[004 - B] California System

A few minutes ago, a third Alarei dreadnought had jumped into high orbit around the third gas giant of the system. That gas giant was not significant by itself, but one of its moons, the one named 'Chicago' by the United Systems, was the first terran colony of the Coalition since the destruction of their holdings by the Alarei. It had been deemed as the Coalition's last and only chance for a better future, and the government had listened to its people and established a proper colony there.

It was blissful; the life on the forest world was care-free and luxurious, and the colonists had gone from living into cramped ships to doing morning runs in the wilderness and eating fresh fruit and vegetables. They had mostly ignored the military presense, and were all too happy to have an airbase stationed on the planet, along with a batallion of marines. They were living the dream, so why not live it safely?

The bliss came to an end once the dreadnought jumped in. The civilians had been rushed to the underground bunkers, and it was a matter of minutes before the Dreadnought could scorch the moon of all life.

---

Alarei Dreadnought 'Nemesis'
Bridge

<:: Vanguard. The nuclear silos have been loaded, we are loading targeting packages into the warheads now. We have lost contact with the Vengeance and the Adrastia. ::>

<:: Then we can only hope that they have found peace in the afterworld. Prepare to launch nuclear warheads on my mar- ::>

The Vanguard collapsed. Much like his counterpart on the Vengeance, the sudden sensory input had been overwhelming; he did not know what happened, but it was excruciating, and it was killing him. The neural interface was flooded with the data from the sensors, and his brain was all but jellyfied at the sudden change. With haste, his Sentinel took post in his place, barely making it through the shaking bridge. The ship had taken a direct hit, but from what, he did not know.

<:: Caretaker. Report. ::> he yelled out through his helmet, and one of the caretakers was quick to respond.

<:: Direct hit on our aft. Primary weapons, secondary weapons and hangar one are out of action. Nuclear detonations. ::>

The Sentinel knew in that instant. He knew what had occured; he knew why they had lost contact with the other two dreadnoughts. They had underestimated the humans, and that was to be their failing. The Caretaker spoke again, his voice frightened for the very first time.

<:: We have detected a human fleet. They are firing weapons. ::>

---

USS Hastings, SCVN-85
Combat Information Center

"Direct hits! All three nukes got through, we've disabled their weapons and taken down one of their hangars. They are turning about."

"Launch all wings! Commence fire with everything we've got!"

The Admiral was not in a mood for a fight right now, but it had to be done. Just one more ship and they could stand down to condition two, give the crew some rest before trying to find out what had just happened.

Thankfully for the people below, the Alarei ship was conveniently inside the gas giant's magnetic belt; that meant that any radiation would be contained around the giant itself and not over its moons, and as such there would be no more death on the terran world beneath.

---

Hastings Port Launch Tube 107
Hastings Talon 014, Callsign 'Juggler'

+"Black Python squadron, commence bombing run. Alarei dreadnought is offline."+

By the time the bombers were launched, the dreadnought had already been razed by the collective firepower of the battlegroup and the three nuclear warheads, compliments of the Hastings. The dreadnought was adrift, its power cores annihilated by sustained heavy explosive bombardment, and that left the bombers with one thing to do: clean up.

The swarms of fighter craft made a straight, clean attack run. Staying in a wedge formation, each got to a distance of one kilometer from the port side of the Alarei dreadnought and released its torpedoes, proceeding to promptly shoot upwards and overpass it. The missile-like devices penetrated the inactive electric-reactive armor like a hot knife on butter, and hit every vital system the ship had. Hangars, the bridge, the nuclear silos, nothing was left untouched. It was a beautiful sight, to see a solid wall of explosives hit the Alarei ship, but the pilots had other things to think about. They were assembling for a second attack run when the order came.

+"All Talons, all Talons, priority redirect. Commence combat landings on carrier group, boarding parties inbound to secure Alarei ship. Good work, pilots."+

---

USS Hastings
Pilot Briefing Room A

Ten minutes later, the pilots of the Hastings had been assembled into the briefing room. It was more like a massive lecture hall, really, filled with screens, and with a podium. Everyone was exhausted, and had slumped down into their seats in an almost desperate attempt to rest before they were called to deploy again; after all, bad news always came in more than groups of three.

When Major Polati finally entered, most of the pilots made a move to snap to attention, but were stopped by a dismisive wave. The CAG had been through as much as everyone else, and didn't seem to be in a mood for formalities right now. He was still in his flight uniform; he probably hadn't even bothered to get something to eat either. None of them had. He assumed a position behind the podium, leaning onto it slightly and supporting himself with his hands. His voice was tired, but filled with pride.

