This is a joint post with Dylan.
Standing from his observation spot, Lambertus couldn’t understand why the antimatter bomb didn’t go off- it was his only real way he was going to win the war with his own strength and even that seemed to falter. He was outnumbered and the Asendavian’s were dug in. That was when he remembered. He walked over to the hologram pad and pressed a button. An imposing male figure shot up a second later. It looked so real, but if you were to touch it you would realise it was just an image.
“Greetings, Mr Hubbard.”
“Mr Lambertus,” Antonio returned evenly, “I heard from my aide that you have a business proposal for us.”
Lambertus took a moment to figure out how a conversation from earlier travelled so quickly, but not coming up with an explanation, answered: “Strictly business. Yes.” He paused. “What kind of fleets do you have in close proximity to Urth?”
Hubbard considered this for some time. “We’ve been sailing within the area for a few days now. I would imagine the majority of the states are here.” His tone changed, though his expression remained the same. “Is there something particular about our fleets that interests you, Mr Lambertus?”
“I need firepower Mr Hubbard, for a reasonable price.” he iterated, although he did not express how concerning or quick he needed it.
The Supreme Commander’s eyebrows shot up for an instant, but he quickly regained his composure. “Terran blood is only shed for the betterment of mankind, Mr Lambertus.” He paused to let that sink in. “But if you’re desperate enough, I think we can come to some form of a compromise.”
“What do you take me for, Hubbard. I am not…” Lambertus’s line crackled as the Asendavian fleet began thumping the flagships’ frontal shields with a litter of retaliation missiles. The Emperor struggled for a brief second to stay on his feet. He changed his tone immediately. “Yes, yes. Whatever.”
Antonio nodded slowly. “As you know, Mr Lambertus, the Holy Terran Nomads are a nomadic people, for lack of a better term. The void is harsh and our Fleets constantly require fresh supplies.”
“That’s fine. I wouldn’t be asking for your aide if this wasn’t serious. I cannot manoeuvre my own outer-reaching fleet to aid. They’re the wrong side of the damned sun. We shall meet your demands.”
Hubbard nodded again. “Excellent,” he declared, “The price, of course, depends on how much firepower you’re asking for.”
Quite fearful for his life after another brutal bombing round, Lambertus silently quivered. “Everything.”
[hr]
The fabric shimmered and wrapped like the surface of a pond disturbed by the wind. Calmly at first, but the maelstrom quickly gathered greater intensity with each passing minute. Under the pristine waters, immense shapes - their forms distorted by the rippling void - gradually emerged and gained clarity. Onlookers from within the system yonder might observe through their telescopes multiple ring-like structures surrounded by constellations of smaller craft forming deep within the unstable aether.
The realm heaved once more and the rippling subsided as swiftly as the tempest formed, leaving behind a substantial collection of vessels. Their polished hulls glistened in the glare of the foreign sun, melding into the sea of stars behind them. At last, the fleet lurched forward, their engines igniting with the holy fury of Mars, propelling them towards the battlefield developing around Urth.
Leading the formation was a vast screen of destroyers, their distinctive prows flat, but dotted with dozens of torpedo tubes. Behind them, the mighty Terran battlecruisers and battleships followed, clad bow to stern in heavy plating and decked with guns that bristled from their armoured carapaces like spines. Bringing up the rear was half a dozen https://www.deviantart.com/venturathundering/art/Sci-Fi-Fortitudo-Class-Jumpship-Different-Angle-751449073, huge vessels that dwarfed even dreadnoughts. The pillar of the Holy Terran Navy.
Aboard the HTN Aurora, the flagship of the Aurora Fleet, Fleet Admiral Troy Wells assessed the situation with a critical eye. The fighting around Urth had lost all semblance of cohesion and the Urthern forces there had dissolved into what he could only consider to be a mob. His own fleet was located some twenty million kilometres away from the battlefield and it would take at least half an hour of cruising to arrive.
However, Wells had elected to forgo efficiency and ordered all ships full ahead, cutting down his transit time significantly. Hopefully, there will still be an Urthern fleet left to save by the time he arrived. Fortune seemed to be in his favour though; his Chief Tactical Officer brought forth pleasing news.
“We’re closing into effective range for long-range torpedoes,” the Lieutenant announced. As if on cue, the relevant indicators lit up on the main screen in case the Admiral did not hear him. In the centre top of the main screen, the fleet condition remained green: General quarters had not yet been declared.
Troy nodded in acknowledgement. “Give them two or three salvoes to think about for now. We’ll conserve our ammunition.”
Over the span of the next five minutes, the destroyers leading the formation unleased three volleys of long-range Terran torpedoes at anything that was not actively identifying as an Urthern ship. These missiles accelerated slowly, but efficiently, and carried smaller warheads in favour of huge fuel reserves to cover the vast expanses of the interstellar void. Their guidance was crude but sufficient for the task: to occupy and consume enemy point-defence resources and possibly score a couple of preliminary hits on enemy vessels to weaken them prior to battle.
