional ships that Iron Grip had sent their way to help the Blossom and the Gramophone investigate the abnormal readings before returning to his battle group with the two ships in tow. She forgot about the potential danger that was lurking out there, making random jumps in the void the same way a rabbit would change direction before a hungry wolf.
Moondancer's eyes snapped back into focus as she looked down at her console and brought up the information Twisted Wire had logged. Pulling up the equations for blast drive tunnel projection and collapse, she tried correlating the severity of radiation with direction, but came up short on energy, like their many previous calculations. The data pointed to many ships making jumps back and forth in extremely staggered countdowns, and facing almost directly towards and away from the Cherry Blossom.
Moondancer couldn't wrap her head around any reason why the sunheads would be launching ships towards and away from Republic space, but she narrowed her eyes and tried again.
Blast drives allowed ponies to travel between stars at superluminal speeds by literally "blasting" apart the fabric of space and creating a tunnel to another section of space. However the technology was so complex and power-hungry that there was a theoretical minimum range that blast drives could open a tunnel to; if too little power was used, the drive either wouldn't be able to open a tunnel in the first place or the tunnel would collapse, with spectacularly destructive results. Thus, ponies simply developed more accurate ways to guide the drive systems, rather than revise the entire system to lessen the energy draw.
But as Moondancer replaced the minimum distance constant in her equations, her results indicated only a hoofful of ships making extremely short, quick jumps across the space between Solar and Lunar territory.
"Microjumps…" The Commander whispered to herself as she gazed unbelieving at her own calculations. Blast drive microjumps were a theoretical possibility, but even at their most extreme were expected to be measured on interstellar distances. The impossibility of what she and her crew had been recording was on the scale of interplanetary travel within a single star system. And if the Commodore was to be believed, it had been going on for days.
Were the sunheads testing out a new weapon? Was this what all the Lunar military leaders were afraid of? A new class of enemy vessels that could draw them out beyond the safety of orbital stations and then take a shortcut to attack straight at a colony while the Lunar Navy crawled back at a snail's pace?
Moondancer felt a chill crawl up her spine, and she hung her head at what she was about to do. Then she stopped and suddenly felt more shame as she looked around at the other ponies on the bridge, their slumped postures and tired eyes.
The whole crew, not just on the bridge, but everywhere throughout the Blossom, were running on fumes. They’d been working nonstop at alert status for the last thirteen hours, some even longer, all because Moondancer was paranoid about some radiation spikes that may not even be heading in their direction. Sure, the crew were loyal to her and they respected the chain of command, but they were tiring and she could see it. There’d been nary a peep around the sector for nearly three months, and the Republic had an armistice with the Solar Empire; maybe the Empire had a battle group doing practice drills in a nearby sector? The theory would match up much easier, even if the data from the energy would be skewed.
Moondancer had a duty to her Republic, but also to the ponies on board the Cherry Blossom. They’d been strung out for too long. They could wait out the few hours until the scouting ships from battle group Halfaast arrived at a regular operating level. There hadn’t been any danger so far, she could call a break and let the ponies start taking breaks in shifts again, if only to get some much-needed food and sleep.
At the thought of food, her own stomach churned, and she winced. She hadn’t eaten in what felt like forever. The unicorn took a deep breath and forced herself to relax, clearing her throat and reaching for the intercom button in order to give the stand-down order.
Before she could even open her mouth though, Twisted Wire’s voice rang out through the silence on the bridge.
“Commander! Clover Radiation spiking, discharge location six thousand kilotrots on heading three-four-seven by zero-one-one!”
The words hung in the air for a moment, the silence that followed looming upon everypony on the bridge, before Commander Moondancer snapped into action.
“Ensign Wire, I want a positive ID on whatever came through there on the double! Lieutenant Firefly, can we power up the gun?”
The grey unicorn’s orange mane shuddered like a tree in a tornado as she shook her head rapidly, her ever-present smile absent for the first time Moondancer could remember. “Negative, ma’am, the cooldown cycle is still in progress. It’ll take at least three minutes to complete before we can even begin to charge it back up safely.”
Moondancer opened her mouth to speak, but Firefly beat her to it.
“-However, Javelin missiles are still ready to fire and point-defense pulse cannons are spun up and ready to accept target parameters.”
“... Very good, Lieutenant. Continue monitoring the Lockdown Cannon’s cooldown progress. Ensign Crop, contact the Gramophone, tell them to take cover behind the asteroid and then put me on an open channel. Lieutenant Zipporwhill, bring us about on heading three-four-seven by zero-one-one, reactor to seventy percent. I want us in range of the other ship by the time the main gun comes back online!”
