: “ Into the Cleansing Fire ”

Office of Lt. Col. Desautels
Dark Stalkers Squadron Commander
TCS Mistral Sea
0100 Hours (CST) (CST)

The office was completely black as Rob Desautels entered it. He hated this time the most, because he knew that his bed was still at least an hour away. He had just come from a bed check of his pilots. He hated having to impose a curfew on his pilots, but the CAG had ordered all off duty pilots to be in their racks by 2300 Hours. So that meant that all the squadron commanders had to make sure that Pilot Country was all secure before their nightly meeting with the CAG.

Rob brought the lights up in the office and strode over to his desk. He turned on his computer terminal and began to sort through his email and other messages. Of course, there was the nightly message from the CAG with all of the paperwork that needed to be completed attached to it. One would think that CAG would have given the paperwork out at the meeting. However, this was not the case, Jack Butler was a man who loved to use the technology at his disposal. Personally, Greywolf could have gone without the paperwork all together, but along with the job came the paperwork, and he had come to except it.

After reading mail from his wife and other family members, Rob sat back in his chair and began to work on the flight roster for the next day's engagement. The CAG had given the squadron commanders a rough outline as to how he wanted them to distribute the firepower of their squadrons. It was now up to them to put the right people in the right positions. This was the easy part of what faced Rob this evening; the time consuming part was putting together the briefing for his pilots. The only thing that Rob hated more than doing paperwork was public speaking. He joined Confed to fly fighters, not to play Caesar to a room full of pilots, or even worse, brass. He shook his head at the thought and continued to play around with the computer programming in the mission specs.

Task Force 73
Mylon System
0130 Hours (CST)

Cutting through the void of open space, Task Force 73 made its way through the Mylon System. From a far off distance, the ferocity of these machines of war is hidden. The only thing that one could see of these messengers of death was individual points of light that was caused by the reflection of light off of their bright, scarless, durasteel hulls.

Out in front of the formation, the two scout corvettes, TCS Abilene and TCS Belfast, swept the projected flight path of the task force. These two craft were suited perfectly for their task. The corvettes were fast for their size. This allowed them to scout and run if the situation asked for it. Behind the two corvettes, Vampires of the elite (and recently recommissioned) Death Angel Squadron flew BARCAP patrols, keeping an eye out for those hazards that may have slipped past the forward 'vettes. The Vampire Fighter had everything. It had the speed, the maneuverability, firepower, shields, armor and the versatility of loadout so that it could take on almost anything.

Inside the fighters coasted along the TCS Impulse and Fury, two of the four Murphy-class destroyers in the Task Force. These two ships were used as quick support for the corvettes in the event that they were to run into difficulty. Born of the need for a ship that could shoot down enemy fighters and knock off enemy capships, the Murphy-class Destroyer was a quick and versatile ship with staying power of a light cruiser.

In the center of the formation flew the crown jewel of the carrier group, the TCS Mistral Sea. This two thousand meter long ship housed the heart and soul of Task Force 73. The Midway-class carrier was designed to be a "stand alone" carrier. However, with the appearance of a new threat to Confed, the Mistral Sea and her sister ship, the TCS Midway were placed at the heart of attack groups like Task Force 73. The carrier was the bridge between the destructive capabilities of the Plunkett-class Cruiser and the defense of the Murphy-class Destroyer.

Close to the carrier flew the Wasps Interceptors of the Yellow Jacket Squadron. Their mission is to expeditiously deal with all threats that make it passed the forward shit. Equipped with a booster pack that accelerated them to over three thousand kilometers per second and a loadout that could take out anything smaller than a destroyer, the Wasp was a perfect weapon to intercept

Flanking the Mistral Sea strode the "Big Guns" of the Task Force. The TCS Portland and TCS Baltimore, two Plunkett-class Artillery Cruisers, packed the most offensive firepower in Confed's arsenal. Hell the only other thing that can hold a candle to the Plunkett, was the failed Behemoth project. These ships along with two destroyers will be in charge of the protection of the civilian component of the group. The Pride of Arulco, the civilian cruiseliner turned evac. transport, floated 1,000 klicks astern of the Misty.

Bringing up the rear of the formation strode the other two Murphy-class destroyers, the TCS Tenacity and the TCS Valiant. In close formation with the destroyers flew Panther Superiority Fighters piloted by the Phantom Eyes Squadron.



