Since the founding of the new colonies the status of Old Earth and its solar system became less important. The colonies at Alpha Centauri quickly matched and then surpassed the old world. As further colonies spread through the Centauri Constellation the balance of power shifted leaving Earth as a distant backwater. Though it was still the centre of old culture and knowledge it transformed over generations into just one of many backwater systems inhabited by those unable or unwilling to leave. Following the Great War, the Centauri Confederation was founded with each colony world being made an equal of the next. In one swift move, Old Earth became just another colony in an alliance that no longer even shared its name.
The Decline of Earth
The guns were silent and like a swarm of locusts the assault transports and shuttles from the Santa Maria and the Santa Cruz filled the gulf between the ships and the Titan Naval Station. A total of sixteen hundred heavily equipped marines were spread in over thirty craft. The transports were the largest, each one carrying a full company of marines and their heavy weapons. The shuttles brought in small, more specialist squads as well as equipment and medical supplies. Another hundred marines were waiting onboard the Santa Cruz as a quick response team in case of emergencies. As they approached the Station they split into small groups, each one targeting key parts of the complex where survivors were likely to be. As the craft reached a kilometre from the Station a small amount of defensive fire erupted, primarily from small arms and a handful of larger calibre weapons. No craft were lost and within seconds the first wave crashed down on the surface and released the eager troops.
At the Command Centre, Spartan and the surviving commandos had done sterling work though they had no time to enjoy it. So far, they had brought the guns down and the Station’s computer systems were being used to pinpoint the surviving population. They had already transmitted the life sign scans of the habitation and naval facilities, but there was no way to determine whether they were friendly or hostile. That was something the advancing marines would have to discover for themselves.
There was still sporadic gunfire outside the Command Centre but with the late arrival of the third commando squad they had been able to establish a strong perimeter to protect the site. The engineers were also still moving chunks of masonry to reinforce their position until they were able to leave. With the arrival of the missing squad was also Lieutenant Daniels, a young but aggressive officer whom Spartan had never seen before. He had immediately taken charge of the situation and had shown a degree of deference to Spartan and the work of his group.
“Captain Mathews here, we have evacuated Colonel West and most of your wounded by shuttlecraft,” came a transmission to the Lieutenant.
“Thank you, Sir, we are well entrenched but are still under sporadic attack,” he explained.
“I have four companies of marines making their way to you. You can’t leave yet though, I have orders from General Rivers. From the data sent over by Private Spartan it would appear the closest habitation section to you is housing approximately two hundred people. Can you put him on, Lieutenant?” he asked.
“Sir, I have the data right here,” replied the officer as he lowered his voice, obviously trying to keep the conversation to himself.
“No, I need it from the source and as I understand it, Spartan and his unit have been working through the data for the last twenty minutes!” he said and his tone was becoming strained.
“Uh, yes, Sir, one moment,” said the officer as he was walking back along the corridor and into the large computer suite.
“Spartan, Captain Mathews for you,” he said.
Spartan was slumped in a large chair as he worked through the screen of data. Jesus was in his element and had already patched in the security feeds and climate control monitors to help gauge the level of people and resistance at key points in the Station. He was currently tracing a series of energy spikes in the Station power plant and so far none of them could work out why they were happening or where large segments of the power was being sent. Spartan hit the button on his built-in intercom, instantly patching him into the radio conversation.
“Spartan here, how can I help you, Sir?”
“Spartan, we’ve secured the first survivors and are moving into the zones you’ve provided the data for. I’ve received word from the General that suggests the energy surges you’ve identified are coming from the fusion plants in the naval yard,” he explained.
Spartan turned to Jesus.
“Jesus, can you bring up the power schematics of the naval yard and forward them to the General?” he asked.
“Doing it!” Jesus replied as he skimmed through the screen on his terminal.