Firefly gave a smart salute and snapped back to her station as the rumble of the engines gently shook the ship. Moondancer’s expression hardened as she looked back out through the giant viewpanes at the front of the bridge. The distance was far too great to see even the largest warships and commercial freighters with the naked eye, but even so, searching for the dark speck among the sparkling black backdrop gave her something to do while the Blossom slowly powered forward. Somewhere behind them, the Gramophone was sliding out of view to take cover; the communications ship only had a few light autoguns for self-defense. What little fire support the other vessel might have been able to provide would be far less valuable than the long distance comms it offered, and Moondancer needed a way to contact the rest of the navy if anything were to go wrong.
“Commander,” said Twisted Wire, the cyan pegasus standing up from his station. “The unknown contact is a small ship but the Blossom’s database can’t get a lock on the type. The silhouette doesn’t match any known vessel and its beacon isn’t transmitting.”
The Commander frowned. Every spacefaring vessel was equipped with a personal beacon that would allow other ships to identify it, and transmit basic information in case the ship had an emergency. Most pirates, smugglers and some salvage crews were known to recalibrate or falsify their ship’s personal beacon information in order to better elude authorities when moving between civilized ports, but for a ship to completely turn off its beacon was nearly unheard of.
Then again, thought Moondancer as she tried to take comfort in the rumble of the warship beneath her hooves, this whole day has been full of stuff that’s unheard of.
“Commander,” this time it was Dusty Crop, “Channel is open and broadcasting.”
Moondancer pressed a button, transmitting herself onto the open frequencies. Unlike when she’d contacted the Commodore, this transmission was audio-only, and dialed in to only pick up sounds in Moondancer’s immediate vicinity. Standard Lunar Naval procedure; the potential danger of showing an enemy the interior view of a military vessel had to be controlled.
“Unidentified vessel, this is the NLRS Cherry Blossom. You are entering Lunar Republic space from an unauthorized entry point. Activate your beacon, power down all engines and weapons, and prepare to be boarded. Failure to comply will result in deadly force being taken against you. Do you understand?”
The bridge was silent except for the thrum of machinery and the soft beeping of information readouts. Moondancer waited a moment longer for a response, aware of all the eyes and ears on her as the crew too waited to hear something from their “ghost” ship.
“Outgoing comm traffic from the ship is quiet, ma’am. They do appear to be receiving us, but there’s no response.”
Moondancer repeated her message once more, before waiting a heartbeat and adding, “this is your final warning before we open fire.”
She leaned back from her console for a moment, waiting for any sort of response, but the only thing coming through the speakers was dead air. She didn’t particularly want to attack the other vessel; there were too many unknowns in the situation, none of the other ships that should have accompanied it had shown up yet. But she had her duty, and she’d already given the ultimatum.
“Lieutenant Fire-”
“Energy spike! Unknown vessel has powered up its shields and is maneuvering onto a new course. Clover radiation is climbing rapidly!” Ensign Wire’s voice cut through Moondancer’s order and brought her thoughts to an abrupt halt.
She stared out the viewpane, brow furrowing as she imagined the other ship glowing as it gave off more and more of the invisible energy. She saw nothing of course - the distance between the two vessels was too great.
She turned and called out to the bridge crew. “Lieutenant Firefly, get me a firing lock for the missiles and fire half a battery from silo one when ready, and get our Lockdown Cannon warmed up. Lieutenant Zipporwhill, give me one hundred percent on the engines and change course to intercept that ship. Ensign Crop, contact the Gramophone. What’s the ETA for friendly forces?”
The bridge crew turned to their stations in a flurry of activity, their hooves and magic a blur over their consoles. A few seconds later, eight dull thumps gently rocked the ship and eight points of light raced off ahead of the cruiser into the darkness of space, leaving only frozen trails of exhaust in their wake.
“Javelin missiles away, Commander. Time until impact is forty three seconds. Lockdown Cannon finishing cooldown. We’ll begin charging in twelve seconds.” Firefly called. She lit her horn and a moment later a small readout appeared on Moondancer’s viewscreen with a diagram of both ships and the weapons' impact countdown.
“Commander, engines reading one hundred percent. Intercept time is eighteen minutes.”
“Gramophone says that the frigates Graviton and Rockhead’s Gaze will arrive in-system in one hour an-”
“Clover Radiation spiking!” Ensign Wire cut across what Dusty Crop was saying, horror in his voice, while a minor alarm pinged from everypony’s consoles. “The ship is attempting a jump!”
She heard the gasps of surprise from the other crew members as she looked at the readout on her display. They were right to be concerned; blast drives needed several minutes to cool down and vent all the excess Clover Radiation they accumulated during a blast jump, and while spinning up for a jump wasn’t a lengthy process - either phase alone couldn’t have been completed safely in the time since the since small vessel had entered the Blossom’s patrol sector.
