The New Holland Incident

They weren't wrong. The aliens had been able to make it dangerously close to the computer core. The only thing impeding them from breaching into the checkpoint protecting the repair teams was a blast door that had been lowered by one of the retreating defense teams.

"Captain!" Commander Haynes shouted over the noise of the bridge. "Checkpoint C-2 has confirmed being engaged by hostile group three!"

"Acknowledged, what's the status of group two?" Llewellyn inquired, referring to another group of six intruders. These ones some of the more heavily armed.

"They've broken engagement with checkpoint B-5 and appear to be retreating back towards checkpoint B-6." Haynes responded, placing one hand on top of the earpiece that was feeding her information. "B-5 states that one of the aliens appears to be injured and seems to be slowing the group down."

"Good, keep monitoring." Llewellyn ordered. "I want to know if they attempt to get that close to the deck two reactor again."

Haynes gave an acknowledgment and proceeded to return her focus to her terminal. It was a small relief that they aliens seemed to have shifted their previous determined push away from the reactor room. The reactor on deck two was currently the primary source of power for the ships life support and artificial gravity (including the inertial dampeners). Initially the power for those systems came from the main fusion reactor. However the alien mass driver projectiles had done a number on the ships power distribution network, causing the original power disruption for which the sudden loss of gravity and the earlier bump on Llewellyn's head were to blame. The deck two reactor had then kicked in and taken over those critical systems using an auxiliary power network for which was designed for exactly this kind of failure. Unfortunately those systems were all it could power. And to Llewellyn's knowledge the damage control teams were still trying to determine the scale of damage that the overload had caused. One thing was for certain though, the computer was fried and not even their fancy new OS could do anything about it.

Lieutenant Belvins had informed him that it would take at least three weeks in drydock at Luna to replace it. He and the engineering staff were attempting a manual work around until the emergencies could be brought online, but the damage was extensive. The young officer wasn't even sure if they could patch it with the parts they had on board. And with alien borders roaming the ship a lot of those efforts were halted. On the positive side, partial communications were back online and the Captain had been able to send a message to Captain Hilton informing them of their situation. It was agreed upon that in light of the damage to the Battleaxe, all rescue shuttles departing from the transport were now to dock with the Churchill instead. It would be a tight fit, but it was safer than bringing them on board the Battleaxe. The smaller frigate was going to have a difficult time that however, seeing as they were still actively engaging the remaining pirate ships.

If only they could get the Battleaxe back into the fight, even if it was just as another target to draw fire from. Llewellyn began scanning over his terminal, bringing up the armaments manifest. Partially out of curiosity and partly because he felt he needed to be doing something other than just sitting in his command chair with his thumbs up his arse, waiting for his crew to either fix the ship or be killed. It may have been a bit of a morbid thought, but as the minutes ticked by so did the likelihood of any of them surviving this encounter. Just under a year, he thought. He had been in command of the Battleaxe for just under a year now of patrolling the frontier and backwater nowhere colonies. Getting to know his new family and the home in which they all shared. Making sure that every one of them was at their peak and the best he could make them. And they were going to die to pirates. Xeno pirates at that. Four legged beaked mantis looking things. Llewellyn let out a quiet, jaded sigh. At least the Crown might take their deaths as a reason to invest more in the navy, if nothing else. Llewellyn would hate for his death to be for nothing.

But it wasn't for nothing, was it? The Captain thought. There were innocent lives aboard that transport. If nothing else they had to try, for their sake, if not their own. They may not have been British citizens, or hell, even Human, but they were in sovereign British territory. As such they had the right to safe passage. Llewellyn would be damned if he let himself give up now. He smiled, it was a bit of a flimsy justification, but he owed his crew that much. The armament lookup was still there waiting on his screen. He began to scroll through it. They still had a near full compliment of rounds for the hypervelocity guns, useless without the maneuverability to use them. The PDC's were two-thirds full, and still nonfunctional. The missile tubes were primed, loaded and ready to fire. Just missing targeting data. The same going for the three nukes they carried.