As Spartan turned around, he wondered to himself where the man’s computing skills had come from and why he was in the Marine Corps. Of course, it was pretty simple though, a man who could work these systems could earn a fortune both legitimately or otherwise. He had no doubts on the direction Jesus would have taken. He allowed himself a small grin as he called back to the Captain.
“Captain, we’re sending the data to the General, I think you might be right, though. It seems there is a lot of energy building up. You think they have something down there?” he asked.
“One moment, Spartan, we’ll be with you shortly, please let the Lieutenant have your men hold your fire, we’re approaching your compound,” said the Captain.
Spartan lifted himself up from the chair and bounded towards the damaged doorway.
“Lieutenant, the marines are here, Captain Mathews has asked you ensure our men watch their fire.”
The two men went outside and to the improvised firing line where the commandos had established a strong outer perimeter. Spartan dropped down behind the rubble and scanned the distant debris. He could see the odd movement as the insurgents redeployed in their attempts to work their way around them. As he watched a smoke trail rush towards them and crashed into the side of the Command Centre. The blast tore a hole several metres wide and brought a pile of dust and debris down into the outer compound.
Spartan picked up his reloaded L48 rifle and fired a series of short bursts, each cluster of rounds striking at any point where the muzzle flashes appeared. A group of four Zealots broke cover, attempting to close the distance, but the impact from the large calibre shells slammed the first to the floor. As he dropped the first man to the ground two more bullets exploded at the preset distance sending shards of metal into the torsos of the other three.
More groups appeared from their hiding places as if a number of beaters were moving prey to the waiting hunters. Then a series of yellow flashes and a great cloud of dust signalled the arrival of the rest of the marines. As they came from out of the rubble Spartan could see scores of the men bounding forward towards the Command Centre. In the centre of the group a man carried a small flexible regimental standard. It was a bizarre look of modern personal protection suits and archaic symbols of a medieval battlefield. The horde of marines easily cut their way through the disorganised Zealots and moved up and around the Command Centre. A small group led by the Captain approached Lieutenant Daniels who immediately stood to attention and saluted. He looked to his side, looking at the perimeter and the dirt and blood-splattered commandos.
“Sterling work, people, outstanding!” he said beaming.
Teresa appeared at the entrance of the building, shouting over to Spartan.
“We’ve got a problem!” she shouted and then ducked back inside.
Spartan turned from the firing line and rushed in through the doorway, closely followed by the two officers. As they moved towards the computer room, the first thing that was evident was that half the displays and computer systems were offline. As they watched a number of the screens shutdown.
“We’re losing them, one by one,” Jesus said as he frantically tried to isolate several of the systems before the lot went down.
Crackling in their headsets signalled a message from General Rivers.
“All company commanders, this is an urgent message. We are detecting explosions in the main reactor cores. According to our calculations, the insurgents are triggering a station-wide series of explosions that will destroy it. You have no more than forty minutes to get your people and as many survivors off as possible. I repeat, you have forty minutes to evacuate. We’re sending every shuttle we can find to you. Get out of there!” he barked.
Captain Mathews rubbed his jaw as he considered the situation.
“General, what is the status on the civilian population?” he asked.
“So far we have taken off sixty-two percent of those we are aware of. There are still three habitation zones, including yours, left to clear. We have spotted insurgents all around your position, expect heavy resistance if you try to reach them, just don’t be late!” said the General.
“Can we do it?” asked the Captain.
“We can’t clear the habitation area and get back to the landing craft in forty minutes, we have to choose one or the other,” answered Spartan.
“How about we wait at the habitation zone for reinforcements to pick us up?” Lieutenant Daniels asked.
“You’re assuming there is anybody that can reach us in time,” replied the Captain before calling to the Santa Maria.
“General, how long till those reinforcements get here?”
“We have a final shuttle group on its way, it will be landing in approximately thirty minutes.”
“Can you redirect everybody to the Central Habitation Zone Plaza? There is enough space to land shuttles and we can evacuate the entire section from there,” asked the Captain.