To the rest of the bridge crew, whatever the crew of the other ship was attempting was suicidal, sure to result in their complete obliteration. To Moondancer, it was one more cold weight on her mind, pulling down her already anxious mood into something approaching hysteria.
Her wild theory and adjusted calculations were slowly being proven correct, and her stomach sank. The sunheads have developed something that allows them to make pinpoint microjumps at lightning speed. By the Princess, the Republic will be torn to shreds.
“They’ve jumped! Trying to calculate possible exit vectors for-” Twisted Wire’s voice died and Moondancer turned to look at him. His eyes were wide with fear and his jaw was still open for a half second before he regained some sense of composure and called out, glancing in the Commander’s direction.
“Additional contact! Clover Radiation flare three hundred trots astern of the unknown vessel’s last known location. Beacon is transmitting… silhouette matches that of a Tyrant-class battlecruiser!”
Moondancer lurched in her seat and felt her blood freeze and her stomach drop out of her at the same time. The Cherry Blossom was, for all intents and purposes, a giant gun in space. It had feeble engines and weak armor, and was meant for light escort and fleet support. It had respectable offensive capabilities, but was slow, ungainly, and fragile for a warship. Lunar cruisers were also relatively small tonnage ships; they weighed half as much as a destroyer, and nearly half of that mass came from the narrow Lockdown Cannon that took up a third of the vehicle’s length.
An Imperial battlecruiser on the other hoof was four times as long and over ten times the tonnage, and bristled with guns. Battle reports from before the armistice claimed that the NLRS had never successfully destroyed such a ship. The things were practically mobile fortresses.
And they never traveled without an escort.
Moondancer cringed, waiting for the telltale pings of additional radiation flares that would announce the arrival of the rest of the imperial battle group, a silence that seemed to stretch on and on.
The silence was broken by a whisper behind her.
“That-that’s impossible… Uh, ahem. Commander,” Ensign Crop straightened in his seat, his voice breaking Moondancer and the rest of the bridge crew out of their stupor. “Ma’am, I’ve got Lieutenant Whirlwind on the line. The Gramophone is broadcasting on the emergency channel. He’s asking for immediate support. The unknown vessel exited their jump directly off their starboard side, it- it’s some sort of heavy fighter.”
It’s an invasion. Moondancer’s breath quickened and her eyes darted about, before she turned away and placed both forehooves on either side of her console, her mind racing. Something didn’t add up though, no other ships had jumped in-system yet, just the impossible fighter and an entire battlecruiser trailing it.
“Crop, has the enemy fighter opened fire on the Gramophone yet?”
The question caught the young Ensign off-guard and he stuttered as he relayed it to the communications ship.
“Ma’am, the Javelins are still on the same vector. Should I revert them towards the sunnies?” Firefly asked, hesitation evident in her voice.
“The ship has not taken offensive action against the Gramophone yet,”replied Dusty Crop, one hoof holding his headset to his ear. “It’s moving directly away from the asteroid at high speed.”
Moondancer grit her teeth and steeled herself for the absolute stupidity of what she was about to do.
“Lieutenant Zipporwhill, arrest our speed. Bring us slowly back to the Gramophone, reverse engines at no more than twenty percent. Lieutenant Firefly, terminate those missiles, and get the main gun warmed up as soon as possible.”
“Aye ma’am!”
“Forward momentum decelerating. Engines answering twenty percent reverse; aye.”
“Ensign Crop, tell the Gramophone to contact the Graviton, the Rockhead’s Gaze, and the Cleft in Twain. Tell them Imperial forces have breached our sector and we require immediate reinforcements.” It was a moot gesture, and they all knew it. The two frigates were still over an hour away and the rest of battle group Halfaast would require a twelve-hour jump to arrive. Both groups would be far too late to be of any assistance to the Blossom if the battlecruiser decided to open fire on their tiny ship. But no additional support craft had jumped in alongside the massive warship. Why would such an important vessel attempt to breach Republic lines alongside only a single fighter?
“Ensign Wire, continue monitoring the area for further blast jump terminations. Has the enemy vessel powered up any weapons or their shields?”
The pegasus stallion shook his head as he replied. “No, ma’am. The Imperial vessel is holding at a range of six thousand klicks. Energy readings coming off that thing indicate standard operating power for a ship of their size.”
Moondancer bit her lip and leaned back in her seat. She didn’t want to fight a ship that big, not on her own. The Blossom wouldn’t last a minute under sustained fire from something that size. Their only saving grace was that both ships were too far away from each other to be much of a threat yet. Only long-range missiles and the Cherry Blossom’s Lockdown Cannon had any hope of breaching the distance. But she had no idea how effective their weaponry would be against a battlecruiser, and even a heavy warship like that could probably outspeed their little light cruiser, so running wasn’t an option.
The only thing she could do was stall.
Moondancer activated an open channel and hoped the fear didn’t creep into her voice.
