Location: Ison Corridor - Indellian Gateway - Indellian (In-System Nebula.)
Objective: Await the Impatient. Spring the Trap.
Allies: The First Order, The Galactic Empire, [member="Cyrus Tregessar"], [member="Carlyle Rausgeber"], [member="Fiolette Yvarro"], [member="Ashin Varanin"],, @T'yr Dellos
Enemies: The Galactic Alliance, [member="Zark"], [member="Alexandra Morrow"], [member="Cathul Thuku"], [member="Silara Varis"]
Taskforce Composition: FIV
Nolantia, FIV
Virtue Of Orpheus, FIV
Blade of the Covenant, FIV
Pious Fervour, FIV
Spirit of Justice, (1,102m / 6,000m.)
"The Supreme Leader is the destined Master of the Galaxy, but the Captain is the Master of his Ship."
- Popular Navy Saying, Ammended for SWRP from Battlefleet Gothic. Pg 10.
Folding his hands behind his back, and stiffening as the flickering crimson image of Fleet Admiral Yvarro had materialized atop the tactical table, replacing the transmitted hololithic map, Achim found his lips adorned with a pleasant smile. He wasn’t interested in the woman, but more respected how she had elected to contact him directly, rather than the most senior of officers on station in this sector. That deed held the possibility of a promotion in the future, which had forced his fleshy edges of his mouth to curl into a serpent’s approximation of a smile. He liked his chances. Offering a crisp salute, before clearing his throat, Achim allowed his smooth Core worlds accent to lather every word as they gracefully eclipsed his lips.
“Ma’am. Taskforce Nolantia has received word from the Indellian System that they’re under siege by Alliance forces. From the reports we’ve been able to decrypt, they’re holding. The new Orbital Stations are proving to be more than a match for the Alliance’s outdated Protectorate assets.” The connection flickered for a moment as the massive Destroyer had altered its course to avoid splitting apart an asteroid with it’s pointed prow. The artificial gravity sustained within the warship kept the Captain standing upright, but in the soles of his immaculately polished boots, he could feel the subtle course correction - forcing his grin to fade ever so slightly. With disappointment framing his Imperial tone, the Captain continued.
“My crew will be transferring a detailed report to your vessel once the information has been encrypted. I should also note that there have been several ionic disturbances in the nebula, where none of our forces have been recorded. It’s probably nothing, but it’s more than likely that they are deploying stealth ships to engage us deeper in the sector.”
To which, he had accentuated his words by bringing up the astronavigational data transmitted to him via the link with the Indellian planetary defense forces, regarding the ionic waves from earlier in the day. He couldn’t remember how many favours that he had called in to get this data, especially since his rank as a Senior Captain wouldn’t typically allow for him to demand it quickly, but he was grateful they had come through. Naturally, they had demanded that he keep his end of the bargain, but the items they had requested were not the easiest thing that he could acquire - especially in an active war zone. They would have to wait, and should the fates be kind; they’d be dead before the appointed hour would come to pass. Pushing the dataslate aside, the Captain refocused his eyes on the flickering image of Fleet Admiral Yvarro.
“I would hope it to be the former, but in considering our previous encounters with their so-called Defence Force, we’ve seen a disturbingly high deployment of Stealth craft and technology.”
“We may be in for an interesting battle when the time comes to spring the trap.” Achim’s mouth pursed thoughtfully as he tore his gaze away from the projected image, feeling the urge to wander around the polished metallic edges take hold. Not wanting to fight his ailing frame, the venerable Officer dragged his hand across the crystalline surface - watching as the Fleet Admiral’s stern gaze tracked his every movement.
“Nevertheless, Ma’am, I shall endeavour to keep you, and the Warspite apprised of the situation. Good hunting, Fleet Admiral. Veers, Out.” With a wave of his hand, the communique was severed, and the hololithic image of his female superior was swiftly replaced by the wistfully spinning projection of the Indellian Gateway.
From the data that was sent to his tactical table from the nearby system, He could see that the Alliance command vessels that had broken away from the fighting that now engulfed the planet’s geosynchronous orbit, slowly began moving towards the gateway and the shattered ruins of what would mistakenly be considered their picket line. There was one vessel that had sparked some interest, due to it vastly Imperial aesthetic. From what could be gathered, via previous encounters with this ship or through data files passed along to the Navy through the Security Bureau’s External Affairs branch.