“Interesting, yes, it should be possible. I’ll see if I can get a few transports to redirect to you, good luck, Captain.”
“There won’t be enough transports to take off all the marines and the civilians,” said Lieutenant Daniels.
“There is another option,” said Spartan.
“All squad commanders prepare to move out,” said the Captain before turning to Spartan. “I’m listening,” he said.
“Give the Lieutenant one of your companies to clear the route back and get the landing craft. If they can do it in less than thirty minutes, they can get the rest of the landing craft and meet us at the central plaza. That should give us enough capacity to load the civilians and get out of here.”
“Can you get back with one company?” asked the Captain.
“Yes, Sir, no problem,” replied Lieutenant Daniels.
The Captain thought about the plan but only for a few seconds, decisive action was needed.
“Okay, Lieutenant, make your way back and get the boats to the plaza.”
Daniels turned and ran outside, though he was a lower rank than would be expected, he was a commando junior officer and the marines instantly recognised him as such. It was just seconds before the company were moving away and back towards the landing craft.
“Ok, Spartan, the rest of us will split into three groups, I’ll take the two main groups directly to the habitation zone, it’s two, three minutes tops from here. I want you to take two squads plus the rest of your commandos and take the right sector. You’ll be entering through the ruined bar and then hit them from the side. Get in there hard and fast, we don’t have much time,” he said.
“They aren’t my men,” Spartan said as he prepared his gear.
“They are now, Spartan, I’m giving you a temporary field promotion to Sergeant, now get going!” he said with a grin.
“Sir!” shouted Spartan before turning to see a grinning Jesus staring at him.
The CCS Crusader approached almost point blank range of the damaged battleship Victorious. Both vessels were still moving ever closer to the Titan Naval Station and it was critical that the battleship was stopped, one way or the other. A boarding action between two such vessels had never been attempted but that wasn’t going to stop Admiral Jarvis. As the battlecruiser moved into position her guns were silent. Unknown to the crew of the Victorious she was charging up her weapons for one final, overpowered volley of fire. This meant she was exposed to four more volleys of fire before she was in position.
As the two massive ships approached to within two hundred metres, a final broadside from each ship crashed into both vessels. At this range the damage was horrendous and hole after hole appeared along the length of the battlecruiser. It still wasn’t enough though and the leviathan slid into position, her gun ports waiting to unleash their deadly new weapon. This time the Crusader made use of her double-charged railgun to fire the modified and lethal close range Sanlav round. It was the first test of the weapon and at this range the damage was nothing short of impressive. Like a giant shotgun the railguns blast a wide dispersal, that at such a short range tore chunks from the outer plating along the entire length of the battleship. With a massive cloud of debris blocking the view, the magnetic couplers powered up, drawing the vessels towards each other. In less than twenty seconds the two ships crunched together and like a privateer in the seventeenth century the Crusader jammed herself tightly against the enemy vessel. The only way the two ships would now be sprung apart was if both took their couplers offline and this was something that could be decided by the first ever capital ship boarding action.
In the Combat Information Centre Admiral Jarvis watched her screens as the Sanlav rounds did their work. Several of the weapon batteries were taken off-line by the brutal overloaded attack, but it had done its work. As well as tearing the great chunks out of the outer skin of the Victorious, the weapon had created a screen of dust, debris and plasma that gave her the cover she needed for her boarding action.
“All marine units, boarding action is a go, commence your assault. Good luck!” she exclaimed over the intercom.
From key points along the hull of the Crusader a dozen landing craft rushed out to transport their precious cargos of marines to the battleship. There were only three hundred marines and another two hundred volunteers from the crew in the attack but they were all targeting one point on the ship, the power core, the only target they could assault with any hope of slowing the warship.
