I thought I'd get the ball rolling again with my first piece of Fanfiction. This is the background story to a set of missions I'm currently working on.
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WING COMMANDER - REBELLION
PROLOGUE
I don't know when it started exactly, probably because there was no single person or incident responsible. Still, looking back, I suppose it could be narrowed down to a few instances that in hindsight could have easily been avoided or stopped; unfortunately, hindsight only happens after the fact.
One of those instances that comes to my mind, which again in hindsight was probably the most important, was in the year 2681. I remember that year well for many different reasons. It was the year I graduated the Academy, the year I first set foot on the Midway, the year that I flew my first real mission and the year that I first encountered the Nephilim.
I remember that particular encounter and the resulting confrontation well; my baptism by fire, so to speak. But still, compared to the years that followed, I would have been glad to be doing something as simple as killing bugs again. It has often crossed my mind if they would ever come back and to be perfectly honest with you, I wished on more than one occasion that they had. It would have made things simpler. However, they didn't and as a result I find myself in this unenviable position.
As I said, 2681 was the year that things first came out into the open. The cracks were already there if you looked hard enough, but nobody did, at least not until it was too late. I recall somebody telling me once that if history has taught us one thing, it is that we never truly learn from our mistakes. This was one of those mistakes...
Lieutenant General Maxwell Garret
Commander 29th Tactical Fighter Group, TCS Missouri CVX-32
Excerpt from personnel log, 2714.193
2681.307
BABEL SYSTEM
CHALLENGER QUADRANT
AVALON SECTOR
0137 CST
The Pelican Class transport Morning Star led a convoy of seven similar vessels at a breakneck speed towards the Jericho System Jump Point still over eight hundred thousand kilometres away.
On the bridge of the usually easygoing vessel, the silence was palpable as members of the crew nervously carried out their duties. This silence had been going on for nearly three hours; even the usual bridge chatter had stopped as everybody went tensely about their business. The silence seemed to reach its limit as a young Lieutenant sitting at the sensor station in the sunken crewpit finally broke it.
"Contact bearing one-eight-zero, dead astern."
"Size and range Mr. Anderson?" the forcefully calm voice of the ships commanding officer, Captain Devon Tyler asked as he turned his chair to face the station.
"Sixteen fighter class ships, one capital class vessel..." the officer forced his voice to remain as calm as the captains though failed. "...Distance one hundred and thirty thousand kilometres."
Tyler rubbed his hand over his stubble covered chin. "Time to intercept?"
"At their present speed of two-forty, they will be within weapons range in approximately thirty two minutes captain."
"How long to the Jump Point?"
The navigator looked over his shoulder. "One hour fourteen minutes at our current speed."
Tyler suppressed an agitated sigh as he thumbed the ship intercom on the armrest. "Engineering, Chief I need more speed."
There was a moments static before a response came. "That's all I can give you, the reactors are already at one hundred and thirty percent..."
"Chief in half an hour a world of hurt is going to reach us, push the reactors to one fifty." Tyler nearly shouted, all attempts at calm forgotten.
"...Aye sir." The Chief Engineer replied unhappily.
All around them, the steady hum of the already overtaxed engines began to increase in pitch.
"Sir we've increased to two hundred per second."
Tyler acknowledged the helmsman. "Comm, signal the rest of the convoy to increase speed anyway they can."
They had gained a little more time on the pursuing ships, however he knew that it was hopeless, even if they could outrun the capital ship, which was improbable at best, the fighters themselves could catch them in a matter of minutes by simply activating their afterburners. Tyler kept these thoughts to himself as he gripped the armrests on his chair. The fact that the fighters were keeping pace with the capital ship only prolonged the inevitable.
The silence resumed for a time only punctuated by the Lieutenant who kept up a running commentary of the pursuing ships distance.
Tyler did not bother to shut him up, he figured that it would keep the young man from thinking too hard about what those numbers he kept reciting actually meant.