Task Force CO's Ready Room
TCS Mistral Sea
0700 Hours (CST)

Behind his large oak desk, Admiral Putnam sat staring out at the beautiful void of space. For the Admiral, this simple act had a calming effect. Stress and anxiety just seemed to disappear from his entire being. Some people did yoga, others took out their aggression through violence, but the Admiral just needed to look outside of a porthole to feel calm again.

This time was precious to Putnam, for in just under a few Hours (CST), this simple act would not be possible. The peaceful void that currently surrounded the ship would soon be filled with streams of Tachyon fire and debris. Debris that was once a part of ships. Ships that housed the souls of brave men and women who were to willingly give their lives up to save the lives of countless others. But right now, Putnam was not to think about it. Right now was his time to lose himself in the serenity of space.

Admiral Putnam was called back to reality by a tone from his comm unit. "Putnam here, what is it?" yelled the Admiral with his back still to the screen.

"Sorry to disturb you, sir, but we are approaching the jump point to the Ymir System. Your presence is required on the bridge," replied the voice.

"Thank you, Captain, I will be there in a few minutes. In the meantime, recall all of our non-jump-capable fighters and prepare the task force for the jump."

"Aye, aye, sir."

Putnam spun around and shut down the comm link. "So it all begins. May God shine down upon us on this day of destruction." Admiral Putnam rose from his seat and walked his tired frame across his office, and disappeared down the hallway to the bridge.



Flight Deck
TCS Mistral Sea
0715 Hours (CST)

Rob stood in the observation area looking down upon the flight deck. As he looked down, the inextricable dance of techs prepping fighters occurred. What may seem to the outsider as utter chaos, was actually a well-rehearsed movement of techs and pilots getting ready for a large engagement.

Up until right before his briefing to his pilots, the knowledge of the ground capabilities of the aliens lie in the hands of a select few. This knowledge was finally divulged to both he and the CO of Misty's the Marine contingent, Col. Dozer. And when he was finally told, Greywolf had realized why the brass had held onto the information. Captain Greenberg had given the Dark Stalkers high priority when it came to choosing targets. Greenberg didn't only want Air Superiority over the battlefield. Anything short of Air Supremacy would not be tolerated. And Greywolf knew that only air supremacy could jeopardize the entire operation.

In the final briefing with his pilots, Greywolf had clearly outlined the details of the next step of the operation. His pilots were assigned the task of escorting the Marine Landing Crafts to their insertion points, and to pummel into the ground any resistance that the bugs may put up. Seemed simple enough, but Greywolf had reassured his pilots that this was far from a milk run.

He split his squadron up into four flights of four each. Three of the flights would escort the marines to their insertion points. The final flight, in which he would be the wing leader for, would fly cover and aid any of the other flights if the need have arose.

His pilots knew what they had to do. They had been trained for this as best they could. Now it was all their instincts and God to see them through this. And being a very religious person, Greywolf had hoped that his prayers would be answered on this day of reckoning.

With that thought, Greywolf grabbed his decorative helmet off of the table and proceeded down the stairs to the flight deck where his fighter lay in expectation of his arrival. Here, Greywolf and the rest of the Misty's Air Group were to ride out the jump.



Flag Bridge
TCS Mistral Sea
0730 Hours (CST)

"Admiral, we have reached the jump point to Ymir," said Commander Stuart, "awaiting orders." Stuart said this with a little disdain in his voice. He knew exactly what he would do. He would first send in the cruisers, guns blazing, and then the Misty, followed by everyone else. He wanted to go in there, shoot up everything, and then sort out the bodies later. And when he was Captain of the BWS Charleston, that is exactly what the course of action was. However, he isn't aboard the Charleston, this isn't the Border Worlds, and he is two steps from the top. This realization was again made clear to him after his little action in the Admiral's briefing, followed by the violent tongue lashing that he received by Capt. Greenberg.

"Well, Commander, let us not keep Admiral von Bugmeister and his anal pumping fighter ace Buggy von Richtofen waiting. Contact the Abilene and the Belfast, and tell them to proceed through the jump." The Admiral looked down at the comm system on his command chair and dialed in a number. The face Col. Butler appeared on the screen. "CAG, has the refueling shuttle finished refueling the Vampires?"

"Yessir, it finished about 5 minutes ago and it has just landed in Landing Bay 2. The Angels are ready to jump."

