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Field Test
© 2020 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by baroncoon
The voice was machine-generated and deliberately shrill, intoning “Hij nin pōdan . . . hij nin pōdan . . . “ as light blue emergency lights blinked and shlani ran to their posts. Similar notifications of the Step One Alert appeared on padds and monitor screens.
“Nurfrelen k’Tan?” The subadmiral had been leaving his quarters, and acknowledged the alert on his padd as the station’s operations officer caught up to him. The captain said, “Sensors are showing multiple contacts in hyperspace. Inbound.”
Yazhin k’Tan gestured his comprehension. “Identification?”
“Based on their power curve, Terran; at least two squadrons. The defense system is already active, and forces are moving to intercept.”
The subadmiral scowled, baring his teeth. The station he commanded had two echelons of cruisers on permanent patrol. “Very well. Are we able to communicate?”
“Yes, Sir.” The response caused k’Tan’s ears to flick, but before he could say anything the operations officer said, “That concerns me as well. If they were going to attack us, they would have an electronic warfare ship disrupting our communications.”
“Ernnh.” K’Tan felt his fingerclaws twitch as he thought. “Have Echelon K maintain a defensive perimeter, and Echelon G will engage the enemy. Notify Third Fleet Command.” The captain left k’Tan to pass on the orders as soon as the pair entered the station’s operations center. The subadmiral stood at the center of the room, his tail switching back and forth to maintain his balance as he gazed up at the tactical display.
The movement through hyperspace dispersed as a field of gravitic mines, the station’s first defensive line, detonated and took several Terran ships with them. The ‘ripples’ of displaced spacetime disappeared as the ships phased back into normal space, falling into a loose formation maximized for flexibility in attack or defense. The strongest arm of the attacking force was some forty cruisers, each attended by two smaller escort ships. Echelon G had almost the same number of ships.
He gazed up at the display, noting that one trio of Terran ships was behaving strangely, seeming to flicker in and out of view as if they were at the limit of the station’s sensors. “Sēmchāni-kestin,” he said.
“Sir?” the vir asked.
“Is Echelon G using our sensor arrays to guide them to the target?” he asked. “Grid cube 41-117-03.”
“Yes, sir, they are,” the vir replied, fingers dancing across her console. “There’s no fault in the array.”
K’Tan’s ears suddenly went flat against his head. “Communications, send to all ships – use your own long range sensors. Transmit your findings to us. Aan nin kusag!”
***
The Terran captain detailed as the attack force commander bared his teeth like a feral wolf. “All ships, outphase in attack formation. Targets at discretion.”
***
As the two echelons stopped using the station’s sensors, the symbols showing the attacking Terran ships faded or disappeared entirely, replaced by others on the opposite side of the tactical display. K’Tan’s fingerclaws were fully extended. “Sensors!”
“They slipped false data into the sensor returns, Subadmiral,” the subcaptain said. “We’re recalibrating now.”
“How long?” The display went suddenly blank before reappearing showing the Terran formation close to Echelon K and the station. “Thank you. Echelon G will try to get behind the enemy. All ships, engage; strike to kill,” he said levelly, burying his shock at the Terran ability to manipulate the sensor returns. He gestured, and the display descended until he and the three Weapons Officers were within the hologram.
Once there, he watched as the two viri and one kam directed the defending ships and coordinated the station’s own weapon arrays.
***
“That’s got him!” Sander blurted, her paws balling into fists as the Imperial ship exploded under a hail of fire from the Ublyudok. The bridge crew alternately cheered or laughed, but kept their eyes on their controls and displays. “Attack pattern I-16,” the rat femme ordered. “Get us another target, Helm.” The ship shuddered at incoming fire from the station. “Naipaul, damage?”
“Shield Four’s down to sixty percent,” the red panda said. “Hull’s starting to buckle there, so we’re tumbling. Primary banks two and five are recharging.”
“Great.” The small cruiser shook again. “That station’s getting on my nerves. Ask the Fignya to form up on us.”
The two Witch-class ships wove an intricate attack pattern toward the station, dodging Imperial ships and launching missiles at the station’s shield grid. The Fignya fired its primaries at the EMP-created hole, destroying the primary battery that had been trying to coordinate with a Kashlanin destroyer-type vessel.
“Yes!” Naipaul shouted, raising his fists in the air exultantly and almost losing his balance.
The Ublyudok’s Communications Officer said as a few of the bridge crew laughed, “Signal from the mission commander, Captain. We’re to break off and run.”
“Acknowledge the signal. Helm?”
“Evasive maneuvers, heading for an inphase point.”
“Well done. Get us clear and get us gone.”
“Captain,” the sensor technician said, “I’m getting a massive disturbance coming through hyperspace.”
“We’ll miss it,” Helm remarked.
“Power signature’s Terran,” the sensor tech said, giving the helmsfur a mild glare.
Sander nodded. “That’ll be the fleet, then. Our job’s over.” The rat glanced at the repeater screens at her chair, monitoring the helmsfur’s actions in avoiding any further engagements until the Ublyudok (her ship!) phased into hyperspace.
A red and brown-banded tail caught her attention, and she saw Naipaul bending over to confer with the engineer at the damage control station.
Nice ass, she thought.
© 2020 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by baroncoon
The voice was machine-generated and deliberately shrill, intoning “Hij nin pōdan . . . hij nin pōdan . . . “ as light blue emergency lights blinked and shlani ran to their posts. Similar notifications of the Step One Alert appeared on padds and monitor screens.
“Nurfrelen k’Tan?” The subadmiral had been leaving his quarters, and acknowledged the alert on his padd as the station’s operations officer caught up to him. The captain said, “Sensors are showing multiple contacts in hyperspace. Inbound.”
