--
By Pablo
==
Fleet Commander Pablo Sanchez

The first, and possibly the last of a new breed.  He has been
extensively trained in all areas of space operations, from superluminal
astronavigation, to the use of a zero-g toilet.  For ten years since the alien invasion,
he has been given the best training that the Soviet Union could offer, with
naval and submarine veterans, cosmonauts, and even expeditionary fleet
leaders. At great expense, he has been molded into a New Communist Man
for a new space race.

However, he may be the last one to be trained in such a way.  On the new
space station Leningrad, new leaders are being born and readied all
their lives to fight in the service of the USSR.  Sanchez, once looked upon as
the best hope for the Soviet Union's outer-space expansion, is now seen as a
curiosity, a now useless experiment.  He must prove his worth, or become
a fossil, a living record of the extinct race of Earth-born Cosmonaut.

Now in command of the Second People's Expeditionary Fleet, he is
supported by the best ships and crew the Soviets could muster.  Unfortunately for
all concerned, he is hindered by being saddled with Political Officer Arkady
Romanovich. Though the space fleet officers are lucky enough to be far
outside communication with Moscow, and the political officers are given
much less power than on Earth, he will evaluate the performance of Sanchez
and all the officers, and keep an eye out for any political unorthodoxy. 
His presence is a grim reminder of the fate of traitors.

--
By Phong
==

As the Soviet fleet prepares the jump to warp, a United States unmanned
space vehicle (USV) stealthily monitors the formation, sending her
signals on the best low-probability-of-intercept communications gear the
US can build. Arriving shortly later at the US Joint Space Command HQ in
Houston, Texas and then flash forwarded to the Pentagon, military
analysts ponder what exactly such a heavy space force is up to. 

The USS Jimmy Carter, a special operations Seawolf, is tasked to shadow
the force, reporting to base her findings, her captain too one of a
dying breed of astronaught. His ship is decades old, no match for one of the
deadly new purpose-built starships being built. Even a third-world
patrol destroyer could wreak her with little thought. 

If they could detect her. For all her age, she remained one of
humanity's stealthiest ships. Her weapons were lacking, but her
sensors remained top-of-the-line. She could even carry a small boarding
pod for her detachment of US Navy SEALs, though her present mission
demanded it's absence. 

As the Soviet fleet entered warp and her American trailer followed, the
Race and her allies prepared a new offensive, to curtail - or even push
back - human expansion. 

--
By Kyle
==
        USS Halsey. Fourth Space Battleship built by the United States
Space Navy. The single most powerful warship yet built. She had just finished
her final acceptance trials in record time. 

        Nothing in space could stand up to her in a one on one fight,
not even the new Soviet Lenin class. Of course the Soviets had already built two
Lenin class ships and Halsey's sister ship was still some time away from
completion. At least officially.

        Rear Admiral Kyle Knopf floated through the access tunnel and
came to the nearest approximation of attention possible in zero g. "Request
permission to come aboard."

        "Permission granted." As Knopf floated by a symbolic line
painted around the airlock another voice was heard.

        "Admiral On Deck!"

        "At ease." From there Knopf went through the usual formalities
required when an admiral first boarded his new flagship. He was introduced to the
Halsey's captain and the other senior officers.

        As a young Lieutenant showed him to the Flag Quarters he
examined the general layout of the Halsey. So far he wasn't seeing any differences
between the Leyte Gulf his last flagship, a Coral Sea class Battleship,
which wasn't surprising since the Halsey was basically a Coral Sea class
ship. The Coral Sea had originally been designed with 20 inch guns,
after development problems slowed the guns development down they were
launched with  16 inch guns.

        Halsey mounted twelve 20 inch guns, along with a continent
shattering amount of nuclear missiles. She was a paramount example of the power of
the human race in general, and the United States in particular.

        CIC, USS Halsey. "Captain, order the Halsey to prepare to get
underway. We'll be warping out of the system once Ohio, Virginia, Hartford, Santa
Fe and Alexandria arrive."

        "Aye, Sir. What's our mission?" 

        "Nothing complicated. Just a simple show the flag. We'll
intimidate some prims, and look out for any Race activities." He purposely didn't
mention the new Russian fleet that they would be 'coincidentally'
shadowing. Didn't want the commies to think they could do whatever they
wanted. USS Jimmy Carter would forward the location of the Russian
Fleet. Hopefully it wouldn't come to a fight, Halsey was significantly
outgunned and outnumbered by the Red Armada.

--
By Kyle
==

        Bridge, USS Halsey. "Virginia, reports enemy contact. It's
definitely an alien ship. Doesn't appear to be a Race vessel, definitely belongs to
one of the Prim races."

        "Incoming radio transmission, from the planetary surface. Sir!'

        "Yes Lieutenant. The colony's been attacked. The prims came out
of FTL and dropped immediately."

        "What kind of defense did the colony have?"

        "According to out database this was an agricultural and mining
colony. No military presence. Maybe some hunting rifles, but that's it."

        "What'd they take?"

        "Several hundred tons of refined ore, any food they could find,
all the colonies medical supplies, and everything electronic they could find."

        "Electronics? That's odd, there's no way they could understand
them."

        "Can we intercept before the cross the barrier wall?"

        "Yes sir.  We can intercept and achieve powered missile range in
two hours, if we maintain closing intercept after that we'll achieve
secondary range fifteen minutes later. Ten minutes after that we'll
reach primary range. They won't cross the barrier wall for eight hours."

        That was the big problem with supra light drive. Once you
entered warp you could maintain FTL till you achieve orbit of a planet. But to enter
warp required a much greater distance before FTL could be achieved. Even
worse, warp drive was capable of being used as an STL drive. But when
used as such it became less and less efficient the farther it got from a
gravity well.

        "Close to primary range. No need to waste a nuke on them then."

        "Aye sir."

        For almost two and a half hours the USS Halsey slowly closed
with the primitive space craft. It was rather simple. There was no chance of
being detected by the alien ship, the closest they had to radar was
several crewmen equipped with telescope and binoculars. Not the best way
to find a starship.

        "Order Main Batteries to target and lock on. Do not fire till I
give the command. Helm maintain present rate of closure. Lets see how close
we can get."

        Halsey continued closing, the range was shrinking fast. Even
optical sensors would have to detect them soon. "Sir. I think they spotted us.
Radar just detected what seems to be an opened gun port. Optical
scanners confirm. Gun port opened." The alien transport only mounted a
single gun. A large 35 inch black powder muzzle loader. Now it was being
run out and targeted on the Halsey.

        "Continue closing."

        The Aliens fired. "Point Defense on computer control." The large
soft iron roundshot flew forward slowly. Several small craters could be seen
as Laser struck the ball and boiled small craters in it's surface. The
thermal stresses soon began to weaken the shell, given enough time it
could have shattered it.

        Instead the huge projectile struck Halsey dead on. When it
struck the massive armor belt it shattered into a hundred pieces. A sound like a
gong being struck could be heard throughout the ship. That was the
extent of the damage.

        Now it was Halsey's turn. "Fire Main Battery."

        Twelve 20 inch high velocity naval rifles, some of the most
powerful non nuclear weapons ever built fired as one. The heavy Depleted Uranium
shells crashed into one side and then crashed out the other. That single
broadside left the alien transport a mass of mangled wreckage

--
By Phong
==

Lizard Warship
Flagship Science Raiding Taskforce

Briefing Room, 108th Emperor Tsserik. "Fleet Lord, our raiding parties
have been almost completely successful. The primitives have captured
many pieces of Human technology. And not rough it up too much in the
process." 

"Excellent. The status of our convoy?"

"They should be in warp to [our homeworld] now, where our finest
scientists shall decipher the Big Uglies technology. I personally
examined what appeared to be several personal computers. One apparently
had an extensive collection of nude and sexual pictures and video clips,
which may be explained by their constant sexual capability. 

"More disturbing is another one. As you know, we have been unable to
break their military encryption code - and Emperor knows even
intercepting their messages is hard enough! But this... their commercial
encryption is proving most resilient. It does not bode well if we cannot
even break simple household encryption." 

"Yet another Human surprise, I suppose. Do you remember this holograph,
this image of how we thought these Uglies would be now? Look at this!" 

A human, mounted on the back of some quadruped, shining in iron armor,
carrying a sword. Another picture of similar troops, if shorter and
carrying lighter armor and curved swords. A primitive wooden artillery
piece. Less... loyal members of subject races were constantly loading
these holographs into computer media or printing them on paper and
smuggling them to Humans. At great profit. 

"Fleet Lord, we had plans to invade a mere 150 [race] years ago. Reports
of their technology... we could have destroyed them. Vacuum-tube
technology, enormous, low-yield atomics. Against ceramic-armored tanks?
Missile-armed fighters? A cakewalk. Yet we postpone for another hundred
thirty, and even then only send our allies. And then look! They steal
the technology and then move to the stars!" 

"Be that as it may, we must now rally our forces. And our job is to get
the material to close the technology gap. It may take some time, but our
scientists should be able to decipher their technology." 

Suddenly, alarms began blaring across the ship. On the ship-wide
addressing system, the announcer declared the existence of two Human
Medium Cylinders, Type I (Oscar-II SSG) firing their payload and closing
to short range. 

Thirty-eight missiles travelled the distance in a few minutes, their
thrust-vectored ion drives straining their cold-fusion core. Race
interception missiles and defensive autocannon began to intercept, but
their defensive systems were swamped, never intended to fight off such a
salvo. Only twelve missiles were destroyed, and unlike combat at sea,
one hit was an instant kill. 

There were dozens of targets to choose from, ranging from Primitive
privateers to a few advanced Race ships. However, the Soviet raiding
party had missed the convoy ships carrying the stolen technology. As the
powerful missiles commenced their terminal dive, the Race crewers
managed to break through Human stealth and jamming and get off a single salvo
before every warship was destroyed, the primitive ships running their
engines for the supralight barrier wall. 

The lizard salvo fell short, missile after missile spoofed by ECM or
destroyed by defensive lasers, their thin shells ruptured and their fuel
detonated. None managed to close, victims of superior technology. 

The raiding privateers had begun to reach the barrier wall and escape to
relative safety, and the Oscars could not reach missile range before
intercepting them. 

--
By Kyle
==

"YEE HAA! First time I ever wanted to kiss a Russkie. Damn fine job they
did. Almost wish we could have helped. Course then it've turned into
three cornered fight." USS Wyoming was one of the USSNs refitted Ohio
class vessels. With 24 Heavy Missiles in VLS cells she packed a
tremendous punch.

His XO was a little more subdued. "I wonder what the Race was doing.
It's not often you see a collection of ships gathered like this.
Especially not from so many different species."

"Aw hell. Not another damn offensive. Ready a message drone and include
all sensor data, then fire it off towards Fleet Command. Let them figure
it out, we've still got a mission"

"Set course for system B-674. Lets see if we can find any targets to
empty our missiles into there."

Wyoming continued on her way. The Ohio class still lived up to her
nickname 'Blackhole.' The Race hated the ships with a passion. They'd
come from no where, shatter a fleet and then disappear. The name they
used meant, "Night Demon."

Wyoming's skipper and his fellow commanders liked the name. They
thought it was a great compliment. 

"First though. Launch a screamer drone. Set it to activate on my signal
and to follow this course." He showed the planned course to the weapons
officer who grinned as he realized what would happen.

        Almost an hour later. "Ready to go FTL."

"Very good. Weaps, activate the drone. Helm engage FTL Space Warp. 30%
field strength." When the coded signal reached the lone drone it lit up
like a Christmas tree.

Every threat receiver on the two Soviet Strikers went crazy. Then a
message was transmitted in english. "Nice shooting comrades. Buttfucked
em good. Course we coulda done the same to you. Watch your six."

--
By Rob Wilson
==

HMS Vengance SSBN (within outer Race territories)

    Captain Eddings was a very happy man. A career Navy Skipper he had
been more than a little annoyed at the sheer amount of time it had taken the
RN to get the Vanguards up and running, the endless costing battles and
refits that had kept them in near constant limbo. The jibes from the Yanks and
the French who had boats out there doing their jobs, whilst he and the
others bided their time in the Trafalgars (having them as patrol boats as an
interim measure was akin to using a Marine for a crossing  guard!). Yet
now he was in her and taken her through trials, he knew they were worth
every second of the wait. The knowledge that they were about to pull off a
mission that would be a taskforce job for the larger fleets, was enough
to make his smile stay on his face for the last 2 days.

    The time spent on the Triumph had not been wasted, he was intimately
familiar with that classes foibles and strengths, the fact that Triumph,
along with Trafalgar and Trenchant, was assigned as his escorts helped
here. All three sat out on the edges of the detection range of the
planetary defenses that Vengance was so carefully penetrating.

    He checked the plot board, ensuring that the targets were behaving
the same way they had been for the last 3 hours. Oh yes, this was going to
be fun.

    Race Orbital Fleet Yard "Clenched Fist", HQ for the 6th Fleet.

    Hanging in space above the small planet, this was a large complex.
The Fleet was readying itself for a large-scale operation,  the space around
the docking area's and the resupply hangars was crowded and busy with
the efforts to enable the massive ships to move forward to victory against
their Terran enemies.

    A mere 10,000Km from them the Vengance crept forward, having already
passed the outer and inner pickets she drifted now. The ESM masts were
taking in a mass of signals and the Onboard computers worked out how
visible they were.

    "Sir, we are approaching the area of medium probability returns."
The EW officer reported.

    "Understood. Mister Vales, please deploy packs in V formation, if
you would." Eddings had to fight the smile on his face as he used the more
formal, and relaxed form of order to his First Officer. Everything so
far just seemed so right. Of course this was the dangerous part, everytime
they had practiced this, it had gone like a charm. However this was not
practice, it was for real, and the penalty for a mistake was _not_
having to buy the "enemy team" a round in the Bar.

    2/3rds to the rear of the Vengance, 2 hatches began to open. Their
surfaces (inner and outer) were coated with RAM and RAP, the edges were
multi-faceted and the interior of the tubes they exposed were just as
stealthy. As was the large box that slowly lifted out, and with a small
assist from a very expensive arm, to the left and right respectively.
Once these hatches closed 2 more opened dispensing a similar cargo, followed
by a last set of hatches. The boxes drifted away in a slight "V" shape.
Having finished her delivery the Vengance slowly altered course to port, yet
still forwards to her prey.

    Inside the tension was palpable. The EW team observed the activities
of the Race pickets and the Fleet ships around the station.

    "Still no reaction Sir."

    "Good" Eddings grinned openly "Ok, what say we wake every body up
round here up. Mister Vales , Prepare the Array for one 1 second low burst and
get a solution. Once we have that I want the Siren deployed and set for
90 degree forward coverage oriented on the Station with a run in and self
destruct after 2 minutes. Weps ready all tubes and tell the Magazines to
prepare for fastest possible reloads!"

    The confirmations of his orders came back and he prepared himself
for the game ahead.

    "Mister Vales please ensure we are well out of the arcs of those
Packs. Then Give the burst from the Array" The Aye, aye from Vales followed by
"Solution Set, Siren away and running. 10 seconds till her song." and
finally "Siren broadcasting strong signal" Was the signal for Eddings to say
that magic little word.

     "Fire"

    Abaft and to starboard of the Vengance the boxes opened in response
to the Reflected signal from Siren on the correct freq. The 9
Nuclear-tipped missiles in each, blasted out and oriented on their targets, Following
the Radar signal Siren was bouncing off all those ships. The missiles burst
off a signal to Siren and received individual target designations as flagged
by her onboard systems.

    Vengance loosed her first missiles, the "screamers" ran out to a
mere 200KM before "tripping" and their ECM warheads began to broadcast
massive signals on every Freq. but the carefully chosen 1 used by Siren. As
Vengances Engines came to full power she moved above the plane of the
Pack missiles and her own LPI started painting the large profiles of the
ships below her. The missiles rippling from her tubes heading for the large
number of escort around the 32 capital ships.

    44 nuclear missiles homed in on a mere 32 targets, whilst 10 more
were headed for the Station. The RAce had a mere 30 seconds to understand
what happened and 25 seconds of that was spent looking at swamped EW screens.
Their ESM never even picked up the signal from Siren and their Radar
achieved Burn-through far too late. Some vessels fired blind, hoping for
hits. Manouevering was almost impossible here with so many ships in this
area.

    The Pack missiles hit, a misnomer as each actually detonated 5-10
metres short of their targets, the Nuclear fires that erupted from them
melted the armor of the Battleships they were fired at, opening massive
holes that spanned decks and reached deep inside, obviating all attempts
to make the breaches space tight. The onboard systems were fried by the
proximity of the EMP and the structures were warped by the blast that
was transferred to them.

    Next the Missiles from Vengance arrived. They were much smaller,
with shaped charge warheads backed by a second fragmenting charge. These were
targeted on the multitude of smaller escorts that choked space around
the carnage. Destroyers and Frigates had holes ripped deep into them,
occasionally a magazine or fuel bunker would touch off, adding to the
destruction.

    The explosive death of the Station was lost in this massive light
and heat show. Its fragments deorbiting slowly to eventually crash on the
planet.

    Behind the Vengance her Escorts were similarly busy. As the
"screamers" flooded space The Trafalgar and her sisters jumped into the midst of the
Pickets. using their Missiles and a screamer each they ravaged the Race
ships, as they had started to turn towards the planet. Closing was a
reckless move, yet each Skipper wanted to use their Guns, and so the
disorganized and now blind Race ships, under a hail of missiles started
to take 16 inch shell fire, ripping into their small vessels and smashing
their frames.

    Vengance fired 72 missiles before turning and accelerating for her
RV point. Her Rear tubes found and fired at a ship that tried to leave the
death and follow her, it was still in the midst of the "screamers"
fields of broadcast as the missiles struck it and removed it's entire bow
section.

    As the Vengance left she signaled her escorts and all accelerated
out of the system. Oh Yes, Captain Eddings was a very Happy man. Of course
he knew that the Race would examine this incident and try to develop
counters. The RN had been very lucky here, of course in war you make
your own luck. Still grinning Eddings began to prepare his report for HQ back
home.

--
By Rob Wilson
==
    HMS Gorgon, Alpha Centauri 4 "Britannia"
    Fixed Polar Orbit

     Sitting in his Flag Quarters, Rear Admiral Atkins was troubled.
Despite the Navy being run from "Scapa Flow", the orbital HQ station in
Geo-Synq over Earth, in reality he ended up running day-to-day matters of
the ships in The Sub Fleet. After 6 successful missions against Race fleet
stations and Staging area's, disaster had struck. Reading the report he
could see beyond the words to the reality, the skippers had been
overconfident and over-aggressive. He really had only himself to blame. He
had fought for the Fleet to stay out of the main battles with the Race
until the Vanguards had been built, this had led to fighting-Skippers
running Nursemaid duties for Transports, or uneventful patrols of Earth
space. Now they were in the thick of the enemy, and proving to everyone
that the RN produced the best Furball Fighters and Raiders in the universe,
at least in their own eye's that was what they were doing. In reality they
were tearing the Race to strips by pushing harder than was neccessary, and
probability had finally caught them up.

     In HMS Vanguards latest mission, She had scouted and ambushed a large
Race Battlegroup as they had been conducting Exercises. She had actually
launched her Packs from inside the formation then drifted out and launched
2 Sirens, each had projected over a Hemi-spherical area which blanketed the
Fleet, and the Pack Missiles (Neptunes) had caused absolute carnage. Then
as Vanguard had panned across the plane of the fleet, releasing her
"CrossBow" medium range missiles, her escorts had closed in adding their
own "crossbows" and dividing the Races attention. This was to allow
Vanguard to disengage and Retreat to her RV safely. However, once more the
Traf. skippers had closed to Gun range and engaged the Race DDG's and
FFG's, this time however a damaged BB had managed to lock onto HMS Tireless
and 4 of the 26 heavy missiles launched against her had got through to
proximity-detonate. Her outer hull shredded and her Inner hull compromised
she had run with a large pack following her, Terror had immediately turned
to cover her and Turbulent made a beeline straight abaft of Vanguard as a
close escort. The close range of the Race ships to the Traf's had allowed
them to hit them all several times (none fatally, thank the Lord)before
they had Jumped out.

     Right now Tireless was in Dock for massive repairs, with Turbulent and
Terror waiting their own repairs. Thankfully Vanguard herself was
completely undamaged, and sat in lower orbit of Britannia now as an arm of
his own defence force, her Captain a very unhappy man. He would be even
more unhappy, if not downright shitting himself, by the time Atkins was
through  with him! As it was he had issued a general order that all Escort
Captains were to use guns only as a last resort for defence of their Ships
or their Escorted Vessel. Any Captain who now closed to gun-range in
ordinary circumstances would be immediately court-martialed on return to
base, and SSB Captains who recklessly exposed their vessels to unneccessary
risks would end up cleaning the heads on Scapa Flow for the rest of their
natural lives. He knew why they did it, but could no longer turn a
blind-eye to these actions, bravado was going to cost the RN vessels they
could not afford to lose.

     He sighed and stood, walking over to the windows. Looking out over the
bow of the Monitor he could just make out the small Depot in orbit below,
with the shape of HMS Dragon Docked to it's Main Arm, it looked out of
place against the vista of the planet below. He walked back to the Desk and
pressed his intercom.

 "Please send in Captain Harris, Miss Fox." He sat, ready to deal with the
Vanguards Skipper.

--
By Pablo
==

Second Red Star Exploration Fleet
Engels

In the briefing room of the Engels, the most important men aboard sat. 
The technical sergeant who maintain the reactor, the captain and his first
mate, the pilot, the navigator, and Commander Sanchez.  They were all there.
Except for Romanovich.  The political officer was deliberately making
them all wait, flaunting his power over them in a disgusting display of
arrogance.  He was the only one aboard with access to the orders, and
the slightest word from him to the KGB would end a man's career, and his
life.

He was over ten minutes late, and the meeting could not proceed without
him. Had he been anyone else, it would have been unforgivable.  In outer
space, precision and punctuality were all-important.  But with Romanovich's
connections, he could murder a crewman and escape unpunished.  And he
had more than enough audacity to demonstrate this power.

Sanchez drummed his fingers against the table.  The old engineer, a
nuclear physicist from before the invasion, appeared to have fallen asleep.  His
bushy eyebrows hit his eyes, and he looked strangely out of place
without a long beard and full head of white hair.  Such things were totally
against regulation, and that was yet another way that Romanovich flaunted his
status:  He kept a full beard and comparatively long hair, while the
rest of the crewmen were clean shaven with a maximum hair length of one inch.

The political officer finally entered the room, grinning from ear to
ear. He sat at his place to the right of Sanchez, handing a folder to the
commander.  He then glanced at the chief engineer, still sleeping.  The
pilot nudged the old man.  He awoke gracefully, and the political
officer finally began.

He said, "We have been charged with a great mission.  As you know, the
home planet of our dastardly Capitalist enemies, the Race, has yet to found."

Sanchez was careful to hide his emotions, but he inwardly rolled his
eyes when Romanovich referred to the Race as 'capitalist.'  Truth be told, no
hum an knew anything about the race except for their basic biology, from the
corpses that were found, and the fact that they were very concerned with
thwarting the human expansion.

"But now, we may be very close.  We are to take our grand fleet, the
largest yet assembled, and locate their lair.  First, we will proceed to gather
point gamma, where I will issue your next orders.  If all goes well, we
will be able to complete our mission handily, and wipe the imperialist aliens
from the face of the Earth.  Er, space, I mean."  He passed the briefing
off to Sanchez, "Commander?"

Sanchez nodded.  "Thank you, Rodion.  I must inform you of a possible
danger.  I am fairly sure that we are being tailed by an American ship. 
The mobilization of such a large fleet, and the deployment of the Engels is
sure to draw attention.  Even if we are not being followed, it would be
prudent to use an evasive maneuver."

The pilot and navigator exchanged glances.  The pilot, a beautiful young
Ukrainian woman, spoke first.  "We will use a standard pattern?"

Sanchez shook his head.  "No.  I have formulated a plan for the
occasion. "He passed a sheet of paper across to her.  As she and the navigator
studied it, he described it to the others.  "Two of our Typhoons will pass
behind us, as close as possible without taking damage from the ions, thusly
obscuring our profile.  To further camouflage us, the Alfa's will fire
engines and dump countermeasures behind them, before jumping out.  The
fleet will split into four groups, and I have detailed the headings and course
they will each follow.  We will all move in evasive patterns to a point
twenty light years from here, and then we will proceed to Gamma."

The political officer leaned forward.  "Will this not entail excessive
use of fuel?  I think it is a poor idea to waste time running from ghosts."

Sanchez was patient with the officer.  "The use fuel and our precious
time will be negligible, Mr. Romanovich.  If the Americans are not following
us, we will have wasted little.  If they are, it will have been an excellent
choice."

The political officer look unhappy, but knew the logic of the decision.
"Very well."

"Good.  You are dismissed.  You will have two hours of free time, at
which time we will drop out of warp, transmit the plans, and the fleet will
perform the maneuver."
--
By Phong
==
Bridge, USS Jimmy Carter. "Conn, Sensors. We're loosing tracks on the
Soviet battleships. Their boomers and fast-attack boats are covering
their trail and throwing out decoys. We will not be able to acquire a
firm fix unless we go active. Sensor probes may help but we could be
detected launching them." 

"Damn. Increase passive gain as much as you can, try and determine where
those battlewagons are. The Fleet is depending on us." 

"Aye sir. Soviet force is warping in multiple directions, we cannot track
compositions of each force. Reccomend trailing force headed to S-147." 

"Very well. Helm, engage space warp, 45% field strength."

The Jimmy Carter's captain had chose wrong, and instead chased a force of
SSBs and escorts, wasting precious time. While they would reach the
massing point, the American Taskforce would lose contact for some time. 



Bridge, Minotaur Flagship Ocani. 
"Permission requested to board, Captain."

"Granted, Admiral. Our Race friends have informed us that there is a
small Human presence in EG18EA ripe for plundering. Only a few small
warships there - our mighty new flagship should make short work of it!." 

"Don't get overconfident, Captain. Combat is good for the heart, but we
need recklessly waste this ship." 

And what a ship it was, at least for the Minotaur. Eight twin 16.7" guns,
twelve twin 12.3" guns and twenty 4.2" dual-purpose guns, as well as a
crude command-guided nuclear-rocket launcher with five rounds, the
technology gifts from their lizard allies. Recently added were dozens of
light 38mm guns for last-ditch defense The main rifles fired steel-capped
rounds, and had newly developed mechanical computer fire control, fed by
the latest in Minotaur radar technology. The point-defense guns were too
radar controlled, and fired radar-fused rounds. 

In short, this warship was the very best Primitive ship ever constructed,
her weapons and shields now merely seventy years obsolete in human terms,
except for her missiles, which were merely sixty-five. But that was
enough to fry a small human combatant - and maybe even shoot down a few
of their infernal missiles. 

Unfortunately, the Ocani and her sisters cost a huge fortune to build.
Loss of these ships would mean military disaster for the Minotaur. Until
the Race finally gave them modern technology, they could not stand as
equals. But that time was quickly arriving, the Race giving their allies
more and better gear, training their scientists, educating their
teachers. Not at small cost of course, but against these Humans, no cost
was spared. 

Ten hours later, arrival in System EG18EA (Minotaur Catalog System). A
small Human mining world lay before them - and a few old in-system patrol
boats, who already began maneuvering to unmask their missile batteries.
Too late, of course. Heavy steel rounds began to impact their hulls,
human ECM up too late to thwart the primitive's radar fire control.
Defensive laser batteries were not up to the task of decapping an
armor-piercing shell. 