"Contacts at twenty thousand kilometres, time to weapons range is one minute thirty seconds...Captain the fighters are pulling ahead."
Tyler cursed colourfully. "Power up the weapons...comm, instruct the other ships to close up into a defensive position."
It was a useless gesture, less than thirty seconds later a static filled comm signal came from the Beckett at the rear of the convoy. "Engin...dest...hul...breached...os...g...in..ty..."
The static became a squeal as Tyler looked out of the port side viewport and saw the transport explode, the bright flash momentarily blinding him.
He barely recovered his vision when he was pitched forward, out of his chair. "Report..."
"Torpedo hit to the starboard engine...hull breached..."
A second torpedo struck sending lancing fire through what was left of the starboard engine and throwing everybody around as the Morning Star suddenly listed over.
Outside the viewport nobody saw as the Merchant Sun carrying a cargo of flammable materials erupted into a fireball, its burnt hulk dropping lifelessly away from the other ships. A few seconds later the Strandhill and Gandolfini followed.
The Charles F. Kane, its bridge superstructure burning brightly, exploded next. Tyler grinned viciously as an unlucky pilot in one of the attacking bombers moved to close and was caught in the blast.
The grin was wiped off his face almost as quickly as another torpedo hit, collapsing a bulkhead from the ceiling that swung down, striking his left shoulder and breaking his collarbone.
Painfully Tyler managed to right himself and looking down to the crewpit through the smoke filled bridge he saw the lifeless body of Lieutenant Anderson; his face full of still bleeding lacerations and his console flaming brightly.
Wrenching his eyes from the dead man, he looked out of the viewport. The Morning Star was dead in space, it inertia had turned it to face the opposite direction and approaching the dying transport was its end. Tyler stared silently ahead as the Plunkett Class Cruiser closed.
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'For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky'.
Wing Commander - Secret Ops Missions
http://saturn.spaceports.com/~wcsom/index.html
[This message has been edited by Primarch (edited March 29, 2000).]
--------------------------
WING COMMANDER - REBELLION
PROLOGUE
I don't know when it started exactly, probably because there was no single person or incident responsible. Still, looking back, I suppose it could be narrowed down to a few instances that in hindsight could have easily been avoided or stopped; unfortunately, hindsight only happens after the fact.
One of those instances that comes to my mind, which again in hindsight was probably the most important, was in the year 2681. I remember that year well for many different reasons. It was the year I graduated the Academy, the year I first set foot on the Midway, the year that I flew my first real mission and the year that I first encountered the Nephilim.
I remember that particular encounter and the resulting confrontation well; my baptism by fire, so to speak. But still, compared to the years that followed, I would have been glad to be doing something as simple as killing bugs again. It has often crossed my mind if they would ever come back and to be perfectly honest with you, I wished on more than one occasion that they had. It would have made things simpler. However, they didn't and as a result I find myself in this unenviable position.
As I said, 2681 was the year that things first came out into the open. The cracks were already there if you looked hard enough, but nobody did, at least not until it was too late. I recall somebody telling me once that if history has taught us one thing, it is that we never truly learn from our mistakes. This was one of those mistakes...
Lieutenant General Maxwell Garret
Commander 29th Tactical Fighter Group, TCS Missouri CVX-32
Excerpt from personnel log, 2714.193
2681.307
BABEL SYSTEM
CHALLENGER QUADRANT
AVALON SECTOR
0137 CST
The Pelican Class transport Morning Star led a convoy of seven similar vessels at a breakneck speed towards the Jericho System Jump Point still over eight hundred thousand kilometres away.
On the bridge of the usually easygoing vessel, the silence was palpable as members of the crew nervously carried out their duties. This silence had been going on for nearly three hours; even the usual bridge chatter had stopped as everybody went tensely about their business. The silence seemed to reach its limit as a young Lieutenant sitting at the sensor station in the sunken crewpit finally broke it.
