1. State of Intent

Captains Log; June 18th, 2018:

"_Here we sat in open space, above our Beloved Earth. Not even a decade earlier was life so simple that the worst of our worries was how American Idol would end. Now I long for those days, long for such ignorance. _

_That was before the Red Eye'd ones came. Machines built for war, built by their first likely victims. We never met them, and only god knows who they were, but I will say that I compassionately hate that race. We are on the verge of collapse here. Half the world is gone in a nuclear wasteland. Half the population with it. That was 4 years ago when they first came. _

_The only reason we survived was due to our excellence in our new favorite toy: the laser. Yes, a missile can only get a missile so quickly, but the speed of light is much quicker. Now we stand united, because our old enemies are either dead or just as likely to die against the Red Eye's as we are. We are United because of our enemy, and because of what is the same for us.  
_

_And as I wait here as captain of Humanities first 'Jump' capable ship, aptly named Enterprise, we prepare to embark to take the fight to the enemy, no matter how bad the odds are. Maybe Millennium Falcon would have been a better name; never tell us the odds. We know we're going to die, but if our families and friends can live from our actions, then I guess it makes it all worth while. They can still be happy. And I'm happy, too. We get to be the first to exorcise the best an the worst of humanity on the Red Eye's. Revenge is sweet, and when we find that next WhiteStar with the Crescent fighters, well, no human words can describe the pain they will feel, if they can feel. What they have against us, I will never know. _

_Maybe I can ask when I see one in hell someday."_

Captain Mike Mitchell Renolds took up the center spot in CIC. No one ever called it that, though. Everyone called it the bridge. Everyone here had taken as many lessons as they could in space warfare, both fictional and nonfictional. They were the best of the best. Renolds himself had always been torn between Mater Chief and Darth Vader, but when it came to his favorite ship, The Enterprise C had always been it. Not just by how it looked, but for what it stood for. It was why he pushed so hard for the name to be given to the ship rather than 'Defiant,' or 'Gaia.' _Fate protects fools and ships named Enterprise._

Enterprise was a ship unlike any before her, and it wasn't just because of her Jump Core. She was well over twice the length of any other ship in the defense fleet, and armed to the teeth with Heavy laser batteries, Point Defense lasers, and multiple Nuclear Ordinance bays. They were intended for use as missiles, but could also be used as mines, when the decision came down to the wire. Her Nuclear reactors that powered everything were so extensive, and large, that they had to leave an open spot between the sublight engines in order to allow proper cooling to take place in the depth of space. Of course, some could argue that the designers were just fans of Star Trek, but then one would have to say that she had a number of similarities to a Star Destoyer on her front side, minus the bridge on top.

Of course, they had gotten most of the tech in one of the first battles with the Red Eyes, and had downed a WhiteStar. It took them a while to figure out the tech, but when they did, it was a big advantage. It turned out that their programming language was so radically different from Earth's, that they could not hack into it without first capturing some of Earths' own computers. It guaranteed a certain safety in the computer barrier, as well.

Captain Renolds was a strong man, but he was also kind, when he wanted to be. He was just under 2 meters tall, but relatively muscular. It didn't show too much under his uniform, but the figure was still there to be seen. An African American, it was peculiar that he had white hair on his head, even for an older man. Any way you looked at it, there was nothing common about him. He had served as a Fighter pilot during the Gulf Wars, and one of the first few to shoot down a Redeye Crescent. Besides his tactical mastermind, there was another reason he was in command of the ship. He was a person everyone could serve, be loyal to, and could be counted on as fair to, whereas his XO was much less forgiving. At least outwardly.