The few ground controllers were stunned - a *primitive* warship had just
casually smashed their patrol fleet - which should have been able to make
short work of it. The enormous Cobra Dane tracking radar detected five
rockets fired from the ship, already turning to escape for the hyper
limit before friendly Humans arrive. 

And there were no defenses on the colony yet, save a battery of light PD
lasers - lasers not intended for serious anti-reentry vehicle work. They
shot down a single rocket, headed for the new spaceport. The others,
aimed at the population centers, worked perfectly. Four crude and dirty
50kT detonated as advertised. 

MSS Ocani was just into warp when a Soviet force and their American tail
exited deep inside the system. 

--
By Rob Wilson
==
HMS Torbay, Inner Race Territories

     She drifted, as invisible to Electronic Sensors as she was to the
naked eye, more so infact. When looked at from close up her deep shades of
black hurt the eye in their lack of details, whereas to sensors she simply
did not exist, a ghost floating through space. With the irony inherent in
her Intel gathering role, her own sensors were the most sensitive that the
combined brains of the US,UK and Japan could produce, able to detect and
filter the EM transmissions of other vessels at ranges that staggered the
imagination (simply too many zero's for the normal mind to handle). Her
purpose designed computers filtering, tracking and logging the movements
and patterns of the Race vessels that she observed, their comm's signals
dutifully copied (for decryption back at "Scapa Flow") and even the "noise"
from their computer systems operations could on occasion be copied and
analysed.

     Inside the atmosphere was... Strange. The vessel had been on station
for over a year, and prolonged contact with each other (and the enemy) had
created an unusual culture. Though their appearances were very divergent
from the norm for an RN crew, their single minded professionalism and
competence were readily apparent, the banter relaxed and full of the
shorthand prevalent amongst people used to working together constantly.
This crew was handpicked, the very best EW/Intel operators that the RN/USN
could provide. Alongside them were the Software and Hardware technicians
from Japan, who had taken a long time to unwind but once they had done, had
proved themselves to have a very sharp and wicked sense of humour. Indeed
once the Manga they had brought with them had made the rounds, the word
"Eichi" became a common term in use, describing just about everyone at any
given time. The Skipper was a career RN man, with a string of successful
missions (aggressive and intel) to his name. The officers (all RN) were his
personal choices and the engineering teams could have built a working
InterGalactic Vessel from paper, string and chewing-gum (or so they always
claimed). The atmosphere was perhaps best exemplefied by the signs found
outside the main area's. These had appeared within the first month, and had
become a stable feature of the ship ever since. Indeed the Crew Galley was
not refered to as such, instead the crew talked of "Fatty Owls", the
Engineering Spaces were "Watery Fowls", the Officers Galley was "Flowery
Twats", the Ablutions became "Farty Towels" and the Bridge was forever
"Fawlty Towers". The Captains Door held a sign saying "whatever you do,
don't mention the War!", the crew was aware that really the signs would
have fitted an HMS Torquay better, but they had adapted to the
circumstances.

     It was no co-incidence that nobody on board was married, or even in a
long-term relationship. Such distractions would have torn the crew apart
inside of 8 months, let alone the 18 months total duration of this mission

     Despite the Boats large size, A Trafalgar class was not the smallest
vessel in space, her crew was comparatively small. The bulk of her internal
spaces not taken up by sensors and Computers, were filled with fuel and
Supplies for her extended tour. In fact Torbay was actually larger than a
standard Trafalgar, yet had less internal space. Her outerskin a thick
blending of RAM's and EM Insulation.

     Behind her trailed 2 cables, one was a monofilament conductor/radiator
over 15 km's in length, designed to bleed off her excess heat (it's average
surface temperature only just higher than the space around it). The second
was thicker and Shorter, it was her reason for existing. It contained along
it's length the sensors she used to detect the Race. These sensors Combined
the greatest feats of micro/nano-engineering that Japan could produce, with
the ESM expertise of the USN/RN. At only 1700m in length it was dwarfed by
it's companion cable yet it's girth (still only measured in Micrometres)
was greater. The cost for building her had been staggering, needing the
budgetary funds of the 3 nations involved. The chances of a sister ship
being built were slim, and she had to move slowly and quietly to ensure
that she would never have to fight. Her loss would be a serious blow.

     She had started in the Race Outer Territories and slowly worked her
way in. Each time spending 2 weeks on station, then using her Vastly
modified, "Marconi"'s (stealthed at great cost and having far larger
engines, these did not fit in any size SP bay and were instead launched
from the Weapons tubes), she would send the details, raw data and
preliminary analyses to Scapa Flow.in yet another display of Irony, despite
providing the best and most detailed info for the Terran Navies, she
herself received none in return, the risks of the signals to her being
intercepted were too great. So her crew had no idea how their info was
being used, or if it was at all.

     Now, here in the Inner Territories she was entering the last phase of
her operation brief. In a few short months she should be ready to return to
Scapa Flow for refit and replenishment. Then presumably back out again to
update the intel she had already gathered. The crew looked forward to
getting new books to read, puzzles to solve and porn to enjoy.

     Slowly she drifted on, continuing her mission. Lost to any sense in
the vast depths of space. Without firing a single shot of her own she was
causing the destruction of the Races war machine, her worth far
outstripping her cost.

--
By Kyle
==
USS Halsey
Flag Quarters

Knopf heard a voice over his intercom. "Admiral, Lieutenant Gellman is
here with the latest comm traffic. Shall I send him in?" That was the
private stationed outside his quarters.

He walked over to a wall mounted intercom unit and pressed one of it's
buttons. "Let him in private."

He stood and returned the Lieutenants salute. "What do you have for me
Lieutenant?"

"A message drone just arrived from Theater HQ. I've got several general
messages to all Flag Officers, a few addressed to all officers Race
Theater, one message from Fleet Command, and a Top Secret message that's
encrypted."
Knopf had nodded at all of this, though his eyes had narrowed at the last
two. "Thank you Lieutenant. That's all." 

Gellman then saluted and quickly marched through the hatch which quickly
slammed shut behind him. Every door on on the Halsey was completely
airtight and could stand up to even hard vacuum. So it was a rather scary
sight to watch the heavy hatch snap shut.

He scanned the general distribution messages first. Nothing that vital,
though he did set a few aside to review at a later time. then he got to
the message from Fleet Command on Earth. Surprisingly it was good news. He
was getting reinforced. Three Virginia's, four Los Angeles another Seawolf
and the Philippine Sea. "Good, very good." he mumbled quietly to himself
as he considered the news.

He then stood and walked over to a safe built into the bulkhead. He
opened it and removed a small decryption device. He inserted the Top
Secret
message and read the clear version on the small LCD display. He printed it
out after removing all sources and set it in another pile. It was the
latest report on the Position of the Commie fleet. He'd send it to Captain
Pike and the other ship commanders, they would then share it with there
senior officers.

He drafted a quick order changing the fleets plotted course. They'd need
to stop and rendezvous with the new ships. He was busily immersed in
mindless paperwork when a siren went off. Damn it.

"Admiral, we've got a Race fleet coming out of Supra light. We're still
correlating our data."

"Good, keep at it. I'll be there in a minute." Knopf then took off at a
dead run down the corridors. As an Admiral he didn't have any trouble
getting through any crowds, everyone would move to the side to get out of
his way. He reached the CIC in record time.

"Have you firmed up the contact?" 

"Yes sir. I'm reading a trio of Battleships, along with four Heavy
Cruisers and it looks like eight Destroyers and possibly twelve Frigates.
I can't get it any clearer. The range is still to long for anything
better."

The odds weren't good. None of the Race ships could individually match
Halsey. But he was badly outnumbered, and outgunned almost as badly. He'd
definitely have to play to his strengths.

"Fleet Order." He paused to allow his comm officer to activate the
appropriate switches. "Ohio is too close with the flag. Virginia is too
assume the lead. Santa Fe, Hartford and Alexandria are to cover the
flanks." A subtle head movement told the comm officer to stop
transmitting.

Halsey carried 50 Heavy Missiles, Ohio carried another 24 missiles.
Together if they both launched a full Alpha Strike they could probably
quarantine a kill. The problem was Ohio carried no reloads for her heavy
tubes. Halsey did carry reloads, but only enough for two more Salvo's.
They could close the range to medium missile range. That would let the
others open fire with there VLS tubes, but those lacked the power of the
Heavy Missiles.

He considered for another few seconds then decided. "Tactical. We're
going to close to Medium Missile Range. When I give the command I want
Ohio to launch her full complement of Tridents and Medium Missiles at
target RBB-1, Halsey will engage Target RBB-2 with a full salvo of Trident
S6s. Virginia, Santa Fe, Hartford and Alexandria will also engage with
medium range missiles."

"Aye aye, sir. Transmitting fire plan." The two fleets slowly closed. The
Race arrayed there ships into a defensive sphere around the Battleships.
Knopf considered for a moment retasking some of the Los Angeles to take
out the light ships. It wasn't worth it though. The battleships were too
dangerous.

"Medium missile range."

"Lets hold off, I want a clear lock." A few more seconds of tense
silence. "All right lets do it. All ships open fire. Fire Plan Able."

He watched on a large plasma flat screen as the glowing bright green dots
of friendly missiles flew toward the blood red dots of enemy ships. He
watched as the bright green dots began to disappear.

"There point defense seems better then usual." Race ships mounted a
variety of different point defense weapons. They mounted a laser system
similar to that used by most human races. But it was bulkier, slower
firing and less powerful. So they also backed it up with high speed
autocannon and weapons very similar to US 5 inch Dual Purpose Guns.

The Race formation was set up with the Cruisers in the lead, the
destroyers behind them and the Frigates as close escort for the three
Battleships. The entire US salvo would have to run a gauntlet of
interlocking point defense and ECM before entering attack range.

Luckily they only needed one missile to reach each target. The wonders of
nuclear weapons. "Incoming." The Race had held off longer, there missile
were both shorter ranged and less capable, they needed longer to lock on. 

"All Dual Purpose weapons to area defense. Lasers to point defense.
Virginia to fall back, tighten the formation."

Now brilliant red dots were seen flashing out at Halsey and her escorts.
Task Force Six was in for a fight. They started to kill Race missiles, but
of course the Race was also killing the American missiles.

As he watched the display suddenly half of his launched missile
disappeared. Most of those were the far more dangerous Tridents as well,
with the higher acceleration they'd begun to pull ahead of the slower
medium range missiles. "What the hell just happened? Report!"

"The race is using nuclear shells fired from the secondary batteries. It
looks like they just used a concerted broadside from the Destroyers and
Cruisers to knock out our missiles. The ones they haven't destroyed have
received some EMP damage." 

"Shit. We knew they'd come up with some way to counteract our tech
advantage. New task force orders, all ships are to maintain missile
bombardment. Task force is to assume a constant 3 gravities acceleration.

As TF6 closed missile continued to fly back and forth. A single heavy
missile made it through the seemingly impenetrable network of interlocking
defenses. The missile then exploded and seven small objects shot outwards.
Each was a small missile with limited maneuverability and a 300 kt
warhead. when the radar ranger said they'd reached the right distance they
detonated. The seven fireballs destroyed a race battleship in huge wave of
liberated nuclear energies.

But it didn't die alone. The explosion also destroyed a quartet of
frigates. That would have been bad enough, but it also damaged a second
Battleship and blinded the final battleship and the remaining frigates
with the massive electro magnetic pulse. 

Unit cohesion also fell apart at the same time. It looked like they'd
taken out the flagship. With the remaining battleships mission killed and
the frigates out of action the cruisers started to take the brunt of the
fighting. Halsey was now engaging the targets with rocket boosted nuclear
shells from her 5 inchers. They weren't as accurate as missile but there
were a lot of them.

The fighting continued and short range missiles and rocker boosted nuclear
shells began to take there toll one the Race ships. A single lucky hit by
a race missile destroyed USS Alexandria. "All escorts are to maintain
acceleration and blow through the enemy formation. Halsey will engage at
close range."

It was time for an old fashioned gun fight. This is the environment that
Halsey was built for. The five inch shells, both DU and HE, pounded at the
Destroyers and Frigates. 

A single salvo of 20 inch shells destroyed a Race cruiser. Another salvo
crippled a second, rapid fire barrage of explosive 5 inch shells finished
it off.

The entire ship vibrated as 5 inch shells shot out and would shudder as
the massive 20 inch shells lanced outwards.

Both Race battleships were able to clear for supra light as the the
Cruisers and Destroyers attempted to swarm the human battleship. The
Frigates flung themselves at the Strikers to cover the escaping
battleships. Ohio took a secondary shell to the midesction and fell out of
the fight. Virginias took a hut to her turret and lost her 5 inch cannon.

When the final Race ship disapeared the netire American fleet had taken
damage. But Alexandria was the only complete loss. though Santa Fe would
take some time to ger her drive online again, and Ohio was effectively
blind for now.

The Race had managed to get both Battleships out and three destroyers had
also made it out of the battle intact. A singel crippled cruiser had some
how managed to make it FTL with air streaming from the hull and it's
weapons knocked out. 

--
By Pablo
==
Commander Sanchez pursed his lips as he read the sensor readout.  The mining
colony was gone, wiped out by some dirty nukes.  Dirty nukes meant either
the Indians, Chinese, or Race.  Since the human powers would be reluctant to
attack each other, he had to assume it was the Race, or one of their
damnable allies.  _They_ had nothing to lose by attacking.

The patrol fleet was gone as well, but they had distinctly been taken out by
guns.  Rather than being tiny irradiated chunks of steel and titanium,
floating around the system, their hulls were mostly intact.  Excepting, of
course, the gaping holes that tore all the way through them.  This further
placed the blame firmly on the primitives.

Sanchez turned the sensor officer.  "Can you approximate their exit vector?"

The young Muscovite bit his lower lip.  "No, sir.  The spatial distortion is
minimal.  Their design must have been fairly good."  That was one major
contrast to the primitive's inferior weapons technology.  Their
faster-than-light propulsion was equal to, or sometimes better than the
Earth engines.  "They could have gone on any one of the twenty vectors I can
detect."

Pablo sighed.  The colony would have to be written off.  It was too bad.
"Very well."  He turned to the navigator.  "Set course to point Omega."

The navigator paled slightly.  Omega was the most distant rally point that
the Soviets had in their charts.  It was far outside the current boundaries
of human space.  Although Soviet captains reflected with pride that the
Americans had not gone half as far into space, the idea of venturing there
themselves was frightening.  "Sir?"

"That is straight from Comrade Premier Gradenko."

The man gulped and turned to his console.

The pilot spoke up, "Should we take action to insure we have no one
following us, sir?"

Sanchez shook his head.  "No.  If they were not lost by our first maneuver,
it is doubtful that another would be capable of losing them.  Besides, the
fact that we are going far beyond the boundaries of their explored space
would deter them more than anything else could do."  He looked up at the
communications officer.  "Lieutenant, dispatch a message probe to inform
Moscow of the colony's misfortune.

As the Soviet Fleet jump out, the Engels dump a small warp-capable vehicle.
The tiny courier was almost entirely engine, with only a little space
available for the data itself.  Still, it served its purpose.  It left the
system, bound for the nearest Soviet colony.  They would see the official
seal on it, and forward the probe without the merest inspection.

--
By Kyle
==
System UAX-879
USS Halsey
Briefing Room One

The USS Philippine Sea and her eight escorts had recently arrived. Repair
parties were working overtime on Strikers USS Ohio, USS Virginia and USS
Santa Fe. Fortunately both the Halsey and Philippine Sea were desigend to
handle small repairs adn were equiped with limited repair facilitities.
Soon enough the newly reinforced Task Force Six would be ready to resume
full operations.

The United States Space Command had know that ships would have to operate
for long ditances unsupported nad so ahd equiped it's new Battleships to
also funsction as tenders for the Strikers that would often operate with
them. It was a good decision, without that capability they would ahve been
force to scuttle Santa Fe and Virginia would ahve required extensive yard
time.

The big concern was munitions. A full fleet tender was ont eh way but for
now Philippine Sea had reloaded Ohio and evened out her load with
Halsey's. 

USS Jimmy Carter had just sent her latest message drone. It's contents
were ralyed to Knopf as fast as possible. It didn't look good, the soviets
were attempting some sort of evasive manuver. Carter was attempting to
follow. 

Hopefully they'd succeed. The Cold War was officialy over, but the key
word in that sentence was officialy. There was no way the US would let a
Soviet Fleet of that power go anywheer without US knowledge. The Soviets
were jsut as paranoid, but unfortuantely there technolgy wasn't guite as
good as the US's, of course the KGB usually made up for it.

Somehow though Task Force Six had managed to completely slip by teh
attention of the Soviets. If they'd known such a powerful american force
was nearby they would never have split there forces. 

Repair should be finished in about thirty hours. The Fleet Tender should
arrive in twenty two hours. Once the ships were full armed they should
recieve another report from Carter. Likely that news would be good and
they would continue to bird dog the Soviets. 

Rear Admiral Knopf sat at his desk these thoughts and others going through
his mind as he pondered what to do next.

--
By Rob Wilson
==

HMS Abercrombie, Enroute to "Al Madinah" OPEC colony world.

    Commodore Rankin, a relatively young man for his rank, browsed the
latest reports. Mostly they concerned the dispositions of the various
fleets (the Soviets moving around had caused some raised eyebrows amongst
the yanks it seemed), the new standing orders for the Sub Skippers was also
covered in a general release (a none too subtle rebuke, making it "public"
to all), some notices of heavy losses to light Colonies on both sides of
the "border" (a point of relevance to him there concerning the 'Crombies
latest mission) and a breakdown of the Halsey's encounter witha Race fleet.
That last one was a big wake-up call to everyone. The use of Nuke shells to
deal with Massed Missile formations was a sign that the Race were
improvising and adapting already, something that nobody liked the thought
of. All Int's breifings on the Races Psych had pointed to a rigidity of
thought and practice, this would tend to show the lie to that.

    The Abercrombies newest assignment was a direct response to the
escalation on the "Borders". The OPEC nations had contracted the RN to
guard a few of their larger Colonies, and it was felt at Scapa Flow that
they needed a boost to that protection. So Monitors and an Additional
Swiftsure Class were being posted to the largest 2 and two additional
Darings, with Broadsword escorts, were moving to the other 2 in the
contract. The RN did not cover many colonies outside of it's own sphere,
but the OPEC's were paying a small fortune (enough to cover 50% of the
costs of the new ships in construction) and the political currency it
carried with the other Earth Nations was well worth it. India apparently
was in talks to aid and supplement the RN contract and the politacal cut
and thrust of that would only help the UK, whereas hopefully the USN would
now start to look Scapa's way following it's own space guards mauling. It
woud make a lot of sense rather than tearing up it's own taskforces to
bolster the "Shores".

--
By Phong
==
Bridge USSG Gallatin. Thirty-eight days on in-system patrol. 

Captain Alexander, head of the local in-system defense force, actually
smiled. For the last ten days, reports flooded the communications
networks of Alien probe attacks. 'Probes' that often ended up in the
complete destruction of the local defense force and the sacking of a
colony. Or atomic detonations above them. 

The Space Guard was originally intended as a space-defense force against
pirates and for customs duties. As such, their patrol boats tended to be
lightly armed, though fairly fast and maneuverable. And while nuclear
rounds were available for their light missile tubes and guns, the Space
Navy had never bothered to equip the tin cans with them. 

Who would believe that the aliens could find their worlds - or even have
real warships? Only the Race did, and they tended to have their 'allies'
do the dirty work for them. Either that, or hit major taskforces, not a
mere colony world with only the most basic in defenses. But that time had
changed, and two days ago a Space Navy tender had arrived and replaced
nearly all of her heavy torpedoes with Captor mines. Most of her 5" and
standard missiles were replaced with nuclear-tipped versions. And
ominously enough, encrypted, hardcopy orders utilizing a one-time pad. 

In two hours, an alien privateer force was expected to enter and raid the
system. They had orders to allow the enemy to carry out their mission -
the tender was accompanied by a landing ship which brough a reinforced
Theater Laser Battery and several surface-to-orbit nuclear missiles.
Then, they were to follow the raiders back to their staging grounds if
possible - and send back sensor data at all cost, including destruction
of the Space Guard Fleet. Apparently the Space Navy was becoming
overstretched as it was. 

What he didn't know was that reports from Wyoming and HMS Torbay were
painting a disturbing picture - primitives were raiding human colonies
for electronics. And intel knew that none of them had anything more
advanced than vacuum tubes - which meant the Race was rapidly trying to
close the technology gap. 


One hour, fifty minutes later. Stealthed USSG Taskforce.

"Sir, we've just recieved an all-systems alert. The defense radars are
tracking multiple prim ships exiting warp. Ground defenses firing, prim
ships are not attempting area bombardment. Looks like a raid, sir." 

"Very well. Hold here. Sensors, I want their exact warp exit vector when
the leave the party." 

"Sir...we're not going to engage?"

"Orders. Straight from the Pentagon. I don't like them either. Prepare to
send a tight-beam laser message to the rest of the ships as follows:
Orders are to track raiding force to massing point. Scan the enemy force
and at all costs return the data via message probe to Earth." 

"Very well, sir. Permission to speak freely?"

"Of course."

"It's a suicide mission - the Race would have to have at least some
capital ships defending their launch points. We'd hardly survive a single
broadside, and we don't have the firepower for a kill." 

"I know. We shall carry out our orders, however. And perhaps damange
them, but our best bet will be to exit deep into the system, deploy our
towed-array and try and crawl towards them. Hopefully we won't be
spotted." 

Several hours later...

"Conn, Sensors. Raiding force has entered warp, tracking. Navigation has
course laid in to system S-086. Fleet jump at your discretion, sir." 

"Helm, engage warp field, strength 75%."


The Space Guard taskforce was almost detected - they warped too close to
the enemy fleet. Bad luck if anything. Nevertheless, the ships managed to
sneak out of low-probability detection range and deploy their arrays,
their sensor computers straining to find out what was out there. When
horrid luck occured. A Race cargo ship exited warp almost on top of them,
and a furball began. 

The Space Guard warships began firing their guns at the cargo ship, but
the rest of the fleet was warned, and the privateers began running for
the barrier wall. The Race warships were not so eager to run, and began
launching medium-range missiles, a range that the humans could not launch
at. Disengaging, the Gallatin managed to get her message probe out before
the first wave of missiles entered defensive engagement range. 

Beams of coherent light reached out and destroyed some missiles, then 5",
then 3" and finally the last-ditch 40mm mounts. One broke through and
blew apart Attu. Meanwhile, Edenton and Gallatin ran for all their worth,
dropping light missiles out the back and pouring out countermeasures.
They barely managed to reach the barrier wall before the second wave
arrived. 

Not a single human missile broke through the Lizard point-defense system.

--
By Rob Wilson
==
Al Madinah Colony System.

    Sitting as a bright jewel in space, Al Madinah was a welcoming sight to
any Human eye. After spending even a small portion of time in space, the
spectacle of a Super Gas Giant made a person think of home. You could see
this baby from thousands of miles away and know that the real world
consisted of more than the Metal corridors and rooms of a ship.

    OPEC had settled the Largest "moon" in orbit of the Giant, to provide a
Base of operations for their mining of the Giants atmosphere. The moon (Al
Uyun) was in fact the size of earth (maybe a touch larger) and had a long
wide orbital path, leading to hot weather and paradisical conditions. A
favorite spot for the RSN crews guarding it to enjoy their R&R. Orbiting
it's Equator was HMS Minotaur, a docking and resupply station, it ran the
outer system scanning facilities and acted as the liason between the local
OPEC minister and the RSN fleet on protection duty. Currently docked there
was HMS Dauntless and her escorts Baleful and Brilliant, their crews on
rest phase but as yet no shore leave. In the mid-system area HMS Sovereign
continued her drifting patrol, quietly lurking and doing her damnedest not
to be seen. More apparent to any watching eye's were the roving figures of
HMS Diamond and her widely trailing escorts Boxer and Blade, these swept
space with active sensors as they followed a three dimensional winding
curve which looked deceptively random to the untrained observer, yet left
no place unscanned. They moved using an adaptation of Sprint and Drift,
alternating between 1/3rd and 2/3rds accelleration each seemingly choosing
to go at whatever time and pace suited them, again though this was an
illusion created by very thorough preplanning and lots of practice. The
newly arrived Flagship of this force now sat in polar orbit of Al Uyun, her
small size hiding the huge firepower she contained and the power she
commanded as the head of this taskforce. Drifting a few thousand Km's above
her HMS Splendid waited, her engines silent and systems in powered down
mode, she was held in place by simple physics and again like her sister
Sovereign she was invisible to any but the most powerful observation.

    The Abercrombie had arrived a week ago and had assumed the command of
the systems defence from Dauntless. Having gone over the possible actions
for defending Al Uyun with all the Captains present, Commodore Rankin had
decided that for the present the vessels should continue with their current
patterns of operation with the addition of Splendid to help Sovereign in
her long drifting watches, which of course could come down in duration
(something that the Skipper of the Sovereign was more than happy about).
After a 4 hour planning session the patrol orders were finalised and the
available options well understood, the relevant info being dispatched to
Scapa Flow by one of Minotaurs "Marconi"'s.

    It would probably have galled Commodore Rankin to learn that the Race
had chosen to attack Al Uyun because of his own ships arrival. Though a
great deal of traffic entered and exited the system every day, the arrival
of a new warship to supplement the already impressive defences meant that
they beleived there was something important here that must be aquired,
possibly even a new type of technology or an associated piece of research.
So in the hope of finding and gaining this, a large invasion fleet was
gathered, launched and was rapidly approaching it's target.

    Minotaurs system scanners lit up 55 vessels as they Jumped in at the
outer limits of the mid-system area, outside the range of the Diamond group
to intercept first. As the alarms sounded throughout the Station,
Dauntless's
engines were already lit up as her thrusters pushed her away from dock, her
Escorts also moving away; the 1/3rd of their crews left in the station
helplessly watching them leave as part of the Surge departure. Vectors from
Minotaur were recieved followed by hasty orders from Abercrombie, herself
leaving orbit onto a higher planar approach, engines pushing her well above
the ecliptic. As minotaur ordered all civilian traffic to specific area's
and "lanes", well away from the expected battle area, Diamond and Sovereign
recieved their orders. In response Diamond and her escorts "dove" and
turned to face the intruders approaching from their relative lower
starboard aft. As their engines increased power they moved apart, with both
Frigates edging slightly forward of their Destroyer (Boxer high Starboard,
Blade low Port). Sovereign however crept forward, her course and speed
designed to bring her onto the invaders from Aft high Port well after the
initial contact.

    From inside 'Crombies CIC, Commodore Rankin watched in slight
bafflement as the Race fleet split, 35 mixed Cruisers, destroyers and
frigates turning to meet Diamond, leaving the remaining
Cruisers,destroyers,frigates and the lone Battleship to close with the
larger force moving from their front. It was a curious move to put it
mildly, or as the Plotter had said "What the Fuck are those morons doing?",
before he realised the Commodore was right beside him. Despite smiling at
the comment, Rankin couldn't help agree, it was very stupid. Still it never
paid to underestimate the enemy, so orders were given for all Captains to
proceed with caution as to the Race tactics presented (nobody was going to
die from overconfidence under his command).