"Excellent work, people. We didn't lose one fighter, one. That's some outstanding deployment. Hardroll, I'd chew you out for that terrible landing, but I'll cut you some slack today; I'll let the Chief take care of that."

He coughed in an effort to clear his throat. "Anyway. We still don't know what just happened. All we know is that all of our colonies were attacked by the Alarei at the same time, and you people averted it. Your next orders are to get geared up and report to the barracks immediately for some sweet rack time; you've earned it. Let the bus drivers take over from here. Dismissed."

With a salute, he departed again, and the pilots headed towards the locker room. If there was one thing a pilot needed after an experience like this, it was a shower, some chow and a good day's rest.

Hastings Chetco 081, Pilot Callsign 'Indian'
Alarei Dreadnought Exterior

"Easy Indian, easy, you're going to crash us on that thing!"

The co-pilot was right. The dreadnought's uncontrolled drift was hard to work against, and it took all of Indian's effort to match the velocities between the two craft. Judging by the radio reports, the other assault teams were having similar problems. Chetcos simply weren't designed for the level of agility the maneuvers in this situation required, but the pilots had to make due. Thankfully, luck was on their side: the velocity and acceleration vectors on the navigational screen overlapped within acceptable limits, and the small transport's trajectory finally matched that of the dreadnought.

"Aw yeah, who's a hotshot now, uh?"

"Shut up Indian, just dock us, will you? I'm getting nervous."

"Alright, alright, commencing docking maneuvers. Making starboard approach to dreadnought, zero angle deviation. Activate mag-clamps."

The co-pilot of the Chetco complied accordingly, finding the magnetic clamp switch and turning it to the SBD indicator. A series of external arm-like devices extended from the craft, making a slow approach towards the hull of the gigantic dreadnought.

"Firing port RCS block, stabilizing at three."

With a short thruster burst, the ship was brought closer to the dreadnought's hull. Another burst, this time on the opposite side, stopped the vessel in relation to the warship and allowed the magnetic arms to attach themselves to the metal alloy. Slowly but surely, the VTOL was pulled towards the hull by the folding arms, and its starboard hatch was pressed against the conveniently placed hull breach.

"Maglock secure, all systems running green, board on auto... Alright folks, welcome aboard the Alarei Warship Dickskin."

These last words were said with a heart-piercing grin, but the only response the pilot received from his coworker was an annoyed stare from within the pressurized helmet. "Shut up, Indian." he finally said, and the pilot shook his head.

"Everyone's a critic... Alright Captain, she's all yours."

The marines in the back compartment offered the two Air Force operators an appreciative nod, and turned back to what they were occupied with: the power-armor clad six foot seven combat android standing in the middle of the cargo bay. Based on the General Electric X202 Battle Android chassis, the HK202a in the Chetco was wearing an eerie variation of the PA-28. To be more precise, it was not wearing it, but had it grafted on top of its native titanium composite armor. The servomotors were linked to the main processing unit, and coordinated with the unit's own hydraulics in perfect sync.

As a cosmetic addition, the unit's helmet had been spray-painted with a dark skull, and neon red around its already red visor. The combat vest had plenty of graffiti on it on its own, a courtesy of the marines the specific combat unit usually deployed with in the field. Skulls, blood, skeletons, guns, bombs, the international symbol for radiation, words such as "INTERGALACTIC RAPIST", "ALIENS BEWARE", "ALIEN CULL MACHINE" and some less-than-polite depictions of genital organs were crudely drawn on the plates, overshadowed by big red letters saying JUGGERNAUT.

"Alright Juggernaut, are you ready?" questioned one of the marines, clad in the less advanced PA-23. The robot remained completely still, but its visor glow grew heavier with each word, and then subsided back to original levels.

<:: COMBAT UNIT JUGGERNAUT ACKNOWLEDGES. ALL SYSTEMS READY FOR INSERTION. ::>

Another marine slapped the machine's shoulder in an almost brotherly manner, and then rushed over to the hatch. The soldiers took cover as the door opened, and the machine known as Juggernaut activated its minigun and took several slow steps towards the exit. Thanks to the vacuum, the only proof of its gun firing was the series of intense flashes that came from the nozzle.