“Attention Imperial vessel, this is the NLRS Cherry Blossom. You are entering New Lunar Republic space. This is in violation of the Empire-Republic treaty. Identify yourself and power down your weapons and engines until Republic forces arrive to impound your ship. Failure to comply will result in lethal force.”
Switching off the audio input, Moondancer glanced around the bridge as she waited for a reply.
“Lieutenant Firefly, what’s the status of the main cannon?”
The unicorn in question quickly tapped out a quick command, upon which a schematic of the Blossom’s cannon displayed itself on Moondancer’s console. “Ma’am, power is at thirty four percent and climbing steadily. I’m diverting all additional power from the reactor to jump start it, but it’s a lengthy process. At the current charge rate, it’ll be online in just over two minutes.”
“Good, let me know once we’re at full charge. I’m going to try to buy us some time.”
A crackling sound from her console alerted the Commander to the fact that a response to her demand was coming through.
The voice that came through the speakers was female, and disarmingly young. Moondancer stared at her display; the mare had to have been even younger than her!
“NLRS Cherry Blossom, this is Captain Sparkle of the RSES Most Faithful. Your concerns have been noted, and deemed less important than our current mission. The other ship that was just here and no doubt activated its blast drive moments before we exited our jump is crewed by fugitives of the Empire.” There was a pause, and Moondancer could have heard a pin drop. She had never actually spoken to any Imperial military personnel, and was at odds with what she had expected. The voice was young, but even and cold, like the quiet anger of a dragon.
“The fugitives are armed and dangerous, and allowing them to enter Lunar space would also be a violation of the E-R treaty. If you wish to avoid needless bloodshed, you will either assist us in the vessel’s capture or you will stand down and allow us to return to Imperial space with it unimpeded.”
Fugitives? Like, refugees? Ah, to Tartarus with it all. Moondancer’s mouth felt dry as sand as she considered her options. On the one hoof, she and her whole crew could come out of this completely unscathed. On the other hoof, she had no way to trust that the captain of the battlecruiser would keep her word, and she was asking permission for her warship access deeper into Republic space in order to chase the fleeing fighter.
The whole situation stank. Moondancer was missing some key piece of information, that much was obvious, but whether the Imperial captain was lying to her or or just hiding something was something she probably wouldn’t get the time to figure out.
No, regardless of the Imperial captain’s true intentions, Moondancer couldn’t just let one of the enemy’s most dangerous warships run rampant in Republic space while she stood idly by and let it happen. Even if it meant sacrificing herself and her crew to stop it.
But she couldn’t just throw away her ship. If she attacked now, the larger vessel would run them down and smash them to atoms without stopping, and then they’d be just as useless as if they’d complied with it and let the Imperials through without resistance.
Could they survive? More importantly, could they actually repel a ship that size by themselves?
“Cherry Blossom, you have ten seconds to respond or we will open fire.”
Keep. Stalling.
“Most Faithful, you’ve put us in an unenviable position. You know as well as I do that protocol dictates I cannot allow Imperial forces past the Lunar territory border without a diplomatic sanction and a heavy Republic escort. Furthermore, if any legitimate criminals have crossed into Republic space, it is the purview of Republic Law Enforcement to capture such dissidents and prosecute them in a court of law.”
A pause. Then, “The fugitives are Imperial citizens and subject to Imperial laws. We will retrieve them to be tried in Imperial courts. Your assistance is no longer necessary. Stand down or we will destroy your ship.”
“Negative, Captain. Imperial citizens or not, this is Republic territory. You have no jurisdiction here. Remember exactly what you risk by your very presence here. A violation of the E-R treaty like this could restart the war.”
Moondancer’s ear twitched. Had she imagined that? It was almost imperceptible, but for a split second, she thought she’d heard a quiet sigh from the other mare, though it might have just been a crackle of static over the transmission. A moment later though, the other Captain’s voice returned, with such venom that Moondancer was taken aback, and nearly took a step back from her flight couch in surprise.
“The purview of the Empire-Republic treaty is irrelevant at the current moment. You have directly refused to comply with my requests, and have hindered my efforts to recapture Imperial deserters long enough. Goodbye, Cherry Blossom.”
The line went dead.
“Uh… ma’am?”
This is it. We’re going to die. Moondancer stared out at the stars. Those thousands of glittering jewels in the night sky had always seemed to hold the promise of adventure and mysteries. Now, looking at them again, Moondancer only saw the inevitable threat of a cold death.
“Commander, the enemy ship is accelerating! Coming about on heading zero-zero-zero by zero-zero-zero; they’re heading straight for us. Energy levels climbing - their shields are up and weapons systems are activating!”