He read over that last part one more time. Missile tubes one through twenty were indeed loaded and ready to go. They were simply missing the targeting data because the fire control was offline. But they did still have a limited radar feed. And with the external comms back they could transmit out... A plan was starting to form in Llewellyn's mind. He quickly checked the status of the launch bay. Green across the board and no damage to the adjacent areas. There was one of the alien boarding teams fairly close, but that would hardly be of consequence if what he had in mind was to work. Even better yet since all the shuttles had been dispatched there was a clear opening for the Battleaxe's third and final drone to leave the hangar. Llewellyn pushed away his terminal and stood up.

"Mr. Belvins," The Captain began. "I require you knowledge for a moment."

The Operations officer turned in his chair and gave a quizzical look at his commanding officer.

"Of course sir. What do you want to know?" The man inquired.

Llewellyn smiled and continued. "Would it be possibly to send and receive fire control and targeting data through a tightbeam transmission from the communications array?"

The quizzical look continued as the lieutenant responded. "Yes sir it's possible. However I seriously doubt the Churchill would be able to send us fire control data under the current circumstances. It would put undue stress on their own tactical systems."

"It's not the Churchill I'm interested in Leftenant." The Captain said with a grin. "I just want to know if you could use the targeting data from our last drone to run fire control for our own missile tubes and PDC's."

Llewellyn saw the young man's face light up as the realization of what his Captain had just proposed sunk in. After turning to make what looked like a quick check on his own terminal, the Lieutenant returned to face Llewellyn, a sly grin now crossing his face.

"Yes sir, I believe I can rig something up. It may be a bit sluggish, but I believe it could work." The officer replied.

"How long?" Llewellyn asked, feeling his own smile widening ever so slightly.

"No more than a few minutes."

"Get to it then. This is your priority until further notice. Understood Leftenant?" Llewellyn commanded.

"Aye sir, understood." Belvins snapped off before quickly turning back to his station. A flurry of key presses and orders could now be heard coming from the terminal.

Being true to his word, the Battleaxe's third and final drone was launched a scant two minutes later. One minute after that it was hovering five hundred meters above their hull, perfectly in line and matching the forward drift of the massive ships trajectory. The engine core was still having trouble maintaining a steady thrust, and the Waterloo class's chemical thrusters just didn't have enough power to move a ship of this tonnage with any sort of urgency. So a lousy nine hundred KPH was all they were able to reliably manage. It would have to do. The drone was starting to relay a steady stream of targeting information. However an annoying three second delay accompanied any sort of fire control command as the drone struggled to cope with the massive amount of new information being relayed and requested. Regardless of this, Llewellyn and his ship now had (tenuous) target locks on the remaining two alien craft.

The battle outside had slowed almost to a crawl. The smaller attack ship had pulled back to seemingly play interdiction for the larger one, intercepting missiles from the Churchill which now favored the larger, injured target over the smaller faster one. The Churchill itself had also backed off for the moment, opting to lick its own wounds after a lucky mass driver shot had punched clean through the nose of the ship. Llewellyn doubted Dinesh and his crew would be able to last much longer without some sort of support. So with a new found confidence Captain Llewellyn stood from his chair.

"Weapons," He commanded. "Do you have fire control?

"Yes sir." The woman responded. "Target locks are holding steady."

"Excellent." Llewellyn mused, steeling himself for what was to come next. "Select priority targets and fire at will. I want missiles, PDC's everything and anything we have left that's non nuclear. Saturate those ships with continuous fire."

"Aye sir." Ensign Smyth said with a grin. "Our PDC's shall block out the sun."

Llewellyn let out an amused huff and returned to his seat. The rumble of missile launches and PDC's firing vibrated through the command center just as he sat down. His terminal's radar feed was now tracking about two dozen new fast moving and small targets streaking their way towards the highlighted enemy ships. The PDC rounds would be mixed in with those missiles. However they were far to small and fast for the radar to accurately track them. The pirates noticed what they had done almost immediately. The two ships were now quickly accelerating away from their previous positions, bobbing and weaving while their own countermeasures were beginning to deploy. A second wave of shutters rang through the hull as a dozen more missiles were loosed from their silos. Llewellyn could see that the Churchill had taken their barrage as a perfect time to begin one of their own, firing more of their own missiles into the fray.