Lieutenant Erdeniz kept his head down as the landing craft he was in dashed across the short distance between the two capital ships. He and the rest of the passengers all wore sealed suits, but the gear he wore was the bulky variant designed for extra vehicular activity when working on the ship. It was not the closer fitting personal protection suits of the marines. Most of the decks’ gunnery crews had been selected to provide assistance to the marines during the boarding action. It was the duty of all crew to practice basic hand-to-hand combat and marksmanship for such eventualities but he had never expected he would have to help in such a situation. Unlike the marines he was armed with a thermal shotgun, a powerful close ranged firearm but it was nothing as effective as the L48 rifles and carbines carried by the rest of the marines.
With a jarring impact the landing craft smashed through the damaged outer skin of the battleship and continued on until embedding itself fifteen metres inside the wrecked metal. Their objective was specifically chosen so they could insert the marines directly into the crew area of the ship. The front of the landing craft pushed though the sidewall of one of the service corridors. The onboard sensors indicated a partial pressurised area, but it was still failing and like most of the ship, lacked gravity.
The bow doors opened to reveal the damage and the marines were already out, each using their hands or their manoeuvring thrusters to push on inside. According to the schematics of the battleship they should be near the main engineering hub that connected to key parts of the ship.
It was hard work to fight through the debris as well as trying to manage the lack of gravity and the bulky suit. As he moved, he positioned himself over the corridor and then activated his grav boots. With a clunk, he found himself walking on the surface though it soon became clear he was upside down as he pushed forwards. About ten metres ahead the marines gathered around a sealed door. From the plans, it was one of the many sealed sections of the ship. One man was already running a bypass on it whilst the rest had their weapons at the ready. With a jarring sound, the door slid across to reveal the main access corridor that led to the engineering hub. As they made to move inside a series of bright streaks rushed past him. Lieutenant Erdeniz jumped to the sidewall as the projectiles blasted past. One of the marines took multiple rounds in the chest. The impact of the weapon’s fire propelled him backwards.
“Go, marines!” The sergeant shouted over his intercom.
The first group pushed ahead, each man firing his weapon as he went. It was a surreal sight as the violence of the battle compared with the silence of space. The lack of sound didn’t cut the noise of the shouting and orders that constantly blared through his intercom.
Spartan and his small group of marines and commandos had made good progress in working their way across the Station. So far, they had run into just three insurgents and each had been dealt with quickly and quietly. After the bloody work of landing at the Station, the commandos seemed almost relaxed as they worked their way through the ruins of the old bar. Being so close to the habitation zone, they had to be as quiet as they were able and that meant using close quarter weapons or silencers when possible. As they moved past the ruined wooden bar several men and a bloodied woman leapt from cover. They managed to drag one of the marines down to the ground and proceeded to stab at him repeatedly with a stiletto-like knife. Spartan waded in, slamming his heavy boot into the woman’s chest and sending her flying back against the side of the bar. One of the commandos grabbed the arm of the closest man and jammed his fighting knife into his collar. He then pulled the blade out and struck several more times before letting the body slide to the floor. The rest of the squad made quick work of the rest before pushing on to the far side of the bar. As they reached the back section they moved more slowly, each well aware that on the other side could be scores, even hundreds of people. They inched along until Teresa found a crack in the wall that gave him a large enough gap to look though. As he peered inside his helmet-mounted headset crackled.
“I’m at the landing zone, there is a group of about forty insurgents on your way, we picked off the last few but the rest made it past us, watch your backs. We should be airborne in five minutes, will meet you at the rendezvous,” said Lieutenant Daniels on the intercom.
Spartan looked back, he couldn’t see any trouble but he wasn’t taking any chances. He sent four of the marines back to the rubble to keep an eye on their rear.
Looking back inside through a small gap in the wall he could see hundreds of people huddled in groups throughout the courtyard section of the habitation zone. The area was like a large dormitory with lots of rooms surrounding an open courtyard. Three or four Zealots guarded each group and there were large numbers of more guarding the doorways that led into the zone. Also there were more of them higher up, probably armed with sniper rifles to cover the courtyard.