"Good, inform Death Angel Leader to jump into Ymir. Have the two corvettes jump into Ymir once the Angels have completed their preliminary sweep.

"Aye, aye, sir."

The comm screen shut off and Putnam turned his focus back to the situation at hand.

"Commander Stuart, sound the jump klaxon, and prepare the Task Force for jump transit," said Captain Greenberg.



Jump Point 185
Mylon System
0745 Hours (CST)

The leading elements of Task Force 73 move toward the jump point. The scarless hulls of the war machines glisten in the light of the two suns that light the Mylon System. Leading the pack, like a pair of Terran Rotweilers, cruised the Abilene and Belfast, followed close by the Vampires of the Death Angel Squadron.

In the final briefing that Admiral Putnam gave, jump order was laid out in detail. To escort the two corvettes, the Death Angels unfortunately (or was it the other way around) drew the short straws. The admiral's plan entailed a securing of the jump point by the forward elements of the task force. Once the all clear is given, the rest of the warships will jump in system and proceed to Ymir IV to engage the Nephilim. The admiral was a very cautious man. The last thing that he wanted was for the rescue party to need a rescue. He had full confidence in all of his subordinates, but would do everything in his power to keep them from unnecessary harm.

The two corvettes began to slow up as the Vampires accelerated toward the jump point. As they approached the jump, a blight blue flash appeared as the jump point reached out to swallow the individual ships. An instant later, they were all gone; thrown across great distances in an instant.

As if part of a scripted dance, the TCS Abilene accelerated toward the point that the Death Angels had left vacant. As it approached the jump point, the tentacles of the hole in space reached out for it. Firing their jump engines, the TCS Abilene disappeared in a fantastic show of light.

Death Angel 200
Ymir System
0800 Hours (CST)

"Well well well. Looks like we got quite a little ant farm going on," instructed one of the Death Angel pilots, "They must really want us bad. Too bad."

"Sensor's picking up two enemy corvettes and about 30 fighters. Computer says a mixture of Morays, Stingrays, and Mantas."

The youngest Death Angel replied, "Yeah yeah. This should be a piece of cake. Dunno how those fucking morons at Third Fleet had so much trouble with them."

"Shut up, Baby Timmy, or I'll cut off your balls when this is over," retorted Death Angel XO.

"Okay assholes, you are all vets so you know the drill. Weber, your flight cover the 'vettes. The rest of you, engage the enemy fighters 500 klicks away from the 'vettes." instructed Death Angel Leader, Lieutenant Colonel Nick Huynh.

Upon jumping into the Ymir System, the lead elements of Task Force 73 were met by a welcoming party. This little party consisted of two enemy corvettes and about 30 escort fighters. It was apparent that they had been dispatched to guard the jump point after the incursion that had happened the day before. From the appearance of it, the 'vettes had jumped right in the middle of a shift change. One of the enemy corvettes was traveling away from the jump point with its fighter escort and the second one was coming in with a fresh set.

Psych cursed under his breath as he lined his fighter up on the lead enemy Moray. His radar locked on the fighter as he kicked in his afterburners. "Death Angel Leader to Abilene, come in, over."

"This is the Abilene, what is it, Colonel?" replied the co-pilot of the Abilene.

"Transmit back through the jump and warn the Admiral of our situation. Tell them to get us some more fucking help out here, ASAP." Always the smart thing to do. It would rarely happen but if they got into trouble, more help would be there when they needed it.

"Roger that, sir."

During his conversation with the Abilene, Psych had closed the greatly closed the distance between the lead enemy fighter and himself. He was almost within guns range. He flipped his selector switch to full guns and lined up. He wanted to take out the fighter on the first pass. And the combined firepower of his Vampire and his wingman Major Jennifer "Passion" Chen, that will happen. "Jenn, get the sucker behind him." Psych heard two-clicks in reply.

"Guns range in ten… nine… eight… seven" came the countdown from the AI onboard Psych's fighter. "Jenn, commence fire on my mark; three, two, one… FIRE!!!" Three enemy fighters were flying in a perfect V-formation. As if, one pilot was controlling both fighters, the two Vampires opened fire simultaneously. Bolts from the Vampire's Tachyon Cannons and Particle Cannons streaked away toward the enemy. The Finger of God struck the lead Moray. Seconds later, the light fighter's shields overloaded under the steady stream of fire and exploded in a brilliant display. Jenn's fighter met with the same fate.