It appeared as though the two alien ships had been able to divert enough of their own point defenses to neutralize nearly every missile that the Battleaxe had fired. The small tungsten rounds from their PDC's had been another story however. A volley had hit the larger ship, causing them to immediately try and duck away from the Battleaxe's stream of fire. It had apparently been enough of a distraction that one of the Churchill's missiles had been able to penetrate it's outermost defenses, being blown away only a couple hundred meters from the ship proper. The resulting debris seemed to have had an effect, gouging into the hull and knocking the alien ship into a temporary spin before quickly righting itself. With that it appeared as though Llewellyn had poked the metaphorical hornets nest. A flurry of new contacts appeared next the larger ships icon, quickly accelerating themselves away from their home ship and towards Llewellyn's.

"Ensign?" Llewellyn said tentatively, keeping his eyes locked on his screen.

"I see them. Redirecting PDC's." The officer replied.

Llewellyn could hear the rhythmic vibrations of the PDC's four thousand rounds per minute temporarily drop off before quickly spooling back up once more. The radar dots began to wink out in short order as the rounds shredded their targets. Just when Llewellyn was feeling comfortable that their PDC's could deal with all the incoming that had been thrown at him, a sickening pop resonated through the air of the bridge, quickly followed up by the decompression alarm. He slowly looked to his right, or perhaps he had only thought it was slowly as time seemed to slow down for a moment. There staring back at him was a hole in the solid metal bulkhead the size of his head. Llewellyn whipped his head to the left just as windstorm began to tear through the room. Another hole greeted him. Either an entrance hole or an exit Llewellyn couldn't be sure, what he did know was that had it been a meter more to the left it would have gone through his chest rather than just behind it.

It had seemed that the large alien ship had used the Battleaxe's momentary shift of focus to steady itself and let loose a mass driver shot. Llewellyn tried to shout for someone to seal the holes, but the torrent of air evacuating itself into the vacuum of space muffled his voice. Regardless the Captain could see that someone had already grabbed the emergency seal kit and was quickly applying a patch to the first hole. As the seals were put in place and the howling of escaping air began to quiet, Llewellyn could finally speak again.

"Damage report!" The Captain demanded.

"A clean through and through!" A stunned Lieutenant Belvins reported. "Nothing critical damaged. Looks like it went through mostly empty rooms."

Llewellyn sat back in his chair. A relieved sigh escaped his lips. The last thing they needed was another critical system damaged. He ordered the ships weapons to re-engage the larger ship and keep it moving, hopefully deterring another strike against them. All of the incoming missiles had been dealt with, leaving them free to suppress once again. A momentary calm had fallen over the command center. The continuous tapping of keyboards was still ever present but for the moment no one was talking. Llewellyn could hear the air recyclers struggling to replenish the command center's lost oxygen. The rhythmic spooling of the PDC's was still there as well. It was almost a serene scene. A scene which was soon broken as his XO turned to him.

"Sir?" Haynes said, her short hair now ruffled and tangled around her headset.

"Go ahead Commander." Llewellyn replied.

"I hate to add more bad news, but we have a situation." His XO said with an unwavering calm.

"What's happened?" He asked, tentatively probing his right ear with his finger. It came away with a smudge of blood. He had probably broke a blood vessel from the rapid change in pressure.

"Sir," She began with that same calmness. "Two of the alien groups have met up and are attempting to breach into engineering."

Trivate Charters Transport Ship Hyande Val-Askanse

British Commonwealth Claimed System of 'New Holland'

"Charlie-One, you have two hostiles approximately twenty meters from your position around the corner of the next intersection to your right." Edan said over his helmet microphone. "They have their backs to you."

