Location: L-49 Hex; The Hydian Way Defence Station; Primary Command Centre
Time: 2243 - Local Station Time
Duty Shift: 4
XO On Shift: Capt. Gallow, Heinz
POV: Esgn. Dieet, Aleksander
Alert Level: Yellow
Musical Interlude: Outside Perimeter | Ratchet and Clank OST [X]
Ensign Aleksander Dieet fiddled with the code cylinder in his gloved hands, as he watched the surrounds of the station. The Hydian Bastion, or Bastion as she was called more colloquially was experiencing a visit, one of great import. Imperator, Grand Admiral Carlyle Rausgeber had returned the sector command. While, officially security was meant to be on highest alert with the arrival of the Sixth Fleets leader, the crew of the Bastion took a different view. The massive battlecruisers, and destroyers, which now circled the station provided all the security they ever needed. Each of them, crossing the viewport, out the corner of the crews eyes. Like vigilant protectors, or predators.
But for the Ensign, after three months of late night shifts, Aleksander felt he was entitled to some comforts. Be it just a couple of minutes at the end of a shift to just, unwind. Even if it were in the most mundane possible. The Cloud City native starred into the shiny silver of the metallic cylinder, as it danced around his fingers. Just another seventeen and he was able to pack it in. Working the COMMSEC system was the worst at times like this. Most of the other commands from other sectors that the Bastion relied on for comms were dead.Their crews either in a similar position, or delegated the task to automated systems. Even then, the only messages worth noting were the hazard reports from the probes and weather drones. Automated weather and hazard reports that were broadcast to all vessel anyways.
Even then Dieet questioned the need. All the spacers worth their spice that came through all knew the time of month it was for the Hydian Way. Nebula season. Massive gas clouds which would come toward the station, and obscure perimeter sensors. Nothing too bad. But, that didn't stop the damned TIE jockeys from playing games of peek-a-boo with the sensors in the encroaching gas.
The low blue light of his terminal left a pale glow on the Ensigns face, as he continued the mundane task. Something to keep him busy. It was then, the message and beep was sounded. Dieet was caught off guard, and nearly fell from his chair. He neatly slid the code cylinder into its pouch, and hunched over the terminal. He could feel the eyes of the rest of the on duty crew glaring at his back. Nothing ever beeped at this terminal. Only reason would be... would be...Could it be? Dieet read over the message again and again, trying to make sense of it all.
[SENSOR KEY DESIGNATION: SIGMA NET BUOY 7
RECIPIENT: HYDIAN WAY BASTION DEFENCE PLATFORM
Hyperspace Anomaly Detected By BUOY 7
Calculated Trajectory: Intercept with HYDIAN WAY DEFENCE PLATFORM
Predicted Size Of Anomaly: 9 PYRAMETERS X 10 PYRAMETERS
Advised Action: BLUE ALERT]
"Well?" Captain Gallow barked. The captains previously relaxed demeanour shifted, his voice carried an uneven edge. The entire crews had, as well. Many were but rookies in the academy during the Ison Corridor, hell, Gallow earned their stripes there. But none wanted something like this. Dieet froze, terrified. His voice was dry, and he had grown somehow paler beneath their gaze. "Say something!" Gallow commanded, his tone more frantic, "What the kark is happening?!"
"We have contact..." Dieet whimpered.
Location: L-49 Hex; The Hydian Bastion; Primary Command Centre
Time: 2322 - Local Station Time
Duty Shift: Emergency Procedure
XO On Deck: G.Adm. Rausgeber, Carlyle
POV: G.Adm. Rausgeber, Carlyle
Alert Level: BLUE
Skull Squadron brushed past Commodore Antoine Starr with their charge. "Grand Admiral Rausgeber, I assure you, my men are as ready as anything for any eventuality." The officer asserted. He was still trying to put his uniform together, as he attempted to keep up with the automaton, "But the fact is, is that given our intelligence, the Alliance, simply doesn't have the capability to move a fleet that large around our forces, and without our knowledge," Starr asserted, as he followed the Grand Admiral and his FOSB praetorians onto the command deck, "Its impossible. What has happened, is probably a sensor failure, or a-"
The man stood to attention as Rausgeber put up his hand, fist clenched. "No, Commodore," Rausgeber smoothly replied, "Even if this is any form of failure in regards to our sensor net, we must still be on guard," The droid lectured, not even giving Starr the time of day to face the man. Instead, the droid continued on his course, discussing the matter as he moved to the command station. "And as this command, comes under my own jurisdiction, I would appreciate, you not to undermine that."
Starr bit his lip, and stood rigidly, "Understood, Grand Admiral." The Commodore bitterly replied, "It was not my place." He bowed his head, as the FOSB troopers, now fanned out, and took up positions around the room, weapons easily distinguishable, even in the dark of the command deck. Rausgeber continued forward, and looked over the massive commanders screen, watching the data displays like a hawk. Sitting prominently on the screen, was the projected route, and time of arrival. Rausgeber checked his own internal clock. Curiously, whatever it was, had come late.
Rausgeber gazed around the room, before his screen settled upon the lieutenant seated at the sensor console. "Lieutenant," Rausgeber began, "Do we have sensor readings?" The Grand Admiral inquired. The lieutenant looked at his terminal, and seven times, attempted to recalibrate, each time becoming increasingly frustrated with his station.
After a near minute of waiting, the lieutenant turned, and met Carlyle's gaze. "Negative sir, the nebula clouds are jamming our senors." The droid glared. As much as he was pained to admit it, perhaps Starr had been correct. Maybe there was nothing out there. Starr was of course right. The possibility of an Alliance attack, here, and now, was, well, negligible. Less than negligible if the readings of his onboard tactical computer were to be taken into account.
Rausgeber was set to dismiss the man, when something caught his, and the rest of the crews attention. "I see something!" A voice cried out. The entire command deck was captivated at the source. On the starboard side of the station, an officer had dropped his datapad, shattering his screen. But he was caught, looking at the window. "Out there!" He continued, nearly bounding, his finger, jabbing at the glass. There was a pause, and it took a moment of recognition. There was a vessel. A massive one.
"Action stations!" Starr barked, "Get the guns ready, to fire into the nebula for full effect!" He snapped. "TIE's to their stations and all vessels in pattern delta!" The crew of the Bastion took no time to process the order. This is what many of them had been waiting for. War. Adrenaline and testosterone ran high as the navy men embarked to their positions. Even the disciplined, and silent Skull Squadron raised their weapons, ready to charge, furlong into battle.
"Belay that!" Rausgeber thundered, over the sound of Commodore Starr. The machinations of the First Order war machine now screeched to a halt and now eyed the dead man, uneasily, "Diplomacy," Carlyle began, in a soothing tone, "Diplomacy shall be our venture," He then paused, "Hail the vessel," Rausgeber began, "But do not wait for them to strike us first, raise shields and have the gunners at their posts."
"We will see what our visitors want."
[member="Tanomas Graf"] | [member="The Major"] | [member="Asharad Graush"] | [member="Madelyn Lowe"] | [member="Samka Derith"]