Sunday, March 27, 2016

War is Hell...if Hell is the line at the DMV...

Unidentified Star System, 1200 hours...

Rebecca listened idly at the announcement that a flight of Mandalorian stealth-equipped fighters had launched from their carrier at roughly the time she had scheduled them to launch, barely registered the announcement that they would be sending back telemetry data to the ships of her fleet, and almost nodded off when her ship's computer reported that missile tubes were being loaded and would be ready to fire when a solid lock was achieved.


"Count on machines to manage to something as exciting as launching a missile so damn boring," she thought to herself, stifling a yawn.

She'd need to issue a few orders personally in a few minutes, but after that there was nothing to do but wait. After her ships had tracked a squadron of Decepticons back to a hidden base, she'd flinched at the sight of the thick asteroid belt. She didn't know how her robotic foes were getting their corvette-sized Sentinel ships through that rock field, but only the J-Ark and her fighters were nimble enough to actually maneuver through without getting pulverized and no way in Hell was she sending unsupported fighters in there.

And so she'd decided on a less risky/more lengthy method of bombarding the enemy base with bunker buster missiles. The only problem was that missiles were too dumb to maneuver through the asteroid field as well. Hence sending out squadrons of fighters with as much stealth and sensor equipment as could be scrapped up, meticulously scanning the asteroid field while the combined processing power of three Mandalorian cruisers tried to forecast the trajectories of a few million...nay...billion tons of rock.

Not to mention there had to be an equal number of ships on the lookout for hostile reinforcements, ships scrambling to bring as many missiles from a supply depot as possible, and a hundred other difficult-to-coordinate tasks, none of which actually required her direct input.

And so Rebecca waited. She tried watching a movie, reading some books she'd downloaded from Gloria's library, and even took a moment to perform a few backlogged repairs aboard J-Ark. That damn water heater would face her wrath. For a moment, she WAS needed and she ran back to her bridge covered in grease.

"Sighted Decepticon freighter, sank same," came back a report from a Crusader gunship.

"Confirm it and get back to me," Rebecca ordered, stifling a yawn until the connection was cut.

Indeed, there was very little for her to do at the moment and, to her later chagrin, she actually nodded off. Fortunately, nobody seemed to notice as a quick alarm jolted her awake.

"Trajectories plotted," one of her calculator cruisers reported.

"All ships, five second laser barrage on target coordinates, then do a wide-field tractor beam sweep followed by a full missile barrage. Fire until dry, then begin reloading," Rebecca ordered.

It was very precise. Her people WERE professionals. She watched as cannons fired, bits of rock were quickly emptied from one cone of space, and thousands of missiles were fired into the gap, with slighly more than half of them actually getting through to the base - better than projected. The principle asteroid determined to be the Decepticon space station began breaking apart, spewing metal into space as robotic warriors attempted to escape. Rebecca's fleet fired again, though she ordered nobody to pursue them further into the field; she'd settle for shattering one of their supply lines if it meant a minimum of casualties on her side. Her comm channel suddenly erupted in Mandalorian battle cries; apparently some of the hostile Decepticons had chose to try running right through her fleet despite her current bombardment.

A chorus of "Oya" and "Kandosii" rang out; hostiles eliminated. There were be songs sung tonight, some tales embellished, and a few more comrades to remember each night.

"Attention all hands," Rebecca said, activating a fleet-wide channel. "Mission accomplished. Stand down to yellow alert and prepare to move on to our next destination."

Rebecca flipped the channel off as the cheers renewed; she wanted nothing more than to share in their enthusiasm, to yearn for the glories of more battles, but she needed to focus. As much as she wanted to chase down Decepticons all day e'ery day, to be back with Vina on Earth, there was too much at stake to be so reckless.

That didn't mean she couldn't still share in the celebrating though. She quickly donned her armor and dashed to her personal fighter.

"Netra'gal with Clan Lok or Tihaar with Clan Tenau? So much drinking, so little time..."

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