    As the range closed to Diamond, the Race vessels launched a salvo of
missiles from extreme range, taking advantage of the fact that as yet no
ECM
was coming from that group. The missiles began to accellerate out from the
vessels closing in fast, in response Boxers light launchers fired of a
small group of Screamers. These were much faster than the Race weapons and
soon halved the distance between them and began their heavy ECM broadcasts.
As the "white noise" started the RSN vessels changed course "diving" again
and closing slightly together, at the same time they deployed their
"confetti" and powered up their onboard Jammers, Blade and Boxer both
launched a Siren which proceeded to run at half speed towards the Race
vessels last position.

    The Race missiles passed the Screamers 500 km from the RSN vessels and
started to look for their targets, however they had 2 groups and only 1 had
a significant return. 50 missiles closed with that target whilst the
remaining 20 headed to the fuzzy returns. In response Boxer began launching
her Splinters against the 20 real threats, her guns standing ready with
Frag rounds. As the Splinters detonated ahead of the approaching missiles
the 10's of thousands of Tungsten shards released tore forwards through
Missile bodies and warheads. Nothing but high velocity wreckage came out of
that meeting. The other 50 missiles creating a Nuclear conflagration abaft
of the Vessels, amongst the Confetti cover.

    Whilst Boxer had performed her duty as escort, Diamond had launched her
load of Crossbows and her 12 onboard Cripples. Then the RSN formation
turned slightly to starboard to open the distance and angle seperating them
from the Race vessels.  The Medium missiles took an arcing flight path the
Crossbows slightly more shallow than the Cripples, as they reached the top
of the arcs they started to recieve returns from the Sirens and target
designations. The Race had no idea what was happening, the Screamers were
closing on them and their "view" of events was seriously impaired, they had
noticed the massive detonations of their Missiles and presumed they had
wreaked havoc on the Terrans. The continued jamming was confusing as they
thought it was generated by the vessels and it was with barely 15 seconds
warning that they spotted the Crossbows as they approached. The angles and
defusion of their paths had made a cohesive wall of Nuclear shells almost
impossible to create, yet they destroyed over 32 of the inbounds. It was a
shame that as the rest struck and caused damage to the Cruisers and
destroying the smaller vessels, no-one was able to counter the Cripples.
These struck a massive Nuclear blow, Only 1 cruiser survived the 1-2 punch
and the
escorts were in disarray. It was into this group that Blades own 12
Crossbows and 4 Cripples fell, again the warning was all but non-existant
and no defence was possible. However this time the Nuclear explosions of
the first salvo had a disruptive effect on the incoming missiles guidance
and though the Cripples detonations caused widespread destruction none hit
the cruiser. It instead took damage from a few Crossbows in glancing hits.
It drifted on all but totally mission killed and leaving only 2 destroyers
and 3 frigates to try and complete their mission.

    As 3 fresh Screamers off of Boxer covered their approach, 2 Neptunes
from Diamond closed down on the Race vessels. Their huge multi- megaton
detonations ripped
all to pieces. Onboard the Diamond the Captain was very pleased with the
results, with the expenditure of her entire Medium and a few  Heavies his
force had done their job very satisfactorily. He gave orders to Boxer to
launch a Cripple at the drifting Cruiser (they deserved at least 1 kill out
of the engagement) and then ordered all ahead flank to join in the mop-up
of the other Race fleet vessels.
    "Sir. I think theres a problem." His Tactical officer informed him.


    Commodore Rankin was now officially unhappy. His plan had worked like a
charm, first splitting the Race defensive fire with the wide angle umbrella
firing of the Missiles and the spoofing of the Races own missiles had
worked perfectly on both occasions (he had always expected to lose at least
1 ship per group). Indeed the Battleship had died at the hands of Sovereign
without even firing a shot in defense towards her vector. Her attack from
that
direction during the assualt of the others obviously a complete surprise.
Unfortunately that was not the only surprise of the day. Even as Sovereign
had fired a new Race Fleet had jumped in, numbering 175 vessels centred on
a 10 battleship grouping, it had seen Sovereign and that meant she would
definitely be hunted. On top of that His Darings and Broadswords now had
largely empty magazines as they reloaded their VLS systems (a time
consuming business even in this day and age). Diamond in particular was
horribly exposed and as he watched 2 Battleships and their escorts turned
towards her. He quickly issued his orders, Minotaur was to begin launching
the Emergency response Marconi's to the nearest large fleet positions,
Dauntless was to close to his flank and Diamond was to make an arcing path
to his low port flank at best possible speed, Sovereign was to head out to
space and try to lose all hunters so she could return to the battle in a
better position to do damage.

    The battle raged for an hour, the space around the combatents a nuclear
and explosive holocaust. Battered and using his tactical abilities to their
full, Rankin's force fell slowly back The Frigates taking the entire load
of the Anti-missile work, their Splinter loads and 4.5 turrets creating a
protective shield for the others to unleash their own Missiles from behind.
Still the numbers were against them, and even though the Races Nuclear
Missiles had been expended in the opening minutes of the attack the
conventional missile load was enough . As the casualties mounted the
vessels lost their edge and the critical hits arrived. Boxer was already a
battered and torn shape at the point when  the bow vanished behind a
blinding
series of explosions, and the rest of her quickly followed. Diamond and
Brilliant were limping towards Al Uyun to prepare a last ditch greeting for
the Races forces. As the battle changed to a Gun fight, Baleful succumbed
to a broadside from a Race Battleship and it's accompanying Cruisers (it
appeared that the Race were taking the slow advance as a personal insult),
Dauntless answering in kind, though her targets were more widespread she
had
no less success, ripping one cruisers side open, and damaging the
superstructures of the others. Abercrombie adding her own not
inconsiderable weight to the arguements, cruisers and Destroyers trying to
crowd her for the Battleships to kill were imolated and torn, as her
superior Sensors gave her targets in the ECM environment before her
opponents. The Race Battleships firing almost blind at the retreating form
used their numerical advantage to effect as 2 rounds found 'Crombies
engines, her entire Aft section disappearing in the resultant explosion.
Space-tight compartments and huge amounts of money in her design meant that
her main guns were not only still operational, but also recieved targeting
data no matter the damage. She proved this by firing in response, tearing a
Race Battleship asunder and trying to track the rest. Blade was on her own
fighting a running battle with 7 Frigates and a Destroyer, attempting to
keep them at a distance that allowed her to fire accurately. Unfortunately
they had working engines and were splitting into groups to corner her, she
pushed her own damaged engines hard and continued firing.

    As this battle, 4 Battleships and their escorts moved round past it,
52 vessels including 10 heavy transports moved towards the planet, their
sights firmly set on destroying Minotaur, Diamond and Brilliant then making
their raids.

    The Destroyers and frigates formed a screening force that homed in
against the Station and it's defenders, moving to close and use their guns.
As they approached burn-through  Minotaur launched her most devastating
Missiles, they raced out 3 relative up and 3 relative down. After 6000 km
they activated covering the entire Race Force approaching them in a deadly
wave of radiation. Rather surprisingly the Race ships appeared not to
notice, indeed the missiles themselves were not deadly through their own
efforts, instead the Sirens signal was picked up by the Packs in Polar
Orbit of Al Uyun. They immediately commenced firing their payloads and 9
Neptunes blasted from each pole, heading in at massive speeds towards the
Race vessels at the same time a flood of  Spearfish, Splinters and
Screamers erupted from Minotaur. The combined Attack was devastating
destroying the Screen force and smashing 2 of the Battleships. However 2
remained along with 5 Cruisers, 7 Destroyers, 11 frigates and 7 Heavy
Transports.

    The fight around Minotaur was fierce but ultimately one-sided, though
they fought their best the odds were against them in a gun battle and, as
they died, they were joined by Abercrombie whose turret was finally
silenced. Blade was still fighting her own battle though for how long was
anyone's guess. In a further part of the system Sovereigns Scorecard
changed from 9- nil to 11-1, and she was bathed in Nuclear light, her
remains now scattering as fast as her targets had previously.

    With the space battle near ended the Heavy transports moved towards the
planet, and slowly their shuttles began to descend. It was a strangely
exotic sight, the large vessels with their smaller craft leaving them
brilliantly highlighted against the planet. It made Splendids job so much
easier, her Screamers blinding the Frigate escorts, and the Splinters
racing
past to detonate amongst the shuttles tearing them into tiny pieces. The
next salvo was all Crossbows, and they tore the Transports sides open. The
Frigates were searching through the ECM haze, desperately hunting for the
enemy. One actually came directly towards Splendid at full power, hoping to
move beyond the Jamming field. The 16 inch shell that met it was complete
overkill, ripping through the Bow and only detonating when it was halfway
through the mass of the Engines. Splendids rear tubes fired 2 Sirens in an
orbital Flightpath around Al Uyun towards the Battleships, with 4 Cripples
following from the forwards. As she
pulled away from the planet her crew loaded a final salvo of Crossbows and
they were fired at the remaining Transports. Splendid disengaged her own
jammers and used her Radar to broadcast her positon to all the Race Vessels
in the System, her Cripples killing one more Battleship as she climbed away
from Al Uyun.
Her mission was to simply keep them from the planet for as long as possible
until help could arrive, and the best way she could accomplish that now was
to goad them into a hunt. Her Skipper had no idea how long they would last,
but hopefully it would be long enough. The USN had fleets in the area, as
did OPEC themselves, he just had to hold out for them.

--
By Colin Witz
==

Emerging from FTL mode to examine the system, The OPEC SS 'Hammuradi'
emerged to scan the area for planets sutible for expoitation and
colonization.  If a world was found Captain Witz would leave a bouy and
contact OPEC fleet HQ, and a Khalid and escourts would mount an expedition.
Making a slow pass on each planet launching a survey robot to each planet,
it would last for about 6 hours.

The Fourth planet possesed structures, clear signs of a planet that once
possesed intellegent life.  Now there was a possiblility that some artifacts
could be found.  Purhaps something that could assist the other's agaisnt the
race.

While preparing to launch the bouy 'Hammuradi's' warning lights switched on
and the sensor consols started screaming.  Major strike force was
transiting into the area.  This was more important then just a meer lost
colony, If everything went according to plan his employers would reward him.
If the race ships dectected him he and his entire crew were dead.

--
By Kyle
==
HTY-116
Second Patrol Squadron


 A small supralight drone dropped out of warp and began to flood real
space with it's electromagnetic cry for help. The British built message
pod flooded near space in the hope that someone would hear the message,
and understand it.

 Someone did, "Captain Winston. Sir, I'm receiving a broad band radio
transmission. Royal Navy identifier code." 

 Winston, a short blond haired man who captained the USS Armstrong, a
Taylor class Guided Missile Cruiser, and also wore a second 'hat' as
Squadron commander, Walked over to stand behind the Lieutenant Commander
who had spoken. 

 "Launch location?" he questioned.

 "Downloading sir." He was intently studying the data as it flowed into
his computers. "It was launched by a Royal Navy picket force in the Al
Madinah system."

 Winston captained the USS Armstrong a Taylor class Guided Missile
Cruiser. He also wore a second 'hat' as Squadron commander. 

 "According to Navy records Al Madinah is an OPEC colony system. The
Royal Navy agreed to protect the system for certain concessions and
price breaks."

 Winston only considered his options for a few seconds. He didn't have
many choices. "Looks like we might have to go bail the Brits out.
Squadron orders." 

 "Aye, aye sir. Ready for squadron orders."

 "All ships are to terminate patrol and rendezvous at Point Baker.
Captains are reminded to maintain minimum fuel expenditures. Append a
copy of the British signal."

 The second patrol squadron was scattered throughout the star system,
and it would take over an hour to reform the squadron. But if they were
going to be seeing combat he wanted to make sure all ships were fueled
and ready for action. Wasting fuel on a high acceleration constant
thrust approach would not be smart move.

 "Aye aye sir. Orders recorded and encrypted, probe data attached and
ready for transmission on your order." Armstrong's light dimmed for a
second when Winston gave the order to transmit and the massive output of
the fusion generators was redirected into transmitting a message over
interplanetary distances.

 Soon the four other ships of the squadron would receive the message and
set course for Point Baker. The other ships in his squadron were the
Kodiak class Destroyer USS Grizzly and three Frigates the USS Wandering
Comet, USS Shining Moon and the USS Bright Star. 

 "Ready five communication drones. Include a full status report and a
copy of the British message." He glanced at a computer display and
called up several sets of orders. While reading from them; "Set drone
coordinates for MGR-995, FUE-114, RBN-201, GHL-006 and DOY-562. Launch
drones ASAP." 

 According to the orders he'd just called up and reviewed the Fourth
Patrol Squadron should be in one of the first three systems depending on
how her patrol was progressing. According to those same orders the
Eighth Strike Squadron should be in one of the last two star systems.

 The Fourth Patrol Squadron was led by the USS Washington, the only
Battlecruiser in US service, and she was escorted by two frigates. The
Eighth Strike was a larger formation made up of three Virginia class
Strikers, and six Los Angeles class Strikers. 

 Either formation could be of huge value in the Al Madinah system.
Unfortunately it was impossible to know if they'd get the messages. Both
formations might be enrollee and so unreachable by any know
communication device.

 He had briefly considered launching more drones to other nearby
systems. He knew there were several other strikers assigned to this
sector and he might be able to contact one or more of them. But space
was too big to chuck expensive comm drones around like that.

 He heard a crewman announce that the drones were away and running. "XO,
sound acceleration alert."

 "Yes sir. Sounding acceleration alert." Blue lights now began to flash
throughout the ship and klaxons could be heard in the background.

 Each man on the bridge, and throughout the entire ship, now sat down
into the heavily padded and armored shock frames and began to strap
themselves in.

 "Sir. All departments report ready for acceleration." The XO was also
strapped into a shock frame. Each shock frame had several controls that
allowed basic commands to be inputted even if working under high g if
needed. The Captain, XO, First Lieutenant, Helmsman and Chief Engineer
also possessed an over ride switch which would immediately cut the main
drive. 
 
 "Helm. Set course for Point Baker. Acceleration at 20m/s/s maintain
acceleration for ten minutes." Of course the helmsman had already
plotted several different flight profiles to Point Baker. It was his job
to anticipate such things, that way when the captain gave the order he
only had to call up a pre planned flight plan change some variables and
he was set.

 "Aye, aye sir. Course plotted and engines report ready. Thrust will
commence on your orders."

 "Begin acceleration." The blue lights which had previously been
flashing now began to glow steadily to indicate 'acceleration underway'
instead of 'prepare for acceleration.'

 Winston felt the engines ramp up and the force of acceleration begin to
press against him. Two g's was hardly an overwhelmingly force but
standard procedure was for all crew member to strap in when under
acceleration. 

 Once USS Armstrong finished with her engines she coasted for over forty
minutes. When she began to near Point Baker a short burn at 10m/s/s
quickly brought them to rest relative to the rest of the ships. 

 Grizzly was the last to arrive, joining formation ten minutes after
Armstrong's final engine burn.

 "Grizzly is in formation, and reports ready for warp." The other ships
had reported ready for warp sometime ago. Now that Grizzly was here they
were able to immediately go supralight since Point Baker was located
outside the barrier wall.

 "All ships are to match speed with the flag and maintain formation.
Activate Warp Field Generator at 85%." 

 Without a single lurch or any sign that anything had happened Armstrong
and her squadron mates had just cracked the light speed barrier.

Al Madinah Colony System (OPEC)
Second Patrol Squadron


 Four hours later Armstrong and the four other ships of the Second
PAtrol Squadron dropped out of warp and were at full battle stations.

 Winston was secured in his shock frame and so was the rest of his crew
and the rest of the squadron as well. They'd managed to make insertion
without attracting attention. Right now the Second was slowly coasting
as they prepared to move in system.

 "I want a seven g burn for five minutes. All ships on my mark." A
slight pause to make sure everyone was ready, then "Mark."

 It may have been only five minutes. But it was some of the most
uncomfortable five minutes possible. Every movement was like lifting a
large weight, you even had to plan each breath. Event he simplest thing
became a chore. It was precisely for this reason that combat was fought
with the engine powered down and the ships coasting. Otherwise you had
to leave it too the computer since no human could move fast enough under
acceleration. And no one was going to let a computer fight for them.

 "Go active." The radar's mounted on the hulls of the five ships began
to emit waves of radio energy as they searched for the Race ships that
had to be here.

 "There they are. Looks like a standard intercept course." The main plot
showed the various contacts as glowing dots with tags identifying them.

 "What's the Breakdown of force's?" Winston needed to know what kind of
foe he was going to be facing.

 "CIC is still correlating the data but it looks like we've got two Race
Type-C Battleships out there. Two Type-B Cruisers, Eight Type-C
Destroyers and Seven Type-C Frigates." The odd were close. Type-C race
ships were rather lacking in defensive armaments and had sub par
electronics, but they still possessed a large offensive punch. The
Type-B cruiser had a much lighter offensive punch then the Type-C
Battleships, but wit it's superior electronics fit it's defensive
capabilities were easily equal to the Battleship.

 Usually the Destroyers and Frigates would only be Cannon Fodder. But
unfortunately there was no sign of either the Fourth, or the Eighth.
Without them it was likely that the sheer number of Race ships would be
able to grind him down. 

 The second would also have to maintain distance. If they ever entered
gun range they'd be finished. The largest guns mounted by the ships of
the Second Patrol Squadron were 5 inch DP guns. Not the kind of weapons
that you fight Battleships with.

 Suddenly he heard a surprised voice from one of the younger crewmen,
"Sir! Incoming message."

 "From the Race?" The Race never communicated. What was going on?

 "No sir. It's from a Royal Navy vessel. HMS Splendid accompanied by HMS
Blade. They report that they are the only survivors of the British
picket force."

 "Damn. I was afraid of that. Put there locations on the main board."
Two green dots of allied ships appeared with the blue of American ships
and red of enemy vessels. He studied it for a little while then started
typing in several datum's on his computer. "Alright. Transfer these
orders to the british ships. I'm going to combine our forces before
hitting the Race ships. Even if they're low on offensive weapons the
extra Point Defense and ECM should be helpful."

 The Second began to adjust their course. The engines burned in unison.
slowing the squadrons advance and then adjusting it's vector. The two
remaining british warships did the same thing. 

 After twenty minutes of course adjustment and maneuvering HMS Splendid
and HMS Blade assumed formation on USS Armstrong. Now it was time for
United States Navy and Royal Navy to avenge the destruction of a British
Picket Force that had died protecting a colony belonging to OPEC. To say
that the universe was an odd place to live was an understatement.

--
By Kazuaki
==
Admiral Kazuaki Shimazaki strode confidently forward. He had expended a
pair of decades in the new Japanese Self Space Defense Force, working
his way up at creep speed. Extensively trained by the SDF, he had
endured years of commanding a tiny destroyer.

But fortunes change over time, and today, his efforts finally came to
fruition. He had been part of the Force who actively lobbied for the
construction of this new and expensive class of warships, a fine command
ship to lead the Mobile Fleet into a new era.

A Lieutenant popped out from a corner, "Good morning, Admiral." And
saluted.

The Admiral returned the salute, "At ease, Lieutenant, thank you."

The Admiral went through an airlock to board his new command. He walked
to a lift, boarded it and headed over to the bridge.

"Admiral on Deck!" yelled the executive officer.

"At ease, at ease," rumbled the Admiral. "Report!"

The Executive Officer replied in a smooth voice that belied competence
and efficiency, "The Yamato is fully operational. All missile type
weapons are loaded and check green. All guns report fully indexed. Hull
integrity shows good. Armor shows no detectable microfractures. Sensor
and computer BIT test show no abnormality. Engine room reports full
thrust on all engines is possible, reactor showing no power fluctuation.
We're ready to sail."

"Very well, what about the Akagi and Amagi?"

"They also report fully operational. They're out of this concealed
spacedock waiting for us, Admiral." This Yamato had been built in total
secrecy, a black project, and thus it was built in the middle of a huge
asteroid which no one else had thought to scan over the entire building
period.

"Excellent. Engine room, connect fusion systems to ion drives. Ahead
dead slow." The Yamato now had to face a considerable danger. The only
way in and out of this asteroid's innards is in a long, narrow tunnel
that is designed with little room to spare. To reduce chances of
detection further, there were SEVERAL places where it turned. A slight
mistake in astrogation could damage the ship.

"Registering acceleration," reported the helmsman.

"Engines stop. Turn on the millimetric wave radar," ordered the Admiral.

"Yes, sir." replied the sensors operator. The millimetric wave radar
scanned the walls of the tunnel and presented an image, so it was almost
as if they can see out, which they couldn't - it was too dark in the
tunnel.

"Port ten. Fire starboard fine thrusters!" The trajectory of the ship
was altered slightly.

A harrowing ten minutes passed as the huge ship negotiated a pair of
turns. It then formed up with the Amagi and the Akagi, and they all
began a standard acceleration to their first patrol zone.

Yamato, forty eight hours later, flag quarters.

"Admiral, we've approached the Patrol Zone 034," reported the duty
Sensors Officer.
"Very well, deploy the towed array," ordered the Admiral. The towed
array was one similar to the one used by the British Torbay, though
purely made with Japanese electronics. The Japanese had designed the
Yamato to be extremely multi-role, thanks to the simple fact they're so
rare. Part of it was intel-gathering, though she was far more "noisy"
compared to dedicated intelligence vessels, she had much the same array,
and a computer suite that also take the role of decoding Race encrypted
signals.

Several hours had to pass, but then came another knock on the door.
"Yes? Come in," ordered Admiral Kazuaki Shimazaki.
"Admiral, the decryption team had succeeded in intercepting a Race
transmission. The computers are now processing the message."
"Very well, I'll come forward." The Admiral picked up his hat, dropped
the book he was reading, and went onto the ESM room, where people are
working on decoding the data stream.
"Report!"
The Lieutenant in command of the section replied, "We're continuing our
decoding of the signal, sir. But it would seem to be bad news."
"OK, let's hear it," demanded the Admiral harshly.
"There seems to be a sizable force of Race warships forming up, sir. AT
LEAST four Type A battleships, another six Type A Cruisers, Over a dozen
destroyers and two dozen frigates."
"Yes, and WHERE are they heading to?"
"They were sending coordinate data, and based on THOSE, they seem to be
heading towards our colony at Hatakaze 3, sir!" Hatakaze 3 was a
Japanese colony, mostly involved in the production of expensive chromium
and titanium for Japanese use.
"Have you localized their starting point?"
"Yes, sir, on three-three-five mark two-one."
"Very well," replied the Admiral, "Plot me a course..."
"Sensors room reporting, Admiral! We're picking up increased ion and EM
emissions from the signal's source! They seem to be making flank
acceleration. I'm picking up very minor fluctuations in power. They seem
to be initiating their run to activate the FTL drive!"
"Got it! Astrogation! Plot me an intercept course. Engine room, connect
both primary and auxillary power, all ahead flank! Retract the towed
array", the Admiral bellowed harshly. The towed array may be a great
ELINT tool, but no one wanted to make flank speeds or any combat
maneuvers with it extended - that thing was too delicate.
"Ahead flank aye!"
"Admiral Shimazaki, I've plotted in a course. We'll be in powered
missile range in three hours thirty minutes."

YAMATO, HALFWAY TO THE INTERCEPT POINT
"There is something I honestly don't understand, Admiral," queried the
ESM Lieutenant.
"Very well, what is it?" asked Admiral Kazuaki Shimazaki, even as he was
thinking of a plan to allow his THREE ships to somehow defeat or delay
forty-six ships.
"Remember the Torbay?" asked the Lieutenant.
"Sure. What's your point?" asked the Admiral.
"Surely they must have received warning of such a big fleet getting
sortied. Why didn't HMS Torbay send ANY of us a warning? Surely a fleet
this large is worthy of a communications."
"Well, Lieutenant, when you're as old as me, you'll understand what Fog
of war is. Torbay is a VERY good platform. We know that. We helped build
it. But it isn't perfect. A batch of sensors, no matter how good, is
still a batch of sensors, they can be fooled or outranged."
"Like how, sir?"
The Admiral was in a major brainstorming session at the moment, but he
decided that spending a few minutes to explain things to this young
Lieutenant - a problem in rapidly expanding forces is that the men never
seem experienced enough, may help him think of a better plan, "OK, back
in the old days, American submarines track Soviet submarines all over
the place. Compared to the Americans, the Soviet submarines were
INCREDIBLY noisy and had poor sensors. By right, they should never have
evaded the Americans. But occasionally, they do."
"How?" asked a puzzled Lieutenant.
"The principles of evasion are pretty simple. Increase noise levels,
degrade enemy SNR and reduce their sensitivity and range, then get one
or two ships at a time to escape behind the noise quietly. By the time
they escape, no one would suspect anything."
"And how might they do it in this case?"
"Well, if I'm the Race commander and I suspect there might be a
gatekeeper boat around - they have plenty of ships. I might, for
example, run an exercise that would increase transient electromagnetic
noise in the region. Not only would any lurker's ability to detect a few
ships slipping out quietly by greatly reduced, but they'll also pay more
attention to the exercise, in an attempt to get more of an insight of
any new tactics we may be trying. Also, with so many ships exercising,
especially if it was a live fire exercise, it might just intimidate
Torbay into not transmitting even if she finds something is wrong, for
fear of getting detected and being sunk real rapidly."
"I see, sir."
"Wait a second...I might just have an idea. Communications, bridge! Can
we send a secure message via laser-comm to the Akagi and Amagi?"
"Certainly sir, when you're ready."
"Tactical Action Officer, can you come over from CIC to the bridge
please? I've got something I want to discuss with you."

