Chapter 9: A Night to Remember 2

The familiar feeling of dread that accompanied a sudden emergency rushed over him. It wasn't just the general alarm—there was something about the tone, something urgent in the air. The crew members around them began to scatter, the usual bustle replaced by a focused chaos. Faces turned grim. Hands moved to weapons. Feet shuffled towards designated stations. The rare moment of relaxation was over in an instant.

"Admiral Velan isn't one for false alarms," Elias muttered under his breath, his posture shifting into the sharp, instinctive movements of a soldier. "That can't be good."

Kia nodded, his mind racing. His hand moved instinctively to the nearest wall to steady himself. The reality of the situation hit him with brutal force. He had been trained for moments like this—but that didn't make it any less terrifying.

They moved with swift urgency, breaking into a run. The floors of Destiny felt like a different world now. The quiet halls were replaced with the thrum of a ship that had just come alive, shifting from its civilian atmosphere into a war machine in the blink of an eye.

The Destiny, flagship of the 5th Fleet, was a formidable force, but it was not invincible. Stationed near the enormous capital ships, a web of smaller warships and patrol vessels made up the rest of the fleet's firepower. Together, they formed a significant portion of the Union's might. But when an enemy fleet of unknown but overwhelming force arrived, the calculation was simple: they were outgunned.

Sam and Ally took off to the hanger bay at a sprint, a fighter pilots' worst nightmare is dying without even making it to their starship. Meanwhile Elais and Kia made their way to engineering.

The first signs of trouble came as the sensors onboard the Destiny began to ping, distant signals echoing across the ship's long-range scanners. Then the report came in, an icy shock: a conglomerate of ships, human and alien, emerged from the distant blackness of space. And they were coming fast.

The enemy fleet had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. Their ships were a chaotic mess of different makes—old, rusted hulks alongside sleek, angular designs that screamed advanced weaponry. But the most striking part was their sheer numbers. The forces known as The Coalition had gathered a force that numbered far beyond what the 5th Fleet had been prepared for.

Seventeen battleships, twelve battle cruisers, forty destroyers, and over two hundred converted freighter warships. They were ragtag, but they were here to fight and had the advantage of surprise to top it all off.

On the bridge of the Destiny, Admiral Draco Velan stood like a rock amidst a storm of chaos. His graying hair and weathered face were the picture of a man who had seen countless battles—but there was a fire in his eyes that no one on the crew had ever seen extinguish.

"Report," Velan barked, his voice steady despite the weight of the moment.

The ship's tactical officer, Lieutenant Harper, quickly ran a series of scans, her fingers flying across the console. "Admiral, they're coming in fast. Their fleet is approaching from the outer rim, and they've already begun their approach trajectory. We're outnumbered."

Velan's jaw tightened. "What are their capabilities?"

Harper paused, then grimaced as the analysis came in. "Their battleships are heavily armed with plasma cannons and ion pulse weapons. But it's the freighters that concern me—most have been converted into warships, heavily fortified but lacking maneuverability."

"Damn it," Velan muttered. "That's a lot of firepower."

He turned to the tactical board, his eyes scanning the map of the unfolding situation. The Coalitions' ships were closing in, forming a loose ring around the 5th Fleet, positioning themselves for a devastating strike."

Get me a comm link with all ships," Velan ordered.

The comm officer gave a quick nod, fingers working over the interface. Moments later, his voice rang out across the fleet's communication channels.

"This is Admiral Velan to all ships in the 5th Fleet. We are under attack by an overwhelming enemy force. The Destiny will lead the charge. We need to split their forces, and we need to do it now. I want our destroyers, scouts, and battle cruisers to hammer the enemy's right side—with a quickness. We'll use their own firepower against them by intermingling our formations with their own. We need to cut a hole through their lines and make this a running battle. The battleships will hold the line at the front and the left flank. We've got railguns and long-range cannons. We'll hit them hard and make them think twice about cutting off our exit. Once we open a hole, we'll form up and punch our way through."

Kia felt the tension in his chest, his thoughts racing even as he helped with engineering operations in the lower decks. He knew the gravity of Velan's voice. There was no hesitation, no fear—just cold, tactical genius in the face of certain doom.

On the bridge, Velan continued to issue orders, his mind already moving ahead to the next steps. The fleet needed to divide and conquer. He had seen this before, and if there was one thing he understood, it was that the Coalition had the numbers, but the 5th Fleet had the experience.

"Bring all engines to full power," he snapped to the chief engineer. "I want maximum velocity from every ship. We're going to make them regret this ambush."

The crew scrambled, moving quickly to execute the admiral's orders.

Velan's eyes flashed, fury in them for a moment. "Prepare all fighter squadrons for immediate launch. We'll hold them back until we're on top of the enemy, I want the fighter's raining hell after that."

"We've got incoming fire!" the sensor officer shouted. "Incoming enemy plasma cannons fire— diverting long range cannons to return fire!"

"Brace for impact!" Velan yelled.

The ship lurched violently as the first shots struck the hull, the force sending everyone on the bridge tumbling. A cacophony of alarms echoed across the room.

But Velan remained standing, his feet planted firmly. His voice cut through the noise with authority. "Report damage!"

"Shields holding at 80%, sir!" the officer replied, though his voice shook with barely contained anxiety.

"Good," Velan said, turning his attention back to the tactical display. "Now, execute my orders—let's make sure these bastards know they picked the wrong fight."

The Destiny's weapons systems came online with a terrifying hum. Long-range cannons fired in rapid succession, sending powerful bursts of plasma energy toward the incoming enemy. The first strike hit one of the Coalition' destroyers, tearing it apart in a shower of sparks and debris. Velan's expression remained unchanged as he watched the destruction unfold on the tactical screen. 

"They are using the armor freighter as damage sponge's sir, the destroyers are struggling to cut through them," said the weapons officer.

"Launch half the fighters now and have them target the freighters," Velan ordered, his eyes now focused on the shifting battlefield. "We need to contain their freighters, and damage as many battleships as possible now. Once we're making our exit, the battle ships long range cannons are going to target our engines from behind."

Kia, working furiously in the engineering bay, could feel the entire ship vibrating beneath his feet as the Destiny's cannons fired again, each salvo like the pulse of a heartbeat. The battle had begun in earnest.

On the command deck, chaos reigned. The Coalition' ships pressed the attack, firing in unison, their ragtag force proving surprisingly cohesive in its assault. The first wave had taken the fleet by surprise, but Admiral Velan's experience was beginning to show. His counterstrike was surgical, swift, and brutal.

"This is ridiculous?" Elias muttered under his breath, watching as the coordinated fire of the fleet erupted in a symphony of destruction. "Half the fleets going to be chewed up before we breakout."

Kia looked back to the chaos unfolding in the holographic tactical displays. "The Admirals got it under control… for now."