Moondancer didn’t hear the crew behind her. They’d run out of time. Could they run? Get back to the Gramophone and perform a random jump out of the sector before the Imperial behemoth caught up to them? Docking with and securing a vessel like that was a procedure that took nearly a half hour - and the Most Faithful would be upon them by then. They couldn’t run then, but if they made it back to the asteroid they’d at least have some cover to retreat behind, allowing them to pop up, fire, and then duck back down again if the return fire became too intense. The Imperial ship had no such luxury. They’d have to rely only on their shields and countermeasures… though there was a good chance on a ship that size that most of the Blossom’s attacks would do little lasting damage.
“Contact, we’ve got incoming! One-hundred twenty signatures identified as Hurricane missiles! Approximate time to arrival is fifty-six seconds.”
Moondancer shook her head and finally stopped mentally beating herself up for long enough to issue an order as sirens began to sound throughout the ship.
“All crew to battle stations! Lieutenant Zipporwhill, get us behind the asteroid to link up with the Gramophone. Reactors to one hundred and fifty percent. Lieutenant Firefly, spin up the point-defenses, open silo doors three and four and get me a firing solution on that vessel.”
“Aye-aye Commander. Coming about on heading one-seventy-nine by zero-zero-one. Reactors answering one-fifty. Reactors reaching critical temperature in four minutes and fifty-four seconds.”
“Aye ma’am. Targeting solution locked. How many Javelins should we send?”
The deck rumbled beneath their hooves and the light coming through the forward viewpane shifted ever so slightly as the cruiser began to turn, and Firefly hovered a hoof over her console, looking to Moondancer expectantly. They were all looking to Moondancer.
She saw in their eyes the same thing she saw in herself: fear.
But she also saw the way they carried themselves. They were determined, whether or not they’d survive, to defend their Republic from the Imperial warship. She took heart in that fact as she looked at each of their faces in turn.
We know, their expressions said. And we’re not going to run. Because we stick together, Commander.
Now, facing imminent death, she saw each of her crew and her resolve strengthened. They might not survive, and the war might restart. To Tartarus with it, then. Let’s make them regret chasing down their deserters in my sector.
“Lieutenant Firefly, transfer shield control to my station and fire one full salvo from silo two. Lieutenant Zipporwhill, push the reactors to one hundred and eighty percent for thirty seconds and then flood the emergency cooling tanks. Ensign Crop, contact the Gramophone and make sure their point defense weapons are hot."
Whirlwind's ship was all but useless in a straight-up fight, but against missiles, the extra point-defense cannons would help somewhat. And they needed all the help they could get.
They just had to reach the Gramophone first.
A series of dull thumps sounded through the hull, and Moondancer heard the telltale whine of their pulse cannons spinning up as sixteen missiles streaked away towards the battlecruiser. The swarm of enemy missiles was nearly upon them, however, and their point-defense array was far too small to destroy more than a fraction of them.
"Hurricane missiles incoming! Ten seconds to impact!"
"Fire all rear chaff launchers. Buy us some more time," Moondancer said. She watched as dozens of flares lit up her tactical screen, creating a makeshift wall of heat and plastic. A moment later their sensors lit up with the silent shockwaves of nearly a hundred explosions as the missiles ran straight into the chaff and triggered their proximity detonators.
They didn't even have time to breathe a sigh of relief though, as warning alarms started blaring again.
"More missiles! Staggered wave! We've got sixty… scratch that, another one hundred and twenty incoming in two staggered waves plus additional bogeys… ID's match those of Stellar-class outriders." Ensign Wire twisted to look at the commander. "The first wave of Hurricanes will be here in fifty seconds, the second is set to impact fifteen seconds after. Outriders will be in striking range in five minutes."
Fighters? What's a ship like that doing with a complement of strike spacecraft? Moondancer frowned. Battlecruisers and other large ships usually carried shuttles, search craft, and sometimes troop carriers, but strike craft were normally reserved for dedicated carriers. Against any other force, the dozen space fighters the Most Faithful had deployed would be swatted out of the sky by missile- and point-defense fire before they could have any significant impact; a suicidal tactic.
Against the Cherry Blossom though, already outgunned and overwhelmed as they were, the ships were a deadly threat. Captain Sparkle wanted them dead as quickly as possible.
Something pinged from her console and Moondancer was notified that the reactors had returned to safe operating temperatures. Their little burst of speed was over. They had built up velocity and were approaching the asteroid that had been their only landmark for three months, but they would need all the remaining distance to decelerate, or else they risked slingshotting out around the other side and back into their enemy's crosshairs.
"All Javelins have been neutralized by the enemy's point defenses, Commander." Said Firefly.
Moondancer wanted to curse silently, but she'd known the missiles had been sent in vain. They'd been little more than a distraction for the battlecruiser to focus on while she tried to open the distance between them.
"How many chaff launchers do we have left?" She called to her weapons officer.