"Akagi and Amagi report contact with enemy fleet, sir. They confirm our
estimates of their composition. We're getting the datalink for their
formation. Do you wish to alter your plan?"
Admiral Kazuaki Shimazaki patiently stared at the tactical display. It
showed four Type A battleships at the center, with ID tags showing their
ID code, position in three dimensions, vector and velocity. Forward were
the cruisers.
"Bring us real close to our battlecruisers," ordered the Admiral, "We
want to hide in their engine wash as much as possible. Order our
battlecruisers to slow to 2.7Gs. And maintain radio silence on all
emitters. Use the laser comm."
"Yes, sir!"
"Enemy sensor signal strength increasing. Bow Type A cruiser signal
strength approaching a thirty percent chance of active detection," came
the call from ESM.
"Very well."
"We'll be in powered weapons range of the enemy battleships in ninety
seconds."
"How long before we're in powered weapons range of the leading enemy
cruisers?"
"Approximately eighty five seconds, sir. What do you wish?"
"Arm Kaitens one and two. Ready them for launch in all respects.
Designate the leading cruisers as targets."
"Sir? I suggest you reconsider. Two missiles would never get past a
FLEET's entire point defense."
"You don't have to understand, TAO. Just obey. Have you reset those
missiles the way I wanted you to?," replied the Admiral.
"Yes, sir," replied the TAO, "Sir, please insert your missile key."
"XO, get your missile key out," ordered the Admiral.
"Yes, Admiral." The two men stabbed the keys into the appropriate slots.
The nuclear warhead on two missiles shifted into PRE-ARM.
"This plan should work." The Admiral stared at his chrono, eighty,
eighty-one, eighty-two, eighty-three, eighty-four, eight-five. Now! The
two men turned their keys.
"TAO! Fire Kaitens one and two."
The TAO pushed the button. Along with the keys, that finished the final
interlock, and the missiles began their flight.
The Kaiten was a liquid-fueled rocket, employing unsymmetrical dimethyl
hydrazine and nitrogen tetroxide as its fuels. It made the weapon hard
to maintain, but it does have its advantages. The cold-launch system
used compressed gases to boost the missile out of the launch tubes. Once
safely cleared, the missile's maneuvering thrusters fired, stopping the
ascent relative to the Yamato's hull and rotating the missile a full
ninety degrees, aiming it onto a precise lead computing intercept
against the designated cruiser. The rocket's main motor then fired,
accelerating the missile at immense speeds.
"Missiles away - both running normally."
Several dozen seconds later, they heard another call, "Admiral, first
stage is exhausted, jettisoning, second stage is firing."
Another couple of minutes passed. The Admiral thought it was strangely
ironic that these missile run times seem to stretch into eternity at
times. Fortunately, the ENEMY was still out of range. The Kaitens,
unlike the Tridents used on American ships, had no reloads. The reason
for that was their longer range, forcing a longer missile body. They
didn't have enough nukes for plenty of reloads anyway.
"The enemy should be doing point defense now. Second stage is exhausted,
jettisoning." This was a VERY long range shot, at the very extreme of
the weapon's capability. But it need only last a little longer before
his plan would work, the Admiral knew.
Closer...better not push it...missile can get shot down any second
now...OK, now! "TAO! Command detonate BOTH missiles."
"Missiles detonated."
The two missiles had been set far enough away from each other that they
BOTH managed to detonate without causing fratricide. The missiles each
only held one warhead - but each was a huge 20 megaton warhead (yes,
they exist in real life, at least until START II).
The result was pure pandemonium on the Race warships. The sudden
explosion of two massive thermonuclear warheads caused two severe
electromagnetic pulses to be set out. The Race warships had many systems
onboard lit up on full. Radar and other sensors were up tracking the
missiles, as were weapons control systems, electronic countermeasures,
and other combat systems. Hit by the EMP pulse, many of them shorted
out, sparkled with sparks, and were either forced into reset or downed.
"Admiral, we're being influenced by the electromagnetic pulse," reported
the sensors officer, "We've temporarily lost contact with all enemy
vessels."
The damage control officer chimed in, "Our ships report fully
operational."
Admiral Shimazaki had predicted all this would happen already. But it
would be best to check it one more time, "Second Captain?"
The Second Captain system, pioneered for submarines some time ago, was a
computerized aid to the commanding officer. It can plot and graph many
things. Officers referred to it all the time whenever they wished help
in plotting or a tactical solution. The Admiral himself used it just an
hour or so before to plot this attack.
"Second Captain, chart the probability distribution of future movements
of the Race battleships."
The computer would now use the last available position, vector and
velocity to try and deduce the area where they're most likely to be in.
"TAO? Use the Second Captain's data, confirm the detonation position of
missiles three through eight. I want the whole zone blanketed."
The TAO looked at the cones and plotted where he wanted each for the
next five missiles to detonate.
"Ready, Admiral. Please insert your keys and turn them."
"Missile keys inserted, turning now."
"Fire!"
Another five missiles streaked from the launchers. They carried a total
of 50 600kT warheads between them. The attack was devastating. There was
no other word for it. The Race warships were just shaking off the
effects of EMP and getting their available systems back on-line and the
warheads streaked through the gap. Though the interference was STILL way
too great for auto or even command guidance, there was hardly a need for
it. 
Aboard the four Race Type-A battleships, crewmen worked at getting the
main search radar back on. They couldn't have missed the 50 warheads in
the terminal part of the flight, of course, but it was no good. Jammers
came on before the PD defenses came back on line, a perhaps fatal
difference. ECM mattered squat the the missiles, who were not under any
form of guidance at all. They just flew into the box, and as their
inertial navigation systems reported that they were in their designated
detonation area, they detonated.
They didn't destroy the heavily armored Type A Race warships - none got
a direct hit. But what happened was more than bad enough. The explosions
severely damaged all four of them. The sensor arrays were almost
literally sheared away. Various hull breaches, occured in the hull. The
ion engine cones at the back were buckled and could not function. The
damage also tripped the power core onboard the Type As, and they all
shut down.
In short, in the space of five minutes, four elite battleships of the
Race, the pride of them, had been turned into little more than scrape
metal and desperate Race sentients struggling to contain the atmosphere
and delay their death.
Along with the loss of the battleships, which, even if towed home, would
probably have to be declared "constructive total losses" and only fit
for scrap, the Race fleet also lost communications with their commander,
their C4I was wrecked and the sheer sight of four dead battleships were
more than most of the fleet could take.
The senior surviving officer still in touch, aboard a Type A cruiser,
ordered retreat, with six frigates acting as a rearguard. Six other
frigates fired their own nuclear weapons to scuttle the Race warships
rather than allow them to be captured. The Yamato, Akagi and Amagi
streaked in.
An hour later, it was all over...

--
By Namothil
==
   "Sir!  Radar reports unidentified ships entering the system."
   Admiral Cheng glanced up from the stack of reports he was reading.  Perhaps
this would give a break from the monotony of this patrol.  "Continue tracking.
Inform me as soon as a positive ident is obtained."  
   "Yes, Sir!"

   Two hours later...
   "Sir, radar has an ID for the opposing fleet.  It's a Race light battlegroup.  
Two cruisers, three destroyers, and six frigates.  Radar believes them to be
older versions, but is not certain."
   Admiral Cheng considered the situation.  Even if those were older ships,
they would still be a threat to his fleet.  And if they were newer designs...
But there was no choice.  Race ships could not be permitted to travel with
impunity this close to New China.  "Prepare for missile engagement.  Close
to maximum effective range.

   Three hours later...
   "Entering Heavy missile envelope now."
   "Cut engines.  Open fire."
   Forty missiles burst out of VLS cells on Mao, and the two escorting Xia
SSBs.  The Race squadron responded with their own missiles.  Chinese and Race
Anti-missile lasers lanced through space, seeking the incoming missiles.  One
after another, missiles flared as one of the questing beams found them.
   "28 Race missiles inbound.  27.  25.  20.  19.  15."  The sensor operator's
regular reports on the number of inbounds were really unecessary, but served to
at least provide an illusion that the men on the bridge of the Battleship Mao
still had control over their fate.  "11.  9.  5.  3.  1... All Race missiles
intercepted."
   The Race fleet was not so fortunate.  The chinese radar operator had been
correct.  All of the Race ships were of the oldest design still in service,
(OOC: Type-C, just to clarify) with the less capable radars and fire control
this implied.  Still, they intercepted thirty-seven of the inbound missiles...
leaving three to smash into their fleet.  One of the cruisers errupted in a 
ball of nuclear fire, as a single two megaton warhead detonated against its bow.
The other two missiles struck lesser combatants, but the blasts were just as
impressive.  Even those ships that were not struck suffered serious sensor 
damage from the EMP effects.
   Meanwhile, the Chinese fleet had continued to close the range.  "Approaching
effective Medium missile range."  the helmsman called out.
   "Fire."
   The two Wuhan class SSGs in the fleet launched their salvoes.  A mere dozen
missiles between them, but, with the Race defensive systems still suffering
from the effects of that massive EMP, it really did not matter.  True, the
targeting was worse.  But the tradeoff was acceptable.  Twelve missiles struck
out.  Three impacted on their targets, and two destroyers flared, destroyed
by a second blast.
   "Enemy strength remaining?"
   "One cruiser, probably damaged.  Five frigates, with varying levels of
damage."
   "Missile reloads?"
   "Mao Heavy cells reloaded.  Xia's do not carry reloads.."
   "Yes, yes.  I know.  Fire all Heavies, and withdraw to extreme radar range."
   "Sir?"
   "We've won.  Now lets go before someone else arrives."
   Sixteen missiles shot out from Mao's VLS cells.  Only one reload remained, 
but it would not be needed.  The Race ships would have been hard-pressed to stop
this salvo even if they had been in peak condition.  As it was, there was no 
chance.  Nine missiles broke through their point defense.  No Race ships 
survived.  But, they sent one last stroke.  One-hundred and fifty medium 
missiles launched from their fleet.  An uncoordinated, and poorly aimed strike.
But still lethal.  Two missiles slipped through all the point defense the 
Chinese fleet could provide, and impacted on the two Wuhans.  Neither survived.

--
By Kyle
==
The Second Battle of Al Madinah
--
Al Madinah Colony System

 After assuming formation with USS Armstrong and the squadron,
HMS Blade and HMS Splendid had both transmitted status reports.
Blade, the Broadsword class Frigate, had completely exhausted her
supplies of medium missiles and had only a handful of light
missiles left in her launchers. 

 Splendid, a Swiftsure class Striker and had completely exhausted
her munitions in the fight. All she had left was her single 16
inch gun. If she ended up using that it was all over anyway.

 There had been some consideration of transferring weapons from
the American ships to the British vessels. But it had been
decided that they didn't have the time. Blade's engines were
damaged and could only produce a couple g's acceleration. It was
doubtful they could maintain separation long enough to remove
weapons from the magazines of Armstrong and load them into Blade
and Splendid before they were forced to engage.

 "Captain, Captain Townsend has transmitted an after action
report. CIC's going over it right now." 

 "I'll go over it later, if CIC sees anything relevant they'll
notify me. For now I all I want to know is how much the Brits
hurt the Lizards."

 "Capital ships only?" He inquired.

 "For now that's good enough. Very well, initial reports showed
that out of eleven battleships only three were combat capable at
the and of the engagements. With two more temporarily knocked out
of action." He paused to double check his facts; "Splendid was
able to break contact with the pursuit force and maneuvered back
into the inner system to observe the Race formation."

 He called up some more information and then continued after
clearing his throat. "Unfortunately it seems that the Race
battleships proved more robust then previously known, the race
were able to bring two Battleships, previously thought to be
beyond repair, to minimal operational status. They then began
salvage operations, destroying anything which couldn't be
salvaged."

 He had to pause for a second to gather his thoughts and to take
a breath before once gain continuing his account of the aftermath
of the First Battle of Al Madinah. "From the force composition
they believe it was a scratch force created from several garrison
units. It would explain the bad coordination and sub par
performance, even by the standards of Race tech."

 Winston interrupted, "What do you think?"

 "Based on the data we've received I'd tend to agree."

 "OK. So they had three fully combat capable battleships, two
heavily damaged battleships barely combat capable and two barely
space worthy battleships. So how come we're only seeing two
battleships, with a light escort?"

 "Yes sir. I was getting to that. Once they'd salvaged what they
could most of the ships left. Since four damaged battleships
would be a tempting target it looks like they decided to send one
of the combat capable battleships along as escort."

 "That clears that up at least."

 "Splendid also reports that they spent several hours
transferring armaments to the remaining ships. It's likely that
they're fully armed."

 That wasn't the best of news, though considering that the fleet
had been mostly Type-C's it seemed likely that they didn't have
any nukes. In the Race Fleet only the Type-A's carried
exclusively nuclear armaments. Type-C's in the main carried
chemical explosives with a few nukes mixed in.

 "Thank you Commander. Tactical, time to intercept."

 "Enemy fleet is closing, assuming no deviations in current
course or velocity enemy fleet will intercept in fifteen
minutes." 

 Winston couldn't allow that. If they maintain the current course
there velocities would force him to close to gun range. He
couldn't do that if he wanted to win.

 The ships were already at battle stations. No need to sound the
acceleration alert. "Helm. Rotate the ship 180 degree along the x
axis." 

 "Yes sir."

 "Communications. Order the task force to begin deceleration
maneuvers at 5m/s/s on Armstrong's initiative."

 "Orders sent. All ships acknowledge." A pause of several
seconds, during which the two British and the four other American
ships, rotated in a maneuver similar to that just performed by
Armstrong. "All ships report ready."

 "Helm. Activate main drive." with the helmsman's acknowledgment
Winston began to feel the forces of gravity once again begin to
act on him. It built slowly and steadily. It wasn't much, just a
little over half an earth standard g. That was all that Blades
engineer was willing to guarantee that the damaged frigates
engines could hold.

 But it was enough. The Race ships couldn't miss the massive
electromagnetic signature of an active Ion drive. The Lizard
commander instantly knew what the human was doing. 

 But he had no choice but to copy the human maneuver. Brining two
fleets of space vessels together in combat was a delicate
maneuver. Much more complicated then the old wet water version.

 If he hadn't slow his fleet to match the human's maneuver then
he would have missed them. If he's altered course and then begun
accelerating he would have blown by the humans at an incredible
relative velocity. Too short for any sort of battle.

 So the humans wanted to make it a long range fight. So be it.
They may have more accurate missile but he had more then enough
to compensate for that. He'd fight quality with quantity. All he
had to do with was reach gun range and it was over.

 For almost two hours the two groups slowly coasted towards each
other in a converging course. Armstrong and the other ships had
secured from general quarters. They'd rested and eaten. When
battle stations were once again called they were ready for the
fight.

 Once gain there had been no chance to reload the British
warships. With the ion drive active the radiation would have
killed any man attempting to move a missile from one ship to
another. They'd mainly sit the fight out. There only was job to
augment the point defense of the Americans, if the battle went
according to plan they wouldn't even fire a shot. If it didn't,
well they'd get to fire their guns. But they wouldn't last long
after that and the American ships would join them in short order.

 "Race ships have entered range of our Tridents sir." A junior
enlisted man announced from one of the stations around the
bridge.

 Armstrong was the only ship in the squadron equipped with the
Trident S6 heavy missile. "Weps, target Cruiser-B1 and launch two
missiles."

 "Aye, aye sir. Missile one away, missile two away." Two slight
thumps were heard as he obeyed orders and the missiles flew
forward.

 "New target; Crusier-B2, fire two missiles.'

 "Target acquired. Missile one away, missile two away." Two more
thumps.

 "Next target. Battleship-C1, fire two missiles." 

 "Target selected. Missile one away, missile two away." Yet
another pair of thumps.

 "Final target, Battleship-C2, two missiles. Fire."

 "Targeted. Missile one away. Missile two away." A final pair of
thumps. Then silence.

 Four pairs of birlliant blue symbols showed on the main tactical
display. Winston watched as they began to close. It was almost
agonizing watching them; they almost seemed to crawl across
space.

 The first pair of missiles was just about to reach extreme range
of the Race's point defense. "All American ships are too begin
launching one screamer drone apiece." 

 The British ships had also exhausted their supplies of ECM
drones. If the odds hadn't been so close Winston would have
probably ordered them out of the system. But right now every
point defense mount and ECM suite counted.

 The five drones immediately began blanketing most of the EM band
with random signals that would confuse any known radar. Only a
few pre selected bands were safe to use.

 Race point defense range suddenly shrunk drastically. The first
pair flew forward as three frigates shot bolts of coherent light
and streams of metal shells. Most missed. One didn't, a single
projectile crashed into the sensitive seeker head in the nose. It
was blinded, but it still moved forward. But now it was relying
on inertial guidance and canned command sets.

 When according to the preloaded plans it should be nearing the
target it detonated, it didn't explode it detonated. Instead it
released seven small Independent Warhead Vehicles. Each IWV had
only limited thrusters and a simple range finding radar.

 The computer brain in each IWV located the nearest target,
adjusted the course as much as possible, and then when it was at
the closest approach detonated.

 Three of the warheads did no such thing. The single shell, which
had knocked out the seeker head, had also knocked these out. The
simple computer brain of one warhead was fooled by the Race ECM
and detonated. In space, no where near a target. The explosion
destroyed another one of the warheads and disabled yet another.
It floated completely inert, now just another piece of space
junk. The final warhead worked perfectly, the radar chose a
target. The warhead closed and then it detonated at the closest
approach to the target. 

 The explosion knocked out a quarter of the sensor on one side of
frigate. The frigate continued to fight.

 The second Trident fared differently. A lucky shell fired by a
frigate didn't hit it. Instead a pair of lasers fired by the very
cruiser it was attacking struck it head on. That was the end of
that missile.

 "Retarget Crusier-B1. Fire three missiles."

 "Aye, aye sir. Target locked in. Missile one away. Missile two
away. Missile three away." A thump had accompanied each comment
as he pressed the firing button.

 "Enemy launch detected." Damn it. Not good. He watched the
bright red of enemy missiles begin to appear. Down in CIC he knew
they were counting the missile and assigning threat value for the
point defense systems.

 "Weps. Target Frigate-C4. Fire one Trident." That particular
frigate was slightly ahead of the remainder of the formation.
Actually just outside mutual support range from the point
defenses of the other race vessels.

 "At first Winston had been confused by the actions of the
frigate. Then he realized what was going on. They were using that
ship as a radar picket. Planning that the humans would be too
busy trying to take out the heavy ships to bother with a little
frigate. 

 Another pair of trident reached terminal range and released the
onboard warheads. Fourteen 300 KT nuclear bombs with minimal
guidance closed on one small cruiser. It's sister cruiser
destroyed three with lasers; a destroyer knocked one out with a
stream of 1 inch shells. The targeted cruiser itself knocked out
four with a combination of laser pulses and gunfire.

 Laser pulses, streams of 1 inch shells and bursts of 4 inch
shells took their toll on the small warheads. Another fell, this
time by a an exploding shell launched by a 4 inch gun. A pair was
destroyed as they flew three the hellish crossfire created by a
battleship, four destroyers and the target cruiser. Three reached
attack range. One was confused by the concentration of ECM and
actually bounced off the hull, causing no damage. The other two
exploded only a split second apart. 

 The twin nuclear fireballs crushed the cruiser and left only a
pile of irradiated wreckage.

 No one on USS Armstrong or any of the other ships in the
squadron had time to cheer. The race fleet had launched One
Hundred and Four heavy missiles. The missiles targeting orders
split them between both USS Armstrong and USS Grizzly. The two
most powerful ships in the formation.

 Now they were entering extreme point defense range. Screamer ECM
drones, and Snooker decoys along other electronic tricks had
reduced the incoming salvo to eighty three missiles.

 "All ships, 5 inch and 4.5 inch guns to point defense. Defensive
Weapons free." All six ships immediate responded. Rocket boosted
5 inch and 4.5 inch shells began to race toward the incoming
missiles.

 Human ships had several advantages over Race ships in the area
of point defense. A lot of it had to do with electronics, better
ECCM so they could find the incomings easier, better ECM to trick
incomings. Better computers to categorize and respond to the
threats. Better targeting systems, better focusing mechanisms for
the lasers, and quicker firing rates for those lasers.

 There was also another reason. Very simple. The race had never
developed rocket boosted shells. This meant human ships could
strike at incoming at ranges much farther then the race could. A
potentially huge advantage.

 One that Winston was now using to it's maximum potential. Twenty
eight 5 inch guns and two 4.5 inch guns were firing Rocket
boosted VT fragmentation shells at maximum rate into the incoming
missiles.

 Not all the shells destroyed a missile, not even most, but the
sheer numbers of exploding shells made up for it. By the time
they reached range of the laser defenses the number of incoming
had dropped from eighty three to fifty four.

 The spotlight shaped laser mounts began to track. Then an
invisible flash of coherent light would flash outwards. Depending
on what happened next they would then swivel to the next target
or fire once again.

 Incoming missiles began to die at a much higher rate. 5 and 4.5
inch shells still exploded, but now coherent pulses of light that
burned holes through the missile bodies as the fragmentation
warheads shredded others joined them.

 "Tridents reloaded. Ready to fire." The twelve missile cells
that launched the Trident heavy missiles were once again ready to
fire. 

 That single cruiser had been the first targeted Race ship
destroyed. The battleships were fine; a few destroyers had taken
minor damage from the destruction of the cruiser. The lone heavy
missile that had been fired last fared well. It reached terminal
range easily and deployed the IWVs. Five of them had reached
attack range and detonated. Nothing was left of the frigate.

 The other missile had either been destroyed or decoyed, most
with out even reaching terminal range. One had been fooled by ECM
into detonation one of it'd warheads before releasing them. The
targeted battleship and been safe but the explosion had knocked
out it's sister behind it, and also destroyed a frigate
completely. He'd noticed an immediate decrease in the Race's
efficiency. But they still had more then enough weapon mounts to
compensate for it.

 Three kills, out of twelve missile fired. Not bad considering
the sheer amount of defenses they'd had to fight through. Of
course one those kills had been a fluke, but still, a kill was a
kill.

 "Select Battleship-C1, and lock on four missiles, Target
Battleship-C2 and lock four missiles. Final target is Cruiser-B1,
four missiles." That would exhaust the ready missiles and would
leave USS Armstrong with only 12 Trident missiles. 

 "All targets locked. Ready to fire." 

 "Fire." Armstrong shuddered as all twelve missiles were ejected
from their launchers and then activated the cold fusion powered
ion drives that accelerated them away.

 "Missile away. Running clean, no failures." When launching a
mass salvo like this it was always possible that the ion wash
from one missile could fry the electronics of another. This time
there were no problems.

 "Status of vampires," an old phrase for incoming enemy missiles.

 "First salvo is closing rapidly. Second salvo is still closing
but is not yet within point defense range." They needed to
destroy this salvo before the next salvo closed. Luckily with he
destruction of the enemy cruiser the second launch had been
smaller then the first one.

 "Number remaining in first wave?"

 "Fourteen, no ten." The numbers had dropped radically, but they
were also much closer. Thank god the race preferred mounting one
big warhead instead of several small warheads. 

 "Blade is engaging incoming with autocannon." US ships mounted
only lasers for point defense work. The Brits also mounted high
speed autocannons; they didn't have the range or accuracy of a
laser. But occasionally the high rate of fire made them valuable.

 Now the missiles were within the US/British formation. The
crossfire ripped all about two missiles apart. Both were headed
straight for USS Armstrong. At least USS Grizzly was safe.

 Winston knew they were too close; he was as good as dead. As
soon as they exploded several megatons would turn his Cruiser
into small chunks of irradiated wreckage.

 Both impacted the hull mere microseconds apart. There was no
flash of nuclear annihilation. The ships took damage, but they
weren't destroyed. The HE warheads penetrated the armor and
knocked out several different sensor and scanners. The damage was
bad but not fatal. A couple days in the yard, at most.

 "Blade was right, they must have used up all of their nukes in
the first battle." Winston said into the stunned silence.
Everyone else was slowly realizing the same thing. They'd all
expected to be dead when the missiles hit.

 "That was the last of that salvo sir, two more salvo's incoming
sir." That was a young enlisted man operating a radar terminal.

 Then his weapons officer, actually a senior NCO "Tridents
reloaded. Ready to launch." Those twelve tridents were the only
heavy missiles in the entire squadron. Once those were gone he
wouldn't be able to respond till they reached range of the MK. 62
medium missiles carried by Armstrong and the other American
ships.
 
 "Lets wait till we see how our second salvo fares, before we
launch." No need to waste missiles by launching against a target
that might be killed by a missile of the second wave. "Launch
another flight of screamers, and ready some more snookers."

 The second wave of tridents had it easier then the first wave.
With two frigates ad a cruiser destroyed the point defense was
much lighter. It was also less accurate, without the superior
electronics of the Type-B cruiser. The leading frigate's loss
also decreased the efficency of the defenses.

 On the bridge of USS Armstrong you didn't see small missile
racing through the void. Or the coherent pulses of light,
exploding shells and streams of autocannon fire. All you saw were
dots of bright green light racing towards other dots of dark red.

 Occasionally a bright green dot disappeared. When the final
green dot disappeared all of the red dots were still there.
"Ready next..."

 One of the red dots had just disappeared. The last missile
hadn't been destroyed; it had released its warheads. "Target
Battleship-C1 is destroyed." 

 "Ahem." he cleared his throat and then continued his previous
sentence, thought the body of what he was going to say had just
changed. "Select targets Cruiser-B1 and Battleship C2. Six
missiles on each target."

 "Selecting targets. Targets locked. Missiles ready to fire."

 "Fire." For the second time the ship shook as it launched the
last of it's trident heavy missiles.

 "Missile away. One failure." The EM pulse from the ion drives
had knocked out one of the Tridents. They were all heavily
protected against such a thing, but nothing was perfect.

 "Dispose if it." Leaving a nuclear missile drifting in the
middle of there own formation was not a good idea. On that
command one of the laser mounts had swiveled and destroyed it.

 A few seconds later the next missile barrage entered range of
the rocket boosted shells once again. The effectiveness of the
allied defenses was even better then before. The better human
computers let them adapt to the Lizard ECCM faster then they
could adapt to human ECM.

 This time only a single missile made it through the interlocking
fire of the point defense network. Still accelerating it slammed
into the number three turret of USS Grizzly. The explosion gutted
the entire turret and knocked out three PD lasers and fire
control radar.

 Armstrong's third launch did not fare as well as her first and
second launches. None of the missiles survived to reach terminal
range of either the cruiser or battleship. They were all
destroyed, with no damage to the race ships.

 Unfortunately the third race launch did much better. It had been
fired a few seconds before the destruction of the battleship and
so was just as large as the second launch. Six missiles made it
through. Four hit Armstrong. Luckily she took no major damage,
just a few emergency radars destroyed and few laser mounts taken
out of commission.

 The damage to Armstrong or Grizzly was hardly directly
dangerous. But it would reduce their point defense capability.
Which would let them take more hits, which would degrade the
defenses more. A spiral eventually ending in destruction, the
trick would be to slow that spiral.

 For forty minutes they continued to close, while the race
battleships and cruiser spitting heavy missiles as fast as they
could. Fortunately with the destruction of the second battleships
they no longer had the ability to saturate the point defense
grid.

 For those forty minutes the American ships were as helpless as
the British ships with their empty launchers.

 The missiles still slashed in till the race emptied their
magazines. In those forty minutes they'd only managed to achieve
two more hits. Now both ships continued to coast towards an
eventual meeting. Neither side able to fire. For ten minutes
nothing happened. Winston couldn't even cancel red alert; it was
possible the race had kept a few missiles in reserve. 

 "Sir. Enemy formation is entering range of MK. 62 medium
missiles." You could hear the relief in his voice. No one liked
being fired out without being able to return fire. It must be
driving the men on Splendid and Blade crazy.

 "All ships are to rotate targets. I want no ship unengaged. Pass
the order on to the squadron, as well as Fire Plan Able." Winston
and his senior officers during had created fire Plan able after
the exhaustion of his Trident heavy missiles. It gave each ship
an initial target and then a list of target they were to engage
in a specific order, it even told them how many missile to fire
and at what rate to fire them.

 It even had contingencies to cover destruction of either enemy
ships, or allied ships. The idea was to saturate not only the
enemy point defense, but also their targeting computers. It
should work.

 "All ships acknowledge and are ready to fire on your orders
sir."

 "All ships, engage the enemy according to Fire Plan Able." 

 Each Destroyer and Frigate fired five missiles. Armstrong fired
six. Each ship fired on a different vessel. Armstrong engaged the
battleship, Grizzly fired on the cruiser, 'Comet fired on a
frigate, Shining Moon engaged a destroyer, and Bright Star also
fired on a frigate.

 Then they fired again, each ship opened up on a new unengaged
target. The salvos were timed so that when the last set of
launchers was emptied the first set was ready to fire again.
Slowly methodically the American ships picked the alien vessels
apart. 

 The first few launches didn't do much, but each additional
launch increased the load on the Race computers. They began to
fall behind, a few missiles started to hit. A destroyer blew up,
then a few minutes later another destroyer, followed quickly by a
frigate.

 The range was still closing though. Race missile were shorter
ranged then human missiles but not that much shorter. They opened
fire, and Armageddon erupted.

 Of course that launch made the computer problem worse fro the
Race ships. Now they had to not only track incoming human
missiles but also there own outgoing missiles.