“Captain, we’re in position, have you received our tactical data?” he asked.
“Good work, Sergeant, we will assault the four main entrances. We’ll start with a flashbang storm and then rush it. As soon as the firefight begins, I need you to clear the snipers and then move to the guards around the prisoners. Assault starts in twenty seconds.”
“Understood, Sir,” replied Spartan.
The boarding party had pushed past the lightly defended engineering hub and had progressed to just thirty metres from the power plant core when they came across heavy resistance. Dug in all around the engineering section almost thirty Zealots had rushed to defend the critical core of the ship. Unlike their normal aggressive tactics, they held back with each one taking cover and doing their best to hold off the marines. They ducked behind the thickly armoured coolant tanks and pipes that ran all through this sector of the ship. The battle looked bizarre as most of them were using their grav boots to stand on the walls, floor and ceiling. It made the battle both fluid and highly confusing to Lieutenant Erdeniz. Volley after volley poured down the corridor and every time one of the marines tried to push ahead, they were blasted back by the weapons’ fire.
“Shit!” barked the sergeant on the intercom. “We need heavy weapons here, we’re pinned down,” he shouted, though none of the marines seemed to know what to do. They were going nowhere.
Lieutenant Erdeniz leaned around the corner and fired several shots from his thermal shotgun. It looked impressive but he had no idea if he hit anything. He looked at the clip, noting he had only half the clip remaining. It was useless, at this rate they would end up surrounded. He looked around in the vain hope of finding something more dangerous than his shotgun. It was then that he saw the technician’s terminal behind the blast hatch on the left side of the corridor.
“Sergeant, I might be able to short out the coolants units, it could give us the break we need,” he called over the radio.
One of the marines tried to help the Lieutenant to the other side but another volley of shot blasted down hitting him in the arm and throwing him back in pain. The Sergeant could see what was happening and without hesitating, gave the order.
“Give him covering fire, now!” he ordered.
Seven marines pushed out from behind cover, each of them firing shot after shot at the enemy. Their fire was inaccurate and the Lieutenant saw only one of the enemy take a hit to the torso, before he was manhandled across the corridor and in front of the terminal. More fire blasted behind him that caught the Sergeant and another marine directly in the face.
Lieutenant Erdeniz did his best to ignore the ongoing carnage and pulled open the hatch. He needed the use of his hands and had to release several of the EVA seals on his suit to release his arms. They were still sealed inside his skin-tight protective suit but nothing like the armour the marines wore. One good stab with a knife could penetrate the skin of this clothing. He looked at the display carefully. Though he couldn’t shut down the power plant he could alter the controls that regulated part of the power grid and cooling. Luckily, his computing skills were significant enough for him to isolate and boost the coolant controls to overload. Warnings came up immediately but he easily overrode them and embedded a lockout on the engineering panel. Only a senior officer could override his work and even then the officer would have to make it down to engineering. It wasn’t perfect but he had bought them some time.
Turning to the rest of the marines and crew from the battlecruiser he gave a hand signal so the men ducked down and kept out of the line of fire. Corporal Jones moved up from further along the corridor, he held his L48 carbine at the ready.
“How long, Lieutenant?” asked the Corporal.
“Fifteen seconds!” Lieutenant Erdeniz shouted back.
“Take cover, when the tanks blow everybody move forward, no matter the cost. We have to secure the power plant!” ordered the Corporal.
They all pulled themselves into any cover they could find as the odd single shot tore down the corridor. There were now dozens of marines and crew all huddling down as they waited for the coolant tanks. Fifteen seconds passed and nothing happened. The Corporal turned to the officer, he was about to start shouting when a great burst of gas rushed down the corridor.
“Go!” he shouted, and in moments the corridor was packed with scores of people trying to fight their way into the area. Fire scattered around them but the mixture of gas, steam and debris gave them enough cover to get a handful of marines into position.