"Ma'am, the forward two launchers are full; I can swivel them one-eighty degrees to catch the most of the first wave of missiles."
"Do it." The Commander grit her teeth and stared at the readout on her tactical screen. How many weapons does that thing have? We can't evade them forever.
The missiles were still too far away for the point-defense batteries to be able to do anything about them, but even if Moondancer took out the first wave, the second group would collapse the Blossom's shields and gut them from the inside.
And then the outriders would arrive. Moondancer was liking the situation less and less.
"Lieutenant Firefly, once the first swarm of Hurricanes are six seconds away from impact, fire remaining chaff. Focus the pulse cannons on disabling missiles in the second wave as soon as they come in range."
The asteroid in front of them hung there in the blackness of space, creeping ever so slowly closer. They'd reach it before the space fighters reached them… but they had to survive the rest of the missiles first, and they'd only gotten this far because they'd used all six launchers that had been pointed vaguely behind them. Now they only had two left, and that wouldn't even be enough for one salvo.
Some missiles would get through. They'd hit the shields, maybe overwhelm them. Moondancer knew the expected effectiveness of her cruiser's shielding, and it wasn't much. She just didn't know if it would protect them from the worst of the deadly explosives that were closing in.
An alarm started up as the last of the chaff was ejected behind the Cherry Blossom and a call of “Chaff launcher dry!” accompanied it. Fully half of the Hurricanes avoided it, but Moondancer ignored all that.
Instead she lit her horn and grabbed the arcane input on her console, channeling her own magic into the shields.
While a unicorn's magically-attuned senses were far superior at sensing changes in a ship's energy levels and coordinating multiple systems at once than either a pegasus or an earth pony, actually transferring their magical reserves into a magitech device was extremely wasteful. Magitech devices - which comprised practically every bit of machinery on modern starships - drew massive amounts of power, far more than a typical unicorn could safely provide.
However, since the Blossom's reactors were already providing sufficient power for the cruiser's shields, the addition of Moondancer's magic, though inefficient and barely noticeable, was sustainable.
At least, that's what she told herself.
Watching the energy readout on her console, Moondancer's eyes stayed glued to her screen until the proximity alarm began to drone.
"All crew, brace for impact!"
A series of dull thumps shook the ship as the first wave of missiles struck the aft. The shield caused them to detonate prematurely, but the shockwaves were still felt and the hull bucked and flexed from the intense heat. It seemed to last forever, but the impacts stopped after only a few seconds.
Moondancer grit her teeth and poured more magic into the system, watching the charge tick back up at a glacial pace. The shields weren't all-encompassing protection; they stopped projectiles and most simple magic-and magitech-based lasers just like a unicorn’s shield spell, though they were far less efficient at absorbing other types of energy. That being said, they still had some effect, so the large, spherical shape of the shield meant that prematurely detonated missiles simply scorched the Blossom’s hull, instead of blasting it apart.
Ensign Dusty Crop's voice drifted over the groaning of stressed metal. "Hull breaches on decks 2 and 3, in the rear observation platform. No casualties reported; closing emergency bulkheads now!"
"Second wave incoming, impact in eight seconds, all crew brace!" Moondancer yelled over the intercom.
For a few seconds the only sounds were the steady rumble of engines and the high-pitched whine of the pulse cannons as they tried to disable the incoming wall of death. Then the deck beneath Moondancer’s hooves bucked hard enough to throw her against her crash harness and squeeze the breath from her lungs.
Winded and gasping, Moondancer’s horn fizzled out and she silently gasped in pain as the magical feedback seared her. Looking around the bridge, red emergency lights flashed and alarms sounded throughout the ship while she saw the bridge crew similarly dazed and trying to regain control over themselves as the shockwaves and rumbling slowly subsided.
“Damage report! Lieutenant Zipporwhill, what’s our ETA to the asteroid?”
“Hull breaches along the aft, decks one through six! Fires in all rear sectors, minus engineering - fire suppression systems active. Shields have collapsed, recharge projector cycling - shields back up in eight minutes. Primary starboard engines are offline, engineering is working on getting them back.” Zipporwhill called, adjusting her glasses and straightening up in her seat. “Portside engines are still fine, but I’ve got to reduce thrust to prevent course drifting.”
Moondancer sucked air in through her teeth, willing the pain in her horn to go away. They’d survived the Imperials’ second salvo, but they were effectively limping through space now.
“Determine casualties and seal bulkheads to breached sectors, Zipporwhill, use lateral and emergency thrusters to get us back to the Gramophone at best speed. Ensign Wire, where are those enemy fighters and what’s the Imperial ship doing?”
Lieutenant Zipporwhill nodded. “Aye, Commander. With lateral thrusters we can get… sixty percent effective engine speed. Any more and we risk drifting off-course past the asteroid. ETA ninety seconds.”