 Point defense efficiency plummeted as soon as that happened. The
last Race Battleship only got that one salvo of medium missiles
off before four MK. 62 missiles launched by the frigate Wandering
Comet destroyed it. 

 A single missile fired by the destroyer Grizzly closed the
distance and with a single hit destroyed the Type-B Cruiser.

 Unfortunately the massive group of medium missiles launched by
the Race was still homing in on the human warships. Point Defense
reacted, and killed many of them. But they still took heavy
damage.

 Eight missiles struck HMS Splendid. The already damaged ships
engines were completely destroyed, and her side ripped open. She
was dead in space without even a single laser working.

 Two more missiles struck USS Grizzly. One of them demolished the
number one turret, while the second hit the VLS cells. The
explosion completely knocked out her missile armament.

 One missile struck USS Shining Moon. By sheer bad luck the
explosion sent a piece of shrapnel flying through the ship and
killed the entire bridge crew. CIC took over instantly but it was
still a bad hit.

 But once that salvo was over the odds once again turned towards
the Americans and their British allies. The Race was left with
two Destroyers and a single Frigate. 

 The ending almost anti climatic. They opened fire with a
variation of the same firing plan used earlier against the entire
Race fleet. But now it was a cruiser and three frigates attacking
two destroyers and frigate. 

 In short order there was only radioactive debris.

 "Order Grizzly to attach a tow line to Blade. Then rig a tow
line between us and Splendid."

 "Aye, aye sir."

 "Then launch a comm drone to Fleet Command at New Norfolk.
Include all recordings." He considered for a second. "Also send a
drone to Scapa Flow. I'm sure they'd like to know what happened
here"

 "Yes sir. Reading drones. Drones away."

 "We'll set course for Al Ayun and wait for a fleet tender to
arrive. Hopefully either the Fourth or Eighth will arrive before
any more Race ships do."
--
By Colin Witz
==
Task force 'Necabenezer'

The Oldest, hull in the Khalid fleet, she was named after the anchient king
of Babalon, featured prominatly in the Thousand and one nights.  her escorts
Sharzard, Jinn, & the Russian Converted Sub: Baba Yaga were the first OPEC
vessels to discover the Race's attack on their Colony.  Still, the Nec had
been assigned to resupplying a colony, and joining up with one of the new
german SS's her force could at least provide some aid to the defenders of
their beleagured Colony.  It would take several hours for them, to arrive,
however durring that time, the cargo was itemized on what equipment would be
useful.  Of particular interest were a number of technitions and mechanincs
refugees from Afganistan and Pakistan, promised a new world if they could
carve it out for them selves, for the profit of their OPEC sponsors.  They
would soon be risking their lives doing what ever could be done, just as the
five vessels would soon be waging war rather then exploring.

--
By Rob
==
HMS Scapa Flow, Earth Orbit

     Admiral of the Fleet Jordan rubbed his tired eyes and continued to
read the reports in front of him. He had been awake for the past 19 hours,
dealing with the repurcussions of the mornings arrival.
     Somehow a "Marconi" had jumped into the inner system, well within the
boundaries thought possible for Warp engines, it had appeared almost inside
of the Top Secret Pangaea Multi-national research asteroid. The resultant
alarms had just started sounding in Scapa Flow when his Marine Guards had
crashed into his bedroom, picked him up out of his bed and rushed him to
the CIC station in the centre of the Base, arriving there before he had
fully wakened. Since then he, and his staff, had been fully occupied with
that pods message and the circumstances of it's being sent.
     The pod itself had been promptly sent for examination by the
scientists on Pangaea, he knew they were dying to get their hands on it, to
see how it could have arrived where it had, doubtless in an attempt to
improve the Warp drives in Terran Vessels. Or at least the RSN, USN, German
and JSSDF ones, he corrected himself with a small smile. The smile did not
last long though, the reports from Minotaur were not incouraging nor
supportive of any hope that the RSN squadron attached there was still
alive.
     He had already cut orders for a relief squadron centred on HMS
Cerberus to make best speed for Al Madinah, the hope that a Monitor, 3
destroyers, 6 Frigates and 3 Swiftsures  would be suffice to aid the Outer
Colonies (and finally shut up the OPEC minister who had been badgering him
for 2 Hours). It was a large commitment for the RSN, but neccessary if the
Race were sending such large Taskforces. Indeed the building of 4 Frigates
and a Destroyer had been suspended and the resources redirected towards the
commissioning of a "Proper Battleship", all at the orders of the
Government.
     That really got on his wick the most, Politicians reacting in
PR-friendly fashion, the RSN needed those smaller vessels to meet it's
commitments. Yet the Ministers and Bureaucrats felt they needed a ship it
would take twice as long to build, and would need a massive force to act as
escorts (further reducing the numbers of ships available to do the normal
jobs, and making it impossible to rotate ships off duty for repairs and
upgrades), just so the voting public could cheer at soundbites of "Rule
Britannia" and nostalgic nonsense about "a powerful Naval force". The
timing could not be worse, the RSN was finally reaching a balance point
which would allow the building of aggressive fleets in the next 2-4 Years.
They had the money budgetted and the ships set-up, all that planning was
now thrown out the window for the sake of Political expediancy.
     Sighing, he set down the report and closed his eyes, the rest more
neccessary than he would have liked to admit. When he had been younger, and
an idealistically dynamic Captain, he would have thought nothing of being
active for days on end with hardly any sleep. Now he found his mind
wandering after a mere handful of hours spent concentrating on the tasks
ahead, perhaps it was time to think of stepping down; give the young
chargers like Atkins a chance to take the reins and fight the future
battles.

     "Sir?....Sir are you alright?"

     Jordans eye's flew open, startled to find his adjutant standing in
front of his desk.

     "Just..just thinking to myself. Is there something for me?"

     Captain Holt held out a new set of reports for him. "These just in
from the Comms stations Sir. You may want to read the relay from New
Norfolk."

     "Anything bad? Or have they finally made the Soviets accept we are not
testing new weapons in the Inner System?" Jordan was thankful that the USN
had decided to deal with the Soviets reaction to the appearance of the
Marconi, he had his hands full with the Chinese and French.

     "It concerns their actions at Al Madinah. We also received a pod from
the Squadron involved but they got theirs first, they got a report to us
pretty damned quick. Mind you they do like the Stuff we give them from the
V Squadrons collective little escapades. The rest is an Intel briefing and
a condensed Torbay report."

     "Thank you Tom." Jordan took the reports and started to peruse them.
He became aware the Captain Holt was still Stood in front of his Desk. "Was
there anything else Tom?"

     "No Sir..just that perhaps you should read these in your quarters,
maybe even tomorrow morning."

     "Captain Holt, You are well aware that regulations prohibit the
removal of Intel material from official Offices, espescially Torbay's
reports. Now stop pissing around the subject and say whats on your mind!"

     "Very well Sir. Your "thinking" involved a lot of snoring, I think you
need to sleep before you fall down." The young Captain stated, his resolve
plain. He was not going to leave until Jordan agreed.

     "Ah, I hadn't realised I had actually dozed off. Very well I will read
these then get some proper rest. Will that suffice?" He said, ending with a
fatherly smile to take the sting out of his comment.

     "Yes sir, I think that should be just right." Holt said, smiling
himself "With your permission Sir I'll leave you to it."

     "Of course Tom. Go on, get going I won't be much longer here."

     "Very well Sir. I'll inform Sargeant Adams and his men that you will
be leaving the office in the next 10 minutes, give them a chance to sort
themselves out." Holt said, refering to the Marine detail waiting outside
the Office.

     Jordan chuckled as his Adjutant left, well, he was being put in his
place there. Sargeant Adams would of course be very polite when he came in
to "Help" the Admiral to leave the office; polite and unstoppable as a
glacier as he steered his charge outside and back to his Quarters.
     Putting that to one-side, Jordan looked at the report from Intel
first. Well, well.. the Japanese had kept this quiet. A battleship to beat
the band, it must have come close to bankrupting them to build It, and it's
escorts. He whistled at the Audacity that had gone into the planning and
thinking behind this massive ship. It looked like they would see more about
her soon, though god only knows what the Soviets would say about her (not
to mention the Chinese). Moving on he read the Latest on the Soviet Force
and it's tail (Norfolk was very forthcoming on that), and damned if the
Israeli's and the OPEC fleets weren't trying to do the Races job for them.
The Politicians would need to get their fingers out soon about that
situation! He skimmed the rest, mostly fleet and ship movements, and moved
on to the Torbay reports. Hmmm..not much of Earth shattering import, though
doubtless there would be target suggestions derived from this on his Desk
tomorrow. Next he turned to the New Norfolk message.

     Captain Tom Holt had just finished talking with Sargeant Adams,
feeling intimidated by the large Marines presence as always. As he turned
to leave, the Intercom buzzed to life.

     "Miss Turner, tell Captain Holt to get back in here now! I know he's
still there."

     Tom ran into the Office, followed by Adams, and saw a newly
invigorated Admiral Jordan pacing forward from his Desk.

     "Grab a chair Tom, Sargeant send someone to tell my wife I won't be
home tonight, we have a lot to do!"

--
By Kyle
==

Proxima Centauri System 
New Norfolk

 New Norfolk was an odd world. Located in the Proxima Centauri system it
was a world covered entirely in water. It was habitable, there was just
nowhere to place any habitations. The US had claimed it in the first
wave of expansion and soon turned it over to it's Navy.

 With it's vast ocean the planet would provide unlimited fuel for
starships. The Navy named it New Norfolk and began construction of a
large base. The entire system was declared off limits to anyone but
approved Navy traffic.

 Some of the most powerful defenses ever built, excluding Earth and
maybe New China, were placed in orbit. Hundreds of Minuteman IV Extended
Range Heavy Missile launchers guarded the planet. Several hundred small
PD Laser satellites also guarded the planet. 

 When New Norfolk had been founded the US Navy had only had a couple
dozen Strikers. But they'd been planning for the future. The US was
going to have to expand the Navy at a rate not seen since World War Two
if they hoped to maintain the lead in space exploration. 

 The first encounter with the Race several years later had only
emphasized that fact. The US only posssesed three ship yards capable of
building interstellar space craft. The first shipyard had been the
converted sub yards in Groton Conneticut. A second shipyard had then
been built in the L5 point off earth. The newest shipyard was New
Norfolk.

 The Groton Naval Yard had been a conversion of the previous Electric
Boat Company Yards, and had been used to convert the entire fleet of
Submarines into Strikers. Once that was completed the yard was converted
to civilian use and sold off.

 The Lunar Yards had been a mojr undertaking with dozens of civilian
contracotr sworking with NASA, Navy Seabee's and the Army Copr of
Engineers. It began building ships even as it was being built. Most of
the current US Navy space fleet had been built at the Lunar Yards.

 The New Norfolk Naval Yard had been built with a much smaller
expenditure of capital. The sytems three asteroid belts had been mined
for ores to either directly build the yard, or to finance it's
construction. 

 It had tkaen a much longer time to build the yards at New Norfolk. But
now wiht there completion they made a huge icnrease in hips production
capability. While the Lunar Yards, for now, still had more slips then
New Norfolks they didn't have the capacity for larger vessel that New
Norfolk did.

 The Lunar yards were designed to build a fleet, fast. So they
concentrated on a large amount of small slips. This let them build upt
eh fleet, but it also menat that they could only build two vessels
larger then a heavy cruiser at the same time.

 Now with New Norfolk coming online the Lunar Yards would be mainly used
for Frigate and Destroyer construction with Battleships, and various
Crusiers being built at New Norfolk. According to the long range plan
once New Norfolk had enough capacity the Lunar Yards would be converted
to civilian uses and then sold off.

 For now New Norfolk was working to building several new capital ships.
While Luna worked on escorts.

 The New Norfolk Defense Squadron was actually a more powerful formation
then the Earth Defense Squadron. The NNDS was made up of the Battleship
USS Leyte Gulf and Large Cruiser USS Reagan, the EDS had the Battleship
Coral Sea and Heavy Cruiser USS Falcon. 

 Neither was a huge formation. Both formations also had a rotatation of
Striker squadrons assigned to it. All Striker squadrons rotated defense
duty guarding Earth and New Norfolk. That way there was always one
Striker Squadron on duty in each system.

 The US prefered a more forward defense, the majority of the United
States Space Navy was deployed along the Race border. If Earth was
attacked the EDS would be augmented by several Patrol and Striker
Squadrons, not to mention the various NATO, Soviet, Indian, Japanese,
and possibly Chinese and OPEC fleets.

 If New Norfolk was attacked it would be a much chancier thing. The
Royal Navy had a fleet base in Alpha Centauri, that was only a few
minutes away by Space Warp. Both had agreed to assist in any attack on
the other. Until the Navy was up to full size that would have to do.
They were just stretched to thin to do better.

 Fleet Admiral Bates was the officer commanding New Norfolk and Chief of
Naval Operations. He was the senior naval officer of the United States
Navy. There were only political appointee's and elected opfficeial above
him the chain of command. To be precise, the Undersecratary of the Navy,
the Secratary of Defense and the President of the United States that was
the entirety of his chain of command.

 Right now he was under incredible strains. The build up of the US Navy
was nececsary if they wished to prosper and to protect not just the US
from opther human powers adn to preotect Humanity from the Race. He was
chronically short of ships and officers to command and crew them. 

 The completion of his new shipyards would solve one of those problems.
But teh shortage of traiend officers would only be corrected by time,
fortunately the expansion into space had once again inspired young men
and in this day even young women to join the Navy, but it still took
time to train them.

 The build up of Task Force Six was making the situation even worse.
Task Force Six had launched with one Battleship and five Strikers, one
of them the Heavy Striker USS Ohio. After the engagement with the race
fleet USS Halsey had been joined by the USS Philippine Sea, together
they were formed into the First Battle Squadron. Philippine Sea had been
escorted by the Fifth Striker Squadron and together they begaun an
agressive patrol of the border once it was obvious that the Soviets were
leaving human settled space. The provisional squadron previosly
escorting Halsey had been disbanded had resumed independent patrols.

 He'd also ordered the First Striker Squadron to be assigned to Task
Force Six. That single Task Force had a large fraction of the Navy's
total striking power. Two Battleships and Two Striker Squadrons were a
large proportion of the Navy's assembled firepower. 

 Then had come the news from Al Madinah. The Second Patrol Squadron had
seen heavy action and would be out for an unknown period of time. He'd
immedialty ordered a Fleet Tender to rendevous with the sqaudron and to
expediate repairs. He needed that squadron, his ships were stretched all
over the border. He was even considering ordering the Seventh Striker
Squadron to the border and leaving New Norfolk without a Striekr
Squadron to reinforce the Defense Squadron.

 To many emergencies, not enough ships. At least he had his ace in the
hole, at least he had Farragut...

--
By Kyle
==
USS Maryland
Ohio class Heavy Striker

 "Detecting radar emissions dead ahead."

 "ID?" 

 "Computer classifies target force as two Type-A destroyers and six
Type-B Frigates." A standard Race 'customs' patrol group, they'd
intercept any primitive ships and investigate the cargo, and take a
standard "tax." They did it with all primitive ships, not just those
belong to subject species. They were also  supposed to locate and engage
any human raiders.

 This time the raiders had found them. USS Maryland was armed with
twenty four Trident S6 Heavy missiles. With a single launch she could
hit the eight warships and destroy them from far beyond there range.
Neither design mounted heavy missiles. 

 The Ohio class had a tremendous punch. But it was only good once per
mission. After that she had to rendezvous with a tender or fleet base to
replenish her missile load. She'd have no problem wiping this patrol
out, but was it worth it, twenty four heavy missiles would be overkill
on such a small force. Sometimes a target was too small too bother
destroying.

 "Let's wait and see. This force is too small to be worth attacking. But
we'll wait and see if they get any reinforcements, or any valuable
targets arrive."

 "Yes sir. Permission to cancel General Quarters?"

 "Granted." For now USS Maryland would stalk her prey. If nothing better
came along in a couple days they'd leave and look elsewhere for a worthy
target.

 Fifteen hours later. "New targets. Several ships have left warp and are
meeting with the patrol group." 

 "I need an ID on those ships. Are they race vessels or primitives?"

 "Three Race vessels. I'm getting a definite ion trace from the engines.
Judging by the amount of radiation being emitted and the observed
performance I'd call all three Type 7 Heavy Freighter/Transports." That
was the largest vessel class known to exist, dwarfing even human and
Race battleships. It could carry huge amount of valuable materials, or
even a full invasion army. 

 Whatever they was carrying it was definitely a valid target, and a
potentially valuable one. Not that they'd ever know. "Arm Warheads and
lock targets."

 "Arming warheads. Targets locked and ready for launch."

 "Plot a course to the barrier wall. Minimum time." Before launching
it's Tridents a Heavy Striker would always plot a way out of there. It
would be immediately activated following launch. They'd also launch
several screamer drones and snooker decoys at the same time the missiles
were fired.

 "Fire."

 One hour later. "Ready to engage supralight drive system." USS Maryland
was leaving the barren star system. Her missiles had dispatched the
enemy ships in short order and she'd then dropped from an emergency
eleven g sprint acceleration to a more controlled .5g as she cruised
away in safety.

 "Warp drive to 55% percent and activate."

--
By Pablo
==
As the Second Fleet dropped from warp, Sanchez stared at the sensor
readouts.  He glowered at his political officer, but he quickly understood
the situation.  "So, we already know where their homeworld is, don't we?"

The political hack grinned.  "Yes, we do.  And now, we will make a decisive
strike.  A victory at this stage may mean total capitulation by the Race."

"I doubt that.  But, it will throw their alliance to pieces.  Inter-species
relations can never be strong enough to withstand such a defeat," Sanchez
said quietly.


Aboard the bridge of the Jimmy Carter, the captain's eyes went wide.  The
sensor board flashed red with the number of contacts.  This was the largest
mobilization he had ever heard of, let alone seen.  Another Soviet fleet had
been waiting for rendezvous.  The Lenin herself was there, with another
Sevastopol class.  There were indeterminate numbers of other ships, but at
least three more Typhoons were there.

Something big was going down.  Something very big.  He was torn between his
orders to moniter the Soviet fleet, and his duty to inform the US of the
massive movements.  He had to make a decision, possibly the most important
of his career.

--
By Kazuaki
==

ABOARD THE BRIDGE OF THE USS JIMMY CARTER
The Captain had finally made up his decision. He will track them until
he can determine their exit vector, but he will NOT follow them into
warp. Instead, he'll report the contact, with a last exit vector. He
already learned something from his last failure to track them.
Regardless of his superior electronics and stealth, if the Soviets
wanted to dupe him, it is all too easy.

"Captain, they've warped," reported the sensors operator curtly.

"Can you get their exit vector?" asked the Captain.

"Yes, sir. The numbers are..." the sensors operator rattled off the
values.

"Communications, Captain! We're breaking EMCON! Stuff our location,
present condition, and the Soviet exit vector!"

"Captain, comms, we copy."

ON THE BRIDGE OF THE YAMATO, ONE HOUR LATER
"Incoming communications, Admiral," reported the communications
Lieutenant.

"Very well, bring it forward when you have it decoded."

"Yes sir."

A few minutes later, the message was in the Admiral's hands, and he
began to read. The message was pretty short:

"SOVIET TASKFORCE REPORTED BY US FLEET AT THE COORDINATES... ON
VECTOR... THE US SPACE COMMAND HAS RESPECTFULLY REQUESTED THAT WE ASSIST
THEM IN TRACKING THE SOVIET FLEET. INTERCEPT THE SOVIET FLEET AT THE
EARLIEST POSSIBLE OPPORTUNITY. DO NOT REPEAT DO NOT ALLOW YOURSELVES TO
BE DETECTED"

There it was, thought the Admiral, the Americans were finally stretched
beyond their means. But in truth, sending his ship made a HELL of a lot
of sense. His ship was one of the most heavily armed vessels known, and
had just won a stunning victory over the Race just days ago. Besides,
she was the closest Allied heavy unit (US, Japan, British) that can
provide a reconnaisance in force.

The Admiral straightened his uniform and turned to the Navigator, "Plot
me a course to intercept the Soviet Task Force track."

As was usual, the Navigator consulted the Second Captain computerized
system, which presented a wide range of options based on how close the
Admiral wished to go and based on various estimates of Soviet sensor
range and their known sensor range. The computer analyzed the likely
Soviet Speed of Advance, and a vector and velcoity was plotted.

"Admiral, on this course, we should be able to engage them at 0600
tomorrow morning, outside their sensor range, but not out of OURS,"
reported the Navigator.

"Good, we have them. Engage Warp, 100% Field Strength. Signal Akagi and
Amagi."

--
By Kyle
==
Task Force Six
USS Halsey.

 Task Force Six. Task force? Hah! It was a task group, a small task
group at that. As for six, that was nothing more then an intelligence
ploy, like Seal Team Six in the late 20th century. It was supposed to
convince the Soviets and the Race that the US Navy was a lot bigger and
meaner then it really was. Knopf understood the need, and even approved.
But he was rapidly getting fed up with waiting.

 But even with all of that Task Force Six was still the largest
formation in the US Navy. It was a superb offensive weapon. There were
very few Race formations that he couldn't defeat. So what did the
politico's have him doing? Patrolling, like they didn't have enough
independent Strikers, Striker Squadrons and Patrol Squadrons already
doing the exact same thing.

 Defense wouldn't stop the Race. The longer they stood of the defensive
the more time they had to catch up with human technology. They had to
strike, hard. The raids by Striker's were hurting them, but they needed
to ram something down the Race's collective throat. And then rip that
throat out.

 He was ready. The Task Force was ready, but command wouldn't let them
go. They were afraid of what would happen if they got hit by a large
Race fleet. A dozen Type-B battleships and escorts could destroy TF6. 

 "Damn it." He knew he was ready, but he also knew that Admiral Bates
was right. TF6 wasn't powerful enough yet for a full scale deep strike
mission, and the Navy wasn't yet strong enough to support a full scale
offensive either.

 The last transmission from Bates at New Norfolk had been very
informative. USS King should finish fitting out any day and would meet
with another ship to form the Second Battle Squadron. He wondered what
ship it was going to be? Was Leyte Gulf going to be pulled from the New
Norfolk Defense Squadron? It wouldn't be Coral Sea, the Earth Defense
Squadron needed to be reinforced, not depleted.

 The Second Battle Squadron would then be assigned to TF6, and if they
got the Second Patrol Squadron back to combat readiness without too much
fuss it would also be assigned to TF6 and put under his command. 

 The Third Patrol Squadron was finishing a minor refit at the Lunar
Yards and would also be assigned to his command when is had finished.
The Second Battle Squadron would be the last of his reinforcements to
arrive. But once it did he was authorized to commence "Low risk strikes
on high value enemy targets." 

 It would have to do. But raids, no matter how damaging, weren't enough
to defeat the Race alone. They needed to combine it with a general
offensive. But no single Earth nation had that kind of power.

--
By Phong
==

No single Earth nation had the power to mount a general offensive against
the Race. Since the beginning of the war, the Human offensive against the
Race was, at best, fragmented. Even the Allies' cooperation was limited
to intelligence and system defense - not a crushing grand offensive
straight through the enemy's empire. 

It didn't help that the Soviets, Chinese and Indians wouldn't lend much
help either. They would go off and do whatever they thought was best, the
latter two colonizing and defending, the former on raids and convoy
strikes - at least to the best knowledge of the rest of the world. 

That didn't mean that the enemies of Humanity were similarly crippled by
such fragmented offensives. The Race Alliance was immense, and while many
ships were unsuited for serious combat, that didn't stop them from being
useful as transports, as the Humans discovered in 2010 CE. 

Many 'Primitive' ships were rapidly approaching 1970s level technology as
the Race became more desperate. Repeated setbacks had tarnished their
image as the ultimate powerhouse, a species to be respected, a species
that would crush you with little thought. A species that needed that
image. And a species that would go to any length to maintain the status
quo. 

In warpspace, dozens of the largest transports ever seen in the sector
cruised through space, escorted by an immense fleet. A fleet whose
existance was totally unknown to all agencies. For while the Race was
overconfident about the humans, they weren't total fools and had a
contigency fleet ready. One that was mobilizing, carrying cutting-edge
technology. And if there was one arena where the technological advantage
of the Humans was smallest, it was ground combat. 

The Humans had a technology lead on the ground - a smaller one, but the
Race had their own tricks. Holography was a fact of life, and in many
cases more useful than the high-definition flatscreens in use on Earth.
Chain of command was deeply ingrained in their culture, far moreso than
the Humans. They implemented UV sensors as well as the IIR and MMW-radar
common on Terran tanks. But what they lacked was real-world military
experience. For the Human Race had been fighting each other for thousands
of years, gaining more and more experience in the bloody art of war. 

Earth's defenders were confident of their defenses. North America alone
had thousands of Surface-To-Low-Orbit missiles (SLOM) and dozens of huge
Surface-to-Deep-Space Missiles (SDSM). A new command bunker, buried deep
under the Rockies and heavily reinforced had been constructed. Similar
defensive measures spanned the world. 

Two weeks from Earth, an advanced, powerful fleet cruised to their
invasion point. And this fleet was more than capable of breaking through
Earth defenses and landing at full strength. Their targets, Siberia, the
Great Plains of America, Argentina, The Sahara and South Africa, the
Middle East, Australia, Japan, Great Britain and Germany. 

--
By Pablo
==
RACE HOME SYSTEM
SOVIET CODENAME: SERPENT'S LAIR

The second fleet took the Race totally by surprise.  They had gone to great
pains to conceal the position of their homeworld, like any sensible species.
After all, it was not unusual for a space-faring culture's industry to be
heavily concentrated around one planet.  It was thus for the humans and any
myriad number of other species.  The Race itself was comparitivly less
dependent on its home system.  Still, a blow there would cripple them badly.
So, they had hidden their home from even the most trusted of their allies.
But now, the upstart humans had found them.  The defense fleet was
formidable, with nine battleships, eighteen cruisers, and escorts, but it
was unprepared for this shocking development.

As the stunned Race fleet scrambled to defend, the Soviet fleet was more
than ready.  Two Typhoons launched six heavy missiles apiece.  The 500
kiloton weapons roared in at full burn.  The Race targeted the projectiles,
and prepared to blast them as soon as they entered the range of their PD
lasers.  There was no small measure of surprise and consternation when the
engines on the missiles winked out, and their heat signature quickly dropped
below detectable levels.

The race ships turned their radar to full gain, desperately trying to locate
the missiles.  But the nuclear weapons would not be cooperative.  Specially
designed with radar-defeating shape and paint, they might as well have been
invisible.  They probably would not have defeated American, British, or
Japanese radar, but they were effective enough for the task at hand.  All
the same, three were destroyed on approach, more from luck than skill.  But
nine of them were more than enough.

Using pre-set timers, they detonated at precise positions within the race
fleet.  Four battleships simply evaporated, they and their escorts turned to
scorched hulks of iron.  Another seemed undamaged, but it and the escorts
slowly drifted out of formation, their crews slaughtered by intense
radiation.  Another was severely damaged, probably out of the fight.  It
retreated away from the deadly Soviet fleet.

--

ABOARD THE USSR ENGELS

Sanchez allowed himself a tight smile at the effectiveness of the stealthed
missiles.  They had performed better than expected, and had evened the odds
against the Soviet fleet.  Unfortunately, they were still outnumbered.  He
called out orders, "Have the Alfas and six Akulas move forward and attack,
but don't let them get to far.  Allow the Oscars firing discretion, and keep
the Kilos and remaining Akulas behind to guard the Typhoons.  They must
survive for the bombardment operation."