Commander Chelsea Alexas Prager was not someone you wanted to trifle with if you were below her rank. She was the force of the Captain's power, as if he needed any. She could beat Mike with relative ease in an arm wrestling contest, as well as pretty much anyone else. If her face wasn't imposing enough, she was nearly 2 and a quarter meters tall, with a long ponytail coming down past her waist. Military regulations were that you could only have your hair 25 cm long, but the rumor was that when she was in military boot camp, she'd keep that hair her CO had her cut off and tar him or her during the night, and making sure that hair stayed on them. It wasn't like Renolds cared much anyway. Earth Regulations went so far as Earth could reach, and no ship was capable of catching up to Enterprise yet. It'd be more than a decade before they return to Earth, if they could find the food to keep themselves supplied after a couple of years.

Still, Mike and Chelsea were on a first name basis. They had been good friends when she first started her first Space Duty during the last couple years before the Redeyes came. There hadn't been a war yet, but they were preparing for one in space. Only reason Earth wasn't completely destroyed in their first attack. Some said they were romantically involved, but the real relationship was more of a father-daughter one. Neither had had the best childhood, and they shared their experiences with each other. Behind the hard wall was a nice young woman, caring and daring, even if the crew never realized it.

Especially Lieutenant Thomas 'Hellraizer' Elizabeth. Never make fun of his last name, or his British heritage. Commander Prager witnessed that first hand, having been the only one to ever beat him in a fight. He's also the only one to ever have fought with Prager for more than a minute, let alone draw blood at all. While he was born and raised for a while in England, he considers space his home. One of the British Admirals was his father, and took him up when he was 7 years old. He only occasionally returned Earthside for a visit to his mother, who refused to go into space. He was the best pilot on the ship, let alone the fleet.

Of the three fighters on the ship, he oddly preferred the American over the European and upgraded Chinese, who's nation only had a small number of survivors in terms of their overall population, counterparts. The American Lance IV was the least maneuverable of the three fighters, but had the most firepower and was the quickest to accelerate in space. The European Landlord II was the 'recon' of the three, most well suited to solo combat, and had the best sensors. The Chinese Helldragon III, as it had been come to be known, was named for it's distinct ability that, when it was combined with the American nav programs, It could spin and slide much like the dragons in the old Chinese parades. Only a fool would dispute the maneuverability of the craft.

That's what the Cag Abraham 'Lincoln' Tzu liked best about the craft. He was short for an American, and wasn't considered all that special, but Renolds held him in high regard. He had originally been in the Chinese Stratospheric Navy, but after the destruction of most of his homeland and the joining of the space forces of the world, he gained both admiration for and respect from Mike. The two had a patrol skirmish just weeks before the redeye's came, and even with all the disadvantages the Helldragon IIs had against the Lance III, he put of a strong fight. The most impressive thing was his tactical ability, since he was always making traps Renolds almost always just barely missed. Eventually, their battle only ended when their fuel ran out, and each had to be towed back home by other friendly craft.

"Captain Renolds?" Someone asked. He looked over at the helm officer, one Lieutenant Mia Alison, and caught what was on her eager eye. Some said Mia was too young. Others said she was too blond. Chelsea herself said that she was too 'girly,' but Mike had a gut instinct. She had graduated the top of her class in her field, and on top of that, was also somewhat of an inventor. There was nothing she had made practical yet, but her bunk was automatically reset each day by some kind of device who's only power was her pulling a lever. It wasn't elaborate, but for having such little material around, it was good.

"Yes, Lieutenant?" He responded. There was no hint of emotion in his voice, and her face began to get a slightly worried look. Renolds smiled, and it went away soon after.

"The US President has given us authorization to jump, with a personal message to you."

"Oh?" He had met the President not too long ago. The two shared a number of things in common. They both hunted, although they hunted different things. It wasn't the only thing, though. "What did 'Crazy Lady' say?"

"She said 'Go kill as many Metalheads as you can, I bet the name of our next jump ship against the European Head Minister'." Go figure.

"Give the order. Jump away." He said. "Just a quick trip to the neighborhood next door." She set her mike to shipwide, and prepared to broadcast.

"All Hands! Prepare to Jump in 60 seconds. 59... 58..."

