Arrival

Admiral Darren watched the display as the timer hit 10. Then looking up he began issuing orders to the bridge. Orders he had given countless times in the past, but now with them came a surge of adrenaline he hadn't felt since his first time doing so...

"Ops, coordinate fleetwide deceleration, slave all nav computers through the Nemesis central control."

"Helm, take us down to threshold velocity, keep ahead of the curve."

"Tactical, reconfigure magnetic field for reversion to normal space."

His mind was alert, racing. His mouth was giving the orders in quick succession, the crew was following them perfectly. He looked at the timer again, 7 minutes. A slight vibration passed through the deck, the enormous mass of the flagship adjusting its position relative to normal space as the velocity slowed. The vibration ceased as the magnetic field adjusted to compensate, following the curve precisely.

"Delta formation looks good. Keep the heavy cruisers close enough to overlap the frontal displacement wave."

5 minutes. Looking at the forward viewscreen, Darren could see the angled line of heavy cruisers in perfect formation, their magnetic shielding interlocked. Normally when reverting to realspace, individual ships would be spaced well apart from each other so as to escape ill effects of mass displacement from other nearby vessels also reverting. But in a fleet as huge as the one they were in this time, that was simply not possible. The ships in the fleet had to be close enough together so their magnetic shields would overlap, reinforcing each one to the effect of making them essentially a single object. The delta line formation reverting just ahead of the Nemesis and the rest of the fleet would, theoretically, shield them from reversion displacement, which with this much mass would effectively pulverize their hulls...

3 minutes. The blue status lights winked to yellow. Velocity was down to .5 above threshold. Another vibration coursed through the deck. "Steady helm, keep us in formation," he said, his voice a belying calm. The vibration passed and he let out a quiet breath.

1 minute. Velocity at .2 above threshold. Ahead of them the line of heavy cruisers wavered visibly as it hit the threshold and began to transition. He took a breath, all he could do was wait, and hope the miracle of technology proved itself yet again.

Threshold. The space ahead of them lit a brilliant white as the fabric of subspace split open and the Nemesis and her entourage emerged into normal space. The whole ship shuddered as it transited out, but everything held. The status lights winked to green. The timing had been perfect, the formation had held. Admiral Darren let out a long sigh and leaned back in his chair. Excellent.

Ahead of them the starfield was a welcoming sight after weeks in slipspace. The stars were foreign to him, a different galaxy, indeed a completely different cluster. This would take some getting used to. But even more than the stars, what filled the screen before them was something that none of the crew had ever seen before. A large crystalline planet hung like a glistening honeycomb, and around it swarmed countless little shapes, like bees at work. But they weren't bees. It was the Armada they had been sent to rendezvous with. He checked his instruments, then did a double-take. He'd known before setting out that they would be rendezvousing with an armada assembled from all the allies of the empire, but he hadn't quite grasped just how big it would be. There were literally millions of ships out there, everything from tin cans up to the massive bulks of other Leviathan class warships, and fighters innumerable. He shook his head, suddenly feeling rather lost among so many...

The young officer at communications turned to him. "Admiral, communication from Planetary Coordination. We've been given a section on the lateral plane to park our fleet until the next stage of our operation."

Darren nodded. "Patch the coordinates in to helm. And relay them to the rest of the fleet. Keep navigation slaved through our computer until we're in position."

Around him the bridge bustled with activity again as his officers moved to each their tasks. He allowed himself a thin smile. The first hard part of the op was done. But what was ahead, that was another matter entirely. Soon enough they'd be tested for what they came for. Battle...

Send Off

Cheering. It echoed in the back of his mind like the rolling of waves on a beach.
Flashes. Burned into his eyes like the pulsating of a destabilizing Quasar.
It all swam around him so fast, blurring together, sound and sight, the sensation of victory and the exhilaration of promotion. Fame. Glory. Honor...

But behind it all loomed a darkness. A darkness that threatened to swallow up everything he had accomplished, everything he had fought to protect throughout his long career. The swimming images darkened, tendrils of blackness creeping in among the vision of celebration. The cheering faces twisted into masks of horror, and were blotted out as the blackness consumed. His breathing came fast now, the exhilaration of promotion and victory that was his so recently was now turned into fear. A deep, gnawing fear that left him feeling weak and helpless. Such a fear that he had never known before...

Fleet Admiral Richard Darren bolted upright in bed, beads of sweat dotting his forehead. His eyes were wide, and for a moment he just sat there, breathing hard. Finally he blinked and reached an arm up to wipe away the sweat. Looking around his room, he let out a deep sigh and relaxed. It had only been a dream. And yet... that deep gnawing in his gut was still there. The feeling of a distant threatening darkness...

It had been six years since the campaign against the notorious UFP had come to and end. His part in that campaign aboard the Frutol's Folley, while relatively minor, was still an excellent mark on his record. It hadn't taken long in the years that followed for him to work his way up the ranks into the upper echelon of Ardrean Imperial Command. And now as the betaverse was plunged into war anew, he had finally been given a new command. A command that spoke more of the trust and honor his superiors recognized in him than volumes of holovids ever could. He had been given command of the pride of the Ardrean Imperial Fleet, the Leviathan class warship, Nemesis, named after the ancient goddess of retribution. And with his new command, the responsibility to lead the largest taskforce the empire had ever assembled on a mission to the farthest reaches of the betaverse. A mission of invasion...

He got to his feet and crossed the room, activating the lights and looking himself over in the mirror. His hair had greyed somewhat over the years, and wrinkles had formed beneath his eyes. But there was still that commanding look about him. He stared at his reflection a moment, his sharp blue eyes staring back at him. Then after splashing some water on his face and wiping it off, he turned and went to the closet. Grabbing his uniform, he dressed quickly and headed for the bridge.

The wide corridors of the Nemesis were rather empty at this early hour. Along the tops of the walls, the status lights were a steady blue, indicating slipspace travel. The low thrumming of the massive ship's engines was a nearly imperceptible companion as he strode along, nodding to the ocassional crewman he passed. Soon he reached the main turbolift of the deck and entered it, commanding "Bridge" as the doors slid shut. A slight feeling of vertigo was briefly his as the lift shot silently upward, then came to a stop as the doors slid open. The dim blue-tinged light of slipspace from the main viewscreen provided the backdrop of color as Admiral Darren stepped out, gazing around the huge bridge. The two dozen officers stationed around immediately came to attention as he entered, he gave a short salute, then walked over to the command chair. Leaning over it, he checked the displays. Satisfied that all was as it should be, he straightened back up and went over to the deck officer's station. Standing at just over five feet, the little dark-skinned man from Sanadria looked very much out of place on this huge ship. But regardless, he did his job well, and Admiral Darren was pleased to have him in his service.

"Mister Sarrib," he said as he approached the man. "Status please."

The little man smiled, revealing shockingly white teeth, "All systems fully function sir. Crew rotation to day shift in fifteen minutes. Night crew report no problems. Fleet deployment holding, slipspace status normal."

Darren nodded. "Very good. I will be in my ready room." Fifteen minutes, he mused as he headed for the door. Just enough time for a biscuit and some coffee before the day began...