The comm officer nodded.  "Yes sir. And the Sierras?"

"Keep them in reserve for the moment.  We have too few to throw them in yet.
We and the Kursk will wait until the attack boats have broken up the enemy's
resolve a little more, them we will strike."

Aboard the Lenin, Admiral Rozov was undoubtedly issuing similar orders.  The
battle group that had arrived with the Lenin consisted of the battleship
herself, another Sevastopol (the Stalingrad), three Minsk Cruisers, eight
Soviet Class Frigates, and three Typhoons.  It was a heavy concentration of
Capital Ship firepower, but it lacked the fast striking power afforded by
the light boats.  Sanchez considered that a bad move on Rozov's part, but he
would obviously not say so to the influential naval officer.  The Admiral
generously donated three of the frigates and a cruiser to assist the Engels
and Kursk.

--

The Second fleet's Oscars began firing missiles with relish, attacking from
beyond the range of the Race weaponry.  Although some missiles were
obliterated before they could impact, they inflicted casualties on the
already reeling Race ships.

The Alfa class ships were formidable.  Although they had a massive engine
and heat signature, their speed and ferocious power was enough to cause
severe damage.  The USSR Gorky roared in at a group of three enemy frigates.
It fired three missiles.  One was picked off as it flew through the ether,
but the other two impacted splendidly.  They ripped gaping holes in their
targets, peeling back the steel hulls and exposing delicate reptilian bodies
to hard vacuum.  Unfortunately, the Gorky was not the luckiest ship in the
Soviet navy.  The surviving frigate fired with all guns, the shells ripping
the Gorky's hull to pieces.  Though not totally destroyed yet, the Gorky
could not maneuver or fire, and was nothing more than a useless hulk.
Vengefully, the frigate hit the crippled ship with a light missile, turning
it into an expanding cloud of super-heated metal.

She was the first Soviet loss of the battle, though she would not be the
last.

--
By Rob Wilson
==
HMS Stirling, Warp space enroute to Race Middle Territories
Time 3 weeks before Al Madinah Incident

In the rear area's of the converted Sub, a meeting was starting. Six men
stood amidst 4 tables, on each of which was 1 large and 4 small
model landscapes and accompanying maps, their attention however was fixed
on a small portable table set up in the middle of the room. Every man had a
chair but choose to stand, their seats instead serving as resting places
for their Mugs of hot drinks (Tea and Coffee) and heaped plates of
sandwiches and biscuits. The only officer present brought the general
murmur to a halt and began speaking to the other five.

    "Right, look in. I realise you are all fucked off with the stupid level
of OpSec on this mission; even for this Regiment." he paused as they all
made their feelings plain "Yes, alright. I can assure you this is a beauty
of a mission."

    "First of all, Security. Sarn't Hope in the event of this vessel being
critically damaged during this O group you are to destroy the models
present, Sarn't Norwell will assist. Colour Samuels, you will secure and
destroy all the maps, Sarn't Wilson to assist. Co'ral Harper, you will
destroy all the sigs info pertaining to the mission, and I will destroy the
Orders. Everyone clear? Good." Captain Evans took a sip of his coffee, then
leant forwards. "Boys, this is a sweet Op. We do this right, we have an
affect on how this whole war pans out." He could see their eye's changing,
gone were the human qualities of warmth and joviality, now all there was
showing was pure professional interest. He leant back slightly, picked up
his TAM and began the O group proper.

    "Operation: Civic Patrol"

    "Tasks And Organisation. Sarn't Hope you command OP 2, Sarn't Norwell
OP 3, Colour Samuels OP 4 and I have OP 1. Sarn't Wilson is our Sniper Det
commander. Co'ral  Harper is sigs det on this mission and will cover
Callsigns at the relevant point." He looked up to check that everyone was
with him so far.

    "Ground. The Planet is called RMSP 435, apparently this means something
to the planners, fuck all to us." he sighed without looking up " Go ahead
Harper, please educate the rest of the class."

    "Boss. It means Race Middle Space Primitive 4th section 3rd system, 5th
planet." The Corporal informed everyone, largely talking to himself.

    "Fucks sake, somebody take his bastard books off him. His learning
things"

    "Worse than that, he's trying to educate US"

Evans let the talk die away, it was a constant sourse of amazement that
though these were very professional men; the best soldiers in the world as
far as he was concerned. This was their eternal idea of an organised
briefing, the banter seeming totally out of place next to the intense
attention from their eye's; almost as if it was a programme entitled
'Personality' that ran on automatic whilst the brain concerned itself
wholly with the Orders.

    "Ok. 435 has a temperate climate, and the areas we will be operating in
will be subject to moderate rainfall. We can expect lightly wooded area's
backing on to civic area's, low level vegetation and relatively flat land."

The room seemed to become smaller, no bigger than it's six occupants. The
five listening intently to the Sixth, as all the various aspects were
covered. The banter that erupted sporadically around among the group
seemingly belonging to another place. over the course of an hour they had
covered the whole of the Situation briefs and move on to the Mission phase.
The quiet in the room, at the stated mission, aquired a new level, almost
tangible; a seventh
presence. This continued through the Execution phase, the group moving from
one table to another as each Individual OP commander was given a breif on
his area of operation in detail. His target area's pointed out and mission
specific objectives highlighted. Each man looking at his own table before
they moved on to the next, in his mind he would start to work out his
routes of insertion and extraction and possible OP sites.
Another hour passed, everyone now totally engrossed in their planning.
There
was no other sound but the Captain talking and the men writing their notes.
Eventually they moved back to the central table, drinking the, now cold,
drinks.

    "Co-ordinating Instructions. At 2000hrs you will each start to rotate
your teams through here. Sarn't Hope your bunch first, you'll get 2 hours
each to begin the prelims. Get the orders through to them and start going
over the models and maps in cursory detail. 0800hrs tomorrow the planning
of your routes begins in earnest, you and your teams are the only people
allowed in here for the rest of the journey. 1400hrs tomorrow I want a
detailed first run at your plans. We have 144 hrs til H hour gentlemen, I
want this done right. Now Sarn't Wilson's been stood here like a second
dick so I suppose I should let him give his Sniper Team Assignments. Carry
on."

    "Eye,eye. Someone fetch the CokeBottle Glasses, the sniper needs to see
his notes."

    "Fucking good job your in the Army Colour, Green suits you."

    "Thats Colour Sargeant to you Bushboy."

The Banter returned and with it the air got bluer. Sargeant Wilson gave
everybody the names of the Sniper Detachment members that would be acting
as overwatch to each OP. As the names were announced, they were accompanied
by a mixture of groans and laughs plus a very enthusiastic "Thank Fuck for
that" from Sarn't Hope.

When Wilson was finished, Corporal Harper gave out the signal plan, Codes
and freqs. Also covering noduff sigs loss procedures and ECCM details.

Captain Evans stepped forwards when Harper finished. "Ok gentlemen, Hope
you have 3 hours before your reprobates need to descend on this place,
everyone but Sarn't Wilson is dismissed. Remember, not a word of this
leaves this room, Ever!"

     "Damn, there goes my autobiography."

    "Right, Norwell. Like anyone wants to read your subliterate ramblings."

    "If I'd understood that corporal, the chances are you'd be eating with
a straw."

The Talking continued as the men left. Only the Mission Commander and the
Sniper Det Commander were still there. The length of the Sniper O group
meaning they would be there for at least another 2 hours. If the young
sargeant had been surprised before when he had heard the general orders,
his jaw went slack when he heard the snipers orders for the Prep For
Extraction Phase.

******************************************************************

RMSP 435, System space
19 days before Al Madinah Incident

The vessel in orbit around this planet were all type c's, old third rate
Race castoff's, and the pride of the resident Primitive species Armada.
This was their homeworld, insignifigant in the grand scheme of things, or
at least that is what the Race thought. The only reason this species rated
such advanced (for them) ships was because they were old Vassals of the
Race. The Homeworld even held a Race-run Outpost, mostly a military
establishment though over the years it had spawned a growing civilian Race
settlement.

The scanning systems were good by Race Standards, but not comprehensive in
their coverage. The Ships did their best to fill the gaps, but there was
only so much they could do. Indeed when the 7 Subs had appeared in system,
in positions predetermined by Torbays earlier scans; and then spent 2 days
drifting insystem, they had not had a ship approach within 700,000Km of
them. Now they started to move into the positions called for in their
mission plans, this was the hardest part. They had been drifting in, widely
seperated to minimise the chances of a return off their massed formation.
Now though the plans called for 3 to move perilously close together, all
without any comms and relative positioning info only derived from 1 burst
between them 48 hrs previously. The computers onboard working out likely
drift rates and positions. As it turned out, they were not too far off the
marks, the CEP of placement was 65m, yet each was within 12 metres of where
the others thought they were. Slowly the rear hatches on HMS Victorious
opened and the Pods slowly released in the standard staggered "V"
formation. As
Momentum carried them forwards Victorious changed course to Starboard and
began to move away slowly from them. Immediately abaft her, Stirling and
Sennybridge continued forwards, their Skippers watching the mission timers
and waiting for the show to start. The 2 Swiftsures were very different
from their Class Sisters, they had a cowling running back from the Conning
Towers that was just slimmer than the width of the vessel and extended to
within metres of the stern. Despite this addition (or more correctly
because of it) they were more stealthy than their Sisters, the mission
profile they were expected to preform called for it. As Victorious and 2 of
her Trafalgar escorts continued to put space between themselves and the
"gift" heading insystem, the third Trafalgar had almost finished the
braking maneouver she had started 12 hours ago. The Boomer and escorts were
also heading insystem but were now at a tangent to the approach of the
Pods.

After 40 minutes of slow acceleration Victorious and Her companions
announced their presence to all. Their Screamers and Sirens blasted out
followed by a positive torrent of Cripples and Crossbows, the space around
the orbit of the Planet becoming alive with ECM, CIWS fire and Decoy
clouds. Explosions began to dot across space as hit after hit rolled in
both for the point defences and, slowly increasing, the missiles on
targets.

As Pandemonium struck the Terminator of the planet and the ships there, the
other Type c's began to move around to meet these impudent assaulters. 5
minutes later the Pods opened, as each opened it fired it's load of
Narwhals. These bulbous-headed Missiles, 5 to a Pod, streaked away at
seemingly insane G's. Followed by a Screamer from both Swiftsures. Indeed
these boats, secured for Acceleration and Hard Maneouvering, were now
moving forwards under a constant 8 G's. Nothing compared to the missiles,
but more than enough for the occupants.
The Planetary defences on this side of the planet were, to be generous,
pathetic! The Race Facility was on the nightside and so were the bulk of
the Defences.

It wouldn't have mattered in any event, well outside of Planetary Weapons
reach, the Narwhals fell apart. From the head of each 20 Kinetic energy
Harpoons spread out, each made from composite materials; a soft ablative
outer layer with a hardened core.

Well behind them, inside each cowling, 4 small vessels unhooked from the
Sterling and Sennybridge, the 6 occupants of each feeling the 8 G's.
However when the signal reached the bridges of their carriers, they then
pushed forwards at 9 G's leaving the vessels behind and then turning away.
The vessels continued on to the planet, no give aways to their existence.

The harpoons hit the atmosphere at Hypersonic speeds, the outercoatings
stripping away, it would play it's part soon, the inners still inbound for
the ground. The speed of the Insertion started to ablate even the cores
adding more material to the Wave behind them. The reduced cores fell in a
predetermined pattern on preselected targets. In the planetary Capital the
defence officers could only watch as their blind-fired missiles (the
inbounds were far too fast for the computers to give accurate target
solutions) were smashed by the Hypersonic blastwave travelling along just
in front and around the Harpoons. Some of the younger officers started to
cheer as they noticed that the Harpoons would strike 5 miles away from the
City, the older Officers were not so optimistic.
The remenants of the Harpoons struck the ground in a rough semi-circle
10miles across, hitting at a slight angle both the angle and the
semi-circle faced towards the city. The Ground rippled, in waves 25m high,
the ripples moving towards the city. To those inside it must have looked
like the ground had become water, though the shock of the impact had
knocked all off their feet. The waves struck, or rather the city leapt,
becoming part of the wave. Building flying apart, and people smashed to
bits, and still the worst was to come. The ablative material had slowly
dispersed, becoming a cloud, unfortunately it was a cloud headed to the
ground at high Mach numbers. The overpressure generated was massive
reaching over 100 bars before finally dissapating, of course by the time
it hit 90 bars the air had combusted and the pressure diffierences fed a
firestorm the like of which had never been seen before.  The passage of
this
material had been the most important part of the operation, it caused
massive ionisation of the atmosphere causing electrical storms that raged,
not just over that continent but spread around the world.

It was under this natural jamming that the SAS vessels fell into the
atmosphere, their blazing trails lost in the incredible light and
electricity displays in the skies. As they neared the ground they started
to move into controlled flight, and headed round to the nightside. The
occupants feeling that the sheer unimaginable destruction caused, was a
suitable level of distraction for their insertion, nobody could accuse them
of being self-effacing or humble.


RMSP 435, System space
9 days before Al Madinah Incident

Slowly the Vessels lifted off, and headed out to space. They had to take a
slow and very lazy route out of the atmosphere. Though the attack 10 days
before had effectively removed all the sensors around the planet, the few
remaining ships had sensors, and were not shy about using them.
Onboard his vessel, Sarn't Wilson stared at the new additions to the
stowage area. Getting the local Electronic equipment had been easy (really
it was just Government sponsored theft), he was surprised at the diversity
of the items he and the other Snipers had been told to collect. Everything
from Calculators to handheld Game machines and even timepieces. Not just
from the indigenous species but from the Race Facilities as well. That had
been a shock to him in the O group, but not the biggest. No, the
Unconscious
reptilian, bound and secured in place held that honour. When that part had
been announced to him he had thought it a joke, they knew nothing about
Race Physiology and strength. If they had tried this and blown it, then the
previous 9 days of stealthy observation and notetaking would have been for
nothing, as would the lengths taken to insert and extract them without the
Race knowing about it. Still, after days of additional planning Each Sniper
pair had been prepped for this as well as their overwatch missions. There
had been no "Bugout" or "Charlie,charlie 1" calls on the Sigs net,
therefore they had all managed to complete their missions without discovery
or immediate loss (permanent loss would not be known till everyone was back
onboard the Subs).

The vessels and their prescious cargo's continued the 26 hr slightly
powered drift to the waiting Swiftsures.

Scapa Flow, Earth Orbit
1 day before Al Madinah Incident

The Sterling docked slowly and the prisoner and materiel transfer was made
under incredible security (the SAS team members leaving her as well for a
complete detailed debrief, to join the one they had gone through after they
had boarded her on completing their mission), as she pulled away
Sennybridge moved into place.

All had not gone as smoothly as hoped. 5 men
had been spat on by the Race members captured, and it seemed the
neuro-toxins contained in the venom used was enough to cause a pain like
being burnt alive over your whole body. All 5 men were lost, and the Race
prisoners now had bags on their heads. Also it was found they had
retractable spines on their forearms and shins. However they were being
sent to Pangaea for further study. The Materiel joined them, the study of
which would give some idea's as to the Race design philosophies (if they
had Warp what else had they discovered?). It was hoped these studies would
help to answer the multitude of questions Earth had concerning these
creatures and their society.

--
By Pablo
==
The Soviet fleet was making remarkable progress into the Race home system.
They were rapidly approaching the fourth planet.  It was located in a
somewhat earthlike climate zone, perhaps a bit colder.  However, it had not
been the Race home world.  No, they had arisen in the desert sands and fetid
jungles of the third planet, which was on the hot edge of the habitable
zone.  For reasons unknown, their original home had little real industry.
Almost all tasks were handled on the terraformed globe of the fourth planet.
Perhaps they had some urge to protect the world that had given them life.
At any rate, it was a problem for the xenopsychologists.  The historians
would recorded that the Soviet fleet scored a crucial victory here, and that
the turning point of the war would begin at that time.  This prediction was
right in one respect...

The Race fleet had wisely fallen back to a zone defense of the fourth
planet, whose orbital shipyards were the womb of the Race warships.  They
would join their firepower as one, to defend the vulnerable planet.  This
allowed the Soviets to advance unhindered most of the way.

On approach to the densely populated and urbanized planet, an Akula
blundered into the kill radius of a mine.  It was nearly completely
destroyed by the hit, leaving only the aft quarter to float free in the
void.  It served as a warning.  The Alfas turned radar to full gain, to seek
out the mines.  As it happened, many were detonated by this factor alone,
exploding as they read the powerful pulses.  Still, a Kilo was lost as well,
with a Typhoon suffering radiation damage.  They pressed on with the famous
Russian obstinacy, unwilling or even unable to give up.

--

The Alfa class boat USSR Tolstoy rocketed forward under full thrust.  It was
the point vessel of the fleet, as well as the most obvious target.  It
broadcast a continuous radar search, intended to root out any more mines, or
any sneak attack.  It encountered a few dormant light boats, attempting to
ambush the fleet.  A destroyer and a frigate were dispatched by the fleet.

But the vessel could not hope to detect the coming attack.

In staggered formation, the race primary offensive fleet arrived.  The Lenin
and her escorts were the immediate target.  Three battleships arrived within
mere kilometers of the Soviet vessel.  Their furious gun volley ripped the
vessel's hull to pieces before she could respond.  Their guns soon turned on
the escorts, picking a cruiser apart even as the Lenin vented her
atmosphere.
--

Aboard the Lenin, a young officer named Vorovsky slowly faded out of a
white-hot blaze of pain.  His left eye would not open, and his carefully
probing had found all he needed to know.  He then glanced around the room he
was in.  The cramped missile control room was lit only by a dimly flickering
lamp.  Every one else was dead.  The technical sergeant had a thin needle of
shrapnel embedded in his forehead, and the junior political officer
convulsing and bleeding badly from an unseen chest wound.

As Vorovsky looked around his surroundings, he heard the thin whistle, both
distinctive and terrifying to a spacer.  The compartment's oxygen was
leaking into space from a small breach.  He staggered over to a status
board, and looked it over.  The bridge, engineering, crew quarters, all
vented of atmosphere.  The Lenin was dead.  He had only one thing to do,
before the air was totally gone.

He found his way back to the political officer's still convulsing corpse.
He reached into his bloody jacket, and pulled out a keycard.  He grabbed the
man by the arm and dragged him to a console.  On of the foremost safety
features aboard any Soviet vessel was the one he would soon trigger.  It was
a device, watched over by the junior political officer, that detonated all
the warheads within the ship.  The suicide switch was meant to prevent
traitors from taking the ship.  Now, it would serve a different purpose.

He swept the keycard through the intended slot.  He noticed, briefly, that
the whistle was beginning to die, and he was feeling very cold.  After the
card was read, a hand-sized glass pad came from within the console.  He
pressed the dead apparatchik's hand onto the pad.  A red button, clearly
marked "DO NOT PUSH" lit up on the board.  Vorovsky's vision began to dim at
the edges as he pressed the button.  He sighed as the warheads began to warm
up for the detonation.  At least his part was over.
--

The Lenin flared into a second sun, swallowing the Race warships as they
passed.  As the brilliance faded, two battleships had simply disappeared.
One limped away, mortally damaged.

--

Aboard the Engels, pandemonium broke out.  The sensor officer was shouting,
over and over, "I have so many contacts!  Too many to fight!  There are too
many!"

The tactical officer was firing his guns without orders, and often without
target locks, blasting shells into the endless void.  The Captain appeared
to be under control, but could not speak.  In an eyeblink, the Lenin's fleet
had been obliterated but for one frigate, miraculously unscathed.
Apparently the captain of that vessel panicked as well, and it disappeared
into warp.

The pilot was cool.  "Orders, sir?" she prompted Commander Sanchez.

Sanchez jolted out of his trance.  "Of course."  He gently pushed the
catatonic Comm officer out of the way, and put the receiver to his ear.
"All ships, respond.  Attack boats, hold the enemy.  Heavy ships, I am
transmitting organizing information.  This will assign you to firing
 groups."  He reached for the keyboard, typing furiously, until he
transmitted the info.  "Now, Typhoon group B, launch one stealth missile
apiece at the fourth planet's defense fleet, burst them at forty kilometers
to target to provide a sensor screen.  Oscars, provide decoys."

The stealthed missiles flew out, reaching their targets in less than a
minute.  They detonated nicely, spreading a scrambling EMP field.
Meanwhile, the attack boats valiantly threw themselves upon the teeth of the
enemy, throwing the Race attack into disarray.  They took losses in the
attempt.  Only one Alfa and two Akulas would escape.  All Kilos were lost
with all hands.

Sanchez licked his lips.  "Now, group A, fire all missiles at your selected
industrial targets.  After 20 seconds, group B will follow.  Group C will-"
he was momentarily entranced as the last crippled Alfa, the Pushkin,
accelerated with full burn directly at an enemy battlecruiser.  Just as the
Race vessel's guns fired, the boat's missile magazines exploded violently.
The ship was no more, but it had torn a gaping hole in the battlecruiser.
"Group C, thirty seconds after B.  As soon as you have fired your load,
scramble for home."

Three waves of missiles streaked out at the fourth planet.  PD lasers
blasted most, but those that impacted did so spectacularly.  Several orbital
shipyards were scrapped, and a few missiles managed to penetrate the thick
web of defenses that covered the planet.  All in all, the Soviet fleet
managed to do some significant parting damage.

The Engels was the last ship out, her PD lasers overheating as untold
numbers of missiles came in.  When she finally escaped to warp, Sanchez
collapsed into his chair.  The Lenin, Stalingrad, two Minsk Cruisers, four
frigates, gone.  The Kursk had survived, as well as the escorts given to the
Engels, and all but two of the Typhoons had survived, but the only attack
boats left were two Akulas (one heavily damaged) and the Sierras.  Such
heavy losses.  And now, the hornet's nest had been stirred.  Somehow, the
Race had gotten the word to its main fleet.

The battle could be considered a phyrric victory for the Soviets.  They had
accomplished their mission, and severely disrupted the Race home system.  It
would be a powerful morale hit for the Race, if they had such a thing as
morale.  But half the fleet had been lost in the attack.

Sanchez had to ask himself how many more would die because of this attack.

--
By Phong
==

Race 15th Composite Shock Group, ten minutes out of the landing point. 

"Soldiers of the Empire! We have the honor of being the first males in
millenia to conquer another planet! In a short time we shall begin
landing on the not-Empire known as the United States of America, on their
northern continent, as you all well know from your briefing. We shall
enlighten these Tosovites, remove their primitive snout-counting methods!
Our advance shall be swift and rapid, and we shall crush all resistance!
To Victory!" 

Ten minutes later, NORAD. 

"Sir! Tracking ... thousands of unidentified inbounds dropping out of
warp immediately into orbit and upper atmosphere! It's an invasion force,
transports are headed to ground! Orbital defenses responding...it's not
enough - their escorts are defending them too well! Ground defenses
engaging across the planet." 

Across the planet, thousands of interceptors and laser batteries opened
fire, vainly trying to stop the invading hordes. Airbases across the
world were madly scrambling fighters, while alerts issuing reserve and
militia recalls spread across the newswires. 

Above North America, a vicious dogfight was developing. F-22E Lightning
fighters were tangling with Race killercraft. Older F-15s and F-16s from
the Air National Guard were trying to hold the line and allow tactical
and strategic attack aircraft to launch and pound the landing zone. 

The remaining lizard escorts in space were rapidly retreating - or were
already destroyed. Their mission was accomplished, to allow the
transports to land. Now it was time for their next missions. 

The invasion force had landed, at over 95% strength. Their mission, to
hold the planet until relief would arrive. Already the lizards were
pushing the few Humans back in the air, their pilots much inferior but
their numbers telling, datalinks from starship-grade sensors on the
transports overpowering Human ECM. 

Meanwhile, Race-Human Border Zone. 

Many ships surged forwards across the Border Zone. Their mission, a
planet-hopping campaign to first establish a supply line, and then
relieve the force invading Tosov III. For the first time, 'Primitive'
forces were to take part in battle, for their best troops had been given
equipment, that wasn't exactly new, but was orders of magnitude more
advance than their previous gear. 

Vast amounts of blood were to be shed. 

--
By Rob
==

Scapa Flow, Earth Orbit

    The CIC and Operations control rooms were alive with activity.

    "How the hell did this happen? I thought Warp vessels had to enter a
system at a distance!" Admiral of the Fleet Jordan asked. The reply was the
same as it had been 45 minutes ago, as the invasion had started.

    "We don't know sir. All we can ascertian is that they have the
capability and we don't! However the fact that it was only these
transports, and the escorts that we destroyed, that did it may mean it's a
one-way deal." Commander Harris of the RSN Engineering Division replied.
"We can only hope we can contain this invasion"

    Jordan looked at the plots of the landing zones; North America,
Southern Britain, Northern Spain, Scandinavia, Germany, Africa, Eastern
China, Eastern Russia and Siberia. "They're scattered to hell, hopefully
the Ground forces can manage."

    "they'll have to Sir. It's not like we can simply conduct Orbital
Bombardments like the Russians did!" Captain Holt said. Everyone went quiet
remembering the sheer disbelief they had felt when Siberia had become a
Radioactive DeathZone, after the Soviet Orbital defences had turned round
and fired on the Race landing area's there.

    "Any word from the Ground?" Jordan asked, refering more to Britain than
anywhere else.

    "US has it's hands full, China's screaming blue murder, the French are
blaming the Yanks for allowing this to happen and the Russians are keeping
quiet. No word from London or GCHQ yet." The Tactical Officer, Commander
Troughton answered.

    "Well Gentlemen lets pull the patrol boats in to closer area's, to
prevent a repeat occurrance and send out Marconi's to the Colonies and
Outer Patrols as to the Current situation." Jordan sighed and added "Lets
hope they don't need any help from us for a while so we can get this dealt
with."


    Deep Space

    Multitudes of Marconi's warped to their destination. All headed to the
same place, all containing variations of the same Message "Race Invasion of
 this colony underway need reinforcements and assistance".

--
By Pablo
==
The Race fighters landing in Siberia had fatally misunderstood the pragmatic
outlook of the Soviet defenders.  While the idea of destroying their own
territory was almost inconceivable to the Race psychology, and was the last
resort of the Western powers, the USSR had its priorities in order.  The
vast steppe of Siberia was of little or no immediate use, and the enemy
landing zone near Mount Golets-Skalistyy was largely unpopulated.  This made
it fair game.

The defense fleet, immediately after putting the attackers to flight, had
turned a few reentry missiles on the ground, under orders from the Premier
himself.  The explosives had been set to a yield that was slightly
excessive, bathing swaths of useless land with radiation.  Still, the land
was denied to the enemy, both as defensive positions and what little
capacity for cultivation it had.  It was estimated that a mere 800,000
civilians had died, to the loss of 2,400,000 Race troopers.  Siberia was
almost totally cleansed of the enemy.  Unfortunately, another landing had
taken place in the area near the town of Norilsk.  This fleet had theater
defense lasers, and balked the missiles in their deadly task.

The Race overran the lightly defended city, slaughtering all 215,000
inhabitants.  No mercy was shown, and no quarter given.  Even as the Russian
Army mobilized to crush the invading armies, the propaganda mills began to
crank out posters and pamphlets that would inflame the populace to produce
more armament and join the army.  The race began to set up their defenses,
butchering the city of Dudinka less than a day after the landing.