Alarei Dreadnought
Assault Team 1
Mission: Secure Data Core

The corridors of the dreadnought were in chaos. Thanks to the precise nature of the nuclear strikes, the crew in radiation-sealed areas had remained unharmed by the onslaught the 22nd SBG had brought upon it. And now, that crew was fighting back: clad in power armor that was more than a match for its United Systems counterparts, the security forces of the Alarei dreadnought were throwing everything they had at the three boarding parties. Right now, Assault Team 1 was caught in a crossfire: the Alarei were firing from both sides, and had blocked off the surrounding corridors. Assault 1 was also taking severe losses. Of the twelve marines that had gone in, three were critically injured on the floor, covered behind some storage crates and barrels.

The team Captain was one of them. He had taken a shot at the leg by one of the particle weapons the Alarei used, and the entire limb had shut off because of the nerve damage. His suit was barely keeping up with the tissue degradation, and the AI had pumped him full with painkillers.

"LIEUTENANT!" he yelled out to his second-in-command, and the armor-clad marine responded. She kneeled by the captain behind the crates, making sure not to get in the way of the heavy gunner who was reloading.

"Status?"

"We are still trying to cut through the interference, sir. Ammunition's holding up, for now, but McGuire is running out of RKP blocks."

An explosion was heard in the distance. One of the marines had thrown a grenade, and it had detonated in a bright micro-nuclear detonation; chemical explosives were unreliable in space, after all, and despite the fact that the corridor was pressurized, it had no oxygen. The Captain cringed behind his helmet, and spoke again after letting out a wet cough.

"Where's Juggernaut?"

"Unknown, sir! It went off to do its own thing, we haven't seen it! Jamming's not letting us relay new orders!"

This was a worst-case scenario. The marines would need a miracle to get out of the situation and complete their objective, and they would settle for just retreating anyway.

Thankfully, that miracle arrived.

It was subtle at first. A few less Alarei firing at the squad, a few gunshots in the distance, some hostiles simply ignoring the battle zone and sprinting off towards the T-junction. But as more and more left their posts, the reason became obvious: heavy metal footsteps, far too loud to belong to a regular power armor operator.

<:: THREAT ASSESSMENT: ALAREI COMBATANTS. EXERCISING DISCRETIONARY TARGETING AUTHORITY. ::>

The last thing the Captain heard before passing out was the sound of miniguns going off.

---

Alarei Dreadnought
Assault Team 3
Mission: Secure the Bridge

In contrast to Assault One, Assault Three was having a textbook deployment. Their combat bot had continued to stay at the front, mowing down any approaching combatants with little regard for its own safety. At the same time, it provided a portable piece of cover for the advancing marines. The short walk between the shuttle and the bridge was just a nice bonus.

At last, the robot entered the bridge and opened fire at anyone showing the slightest signs of resistance. Through that, the entire bridge crew was decimated by railgun fire; nobody was spared. After ensuring that the chamber was secure, it moved to another task. A blade-like device extended from its wrist, and the machine stabbed it into one of the data ports.

The lights flickered, and then shut off completely.

Less than half an hour after the energy signature appeared, the cavalry arrived. Two capital ships and three battleships jumped into position, and their appearance coincided with the detection of several nuclear missile emissions and weapons signatures.

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

USS Hastings
Combat Information Center

"Jump complete, Admiral! We have detected the signature!"

"Weapons grid to full power, prepare to launch fighters. Conn, roll us forty-five degrees starboard, bring batteries to bear."

"Aye aye. Firing starboard turn RCS block, forty-five degree roll."

The Admiral stared at the various screens, watching the graphs of the numerous Reaction Control System thrusters fire to roll the ship starboard. The move seemed meaningless at first, but as the dorsal turrets were revealed, its goal became obvious: both the ventral and starboard batteries were now in position to fire at the triangulated position of the signal. The barrels extended forward, allowing their heat dissipation systems and the coils themselves to be exposed to the vacuum of space.

"Stabilizing at forty five degrees roll, turn complete!"

The supercarrier's motion was halted, and the rest of its battlegroup mirrored the move. Or at least, every ship except for the USS Orion did: it instead brought its artillery battery to bear, opening up the massive blastdoor on its bow to expose the multi-kilometer long barrel.

"Maneuver complete, batteries have fixed target bearing!"

Admiral Shaw was now satisfied. Whatever the contact was, it had been put on a figurative leash: any reason for concern, and it could be blown out of the sky. Now, it was time to think and watch.

"Launch Golden Arrow and an e-war bird, get me some detailed readings of that thing."

___________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

Twenty-two fighters and a Raptor gunship were launched from the Supercarrier, heading towards the unidentified contact. The gunship, equipped with state-of-the-art scanning gear, commenced a detailed analysis of the hull.