Lieutenant Erdeniz moved ahead as bodies tumbled about him from both sides. He grabbed onto the wall pulling himself clear of the carnage and kept tugging until he reached the far side of the room where the defenders had been holding out. Further ahead was a dark room with a dull red glow flashing in sequence. He recognised it immediately. The Corporal had somehow survived the devastation and pulled himself up to Lieutenant Erdeniz.
“Is that it?” he asked.
Lieutenant Erdeniz nodded at the Corporal who sighed with relief.
“Get the thermite charges here now, everybody else clear the route to the boats, once they’re set we are out of here!”
The two dropped to the deck and, using their grav boots, made quick progress into the room. All around them were huge pipes and glowing tanks that surrounded the reactors. Though the actual reactors were safe, about fifty metres further inside they could easily cripple the ship by removing the coolant and generator links from the rest of the ship. By Lieutenant Erdeniz’s best calculations the reactor could manage three to four minutes once the link to its coolants supplies was removed. His plan was to overload the weapons grid at the same time. The strain should help to superheat the reactor and cause catastrophic damage.
A team of four engineers from the crew moved into the room, each of them carrying a crate of mining thermite charges. They were all experts at their jobs and it took less than a minute to rig the charges and set them with a three-minute timer. As Lieutenant Erdeniz set the timer the Corporal stopped him.
“You sure that’s enough time for us to get out?”
“We can’t take the chance, any less and they could get down here and disable the charges,” replied the Lieutenant.
The marine nodded and helped the men to the corridor where they started to make their way back to the boats.
With a mighty flash all four entrances to the habitation zone lit up. The flash bangs were commonly used before an assault but not usually in this quantity. The Captain was taking no chances and as the dust settled, his unit charged through the gaps. The defending Zealots were momentarily taken by surprise and the marines were able to fight through the first line and work their way into the open area. Shots from above picked off a handful but their fire was not enough to hold back the tide. With the flash bangs being the signal, Spartan and his commandos rushed in from the rubble of the bar and moved into flanking positions. The expert marksmanship of the commandos quickly stopped the snipers and with their flanks protected, the rest moved in and targeted the Zealots guarding the civilians. A number of them turned on them, gunning down as many as they could before the marines were able to stop them. It was bloody work but luckily the commandos were fast and efficient and they were able to cut down the guards before too many of the civilians paid the price.
As the first groups were led to the safety of the landing shuttles and transports, Spartan and his squad kept pushing forward. A room at the end of the open space was showing on his scanner as holding a large number of people and he could hear screams coming from inside. Jesus made it first but as he ran inside a great shotgun blast blew him right back out of the door. His armoured suit protected him from the worst effects of the shot but it was still enough to put him out of the fight for a few seconds. Spartan pulled up next to the doorway and Teresa took the other side. He popped his head around the corner briefly and back again.
“Looks like three guys behind the table and about twenty to thirty hostages,” he said over his radio.
“Drop your weapons, soldier, and come in!” came a voice from inside.
“Fuck you!” Spartan shouted.
“Do it, or we start shooting!” the man shouted back.
Spartan placed his weapon on the ground and slipped into the open, walking slowly into the room. As he entered he could see the three masked men, each wearing the armour and garb of the Zealots. They carried bladed weapons and one wore an explosive vest. In his hand he held a trigger device of some kind.
“Show us your hands!” shouted the man with the vest.
Spartan lifted his hands, pushing them forward so they could see them. In his right hand he held a flash grenade and in his left he held a detached pin. He tilted his left hand and the pin dropped to the floor. As the three men spotted the weapon, a look of fear spread over their eyes. The man stood to the right took a step back, pointing at the pin.
“Pick it up, do it now!”