The Premier wanted an immediate counterstrike, to decisively destroy the
invasion.  However, the general convinced him otherwise.  It was August, and
summer was already turn to autumn.  And then, the steppe would freeze solid,
and the air would chill to far below zero.  The Race would soon meet General
Winter.  In the meantime, the zone of occupation would be surrounded, the
air, ground, and space around it fully interdicted.  Undoubtedly, the Race
would try to break free.

That would have to be planned for.

--
By Thelea
==

 The Lord Krishna and the Lord Siva, the heavily rebuilt Iowa class Battleships
that were now Star Battleships, had re-entered the system just as The Race
began the all-out assault. 

 They had just returned from "Pacifying" a planet which had been using it's
ships to raid Indian Merchant shipping with the help of the Race's technology.

 With them were all Eight of the Vikrant class Planetary Assault Carriers, all
Ten of the Rana class Destroyers, and ten Nilgiri class Frigates. The
destruction of the defenses of the double-world from which the raids had been
launched had used overwhelming force to avoid casualties.

 In additional support were 10 Kilo class converted SSKs. 

 Already, things over Earth were looking serious; Though not very serious for
Arafeena Rahjal, Admiral Commanding, Indian Star Navy planetary assault forces.

 The initial assaults had ignored India, and though the orbital defensive
platforms had gotten off some shots, they had not been attacked. India's, that
is.

 Likewise, the Race had probably ignored India because their own efforts were
not military against them. India, the galaxy's largest democracy (A debatable
point, but not with Arafeena), was still far too overpopulated on the surface
of Earth for her territory to be invaded by aerial assault.

 The landings in the heartland of China, however, were serious, even with the
Himalayas and the valiant and very professional and agressive Royal Thai Army
standing between the Race and India, not to mention India's own Ground, Sea,
and Air forces. 

 The atomic wasteland which was Siberia had shocked her, initially, but she
quickly recovered and understood the necessity. Indeed, it seemed like the most
viable strategy. But India didn't have the vast open spaces of Russia. 

 Then, her orders from the Prime Minister came through. The channels were still
clear there, as she stood on the flag bridge and waited, admittedly, as nervous
as hell.

 "Admiral, the Gods shine on us today! The arrival of your fleet is most
fourtunate!" The Prime Minister said, hastily.

 Arafeena bowed her head politely; Ever since Indira Ghandi's term as Prime
Minister, opprotunities for women had slowly been opening up in the country;
She was still the first woman in India with a combat military command to hold
flag rank, however.

 "We successfully pacified our target worlds, Prime Minister. For the moment,
the colonies are safe with what guards them. There will be no more raids. What
is the situation for India and the world, and how may the fleet help?"

 The Prime Minister responded very quickly, at that; He'd already been briefed.


 "Begin an immediate but non-nuclear bombardment of their landing sites in
Africa. Keep the fleet in close formation and use all weapons as necessary..
But do NOT launch nuclear weapons onto Earth's surface without my express
orders." 

 He continued. "We have temporarily formed a popular front with our prior
enemies, China. It's vital we help them drive out the invaders that are the
closest in threatening us. You are to have your assault carriers launch your
transorbital fighters and jump the Race's aircraft over China from above."

"The Chinese government gives permission for us to use Nuclear-Tipped
anti-Aircraft missiles over their territory, as well, but only airbursts.. Make
sure your pilots are very careful, Admiral! And, yes, this channel is secure
against their decoding," he added, seeing the expression on her face.

 "Very well, Mister Prime Minister, sir. We shall launch our Trans-Orbital
fighters to intervene with nuclear and conventional AAMs and then maneuver to
begin conventional bombardment of Africa immediately. I must go to my work now,
sir."

 "Very well. May the Gods support your endeavours on this most crucial of days.
The survival of the nation again relies on the strength of the soldiers." 

 With that, the channel was cut. 

 Arafeena looked to the communications bank, at once. "Order the fleet to
procede in orbital trajectory over Africa at mid-level orbital altitude and
deploy an atomic minefield. Then we'll swing around under it and hold Low Earth
Orbit with thrusters to begin our bombardment of Africa. Between the minefield
and our escorts, nothing will get through... For a while, anyway."

 "At once, Admiral!" 

 "And have the fighters stand by for launch. Half conventional AAMs, half
nuclear-tipped.. I want those Vikrants to launch as soon as we're in orbit of
Africa and make directly for the PRC's airspace! They are to engage air targets
only, and use care in the use of nuclear weapons, but they have free reign in
engaging aerial targets."

 "Understood, Admiral. Transmitting immediately." 

 Orders given, the fleet accelerated, arcing from India in a matter of minutes
to be over Africa. 

 A group of mixed Race Cruisers of various types were moving towards them. As
soon as the sensor reports came in, Arafeena gave the order without hesitation.


 "Weapons free! Hit them hard now.. Missiles, everything we've got!"

 The Cruisers did not have a good ID on the force, nor knowledge of it's
capabilities, as they had never fought the Indian Star Navy in great strength
before. 

 The massive 'Space Sunburn' nuclear-tipped missiles were launched, supported
by smaller missiles. 

 500kt, 100kt, and 50kt atomic warheads were on those various sizes of
missiles, and they raced in; The Race's missiles countered, but they didn't
have enough, and they were targeted in the wrong places.

 The Indians also used Nukes for CIWS, as well. That meant that the light
missiles with their 1.5kt warheads were fired at the incoming missiles from the
Race's cruisers. 

 As atomic fire obliterated an unknown number of the Race's cruisers, but a
surprisingly goodly one.. Perhaps not so surprising, Arafeena though, as it was
their first, abrupt, insanely desperate fleet action with the Race..

 And they had data about the Race from their allies while the Race had none
about them. 

 Some of the Race's missiles made it through the 1.5kt explosives of the
warheads of the atomic light missiles intercepting them, but they had thinned
the ranks of incoming missiles enough that the CIWS handled them okay.

 As the battle was over, the next report came through. "Minefield position
reached!"

 "Deploy minefield!" Arafeena ordered. The order was passed on; The fleet raced
over Africa, the acceleration grating but necessary, deploying 12.8 megaton
thermonuclear mines while under the cover of the intense electromagnetic
radiation released by the brief firefight. 

 Naturally, that wasn't healthy for their sensors, but they were navigating
based on the sight of their homeworld and the best navigation information in
the galaxy; The Race was fighting on human home territory, and that gave the
humans a hell of an advantage right there. 

 As the fleet completed laying the minefield that would protect it, it swung
clear and powered it's way into a lower orbit, out of the blast radius and
dangers of the minefield protecting them. The field was then activated. 

 The Indian fleet established formation over the Race's landing spots in
Africa. 

 In the meantime, 324 Trans-orbital fighters were being launched. They were
based on the YF-23 Black Widow design, superiour to the F-22 in all respects
except maneuverability, and with the capability of operations inside the
gravity well of a planet; Pressurized and capable of re-entry.

 They were worthless in a space battle, but they were pure hell in the air.
They came in over the Race's forces in China. The helicopters had to be
ignored; But transports and Killercraft were high enough up.

 They salvoed their 1.5kt anti-aircraft nuclear missiles first, annihilating
dozens of Race aircraft and transports with in-atmosphere use of Nuclear AAMs. 

 In the surprise of the EMP, the stealthy YF-23s dived towards their remaining
targets and engaged with both standard AAMs and cannons; They inflicted
disproportionate casualties on the Race pilots, as all pilots of Indian
Transorbital fighters were selected from the "Cream of the crop", the 5% of
pilots who got 75% of the kills, out of the regular Air Force's ranks. 

 Though they hated the Chinese, a popular front was necessary. Already, Royal
Thai aircraft appeared to be making ground attack runs on the forces of the
Race in South-Eastern China, Arafeena noted, from the sensor reports from their
fighter pilots.

 Soon the skies over China would be clear of Race aircraft, but the question
remained if the Chinese ground forces could destroy the Race's ground forces.

 Now, however, they had a mission of their own. The two battleships were
aligned, each one over a seperate site where the landing transports of the Race
had come down in Africa. 

 "Load Bombardment Shells!" the Captain of the Lord Krishna ordered, at which
Admiral Arafeena Rahjal smiled. The Bombardment Shell was specially designed
for the 16in/50cal gun. Firing a 3,000 pound projectile at 3,000 feet per
second, the 'Twenty-Three' was designed to enter the atmosphere of a planet,
it's outer surface being made out of ablative materials. 

 With gravity helping it, a 3,000 pound projectile launched at a muzzle
velocity of 3,000 fps would slam into the planet like a rather nasty meteor. 

 And, abruptly, the forward guns of the Lord Krishna fired six of them at the
landing site. The Rate of Fire was one salvo every thirty seconds. Two a
minute. 

 The Lord Siva was firing at another landing site. The barrels had been
reinforced for these shells, but in space they were easily capable of it. The
original guns had fired shells nearly as heavy, nearly as fast, after all.

 As those shells began to crash down, the landing sites of the Race in Africa
were rapidly being demolished.

 The only problem was that the magazine supplies of the battleships were
finite, and it was hard to tell if resupply would be possible in these
conditions. 

 If worst came to worst, she could always ask for permission to use the atomic
shells. 

 Above them, two Race destroyers trying to find the cruiser force and confirm
the enemy's size, position, and nationality... Blundered into the blast radius
of one of the mines. 

 In a 12.8 megaton thermonuclear explosive, they ceased to exist.

 The Race knew the minefield was there, now, but it would still be keeping them
clear.

 Now.. It was a matter of time. Time and courage. 

 Arafeena hoped that the Gurkhas in the British Army would show themselves as
valiant as they had over centuries and as she expected the Indian army to
fight, if it came to it. 

 She was saddened in that regard, that she could not intervene in Britain, but
they would do their best. 

 The guns fired again. 

--
By Rob
==
Scapa Flow, Earth Orbit
1.5 hrs After Invasion

    Commander Troughton was hard at work, going over the plots of the huge
quantity of ship movements in and around Earth Orbit. The last remainders
of the Race escorts were playing hide and seek,by altering orbital heights
and velocities to make interception difficult and also to provide the
occassional burst of ground suppression. He cringed at the thought of what
it must be like down there with death randomly falling from the heavens,
praying that it was only the Armed forces that were taking the brunt. The
arrival of the Indian Star Navy had been welcome in one respect, they had
flushed out the last of the Race Cruisers, though the massive firefight and
detonations of nukes so close to Earth had played absolute hell with
Comm's.

    "Sir, you need to see this!" The TAC watch supervisor yelled, turning
from the displays in front of the junior techs he commanded.

    "Calm down Mister Beatty, I'm only 10 feet away." Troughton admonished
as he walked over, "Now what is it?" He asked, looking past LT Beatty, at
the screens. They showed a hail of white fuzz over a large set of area's.

    "Sir, the Indians are using Nukes in the Chinese air space. We can't
tell whether they're winning or losing right now." The LT responded.

    "Ok, it should only last a short time, and the chances are the Chinese
gave permission" The 'I hope' he thought was left unsaid " As long as we
have a rough idea things are-"

    "HOLY SHIT!" This came from a tech on the otherside of the room.

    "What is with the shouting? This is an enclosed room, not the Albert
Hall! You are all Service personnel and you will act like it!" Troughton
marched over to the female Tech who had made the exclamation. "Now, I
expect a proper report."

    "Y-Yes Sir." The Wren PO responded, quickly getting her professionalism
back "Sir, there has been a multimegaton Detonation above Africa. It has
wiped out at least 2 Race ships and cut us off from comms with anything in
that hemisphere. It is in the last high orbit location of the ISN before
they began deorbiting. Do you think they lost a ship?"

    "No I don't,  they've seeded that orbit with mines, and not bothered to
tell anybody else. Mister Beatty, Flash traffic to ALL Terran Ships in the
area we can reach. Warning ISN minefield in..." Troughton turned to the PO
who quickly wrote out the coordinates on her pad. "...this orbital area.
Make sure they pass it on to everyone else."

    Beatty took the pad page and headed though the doorway to the Sigs
Room. With a quick look round Troughton gathered up his latest reports and
walked into the Adjacent CIC to Brief Admiral of the Fleet Jordan.

    "So," Said Jordan 20 minutes later "we now have landings in Australia,
and South America confirmed. Plus possible landings in or near the Middle
East. Hhhmm..Do you think the Israeli's and the Saudi's will notice them?"
He put on a forced smile.

    "Well they might do a clear up of a battlefield in the future and
realise some of the bodies weren't human." Captain Holt said in an attempt
to follow-up the joke. It was a long standing point that the 2 nation
states were trying to kill each other on a constant basis, which made
diplomacy difficult as they were both UK allies.

    "Somehow sir, I think even they may notice several tens of thousands of
large lizards shooting at them." Was Troughtons reply.

    "Ok, so apart from lost Comm's, what else have the ISN done?" Jordan
steered the conversation back to the main point.

    "Well, sir they have the main Race Force in Africa pinned down, but the
smaller forces have already started a move into South Africa and President
Mandela is pretty vocal about no dropping of large explosives
indiscriminantly on his country. Also there were reports of units in Kenya
and possibly Egypt, but no more comm's with the area's, we have to rely on
landline messages being repeated from places we can talk with." The
weariness was starting to show in Troughtons voice, as the lack of hard
info and worry about his Family on Earth mounted.

    "Indiscriminate? I bet the Indian PM had something to say there." Holt
said.

    "Yes, probably" Jordan said distractedly.

    "Pat, I want you to get in touch with HMS Sceptre, tell her skipper to
assume a high enough orbit so she can see past the EM radiation. We'll use
her to keep our comm's Earthside, and Pat, relax. It could take a good
couple more hours before we see a clear picture of what's happening on the
ground, thats why the government pays for an Army." He said to Troughton,
"I think Sue and the Children will be fine in Conwy, the last of the
reports said the Race was mainly in Kent and one of the groups that landed
in Wales touched down in the Beacons!"

    Everybody laughed at the point* the mood of all finally starting to
lighten.

    "Aye,Aye sir." Commander Trouhgton said as he left to deal with the
orders.


Deep Space
                    The message pods were nearing their destination. Only
another 48 hrs to go!

--
By Phong
==

F-14F, Colorado Airspace

An elderly Tomcat 2000, reengined with the new hydrogen turbines, was
rocketing towards the intercept point. One of the remaining E-10B AWACS
(converted 777-200LR) had detected an a sizable Race airstrike gunning in
towards Cheyanne Mountain - the North American Aerospace Defense Command.
There was no doubt of their armament, for only massive nuclear warheads
could possibly destroy it. The Tomcat, along with several other squadrons
of old Navy fighters, were desperately trying to bring down the raid
before yet another hardened command base was destroyed. 

At a range of 150 nm, each Tomcat fired four of six AIM-58D Firebird
missiles, the longest-ranged in the entire US arsenal. Each ignited their
rocket motors and climbed up. Their boost motors expended and now
discarded, each missile glided towards their targets, where a
thrust-vectored maneuvering system took final guidance at short range.
They were travelling at Mach 6. 

The Race fighters, of course, took note of the sudden alarm their Radar
Warning Recievers gave, and went evasive, jamming the area and spoofing a
quarter of the Firebirds. The remaning ones ignored the escorts and bored
straight in for the bombers. The worked as advertised, knocking many out
while their prey bored straight in for the mountain. 

Now it was time for the Race to counterstrike. Each loosed a pair of
missiles at the Human interceptors, scoring kills before the next wave of
Firebirds hit more bombers. Then each side finally closed to short-range
missile range, and a dogfight broke out, neither side able to protect or
attack their targets. 

Eighteen heavy Race bombers broke through the human CAP screen and
closed, twelve of their number brought down by surface-to-air missiles
and flak. The remaining six gained altitude and dropped their loads. 

In a brilliant display of light, NORAD was hit with six 5MT
surface-impact warheads. The underground complex was badly shaken,
buildings crushed, parts knocked off their springs, but the recent heavy
reinforcements had done their work. Engineers had improved the facility
so that it could withstand an orbital strike, and the great expense paid
off. Unfortunately, no-one could exit the facility, for the zone outside
was 'hot'. And wireless communication was gone, only the landlines
surviving for now. 


The Mississippi River, Kansas/Missouri

The United States Army, the Army Reserve, the Marine Corp and Missouri
National Guard were desperately trying to hold their side of the river.
Overwhelming artillery, ship- and air-support from the Race had pounded
their side of the river. 

Every bridge crossing the Mississippi near the landing zone had been
blown within the first hours of the invasion. Almost every other bridge
was wired for remote detonation. Kansas City had been flattened from the
fierce exchange of fire on both sides. Race engineers were rapidly
deploying prefabricated bridge sections in order to mount a general
advance towards the Atlantic. Meanwhile, another group was about to break
out of the hastily-established US defensive lines. 


Minneapolis/St. Paul

Fall. Normally a time to witness the changing of leaves, the cooler
temperature, a return to school. Not now. Defensive works were being
constructed around the Twin Cities, a massive series of trenches,
pillboxes, artillery positions and more. Underground tunnels, boobytraps,
more. Minefields, tank traps, missile positions. The same situations were
being repeated around all major cities not currently under major attack.
Each city was being transformed into a fortress. Only time would tell
which ones would be ready and which ones would not be. 

A massive draft was in effect. Only those in critical industries were
exempt, or those with critical disabilities - 'mere' issues like missing
limbs ensured your place behind the front lines. Men and women as young
as seventeen were conscripted into the armed forces. Most volunteered,
however, ready to die for the species and homeworld. 


B-52K, Kansas Airspace. 

A entire wing of heavy conventional bombers, the oldest in service in the
Air Force, were hugging the ground on approach to their targets. Their
objective: mine the area around the landing zone, deny a general
breakthrough. Another wing was tasked with hitting the leading forces in
the westbound invasion force. A strike by stealth aircraft would hit the
LZ itself. 

The bomber raid faced moderate resistance, but her escorts kept most of
them away. Only a few died, and the remainded plodded on towards their
targets. 

--
By Thelea
==

 "The British have sent out a general warning regarding our minefield," one of
the communications operators calmly reported on the wide expanse of the flag
bridge of the Lord Krishna. 

 "Fools... We don't know how good the Race's cryptographers are, and it's not
like we've the triple codex." 

 Arafeena referenced a code book developed before WWI there, to be used by
Italy, Austrio-Hungary, and Germany. Of course, Italy had switched sides in
that war, but the point was still made. 

 "Send the following transmission to the commander of the Royal Navy Space
Forces. Highest coding level we know the Royal Navy can break and think the
Race can't." 

 "Commander Royal Navy Space forces in Terran orbit, please be more cautious
with the locations of our defensive works. The Race already warned off any
human forces with their stupidity in that regard. Admiral commanding Indian
Star Navy Planetary Assault Fleet sends." 

 "Recorded, Admiral, and coded," the Lord Krishna's assistant chief
cryptographer reported.

 "Then send it, and make sure to use all power necessary to break through the
interference." Arafeena said, calmly. 

 Just as the transmission was cut off, the Captain of the Lord Krishna turned
to her. 

 "Admiral, we've expended our ammunition loads for rounds that can re-enter the
atmosphere on the main and secondary guns."

 Arafeena frowned; But it was due to happen. Even when the lesser ships had
opened up. They had, quite simply, devastated Africa. It was not nukes, no, it
was probably worse; it was like sending down many, many, many small asteroids
to strike Earth. Nothing long term, but very serious. 

 Even the smallest of the shells that could re-enter could do damage, and they
had virtually stopped the African invasion, a very major thrust, cold, though
two forces were still going at it; One in southern Egypt and one advancing into
South Africa.

 However, other than those two relatively mobile armoured forces, which were
battered in and of themselves, the Race presence in Africa had ceased to exist.
Though having none of the long term affects of nukes, however, the bombardment
still wasn't a pleasant thing. It was also necessary.

 "Similiar reports coming in from the ships of the fleet; Re-entry capable
ammunition as effectively been expended, Admiral, on all vessels, except for
nuclear armed devices, of course."

 "Of course," she responded, then looked to her Flag Captain and smiled. "Shall
we bill the Africans for the shells?"

 He didn't get the joke. "Admiral.. I.." Trailing off. "I thought this was a
popular front.
  
 She laughed. "The British did that once... There was a coup in an African
country, so a British warship bombarded the rebels until they surrendered, then
billed the government that had asked for help for the cost of the shells." 

 Before she could speak any more, the latest report came in. 

 "Fighters coming up towards the formation; We can get very faint IFF traces on
them; They're not close enough yet for the fleet's laser-blinker communications
to be of use. However, the IFF traces indicate they're our transorbital
fighters, and it's not like there's anything else that would fit the match." 


 "Very well.. Inform the carriers to stand by to recover strikes and re-arm.
What's the status of the Strike.. How many surviving Trans-Orbitals?"

 "IFFs indicate 234 Trans-Orbitals heading towards the fleet, Admiral," The man
reported, grimly.

 Arafeena knew what that meant; 102 lost. However, that were not necessary shot
down. It was easily possible for one to be damaged and unable to return to
orbit and land somewhere in India to join the normal airforce in the fight
against the Race, or even to be repaired and returned to the fleet, if they
were lucky. 

 Still, it was nearly one third of their craft. She could only hope that
something good had come out of that. 

 "Do we have any reports from the People's Liberation Army Airforce or the
People's Liberation Army Navy on the success of our craft?" The names had
bitter sounds, unsurprisingly.

 "Not yet, Admiral," the communications officer in charge of the banks
reported, rather glumly.

 "Admiral, we'll probably not find out until the diplomats go over things,
knowing the Red Chinese," her Flag Captain added in.

 "Very well. Once fighters are recovered, we'll maneuver closely with our
orbital platforms and have them send out Lighters to re-arm the ships for
further bombardment missions. Send the messages to prepare the fleet for
formation maneuvering."

 As the orders were acknowledged, blinker lasers started their signalling and
the Vikrants turned to recover their surviving Trans-Orbital fighters. 

 That done, they maneuvered to the Indian space facilities, which had been
ignored in the intial attack. Re-arming from lighters was begun immediately.
The Race's surviving escorts, only destroyers and lesser craft, everything
cruiser on up either having been destroyed or fled, making an occasional attack
that was repulsed by the outer ring of orbital defenses that floated serenely
over the Sub-Continent.

 Finally, after some hours had passed, a transmission came in; it was very high
powered, on Fleet Comline Alpha, and punched through the dispersing EM fields
created by the vicious firefight and minelaying of early operations by this,
the most powerful concentration of the Indian Star Navy. 

 The Prime Minister of India once again appeared on the screen; They had two
way visual telephones, of course. She saluted, and then stood at attention. He
began talking right off.

 "I am most pleased, Admiral. Though your response was heavy handed, it was
swift enough to have dealt the Race a blow over China. The Chinese government
reports, and our own AWACS aircraft confirm, that there are no more fighters,
bombers, or transports of the Race in China. The Chinese Air Force is dealing
easily with their surviving helicopters and conducting ground attacks. You've
cleared the skies.. Though you are fourtunate those missiles did not hit the
Earth of 'The Middle Kingdom', he added, a bit pointedly."

 "Prime Minister, sir, if the Soviets are any indication of how the Communists
defend their territory, I would respectfully submit that the Chinese would not
have cared had one missed as long as it took out some of the Race's soldiers in
the process." 

 The man allowed himself a chuckle. "Admiral.. That is not how it works in
politics." Which, of course, meant that she was right, but it didn't matter
politically. 

 Bloody wonderful world, Arafeena thought, rather grimly of it. 

 "I understand, Mister Prime Minister. I am curious to see how our orbital
assault on the Race's forces in Africa helped the countries there that are
capable of defending themselves, though. Do you have information?"

 "I do," he said, and started. "Two hours ago, while the Egyptians were
fighting a strong holding action in the south west of Egypt to prevent the
Race's armoured forces that survived in that region from breaking through into
populated areas of Egypt.." 

 The Prime Minister had a dramatic pause in there, but also a wry smile.
"Colonel Muammar Qaddafi, to quote Radio Tripoli, 'Attacked the Race's armoured
units in Egypt with Aircraft and multiple Armoured Divisions in support of our
Muslim brethern in Egypt, slashing into their flanks and utterly annihilating
the force. Throughout all of the Sahara and Northern Africa, the Space Devils
have been crushed and slaughtered without mercy.' The rest of it, of course,
consisted of the glorification of Colonel Qaddafi. We can't get confirmation of
anything more than the Libyan attack, but based on the Egyptian forces being
there, and the mauling they got.. I expect the Libyans aren't exagerrating. To
much."

 "And our own front with them, Prime Minister... In Burmese India?" She asked;
Nervously. The Race had considerable forces in Eastern China, and some had gone
south, despite the destruction of their air cover. 

 "We stopped them cold. Without aircover, our own ground attack aircraft and
helicopters are cutting them to ribbons and we're preparing a counter-attack..
Though for the moment we may have to stop at the Chinese Border. We're in talks
with the Chinese right now." 

 "The Royal Thai Army stopped them dead from even setting foot in Thailand..
And then stopped them from trying a flanking maneuver through Cambodia. The
Vietnamese have also held easily. With the lack of air-cover that the Race's
forces in China now has, F-16s and F-5Es of the Thai Airforce are also
conducting airstrikes and the Thais have already counter-attacked and are
pushing the race back." 

 "Just like the French invasion of Thailand in Fourty-one, then. Everyone
underestimates Thailand."

 "Indeed, Admiral. We've done it a few times ourselves. It's much more
preferable to have them as allies than as competitors."

  Which to the Prime Minister meant enemies, Arafeena noted to herself.

 "The Chinese themselves are holding and preventing the further advance of the
Race but cannot yet push them back. They suffered heavily early on. Chinese
casualties are already in the millions, it is reported, but they continue
fighting with massive human-wave assaults of their voulunteer militias while
they prepare their regular army units for a main assault."

"Fourtunately, the North Koreans have sent troops into Manchuria to reinforce
the Chinese there so that they do not face the possibility of being invaded
from surviving units of the Race still in the Soviet Union. They say it is
payment for the service of the PLA in their cause in the Korean War."

 "The North Koreans just want cheaper deals on Chinese weaponry," Arafeena
muttered, to which the Prime Minister laughed. 

 "Perhaps true, Admiral. However, with the situation on the ground stabilized,
all your further orders will come from the Defense Minister; I have to get back
to keeping the political situation intact, now that he is no longer
overwhelmed. There are two orders to be given before this transmission is cut,
however." 

 "First, Nelson Mandela has insisted that, after the 'Destruction' we wrought
on Africa, nevermind that we saved them all, that we should assist him in
defending South Africa against the race."

"Each of your Vikrants carries a regiment of marines. Land them in South Africa
at the sites that will be provided to you, to assist in the defense of that
nation from further assaults by the Race. Without the assistance of orbital
bombardment, of course." 

 "Understood, Mister Prime Minister. I will transmit the orders to the Vikrants
as soon as you are finished."

 "Very good," he continued. "The fighters are no longer needed over China. Once
ready to sortie again, send them to help clear the skies of Australia from all
aircraft of the Race. That will give the infamous ANZACS a more even chance to
prove their mettle against the race, as it were."

"At the same time, when your fleet is done re-arming, maneuver to begin
bombarding the Race's landing sites in South America. That is all." The
transmission cut. 

 Arafeena began to give orders. It would be very, very busy, indeed.

--
By Rob
==

Britain, 10 hours After Invasion.

