Action at Omega Beacon

“Conn, sensor. Power spike!”

“Evade! Evade!” Crites shouted but despite Bradley’s maneuvering, the lasers fired from Grendel found the Constellation. Armor again dissipated the beam energy but not enough to prevent damage. One hit cut power to the bridge, leaving them in darkness until the back-up systems came online.

“Sir, we’re sixty percent effective and dropping,” Jena called over her shoulder as new data began scrolling down her screen. “Grendel’s weak side is exposed. We can finish them!”

“Damage report!” Crites called again as emergency power turned the lights on and their monitors flickering to life. The Captain 1st would not be pleased. One of the first things she learned about him was that he never took bad news very well. A beam from Meteor knocked the power out again as main lights began to flicker on.

“Sir, forward screens are down. C turret is inoperable. Life support systems down to sixty percent. Hull ruptures reported on decks one through five,” Jena said and took a deep breath, the list of damage was much longer this time. “We took a hit from the accelerator on Seydlitz. Atmosphere is leaking at steady ten cubic feet per second. Targeting arrays are off-line. Damage control teams responding on all decks! Sir, we’re no longer combat effective.”

A few heads on the bridge turned slightly at that. Crites was rarely spoken to in such a way, and Jena, a recent addition from the Combat Command School, had not yet learned to keep her mouth shut.

Captain Crites looked down and glared at her accusingly, as if her statement was not only an imputation of incompetence, but an accusation of cowardice as well, but he had only one choice. The loss of the frontal screens and the damage to the targeting computer made the battle unwinnable.

“Helm, conn. Come about, bearing two-three five, and inform the group that we’re leaving. All ahead three quarters.”

At full power, Constellation quickly left the larger, slower Grendel behind. Independence, under attack from a swarm of “Dassaults,” delivered a final salvo into the rear dorsal quadrant of the E-Con heavy. The OpFor was dead in space but not scrapped.

"Conn, tactical. We're clear." Jena said as she felt eyes quietly burning into her back. The battle had lasted 12 minutes.

"Tactical, conn. Take us down from alert. This exercise is over,” Ellison said, sounding unhappy. “Lock out the training package, Mitchell.”

“Aye-aye, training package locked out. We’re in normal running mode.” Jena surveyed the bridge, taking an accounting of her ship and herself. At a glance, she noted that the simulated damage to Constellation would have required at least four weeks in a large repair yard, if everything had been real.

Crites fumed as he climbed down from the command chair. She watched him, shaking as adrenaline still rushed through her system, angry at his failure.

“Conn, commo. There’s a priority signal coming in from Redcap two.”

Redcap 2 was the Republic-class cruiser RN Admiral Hood, OpFor flagship, stand-in for the massive ECC Grendel. The RN Repulse masqueraded as Meteor. They’d hammered on Audacity as a courtesy of like for like.

“I’ll take it in my day room.” Crites said moved toward the hatch. Ellison climbed up to the command chair and keyed the intercom.

“Attention all hands. The exercise is complete. Secure from General Quarters," He said and released the intercom switch. “Nav, conn. Set course for Earth. Com, contact Freedom Point and let them know we’re on our way back.”

“A draw?” Jena muttered quietly to herself as she locked out the simulation package. “We’re in the most shit-hot boat since the Monitor and the best we could do was a draw?”

“Conn, nav. Aye.”

***