“Commander, enemy interceptors will close to weapons’ range in three minutes and thirty seconds. Enemy warship is still accelerating, they’ll reach our current position in thirteen minutes. No additional missiles fired at this time.”
They must think the outriders can finish us off. They overestimated how much damage we took from their missiles. Moondancer thought to herself, but a muted thump from somewhere deep within the ship shook the deck, and she winced as the metal hull groaned. Well… maybe they didn’t overestimate much.
“Lieutenant Firefly, what’s the status of the Lockdown Cannon?”
“Ma’am, Lockdown Cannon is hot and ready to fire, but we’ve got to turn around to get a firing solution.”
“Alright, Zipporwhill, as soon as we reach the asteroid, bring us about on heading one-eight-zero by zero-zero-zero and divert all power to the main gun. Prepare to use lateral thrusters for maneuvering. Ensign Crop, tell the Gramophone to prepare to move out from behind the asteroid and cover us on my mark. Lieutenant Firefly, prepare to fire one battery of Javelin missiles at those outriders, and prepare a targeting solution for the main cannon. I want three shots right through the fighters’ formation.”
A chorus of “Aye, Commander!” rang out around the bridge and Moondancer settled down on her flight couch once more, taking a moment to gingerly massage her horn. It still felt as if she’d touched it to a hot stove, but the pain was starting to fade and she’d always been good at working past distractions.
The stark, grey-white blob of asteroid in front of them was now getting larger every second, and filled the entire right side of the viewpane. On Moondancer’s tactical screen she saw the little blip that indicated the Gramophone as it inched closer to the near edge of the space rock where they were approaching.
The Cherry Blossom suddenly stopped rumbling, her engines oddly quiet. Zipporwhill had powered them down, and now the only sounds left were the steady hum of the control consoles, the fading sounds of alarms being turned off as fires were put out, and the pressurized hissing sound as the lateral energy thrusters swung the ship around. Facing the way they’d come now, Moondancer squinted as tiny sparkling lights resolved themselves among the stars.
The fighters were coming.
“Commander, firing solution online. Cannon and Javelins ready on your mark.”
“Very good, Lieutenant. Ensign Wire, are the fighters breaking off their attack?”
The pegasus stared at his screen for a few seconds, running a hoof through information readouts that his eyes passed over almost too fast to see.
“Negative commander, all twelve enemy outriders are still on an intercept course. Their shields are up and weapons are powered up - they’ll be able to fire in two minutes.”
Princess, I don’t want to have to take any lives, but Captain Sparkle leaves me no choice. Please forgive the sins I am about to commit and guide them to the realm of dreams. Moondancer gave a quick prayer for the pilots, uncertain of what was to come, but suddenly feeling bad for the suicidal pilots. The Cherry Blossom had them in her sights, and there was no way they’d be able to evade the Lockdown Cannon.
Taking a deep breath, Commander Moondancer glanced down at the readout timer on her tactical display. She held the breath, counting off three heartbeats, before she opened her mouth.
“Fire Javelin missiles and Lockdown Cannon! I want three shots delivered dead center of that formation, and have the Javelins run down the survivors.”
“Aye-aye Commander! Javelins away, impacting targets in eight seconds! Lockdown Cannon charged and-”
The cruiser shuddered as sixteen streaks of flame launched out of their silo towards the incoming fighters, and half a second later jolted like they’d been hit by something. The space fighters immediately began turning and veering off, but they barely had time to begin their emergency maneuvers before three bright-hot bolts of plasma flashed through them, the heat popping their shields and three of the craft blowing apart as their munitions flash-ignited.
The remaining nine fighters banked and dove, being battered off course by the expanding heat caused their comrades’ demise, some firing off chaff or flares as the missiles tore towards them. A single outrider righted itself, correcting its course… and continued straight towards the Cherry Blossom.
Moondancer was awestruck by the pilot’s devotion to carrying out the attack and felt a wave of sorrow wash over her as the missiles closed on them.
She closed her eyes and sighed, ready to turn her attention back to the battlecruiser when a blip on the tactical screen caught her attention and she looked back out at the explosions beyond the viewpane, whereupon her jaw dropped.
By some miracle, the outrider pilot had evaded the incoming Javelins and was continuing their course towards the Cherry Blossom, though not unscathed. One of the thruster banks on either side of the craft’s main body was completely gone, torn away from the exploding missiles, and open piping leaked freezing coolant in a long trail behind them. Still, Moondancer had to applaud the pegasus’ skill with their craft. Only a pegasus’ natural agility and flight control could have pulled off whatever maneuver had allowed them to survive the deadly barrage, and only an exceptionally talented one at that.
She was sad she had to put an end to such an amazing pony. Moondancer pursed her lips.