The Race Craft had landed all over the UK, ranging from 1 transport
landings in remote area's to groups of 3-4 landing near Cities. The major
force however was located in Kent, to be more specific Ashford. The Force
was, in Global terms a small one, afterall the UK was not a large Island
and the Race had made the error of apportioning their forces due to
geography. This still meant that over 50,000 Race soldiers hit Ashford like
a school of Pirhana's, the civilian populace being torn apart under heavy
rifle fire and artillery bombardment, fighters tearing across the skies and
strafing the buildings, Tanks and other armoured vehicles prowling the
streets firing almost indiscriminately. It was like a re-enactment of the
assault on Stalingrad, only no-one had turned up to play the Russian army.
It was savage and brutal with Humans dying under waves of Race combatants,
the local Police and T.A. units completely unequipped to deal with the
attack with only 20 minutes warning. Thai had gone on for hours, the Race
seemingly content to butcher this one city and establish a secure base of
operations.

There were reports flooding into Cobra as to the extent of the landings and
damage done, some were good news, the majority though were Bad. Local T.A.
units and Reg forces that could be spared were all moving into the places
where they were needed.
The RAF were currently dealing with the Race Fighters to the best of their
abilities, effectively removing them from the equation in any massed sense
for the next few days. On the ground the Army had mobilised quickly, with a
massive network of defensive emplacements being dug around the Race Main
"Beachhead", and Special Forces moving to perform their specific tasks.

Hothfield, 4 miles NW of Ashford

Sargeant Miller and the three men of his OP team were hidden under the
ground. The OP was a rectangular hole dug 1.5m down, 2m across and 4m long.
The topsheet supported a large proportion of the excavated soil, with the
turf relaid on top of it (the rest of the spoil was removed with the
vehicles that had deployed them.). There was no external sign of their
presence (the 3 periscopes that gave them a view, were hidden by the grass
clumps and the microphones were sunk into the ground along with the
Seismography pick-ups.) as the drivers had erased all ground signs of the
dig and vehicle presence.
Inside, the 21 SAS(V) team waited for the first signs of Race movement
out of the area. Though members of the T.A., 21 SAS were numbered among the
best recce and observation soldiers in the world (regularly outperforming
the professional army international troops in LRRP meets and other
specialised training
events and competitions). They had perfected the art of the OP in enemy
territory and had regularly practised this exact type of operation many
times before, though to be fair it had always been assumed that they would
be doing it for real in Germany not the UK!

    "Movement, 4 Romeo's at Hillpath moving forwards." Miller reported.

    Private Gaiman on the Radio began to transmit a burst report of
contact. Giving OP callsign, number of Race seen and their position (known
by a Reference point linked to a map grid number, in this case Hillpath)
and heading. The transmitters (there were 2, a primary and a secondary)
were
located 1/2 a mile away and connected to the OP by buried wires.

    "Movement, probable company strength at Hillpath moving forwards."
Miller announced 5 minutes later.

    After Gaiman sent that, he listened to the Sigs net "Sounds like a
general movement, the other teams are starting to call in." He said,
looking at Miller "I think the probes are starting."

    As Miller watched more and more Race Companies came into veiw. The
reference Hillpath was only 5 miles away. The butterflies started in his
stomach as the Race got closer, 'Why couldn't we be on the other side of
the river' he thought. Of course he knew the answer, the idea of these
posts were that the enemy moved past them and set up near them for better
observation opportunities. For this reason they were normally put in on the
"wrong" side of a natural chokepoint or probable rest point. Knowing this
did not make it easier to sit there as the enemy walked past you.

    Another 30 minutes passed and the scouts got even closer, joined by
others that had come over from the left (also reported). As Miller watched
the others lay waiting, all awake during this critical phase, with Pte
Wagner taking a spell on the Right periscope and Cpl Morrison manned the
Seismograph.

    "Something's wrong!" Miller whispered, "The scouts are stood there
looking this way, they're moving their heads around, but they are
definitely onto something." He paused to consider the situation. "Gaiman,
get on the net, tell them we believe our position compromised by means
unknown, the rest of you get ready to move, this could be a fucker."

    As Gaiman sent the burst, the others grabbed their bergans (everything
was already packed away, OP discipline called for only what you needed to
be out at any time) and readied themselves to leave.. fast!

    "Ok, they are moving this way, directly for us. Send the evac notice.
Morrison your out first, and everyone stay calm and remember your drills."

    "Yes mum."

    "Fuck off Morrison, this is noduff! Is that evac gone Gaiman?" Miller
got the nod from Gaiman, who was in the process of unhooking the radio from
the antenna leads. Miller wired in the hand clacker and watched the Race
scouts approach, in the distance the others were running closer. Behind
him, both Morrison and Wagner moved into the escape tunnel, with Gaiman
following. "Standby" Miller said.

    "GO, GO, GO!" He shouted and pressed the clacker 3 times.

    All around the OP, small 50g charges and smoke bombs went off,
completely obscuring the immediate area and catching some of the scouts in
the blasts. At the same time Morrison and Wagner threw off the cover of the
tunnel and broke out to left and right, kneeling down and bringing their
weapons to bear on the Race scouts they could see. Morrisons Minimi fired
in short burst of 3-4 rounds, whilst Wagners FNC fired single, accurate
rounds rapidly into his targets. Gaiman was out next and he ran 10m away
from the Race advance and to the left, his FNC also coming onto target and
firing. Miller was out last, a wire trailing behind him, he ran 10m back
then moved to the right. Looking around he saw all the Race scouts were
dead, and the others were a good 400m away.

    "RALLY, RALLY, RALLY!" He bellowed. As Wagner arrived on his right and
Morrison drew level with Gaiman over to his left, he pressed the clacker
and with a suppressed thump the ground above the OP rose and fell, settling
into a depression as a cloud of dust and earth flew out of the escape
tunnel.

    He did a snap Battle Appreciation and gave his orders.

    "Dry Pepperpot back, 10m bounds. Delta stay firm, Charlie move!"

    Both he and Wagner rose and turned (their weapons sweeping across the
right arcs) and ran at full speed back 10m and then turned back to the
front (again their weapons moving through the right arc). "Delta Move!"
Miller shouted, Wagner and himself kneeling with their weapons in the aim,
observing for targets through the thick smoke.
At the shouted command Delta fire team (Morrison and Gaiman) mimiced the
procedure of the others (this time the weapons passing through the left
arcs), and took up position opposite Charlie fire team (Miller and Wagner).

    "Charlie Move!"......"Delta Move!"........."Charlie Move!"....."Delta
Move!"  And then the view past the OP position cleared.

        "CHARLIE FIRE!" Miller almost screamed, as he saw how close the
Race soldiers had closed the gap, now less than 100m away. Wagner and
himself now firing on multiple targets, using single fire and choosing
their targets they were still going through the ammo at a horrendous rate.
As Delta drew level he ordered the squad to go firm and started giving fire
control orders. Trying to make the ammo do the maximum level of damage, he
and Gaiman  started to put down a hail of 40mm grenades from the 203's
underslung on the barrels. Wagner switching to auto and increasing his rate
of fire to cover Miller, whilst Morrison started to fire 5-8 burst strings
into the Race company to their front. When Wagner shouted out "Changing
Mag." Miller started to lay down Auto fire of his own. "Firing" shouted
Wagner and Miller commenced the 40mm rainstorm again.

    "Out 40mm." Shouted Gaiman, as the last of the Race fell down dead.
Unfortunately the other Race companies were pressing in fast and moving up
the flanks. Miller himself only had 1-2 40mm left and the position was
indefensible. They needed to get on the otherside of the river.

    "Squad, Pepperpot by pairs, 10m bounds. We are moving to the river." He
shouted. "Delta stay firm, Charlie move!"

And the bounds started again, this time the men firing as they waited to
move covering the moving pair, then sweeping their respective flanks with
fire as they started and finished every bound. They kept each other
up-to-date on their ammo states (changing Mags and belts respectively), and
enemy positions as they moved. They were still 150m from the riverbanks
when the last of the 5.56mm was fired. Each man dropping his weapon as it
went dry and pulling out a knife.

    "Gaiman, destroy the radio and the sigs wallet. Morrison cover him."
Miller shouted over his shoulder staring at the now unmoving Race hordes,
He could not believe they had not fired a shot as they had run forwards, no
sign of fire and maneouver, they had simply gotten to within 150m and
stopped to fire, then gotten up to close the distance again. Of course
Gaiman had been on the net the whole time appraising HQ of the contact and
the Race tactics used. Because of this, the SAS team had scored a
disproprotionately large number of casualties with hardly any damage to
themselves. Wagners right arm was a rightoff and Gaiman was being almost
carried by Morrison after numerous rounds had hit his leg.

    "What the fuck!" Morrison said, as 4 large members of the Race moved
forwards. Each had a brightly coloured collar and carried a large knife
(looking almost as large as a machete).

    "You don't think they mean to fight us one-on-one do you?! Wagner
asked, His First Field Dressing already stained completely red from the
bloody wound on his arm.

    "Fire in the hole!" Gaiman yelled as he threw the radio as far away as
he could, followed be a flash and smoke as a small thermite charge attached
to it melted it to slag and incinerated the Sigs Wallet as well.

    "You know," Said Miller slowly, "I think thats exactly what they want
to do."

    "Sarn't," Called Gaiman, his voice already weak from blood loss "The
last call on the net was a general evac after 2 other OP's were
compromised.".

    "Frank, if you want Neil and I can stay here and hold them while you
and Grant make a run for the river. No reason for all 4 to die." Wagner
said, his gaze firmly on the approaching Lizards.

    "No John." Miller indicated the sheer number of rifles around them, " I
don't think they would let us get very far."

    Instead Sargeant Frank Miller held his knife low, and started to walk
forwards. He pointed at the largest of the Lizards.

    "Io, you. Fucking shitbag. Yes You. You are fucking bastard claimed, my
son!"

    The Race officer screamed it's own challenge and ran forwards Knife
held high.....

--
By Rob
==

Foxtrot 1 Flight, Earth, Eastbound over North Sea,
0:02 mins After Invasion Detected

    Squadron Leader John Hamilton was relaxing in the Cockpit of his F3
Typhoon, as his flight of 6 craft cruised towards the UK Coastline and
their eventual destination RAF Waddington. The last set of fighters of
29(F) Squadron  were returning to home, from RAF Gutersloe in Germany, for
upgrades and refits to their Avionics packages. Finally bringing the whole
Squadrons complement up to the B variant. He personally was looking forward
to getting into Lincoln and sinking some beers tonight, before seeing his
sister and Nephews tomorrow.

    "Foxtrot 11. Waddington Flight Control. Vector change 80 South,
Vis-Ident and intercept of Bandits at 230, Angels 250. Over."

    The call caught him offguard. He found himself acknowledging it,
ordering the flight to the new heading and advancing his throttle, all
before realising what
had been said. He quickly scanned his MFD to gauge the weapons number and
readiness of his fighter, though as a ferry flight they only carried 1
Meteor AMRAAM, 1 IRIS ASRAAM and 150 rounds of 27mm for the gun each. The
Fighters raced upwards, their Hybrid Ramjet/Turbofan engines pushing them
higher every second. His Threat MFD was undisturbed, however his Radar MFD
showed massive interference ahead; reading an almost solid band of EM
reflection in the upper atmosphere, though slowly there were more discrete
returns showing as the onboard Computers started to cycle through the
automatic filters. As they passed 70,000 feet the flight could see huge
flaming trails crossing the skies, and using the integrated Helmetsights
linked to the high-resolution, multi-spectrum camera recessed in front of
the
cockpit, the Pilots got their first view of the Race Transports descending
towards the UK.

    "Waddinton Control. Foxtrot 11. We have Visual Ident on Bandits,
figures
22 craft; mixed size. Orders over."

    "Foxtrot 11. Waddington Control, Copy Figures 22 Bandits Mixed size.
Weapons Free, Say again Weapons Free."

    On the confirmation of release to fire, the Flight tuned their
throttles and began to arc over at 95,000 feet, the  ECR-110 radars giving
solid
locks. At the top of the arcs the Meteors raced off their hardpoints. The
AMRAAMS burning hard towards the designated targets, for maximum chance of
a kill all 6 were aimed at the same Craft. With the Race Transports coming
in at a now steady Mach 3 and the missiles heading out at Mach 4 and
accelerating, the closure rate (and the Transports lack of
maneouverability) meant that even this high deflection shot scored a
complete set of hits. The targeted large transport had its left side torn
open, spilling Troops out across the sky, the flames of their descent lost
in the general conflagration as the fuel cells ruptured covering a huge
area with debris.

    After the intial launch the F3's had performed a split S maneouvre,
feathering the throttles as they headed down through 85,000 ft. To the
South of them, the Race transports slowed to Mach 2 and broke through
90,000ft. Gradually the F3's moved south, still headed to the ground at
just under Mach 1.5. Both passed through 80,000 ft at the same time, the
F3's still slightly to the north of the Transports and lifting their noses
partially, to aid in unmasking the ASRAAM's they carried. The Race Crafts
speed pulled them slightly ahead, even though the pilots onboard were
frantically trying to slow them down to gain some movement.
    Hamilton's Helmet-mounted sight allowed him to gain tone for his ASRAAM
even while the Transports were above his flight. Every second of lock gave
the computers a better chance of holding and hitting the target on release.
Indeed the flight fired the missiles as the Transports drew level, the Iris
heat-seeker missile utilising it's Thrust Vector capabilities to put each
on the tail of it's intended victim. This time they were grouped as 3 per
target, and were heading towards 2 of the smaller craft; none of the RAF
pilots thinking that the light warheads of the Iris would be capable of
doing enough damage to the larger Transports. With a series of detonations
the 2 targets lost their engines and began long spiralling, uncontrolled
plummets to the Sea below. At this point the transports split up, with the
five largest plus two of the smallest heading for the South Of Britain and
the rest heading across the island for anywhere away from the fighters.

    As Hamilton confered with Waddington as to his flights next move, he
noticed the transports were now only descending at about Mach 0.95. He
acknowledged his orders from Waddington; to stay with the larger grouping
and try Strafing them as they approached the ground. Under his direction,
Foxtrot 1 moved slightly East and began to setup for Strafing by wing
pairs.

    "FOXTROT 21. BOMBBURST, BOMBBURST!" Flight lieutenant Mike Taylor
(Callsign Foxtrot 21) shouted across the Flights radio net. Pulling his own
stick hard backwards and to the right, applying his throttle and clearing
his fighter from the area the flight had occupied scant seconds before. The
rest of the flight did the same with the middle pair (Foxtrot 11 and 12)
simply pulling straight up and the last pair (Foxtrot 31 and 32) pulling up
and to the left. Mikes wingman (Foxtrot 22) was not so lucky. The incident
that had made Mike give the Breakaway signal was the appearance of 20 Race
Fighters ; unloaded in the air  4 apiece from rear hatches in the 5 Largest
transports. They had come out guns blazing, using the airflow and engine
blast from the transports passage to gain fast lift as their engines
spooled up. The wall of rounds had flashed through the space occupied by
Foxtrot Flight and carved the wing off Foxtrot 22. The rounds passed
through the above-wing conformal fuel tanks and turned the damaged aircraft
into a fast spinning Catherine Wheel. The Race fighters however could at
that moment only fly forwards with very little pitch and yaw control as
their engine pressures tried to match their speed.

    John's neck ached as he craned his head around to gain 'visual' on his
threats, seeing them power past beneath him in near straight lines he
tripped his Thrust vectoring and pulled the plane over in a near flat loop,
pushing his throttle all the way forward to bring him in towards the Race
fighters from behind (and upside down), radioing to the Others to follow
his lead and make one attempt at a gunpass on the enemy. With the Race
pilots still trying to losing speed as the engines caught up with their
momentum, and still thinking that the Terran fighters must pull through a
full long loop; the F3's were able to catch and strafe the Race, inflicting
damage, before rolling down towards the ground.  ECM and chaff covering
their escape, whilst the high Alpha they were capable of allowed them to
be gone and Accelerating before the Race could complete their own turns.

    As Squadron Leader John Hamilton's reduced flight recieved vectors for
home, and the Race Pilots screamed unheard insults at them for their
cowardice in battle; for running away as they saw it. It might have bucked
him up to know he would be recorded as the first Ace in the Airwar against
the Race...then again maybe not as he had lost a friend in the engagement,
and would doubtless lose more as the war continued.


Mersham, 2 miles South of Ashford, Kent
0.05mins After Invasion Detected

    The massive transports landed under the noise of braking jets and
landing gear crushing the local bushes and hedges. These behemoths were a
curious shape for machines meant to fly, almost purely rectangular (though
slightly rounded) with the massive engines mounted along the top edges and
the cockpit set on top of the front almost as an afterthought. It seemed
impossible to imagine these in flight, the sheer amount of power needed to
takeoff was incredible, but they were this shape for a purpose. The Race
believed in form following function and these were designed to give the
maximum cargo space for body size.
    As the rumbles of the engines died down, the air reverberated with the
whine of  Hydraulics as the front loading doors started to open, powering
forwards and down to expose the interior. The lower 3/4's was split into
three open decks in the middle occupying the majority of that volume filled
with Armoured vehicles (tanks on the lower deck and APC's/Mobile Light
Artillery sharing the next two, whilst on each side were a series of 5
shorter decks filled to bursting with Race troops; 500 seated to a deck.
Despite the niose that the Vehicles made in their start-up, it was drowned
out by the turn over of the turbines on the 2 Decks which occupied the
upper 1/4 of the transport. As Tanks and Troops began to flow out there
came an
almighty thundering, and slowly but steadily the fighters began to flood
out into the skies.


USAAF (formerly RAF) Marston, Kent
0:07mins After Invasion Detected

    The alarms had been blaring for 6 minutes now, and the Flight
Controllers were busily giving takeoff clearance on all 4 runways as the
F-15H's were scrambled away, under orders to make directly for MildenHall
and Lechenfield. It was felt that as they were long range interceptors,
holding them for defence this close to the enemy would be an ineffecient
use of their capabilities. Watching them leave the Controllers were not so
sure, admittedly the first planes off the ground had been a pair of F-16F
Advanced Falcons and runway 4 was now stacked to clear out the rest of that
Squadron for CAP duties. But there was something about the size and power
of an Eagle (even an old uprated version like the H) that inspired
confidence, while the Falcon just looked so flimsy in comparison.

    As the planes rocketed into the sky, the bases non-essential personnel
and families were being directed out of the Gates as fast as possible,
directed to take the coast roads away from Kent and get out past London.
The Military Police were trying to get them through in an orderly fashion
but the gates were only so wide.

    The landline from RAF West Drayton rang in the Control tower and the
Chief Controller answered, his face turned pale as the information was
relayed to him.

    80 contacts Inbound from the Race landing site in Kent, ETA 2 minutes!
Obviously someone had noted the amount of Airtraffic from them.

    The 2 remaining F-15H's on Runway 4 were ordered to taxi to Runway 3
and
the F-16F's were given clearance to rotate immediately in 4's. At the same
time the 2 currently orbiting in the CAP were ordered to gain height and
begin illuminating and firing on targets, if possible they were to lead the
enemy away from the Airfield as the C-130's were still waiting to carry
away the equipment for the 15's.

    "Pale Rider 11, Marston Control. Be advised AWAC's Merlin 1 will be on
station minutes 5, they will give all further Vector and Control orders
from that time."

    "Marston. Pale Rider 11. Copy. Merlin 1. Over" Captain Feist gasped out
against the G-force, as his Advanced Falcon carried him ever higher into
the sky. The 3 other planes with him mere metres away,  his Radar systems
already showing Pale Rider 21 and 22 as they rocketed away towards the
enemy eager to get the first shots in. He quickly turned his flight to the
correct heading and started to climb, thinking that if the enemy fighters
were all interceptors, then he and his men might not make it through 5
minutes.

    "Pale Rider 21. Fox 3, Fox 3"

    "Pale Rider 22. Fox 3, Fox 3"

    Looking at his Radar screen, Fiest noted the 4 missiles outbound, and
the sudden 'turn & burn' performed by the shooters as they moved out of the
way for others. The screen also showing the sheer amount of ECM and chaff
they were using, and in the distance, though not far enough were the
targets. He quickly locked in on a target and along with the others
launched his AMRAAM's peeling away to let the next 4 fire. However he knew
that at the ranges seen the last 2 planes of his squadron may never get off
the ground.

    In the Control Tower, the controllers were reaching the same
conclusions. Even as the first 2 C-130's rotated off the Hardstanding, the
radar operators had noted that the Race Fighters were in 2 seperate layers.
50 in the top layer which even now was taking hits from the Falcons, and 30
in the bottom layer which had altered course slightly to increase the range
from the CAP and themselves. It meant only one thing, 30 bombers were about
to start their runs on the base.

    On runway 4, Pale Rider 61 and his Wingman were advancing their
throttles to begin takeoff. As the Afterburners fired and the aircraft
blasted forwards, the first of the Race fighter/bombers started to appear
above the tree's to his left. Taking a massive risk, both planes rotated at
the absolute earliest moment, lifting clear of the ground and risking
stalling as they pushed the noses fully to the left. Uncaging all the
seeker
heads on their ASRAAM's they fired the lot, mere seconds before physics
pulled their decelerating planes back towards the ground, with Pale Rider
61 unable to recover in time and his fighter piling in and rolling over and
over before exploding. '62 however managed to regain forward airspeed (not
before his wheels hit the ground again) and then roared off , deploying
countermeasures as 4 Race Interceptors chased after him looking to avenge
the 5 aircraft destroyed.

    High above the airfield and 4 miles to the north, the Pale Rider Flight
was in a Hairball with 30 Race Interceptors. Suprisingly enough, Fiest
found that they were winning...Sort of. Though they had lost 3 aircraft,
they found that once they closed to Gun range the odds had changed. The
Falcons simply outturned and out accelerated the opponents they faced,
which meant that they were now racking up the kills and, if truth be told,
having the times of their lives. This was flying, this was real aerial
combat. Just you, the guns and your target. He had to constantly remind
himself to focus on his radar occassionally to see if the enemy were
massing apart so as to take a long hit at his flight. He knew that he was
not stopping the bombers from hitting the airfield, but there was no way he
could have from his position. They had lost the 3 fighters by trying to get
close enough to the Bombers to aquire them with the ASRAAM's, having to
fire and turn away without confirming a single hit. Even worse there was
still no indication that '61 and '62 had made it into the air. So right now
they were fighting 7 to 27....no make that 26, he smiled as his latest
target exploded under a hail of 30mm fire.

    "Pale Rider 32. Bingo 30Mike. Say again, Bingo 30Mike."

    Shocked, Fiest checked his own 30mm Ammo reserve and saw it was under
100 rounds. A quick call to the Others in the squadron showed they were in
similar straits.

    " Pale Rider 11. Merlin 1. Vector Change 50 East and Extend. Angels 5.
Over"

    The strange voice snapped Fiest out of  his thinking, and made him look
around the Skies.

    " Pale Rider 11. Merlin 1. Vector 270 East and Extend. Angels 5. Over"

    "Merlin 1. Pale Rider 11. We are Bingo Ammunition and need assistance
over." He replied to the insistant controller on the AWACS, at the same
time checking the heading he was being given.

    " Pale Rider 11. Merlin 1. Understood. Vector 270 East and Extend.
Angels 5. Over"

    Quickly he copied the order and had his Flight change to the new
heading, pushing the afterburners to their fullest and diving for the given
altitude. He didn't like having to run, but given that or die because he
couldn't fight back, he would take this option. Again the Falcons agility
and speed paid off, the ECM was operational and they were pulling away
fast. Still '41 and '32 were hit by missiles and his flight was rapidly
running out of Countermeasures..and fuel.

    " Pale Rider 11. Merlin 1. Bandits, figures 19 your 6 O'clock. Bandits,
figures 10 your 9 O'clock. Make Angels 3. Over."

    Fiest shook his head at the British need to add O'Clock to the
direction indicators, he knew he had Enemy directly behind him (though he
hadn't realised they had killed so many), the Fighters from his left must
have been part of the Cover group that went in with the bombers, and now
looking for some kills. All he could do now was let his plane fly as fast
as it could, and hope the Brits knew what they were doing.

    Twenty three miles to the North and 105,000 ft above Pale Rider Flight,
23(F) and 19(F) Squadrons began to slowly align their aircraft towards the
Race Interceptors below. They were recieving targeting Data from Magic 1, a
second AWACS orbiting over The Wash using Narrow Beam, low power LPI
targeting Frequencies (Merlin 1 was orbiting London, and being very
energetically visible to all and sundry. Blasting the Airwaves with
non-discrete Radar emissions). As each got a solid lock they released their
AMRAAM's, 2 per plane, and the 48 Meteors boosted eagerly towards their 29
targets. Behind them the F3's advanced their throttles and powered in,
targeting the Bombers and what little was left of their Cover,  a further
48 Meteors soon blasting in, though this time without active guidance.

    Behind Pale Rider the first Clue the Race had of the incoming strike
was the explosions amongst the the 19 Interceptors, they being the closest
were hit first. The other 10 were still trying to raise them as their own
deaths arrived. Out of 29 Interceptors only 3 escaped unhit, all of them
from the group of 19. As they climbed with Radars blazing across the skies
looking for the attackers, 6 Fighters from 23(F) Squadron were Vectored
onto them by Magic 1, now broadcasting at full power to gain a complete
picture of the battlezone. The 3 surviving Race Interceptors turned towards
the new transmissions and launched their own missiles, hoping for kills as
they prepared to close. The Target was on the limit of Missile range but it
was probably important, so they would hopefully have the honour of killing
it's escorts in personal combat. The ASRAAM's arrived just as they were
preparing a second volley, still unaware of the planes above them, and died
still thinking they would be given a chance to fight.

    The F3's closed hard on the Bombers below, the AMRAAM's had not been as
effective against the low flying craft and so there were still 8 Targets to
kill. At 8,000 ft they pulled back on the throttles and leveled out. Still
travelling at Mach 1.8, but decellerating, they closed on the fleeing Race
planes. This time as they closed the distance rapidly, they pulled up
slightly and their flight path described a shallow arc, at the top of which
they deployed Airbrakes and overflew the Race at a speed of approx 550
knots. Exploiting their superior Alpha they continued flying forwards with
their planes pointing to the right and down, the 27mm Mauser cannons firing
rapidly into the bewildered Targets, then turning back to the front again
they accellerated away. Pulling up and to the West they flew in a flat loop
until they faced East. Then slowly they gained altitude once more and
Approached Ashford from the West.

    To the North of Ashford, 25(B) Squadrons FGR3's flew in fast at a
height of 300 ft, Armed with cluster and Conventional Bombs, they were
targeted to the Landing Zone of the Race Transports. As they closed to
within 4 miles they were relieved to note that the 14 strong Race CAP was
headed East towards the F3's. At 2 miles the Inertial Nav system started to
prepare the bombs for delivery. At 1 mile the Computer checked it's
position against the Orbiting GPS satellites and the sights were
calibrated. At 0.5 miles the Pilots pulled up sharply and the computers
began the countdown for release. At 0.4 miles the concentrated SAM barrage
from the Race Mobile Artillery obliterated the FGR3's totally and mauled
the F3's of 19(F) and 23(F) squadrons as the Race Interceptors doubled back
and lured them in. As the Surviving F3's raced home behind their
countermeasures, the second Wave of 30 Race Interceptors and 10 Bombers
launched. This time they would only fly within the radius of their ground
cover, this however was scant comfort to the inhabitants of Ashford as it
was totally destroyed by Ground and Air!

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