Spartan leaned forward a little, looking for a moment as though he was complying. As he moved, the grenade dropped from his hand and started to roll towards the men. The man with the vest looked to his two comrades. Just as the grenade reached their feet it ignited, the bright flash filling the room and instantly blinding those without protection. As the men lifted their hands to protect their eyes, Spartan lowered his hand and pulled out his combat knife. With lightning fast reaction, he threw it ahead and struck the suicide bomber directly in the forehead. He slumped backwards, dead before he hit the ground. Spartan didn’t wait though and leapt ahead, smashing his elbow into the second man. As his arm connected, Teresa entered the room with her L48 rifle raised to her shoulder. She fired two rounds into the third man’s chest and then another to his head as he was blown backwards. She turned to her left in time to see Spartan snap the neck of the man. It was over as soon as it had started. He looked up at the group of crying civilians, they had been there weeks and looked terrified. Holding out his arm, he beckoned them to him. More commandos entered through the door and helped lead them out and to the waiting shuttles and transports.
“Captain, area secure, we’re coming out,” said Spartan with a feeling of satisfaction.
The fires were already spreading and as the last of the shuttles left a series of explosions ripped through the naval yard. By the time Spartan’s shuttle reached a safe distance over half of the craft were already onboard the two marine transports. As usual, there was no sound as they moved away but it was clear from the smoke, fires and flashes that the surface of the Station was slowly being ripped apart from the inside. It was a selfish and cruel way to deny the Naval Station to the Confederation but at least they had eliminated the blockade and rescued most of the civilians. When the fires cleared, they would return and Titan would be rebuilt.
On board the Victorious the marines and crew fought their way to the outside of the ship as the remaining defenders tried to halt their progress. It was too little too late though, and as they reached the boats that could still move they boarded them and made their way back. Of the nearly five hundred marines and crew that had boarded the ship only three hundred and twelve made it back alive, the rest were killed, wounded or trapped on the massive vessel. As the last of the functioning boats left the ship, the thermite charge ignited.
The mining charges were a pyrotechnic composition of a metal powder and a metal oxide, which produce an exothermic oxidation-reduction reaction known as a thermite reaction. Though not explosive in the traditional sense they did produce short bursts of extremely high temperatures focused on a very small area for a short period of time.
As the incredible temperatures melted through the coolant pipes, they even managed to melt a section of the outer casing of the main reactor. It wasn’t enough to cause a critical reaction but it did create a breach that sent deadly levels of radiation though the vessel. As the ship started to lose power, most of its weapon systems started to go offline as well as the docking couplers. In less than five minutes, the ship was powerless and drifting, its engines out of action and a deadly poison moving slowly through every section of the vessel.
Admiral Jarvis watched with satisfaction as the boats made their way back to the battlecruiser. With the couplers released, the two ships drifted apart though the debris and chunks of shattered metal still hung like a cloud between them. She turned to her XO.
“How many left?”
“Two more boats, they are leaving for the loading bays now, Admiral. One moment, okay, we are clear,” he said.
“Get us out of here, fast!” she ordered.
With a great shudder the damaged but intact battlecruiser started to build up speed. As they reached the first kilometre away the first flashes from the rear quarter of the Victorious started to spread along sections of the old warship. A bright glow about a hundred metres from the stern of the battleship indicated the overloaded power core exploding. It was less than she expected but the results were exactly what she needed. Part of the hull tore away and the fires became worse as ammunition supplies and coolant mixed together. More explosions rocked the length of the ship, but no lifeboats were launched and no guns fired. The ship was far from destroyed, but she drifted like an ancient hulk with no signs of power or life to be seen.
“She’s dead in space and still they won’t leave her.” The Admiral said quietly to herself.
Her XO stepped up, examining the tactical display. “It looks like the bulk of her crew are moving to this area on the ship, what do you think it is, some kind of escape vessel?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” replied the Admiral as she watched the screens. “Orbit at one hundred kilometres and load the guns, if she tries anything I want her finished, once and for all!”