Late night battle

Author: Mischa Gau'ss Tesla

Original post: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1ZJA9AXnmgtDn35JY-oOOjqhZaClJPezKg9sqRmNz-4s/edit

Entry for the YC119 Pod and Planet Fiction Contest in the A Day in the Life category.

The crew is under pressure. I can feel it from inside: they are stepping around nervously, the bridge is abnormally quiet and silent yet everyone is on battle stations, …
We have been on standby for the last hour or so, but it seems to me nothing happened for month, maybe years. It always does out here. Nothing moves, except for the pale glistering of the POS shields slowly pulsing around us; even the communication channels are silent at the moment. Two light-years away, in the nearest solar system, a fleet composed of two Ninazu class Fax, one Apostle class Fax, two Nyx class super-carriers and about ten Moros class dreadnoughts are also on standby.
Tension is almost palpable, as if there was electricity traveling space from ship to ship. Suddenly, the fleet commander’s voice rips through the veil of silence: “All capitals and supers be ready to jump! Subcaps in position, cyno green GOGOGO!”
I swiftly lock my jump drive on the beacon, without even having to think about it. Just before I jump, I can feel the crew hold their breath, understanding that the moment for fighting has come. I jump: we jump. Our entire capitals and super-capitals wing appears on the field, several light-years away from what seemed to be the quietest place in the universe; right into a hell of fire and destroyed metal.
Even though this vision would have scared any mortal to death, my crew wakes from its drowsiness and activates every single resource of the ship. I can feel the power of the capacitor flowing through my veins, I can see further than any human through its sensors, I feel the power of its blasters at the tips of my fingers: the Erebus is awake, let the rain of hybrid weapons bring darkness and silence to the battlefield!
“Dreads siege is green, FAX cap up, all fleet lock up Nil in the Avatar”
Our fleet dives into action, cutting through the enemy’s overwhelmed fleet. Armor plates are cut off by hybrid turrets and fighter torpedoes. Nanite transfer cannot stop the destruction of the flagship Avatar, soon followed by the two Apostle supporting him. The trap was perfect: our sub capital fleet baited a fight just at the edge of our jump range, knowing that our enemy would probably try to use a titan with weak escort to break through the few battleships and logistic ships we brought. As the last Apostle disappears in a burst of flame, a victory roar grows in our ranks: we’ve made it, we destroyed our target without any capital losses!
We continue ripping through the thinner plates of the enemy’s hurricane fleet as they try to flee out of our range. Fighters dive, torpedoes fly, ammo is transformed into plasma and accelerated through space, cutting holes in dying hulls.
As the last enemies retreat, my crew finally releases the tension accumulated during the last hours. I can even hear some gunners make jokes about the caliber of the guns they are servicing. If I could smile, I would, but it seems ships do not have faces, and clones cannot move inside their pods. It was the first big target we destroyed, the first titan down to the fire of our new born alliance. I'm proud of being one of those two hundred capsuleers or so, under a flag of hope: the hope to find a place between the stars… or to create one! We prepare ourselves for extraction, looting the field, waiting for dreadnoughts to get out of their cycles. Fight was good: only a few losses on our side, objective reached... A flawless engagement! I cannot help but think of those who were in the Avatar and died. What a strange world: human kind has found immortality, but only some can reach it, and those humans, us, the capsuleers, kill thousands of people in a glimpse to try and claim some space until a stronger group claims it. It feels like a waste: a waste of lives, but also of resources. “Home cyno is up, bait FAX jump back, subcaps burn home, good job everyone!”
The Fleet Commander voice brings me back to reality. My screen is glowing pale blue, the POS shield in its center. My Erebus is still there, ready to jump on a target that never showed up. Four in the morning… probably just about time to get to bed.