The ANS Excubitor. An odd name for one of the Alliance’s grand battlecruisers, considering the title had already found a home among the vessels of the once great Omega Protectorate. Achim smiled. Well, at least that goes to show how imaginative his quarry was. Then that’s when something caught his eye. Just as the table refreshed, as a newly tight-beam transmission had passed into the nebula, the Senior Captain noted small - almost barely noticeable craft being deployed from the Grand Battlecruiser. Did they mean to send boarding parties to the Drones and uncover its secrets?
How curious.
More lives sent to die in some fruitless endeavour.
“Captain!” A voice from nearby had called, drawing his gaze away from the glittering, nigh-translucent display.
“Yes, Commander?” Achim had said, distraction claiming every syllable as it eclipsed his lips.
“We’ve picked up a transmission from a nearby Civilian craft, sir. We thought you should know about it.”
“Well?” The Captain asked, his tone swiftly verging on impatience.
“It’s a widespread transmission from the Shambhala, sir. It recounts the last time it had met one of the enemy vessels we’ve recorded as a new arrival in this sector. The Resolute Vengeance.”
Captain Veers bit back the urge to chuckle. Leave it to the Alliance to adorn themselves in unusual and ostentatious names that were seemingly befitting to their nature.
“They sure know how to christen their vessels.”
“Ay-Aye sir,” The Commander said with a stutter, unsure of how to react to his Commanding Officer’s words.
“We thought you’d appreciate reviewing the data, before initiating the operation.” Presented with another dataslate to add to his growing collection, Achim had relieved his Second in command of this treasured information and began devouring it immediately.
“Thank you, Commander, that’ll be all. Ensure that our Fighter’s our ready. I’ll be wanting them to run interception duties soon, as well as a rapid deployment once the trap is sprung.”
Wordlessly snapping a salute and turning on the spot, the Commander faded from Achim’s field of view. The man was ambitious, which was an admirable trait in any Imperial Officer, but it bordered on the edge of cowardice as it seemed the youngster had little desire to challenge his superior’s for the right to be counted as an equal. Perhaps then, Achim mused, he might remember that man’s bloody name.
Casually tossing the dataslate back onto the tactical display, and allowing the sound of it clattering against its kin to shatter the blanket of near-silence that took hold, Achim returned his gaze towards the flickering crimson display. It was almost time, but there were several new variables to consider that would offer little warmth to the Captain. Though the vessels within the First Order were hidden from view, in a dense particulate nebula, and being fed information through tight-beam transmissions from the nearby system, they could not detect vessels equipped with stealth drives and ion baffles. Not through conventional scanners, at least. What they required was far too expensive to utilize en masse, and was yet to be required.
The First Imperial Navy didn’t deploy such items like Crystal Gravfield Trap lightly or without just cause.
Nevertheless, should the Alliance have vessels lurking in the shadows waiting to strike; it was a chance he was going to have to take. The Vanquisher would be able to counter whatever their foes would be able to throw at them, or at least make an attempt to do so. It was still untested on the field of battle, and this would quintessentially be its maiden voyage. That meant any matter of things could go wrong.
“No better time than the present,” Achim whispered, before turning away from the tactical table and returning to the forward observation post of the Destroyer’s command deck. Once his polished boots had come to a standstill, where nothing but a thick pane of glasteel had separated the heated atmosphere of life from the icy nothingness of the void, the Captain’s tired eyes gazed out into bespeckled void.
For a long, fleeting moment, Achim stared silently out the viewport, watching as the sickly folds of gas spun about their invisible axis. He waited, whilst a knot fo- No. Feelings be damned. They had a battle to win, and countless lives depended on his deeds this day. He couldn’t let something so irrational stand in the way of victory, or the chance to bloody the nose of his honoured foe.
“Alert all commands,” Achim began, casting his gaze over an imperious shoulder.
“Begin the Operation.”
With those words spoken, along with an encoded message sent throughout task force via tight-beam transmissions, the Nolantia’s engines started burning bright and the motivator within spooled into activation. The jaws of death loomed ever closer, and soon - the Hour of the Wolf would be upon them.