"Contact bearing one-eight-zero, dead astern."
"Size and range Mr. Anderson?" the forcefully calm voice of the ships commanding officer, Captain Devon Tyler asked as he turned his chair to face the station.
"Sixteen fighter class ships, one capital class vessel..." the officer forced his voice to remain as calm as the captains though failed. "...Distance one hundred and thirty thousand kilometres."
Tyler rubbed his hand over his stubble covered chin. "Time to intercept?"
"At their present speed of two-forty, they will be within weapons range in approximately thirty two minutes captain."
"How long to the Jump Point?"
The navigator looked over his shoulder. "One hour fourteen minutes at our current speed."
Tyler suppressed an agitated sigh as he thumbed the ship intercom on the armrest. "Engineering, Chief I need more speed."
There was a moments static before a response came. "That's all I can give you, the reactors are already at one hundred and thirty percent..."
"Chief in half an hour a world of hurt is going to reach us, push the reactors to one fifty." Tyler nearly shouted, all attempts at calm forgotten.
"...Aye sir." The Chief Engineer replied unhappily.
All around them, the steady hum of the already overtaxed engines began to increase in pitch.
"Sir we've increased to two hundred per second."
Tyler acknowledged the helmsman. "Comm, signal the rest of the convoy to increase speed anyway they can."
They had gained a little more time on the pursuing ships, however he knew that it was hopeless, even if they could outrun the capital ship, which was improbable at best, the fighters themselves could catch them in a matter of minutes by simply activating their afterburners. Tyler kept these thoughts to himself as he gripped the armrests on his chair. The fact that the fighters were keeping pace with the capital ship only prolonged the inevitable.
The silence resumed for a time only punctuated by the Lieutenant who kept up a running commentary of the pursuing ships distance.
Tyler did not bother to shut him up, he figured that it would keep the young man from thinking too hard about what those numbers he kept reciting actually meant.
"Contacts at twenty thousand kilometres, time to weapons range is one minute thirty seconds...Captain the fighters are pulling ahead."
Tyler cursed colourfully. "Power up the weapons...comm, instruct the other ships to close up into a defensive position."
It was a useless gesture, less than thirty seconds later a static filled comm signal came from the Beckett at the rear of the convoy. "Engin...dest...hul...breached...os...g...in..ty..."
The static became a squeal as Tyler looked out of the port side viewport and saw the transport explode, the bright flash momentarily blinding him.
He barely recovered his vision when he was pitched forward, out of his chair. "Report..."
"Torpedo hit to the starboard engine...hull breached..."
A second torpedo struck sending lancing fire through what was left of the starboard engine and throwing everybody around as the Morning Star suddenly listed over.
Outside the viewport nobody saw as the Merchant Sun carrying a cargo of flammable materials erupted into a fireball, its burnt hulk dropping lifelessly away from the other ships. A few seconds later the Strandhill and Gandolfini followed.
The Charles F. Kane, its bridge superstructure burning brightly, exploded next. Tyler grinned viciously as an unlucky pilot in one of the attacking bombers moved to close and was caught in the blast.
The grin was wiped off his face almost as quickly as another torpedo hit, collapsing a bulkhead from the ceiling that swung down, striking his left shoulder and breaking his collarbone.
Painfully Tyler managed to right himself and looking down to the crewpit through the smoke filled bridge he saw the lifeless body of Lieutenant Anderson; his face full of still bleeding lacerations and his console flaming brightly.
Wrenching his eyes from the dead man, he looked out of the viewport. The Morning Star was dead in space, it inertia had turned it to face the opposite direction and approaching the dying transport was its end. Tyler stared silently ahead as the Plunkett Class Cruiser closed.
------------------
'For the World is Hollow and I Have Touched the Sky'.
Wing Commander - Secret Ops Missions
http://saturn.spaceports.com/~wcsom/index.html
[This message has been edited by Primarch (edited March 29, 2000).]