One thing about Morays is that their pilots are not that bright. A third Moray attempted to fly through the wreckage of the first and lost its shields in the process. Once cleared of the wreckage, the fighter didn't make it much farther as Psych emptied the last of his capacitors on it. A smile came to Psych's face as the third alien found sent to the next dimension. Age hasn't changed him, nor his pilots a single bit.

"I got one! I got one! I got one!" The newbies, Baby Timmy, exclaimed over the radio. As he often did, Nick used ancient Navy terms when he called over the radio. "Give me a status report." Calls of individual victories and no damage were reported by the different members of the squadron.

"Timmy, check your six!!" called Two Cows "You have a nasty coming around into firing position."

"I'm on'em." Before he could reacted, Major Foxworth's fighter came screaming over the cockpit to engage the enemy fighter. A few seconds later Foxworth came back over the radio, "damn that guy was a bitch, but he's dead now."

"Thank you, sir. I'm very..."

Psych was getting really impatient at this kid, "Shut the hell up Baby Timmy. You went off on your own tangent and you didn't follow your wingman. You lost target fixation and let a bug get behind you. You deserved it you dumb bastard."

By this time Psych had found himself another target and had spun the full firepower of his Vampire into perfect firing position. Three Stingray class fighters were coming into formation. Psych knew of the destructive nature of their combined firepower from the Intel Reports, so he had but moments to act. He selected full guns and toggled an Artemis LR missile. Kicking in full afterburners, he began to close the gap between them. The enemy fighters began to circle each other and they docked. There it was, the moment he had been waiting for, Psych squeezed the trigger on his flight stick, sending the full firepower of his Vampire streaking toward the cluster. The energy bolts slammed into the back of the cluster. Psych emptied his capacitors into the shields of the Stingray cluster and then sent one of the new Artimes ImRec missile sailing toward his target. The missile struck dead center. Explosions erupted from the center of the stingray cluster and then, it was all over. All three members of the cluster were consumed in the explosion.

The bugs were good.

But not good enough.

Bridge
TCS Belfast

Kris Jamison, Captain of the TCS Belfast, took another second to look scan the bridge area of his ship. His bridge crew were both hunched over their consuls making course adjustment and keeping track of the status of the ship. Jamison looked back down at the radar screen mounted onto the side of his command chair. The battle has been going very well so far. The Vampires were doing their part in taking care of the fighters and protecting him. His ship had taken a couple of hits from the occasional maser blast. But the shields had been able to absorb the hits. The enemy fighter population was all but gone, and Lt. Col. Huynh had ordered some of his squadron to intercept the fleeing enemy corvettes.

"Sir, I got one, I got one," came a yell from his tail gunner. It was the first one that the ship had gotten in the opening stage of the battle. It may have been the first one, but it wasn't to be the last.

"Good shot Calderon. Keep'em coming," Jamison commented. "Comm, open a secure channel back to the Misty."

"Aye, aye sir!" replied the co-pilot. The co-pilot moved his hands over his stations like old-fashioned pianist. "Sir, channel opened."

The face of Captain Greenberg appeared on the small vid-screen attached to Jennings command chair. "What is the situation look like over there Captain?" Even though Jamison was a mere O-3 (Lieutenant), he was in command of a capital ship and that meant he was a Captain.

"The Vampires are wiping out the last pair of fighters and giving chase to the lone remaining corvette. Col. Huynh has reported that his people have suffered no damage. The zone around the jump is clear. The rest of the group can come through the jump," replied Jennings.

"How does the tactical situation look over there near the planet?"

"Sir, the Abilene has been trying to contact the survivors on the planet since we jumped in system to no avail. Our sensors currently read a destroyer and two transports in orbit around the planet, one of which is in a low orbit. Can't nothing else is showing up on our scanners."

Captain Greenberg cursed. "Shit, at last report there were four transports. But this is what we had prepared for in case something like this happens. Keep scanning the area and try to locate those other two heavies. Also, as soon as the Death Angels have cleared out the last of our 'friends', have them rendezvous at the jump."

"Aye, aye, sir."

"All right, Captain, good work, the first of the destroyers is firing up their jump engines now. Transit for the Task Force should be complete within the next twenty minutes. Admiral Putnam has ordered that the Task Force group at the Jump Point before proceeding on to Ymir.