“Lieutenant Firefly, fire on that ship with the light autoguns. Take it out of the fight. Ensign Wire, what’s the status of the remaining outrider force?”
“Commander, Javelin missiles have destroyed or disabled all attack craft. The enemy battle cruiser is still-Contact! Enemy fighter has fired torpedoes! Brace for impact!”
Moondancer gasped. The fighter coming towards them was being punched full of holes as the machine guns found their target, but it was too late. Three bright points of blue light were filling the forward viewscreen. The pulse cannons had locked on and were firing at the incoming projectiles, but they had little effect, as the torpedoes were unguided and already aimed dead-center at the Blossom.
“Emergency starboard thrusters! Now!” Moondancer yelled, even though she knew it was futile; the torpedoes were seconds away from them.
Suddenly, the torpedoes disappeared and the forward viewpane was filled with the familiar sight of a Lunar Naval ship’s blue-and-white hull plating, colored by the faint glow of shielding. A moment later, a flash of light streamed into the bridge and fire licked at the edges of the view, scorching the barrel of the Cherry Blossom’s Lockdown Cannon as the speakers crackled to life and a stallion’s voice filled the bridge.
“Cherry Blossom, this is Gramophone. Sorry we couldn’t shoot those down, but I don’t think you’re too much worse for wear.”
Moondancer held out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding. “Whirlwind! What were you thinking? Those torpedoes could have blown the Gramophone apart!”
“Couldn’t let you take all the risks. Besides, if we lose you we might as well give up, ‘cause we’d be going nowhere fast.”
“Still, that was incredibly reckless of you… Thank you, Lieutenant. What’s your status after those hits?”
“Well, the shields are gone. I think those weapons fried our recharge projector. Oh, and our port side was torn open, but there wasn’t anything important there, just our long-range transmitter and all our port thrusters.”
Moondancer restrained herself, fighting the urge to cover her mouth with a hoof at the news. If the transmitter was gone then they’d lost the ability to communicate with any other Republic Forces. They were truly alone now.
“Get back behind the asteroid and begin repairs. Get whatever you can operational, that battlecruiser will be here in…” Moondancer paused, checking her readout. “Fifteen minutes. We’re going to try and buy you some time, maybe scare them off. I have a feeling we’ll need you again before this is all through.”
“Copy that, Commander. We’ll do what we can for now, but we’ll stand and fight with you even if I have to go out in a spacesuit and throw chunks of my own ship at the sunnies!”
“I copy, Gramophone. Let’s hope it doesn’t come to that.”
The comms cut off and Moondancer breathed a sigh of relief, before turning back to her bridge crew. She matched the determination in their eyes with pride in her own. She felt honored to have ponies that trusted her so deeply, and she vowed right then never to abuse it.
She straightened her posture and set her jaw as she began barking orders.
“Alright everypony! We’ve survived the first attack, but that Tyrant is still out there and we’re still the only ones here to repel them. Zipporwhill, I want us behind the asteroid; attitude thrusters only, but be ready to move so that we can take shots at the Imperials as they approach. Twisted Wire, use our long-range sensors and coordinate with Firefly and Zipporwhill; I want us out from behind the asteroid as soon as the enemy vessel comes within range of the main gun so that we can fire another salvo. Dusty Crop, tell engineering they’ve got five minutes to enact whatever repairs they can slap together in that time, and that I need the reactor to continue running hot; prioritize energy conduits to the Lockdown Cannon so we can keep it charged. Firefly, keep our gun charged and see if you can have any of the spent Javelin silos reloaded by the time the enemy ship closes to engagement range. I have an idea.”
A chorus of, “Aye, Commander!” rang out from the bridge officers as they saluted smartly and went about their tasks. Moondancer returned the salute and allowed herself a small smirk after they turned away, but it quickly turned into a thin, grim line as she squinted out the forward viewpanes once more.
Captain Sparkle was coming, and she’d already delivered a beating upon them that they’d barely survived. The Most Faithful hadn’t suffered so much as a scratch yet, and it still outweighed and outgunned them by a significant margin.
But now they had cover, and could use their biggest strength - the Lockdown Cannon - to its fullest. Moondancer and her crew would make the Imperial Captain think twice about trying to break through her patrol path.
The Commander whispered to herself under her breath, only loud enough for herself to hear as she watched the starry night sky get blocked out by the grey-white pockmarked surface of the asteroid.
“Round two, start.”
Author's Note
Congratulations! You've reached the author's notes!
This is the first in an experimental series of space-based fics I've decided to write. Since I have difficulty staying true to something until I finish it, I want to release these shorter mini-stories that eventually tell a larger story, rather than a single longfic which I may eventually lose enthusiasm for and stop working on.
If anyone wants to see more of this episodic-style of fic, let me know!