Vas couldn't hear the response, but the results spoke for themselves. On the handheld terminal she watched as the small group of armor clad Human 'Marines' (as they called themselves) moved cautiously up to the junction of the corridor. With an unspoken word, or perhaps in this case just inaudible, two of the Marines popped out around the corner, rifles up. There were four short combined flashes from the tips of their weapons and a fraction of a second later the two Siven guards slumped to the floor. Vas had to admire the brutal efficiency of it all. There was no gloating, no celebrations. Not even a moments pause. It was move, aim, shoot and continue moving.

These British Marines truly were the most elite warriors the young Lohi had ever seen. If this is what just a small amount of Human soldiers were capable of, Vas felt sorry for anyone who would make them their enemies. Well, almost sorry anyways. It was... extremely satisfying watching the Breten Hvas crumple and die at the hands of her rescuers. She had seen it play out the same way at least four times by now. The pirates not so much as being able to get off a shot before they were put down. And best of all to the young woman, she was a critical part it making it all happen. She and Edan had been monitoring her terminal, locating and informing the other Marines of the locations of the Breten Hvas soldiers.

She would navigate the menus and read out text while Edan would radio to the others and direct them. Together they had been able to help Edan's comrades navigate the ship and avoid ambushes, all the while moving as a group themselves. Southers, their leader, insisted that they keep moving. Getting ever closer to their declared objective, one of the aft storage bays where her ships crew and passengers were being held captive. So far their group hadn't encountered any roaming Breten Hvas. However they still did have one deck to go before reacting their objective so Vas was sure it wouldn't last.

"Solid copy Charlie-One. We're rotating cameras. Let us know when you are setting up to breach. Alpha-Four out." Edan finished saying just as he turned to face her, his face obscured by his black helmet visor. "Vas, we need to check to see if Delta is clear to advance."

"Right." Vas replied, quickly tapping her way through the security cameras to the one that she remembered team 'Delta' as being near. A quick check of their surroundings concluded that there was nothing for the team to be worried about. Just empty hallways. "I don't see anything hostile on the cameras." The Lohi woman said a few seconds later. "It's clear."

"Alright, copy that." Edan said, accompanied by a curt nod. Vas watched as the ritual repeated itself once more. This time however her viewing was interrupted by one of the other marines. He stood over her, his imposing and bulky frame giving him and almost robotic appearance. So far however the British had given her no evidence other than their impartiality to conflict and ruthless efficiency to doubt that they were in any way not purely organic underneath their heavy armor. But the image still remained at the forefront of her thoughts.

"Leftenant says it's time to move." The Marine commanded, the voice slightly distorted as it left his helmet's external speakers and filtered its way into her translator.

Vas only knew this one by the name 'Lynn'. In the Human hierarchy he seemed to be more important than Edan but less than leader 'Leftenant' Southers. She hadn't had much time to ask Edan about it. Between moving through the ship and using the cameras to help the other teams there hadn't been much time for idle talk. All that really mattered was that he sometimes spoke for their leader, and that was enough. Acknowledging the order, Vas switched cameras to their section. It was still as clear as the last time she had checked. Almost a perfectly straight shot to the access point that would let them reach the lower deck. She showed Edan and then retreated the terminal to her carrying bag, picking up her appropriated rifle as she stood.

The Marines seemed satisfied with her work and without another word fell into their moving formation, sweeping Vas along with them. Southers was at the front while her and Edan were in the middle. Lynn took up the rear. They moved with a purpose, quickly but cautiously. Rifles up and constantly looking. Vas tried to match their movements, but her weapon was simply too awkward and she too weak to keep it up for long. Instead she focused on matching their pace, their somewhat longer legs giving them a larger stride than hers. The group arrived at the access point much quicker than Vas had been anticipating. It seemed like such a longer distance when viewing it from a remote viewpoint. Nevertheless a simple hand-locked hatch was all that separated them from the access shaft now. Leftenant Southers stopped them just short of the hatch, seeming to examine it closely through the sights of his rifle.

"What now Miss Hiteal?" Southers asked, not for a second taking his gaze off of the door.