Meanwhile…

Ruins of Ymir Air Defense Base
Northern Continent of Ymir IV


"Okay people, spread out into your teams. Keep close to the buildings and watch out for those damn bugs," instructed Benson Farmer. "Make your way through the tunnels up to the surface. Once you get there, fan out, find your shit, and get the hell back here. The hatchway opens in 30, night vision goggles to standby." He looked around to make sure that he had all of his people and that they were ready to go. "In five, four, three, two, one… move, move, move!!!"

The survivors of the initial Nephilim foray into the Ymir System had been bunkered down in shelters buried thousands of feet under the planet's surface. These shelters were originally designed during the war with the Kilrathi, in the event that the Kilrathi were to have gained Space Superiority over the planet.

On this night, shadows streak between the ruins of buildings at the Ymir Air Defense Base. This elaborate dance has been going on for a couple of weeks now. Salvage patrols of survivors would go out during the nighttime and gather as much as they could, without being seen. This event had been made even more difficult in the past few days with the addition of the aliens. The bugs had arrived many hours before and patrols from their transports that had landed were spreading out.

The salvage teams went prepared on this night. Each member went out with TC Marine issued M-58 laser rifles and Mass Driver Mini-guns. The assault rifles were salvaged from earlier endeavors at the base and the mini-guns were found in the bunkers. No chances were taken this night. Many of the salvage teams were comprised of survivors from the marine component of the Ymir Defense Base. Both Confed and Border World Marines helped train the members of the salvage teams in the specialty of stealth.

It was at that moment in which Farmer heard a loud scream behind him, "Bugs!" He turned around, only to have his weapon thrown away from him and felt hard unforgiving arms grabbing him. He struggled but to no avail. He looked around in frantic, only to realize that him and his team were just taken captive by a patrol of the Aliens.


Flag Bridge
TCS Mistral Sea

"Launch all fighters!!!" commanded Admiral Putnam. "Comms, get me on laser link to all of the ship captains."

"Aye, aye, sir," replied Lt. Hatcher. Lt. Hatcher's hands danced over her control panel. One by one, the faces of the ship captains of Task Force 73 appeared on the Admiral's vid-screen. "Sir, they are all here."

"Thank you Lieutenant," he replied. Okay, gentlemen, all ships are through the jump. The corvettes are to take up point. Set course for the planet, flank speed. Sensors indicate that there are 3 ships in orbit, the destroyer and two transports. Two more transports are supposed to be here. They may be on the surface already." He took a moment, and then he continued. "The Misty is in the process of launching all of its fighters. I want the destroyers' fighters to be on alert standby."

Admiral Putnam paused for a few minutes to field any questions from his men. "Okay gentleman, it begins. The bugs have been in system for at least five hours already and there is no word from the colony's survivors. Let's get this shit done, and get the hell out of here. Putnam out." With that, the aged man closed the link. He sat in his command chair, overseeing the madness that lie underneath, for a couple of minutes. The Flag Bridge on the Midway class Megacarrier looks down the Command Bridge to the front and the CIC to the rear. From here, a person could oversee and direct all the happening as the ship sailed through space. After a few minutes, Admiral Putnam turned over command of the Task Force to Captain Greenberg and retired to his cabin. These next couple hours of rest were going to be imperative so that the aged Admiral can function well when the time came.

Admiral Putnam's Stateroom
TCS Mistral Sea

Admiral Putnam strolled into his cabin. For the head of the most frightening compellation of firepower in Confed's arsenal, the Admiral's dwelling was quite sparse. As was standard for all flag officers, the Admiral had the largest stateroom on the ship. In the corner of the room, lay the Admiral's large oak bed. And occupying the other corner lay a large oak desk that the Admiral had hand-carved of grand English oak wood. There were also a couple of paintings on the walls. Not much else was needed, for this room was used only for sleep.

The Admiral walked over to his desk and picked up a data pad that lay on it. He had his Flag Assistant drop off some material by his room earlier. He quickly examined the data pad, and turned on his computer terminal. He opened up his personal log and made an entry in it.

"… and the moment of truth will be in a short while. When the shit hits the fan, we will be victorious." Admiral Putnam turned off his computer and walked into his wash room. After washing up and changing out of his uniform, he walked over to his large bed to get recover the energy that he would need to lead his men and women into the heat of battle.
 

FINIS