Yazhin k’Tan gestured his comprehension. “Identification?”
“Based on their power curve, Terran; at least two squadrons. The defense system is already active, and forces are moving to intercept.”
The subadmiral scowled, baring his teeth. The station he commanded had two echelons of cruisers on permanent patrol. “Very well. Are we able to communicate?”
“Yes, Sir.” The response caused k’Tan’s ears to flick, but before he could say anything the operations officer said, “That concerns me as well. If they were going to attack us, they would have an electronic warfare ship disrupting our communications.”
“Ernnh.” K’Tan felt his fingerclaws twitch as he thought. “Have Echelon K maintain a defensive perimeter, and Echelon G will engage the enemy. Notify Third Fleet Command.” The captain left k’Tan to pass on the orders as soon as the pair entered the station’s operations center. The subadmiral stood at the center of the room, his tail switching back and forth to maintain his balance as he gazed up at the tactical display.
The movement through hyperspace dispersed as a field of gravitic mines, the station’s first defensive line, detonated and took several Terran ships with them. The ‘ripples’ of displaced spacetime disappeared as the ships phased back into normal space, falling into a loose formation maximized for flexibility in attack or defense. The strongest arm of the attacking force was some forty cruisers, each attended by two smaller escort ships. Echelon G had almost the same number of ships.
He gazed up at the display, noting that one trio of Terran ships was behaving strangely, seeming to flicker in and out of view as if they were at the limit of the station’s sensors. “Sēmchāni-kestin,” he said.
“Sir?” the vir asked.
“Is Echelon G using our sensor arrays to guide them to the target?” he asked. “Grid cube 41-117-03.”
“Yes, sir, they are,” the vir replied, fingers dancing across her console. “There’s no fault in the array.”
K’Tan’s ears suddenly went flat against his head. “Communications, send to all ships – use your own long range sensors. Transmit your findings to us. Aan nin kusag!”
***
The Terran captain detailed as the attack force commander bared his teeth like a feral wolf. “All ships, outphase in attack formation. Targets at discretion.”
***
As the two echelons stopped using the station’s sensors, the symbols showing the attacking Terran ships faded or disappeared entirely, replaced by others on the opposite side of the tactical display. K’Tan’s fingerclaws were fully extended. “Sensors!”
“They slipped false data into the sensor returns, Subadmiral,” the subcaptain said. “We’re recalibrating now.”
“How long?” The display went suddenly blank before reappearing showing the Terran formation close to Echelon K and the station. “Thank you. Echelon G will try to get behind the enemy. All ships, engage; strike to kill,” he said levelly, burying his shock at the Terran ability to manipulate the sensor returns. He gestured, and the display descended until he and the three Weapons Officers were within the hologram.
Once there, he watched as the two viri and one kam directed the defending ships and coordinated the station’s own weapon arrays.
***
“That’s got him!” Sander blurted, her paws balling into fists as the Imperial ship exploded under a hail of fire from the Ublyudok. The bridge crew alternately cheered or laughed, but kept their eyes on their controls and displays. “Attack pattern I-16,” the rat femme ordered. “Get us another target, Helm.” The ship shuddered at incoming fire from the station. “Naipaul, damage?”
“Shield Four’s down to sixty percent,” the red panda said. “Hull’s starting to buckle there, so we’re tumbling. Primary banks two and five are recharging.”
“Great.” The small cruiser shook again. “That station’s getting on my nerves. Ask the Fignya to form up on us.”
The two Witch-class ships wove an intricate attack pattern toward the station, dodging Imperial ships and launching missiles at the station’s shield grid. The Fignya fired its primaries at the EMP-created hole, destroying the primary battery that had been trying to coordinate with a Kashlanin destroyer-type vessel.
“Yes!” Naipaul shouted, raising his fists in the air exultantly and almost losing his balance.
The Ublyudok’s Communications Officer said as a few of the bridge crew laughed, “Signal from the mission commander, Captain. We’re to break off and run.”
“Acknowledge the signal. Helm?”
“Evasive maneuvers, heading for an inphase point.”
“Well done. Get us clear and get us gone.”
“Captain,” the sensor technician said, “I’m getting a massive disturbance coming through hyperspace.”
“We’ll miss it,” Helm remarked.
“Power signature’s Terran,” the sensor tech said, giving the helmsfur a mild glare.
Sander nodded. “That’ll be the fleet, then. Our job’s over.” The rat glanced at the repeater screens at her chair, monitoring the helmsfur’s actions in avoiding any further engagements until the Ublyudok (her ship!) phased into hyperspace.
A red and brown-banded tail caught her attention, and she saw Naipaul bending over to confer with the engineer at the damage control station.
Nice ass, she thought.
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Alien (Other)
Gender Male
Size 99 x 120px
Someone in the Confederacy got clever. They should enjoy it while they can, of course.
Make it look like a raid, then hit it with a real attack after reinforcements have stood down? Evil.
Hmm, have you read Freehold?
https://www.baen.com/freehold.html
After being attacked, they then showed the other side how to do it properly ...
I see someone getting some payback - with interest.
https://www.baen.com/freehold.html
After being attacked, they then showed the other side how to do it properly ...
I see someone getting some payback - with interest.
No, I hadn't read it. But you knew that al-Sakai had something up his sleeve.
"But that trick never works!"
"This time for sure! Presto!"
*GROWL*
"Wrong hat."
"I take a 7 and a half."
"This time for sure! Presto!"
*GROWL*
"Wrong hat."
"I take a 7 and a half."
I've always felt the Vir have it all over the Terrans... and now I patiently wait... for more.
V.
V.
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