Finally, Earth was going to strike back. Finally, he'd get to show the 'Christmas Lights,' as one of the designers had put it, on the ship to the Redeyes. Oh, yes, this was going to be fun. Colonel Prager walked up and bent over a bit to talk into his ear.

"Exited now, aren't we?" She said in a slightly taunting voice. Mike could tell it was more of from her own excitement than trying to taunt him, though.

"Of course," He casually responded. "I heard that some of the tester's lost their lunch after the first few times it was tested with people onboard. Its too bad you haven't eaten anything for a while."

"Those were your orders, Captain." She replied, back to her normally cold self.

"Still, it would've been fun to see the crew's reaction to your weak stomach." He smiled. So did she, but in a more murky manner. She would have responded, but the countdown was getting close.

"3... 2... 1... Jump."


	2. Breech in Conduct

**Snowdove30:** It is the newer style Basestar, and I'm not sure they have actually encountered any ressurection ship as of this point. It's not too hard to hide something from a non-jump capable fleet. As for the Colonials... yes they will get to meet up... but your either going to love the way I do it or hate it, as I don't think anyone else has ever attempted it before ;-)

**Evilspanker: **Newer Race it is indeed, but the second and third questions... I'm not revealing too much yet... Regardless, the 'cultural interactions', if it is tackled at all, will most likely be addressed in a sequel, to those of you want to know so you don't waste your time.

As for everybody else, this originally was just a test at my abilities as a writer. Im glad to say you guys talked me into continue it. I don't mean to nag, but please do review. Especially if you like it enough to want to know more. Hope the next number of chapters aren't too dull, but I need to both practice the dull and setting the stage for the much more exiting events to come (say starting around chapter 10). I'll update as often as I can.

--

Alpha Jump Destination:

In a remote solar system, with little debris or asteroids to obstruct the jump-in site, the Enterprise appeared. She was the largest ship in the defense fleet, coming in at just under 500 meters long. Despite her lacking in volume and size, when compared to the Whitestars, the combat capability of the ship, in theory, would be enough to take out at least two of the white beasts at a time in favorable conditions, with little damage. Because of the powerful effective range of the main lasers, the ship could get the first shot advantage. However, If the Whitestars ever did manage to get into effective range, and past the countermeasures, there would be little they could do to escape, unless they could jump. Enterprise was extremely slow, since electrical power wasn't the best form of sub-light propulsion.

The front of the Enterprise was an armed and dangerous dagger, like that of a star destroyer without the mistake of a huge bridge complex on top as a target. Her anti-ship laser turrets lined the sides in sets of four, with 2 laser emitters on each turret. In total, there were 58 heavy lasers on 32 large turrets, most of which could be brought to bear on a single target. The rear of the main section housed the main engineering portion of the ship. Hanger bays, repair facilities, material storage, computer cores, and the main nuclear jump engine itself.

Protruding from the sides, and elevated above the main dagger portion of the ship, were the two sublight engine pods, along with emergency fighter landing bays and nuclear missile tubes, pointed forwards for direct combat with an enemy vessel.

The whole ship was a crisp, dark jet black color best suited to hamper the tracking capabilities of their form of Radar. Studies had shown weaknesses in their system of tracking by certain wavelengths, that may have been used as some sort of mass long range communications frequency. The ship was still trackable, but harder to hit from a distance, and not seen until it was too late. Lastly, a statue of Athena, Greek Goddess of Heroism, was at the point of the dagger. The original name of the ship was supposed to be Athena, as the designers had compromised on originally, but was changed by the good Captain of the ship. He had been against putting on the statue as well, but due to the armor having been built into the statue, there was no going back. Still, it added a certain elegance to an otherwise dull, if not large, warship of space.

"Jump successful, sir," Alison reported with a smile. Some congratulations and cheers went up on the Bridge, but not too many. Commander Prager's presence made sure of that.

"All right then. Ensign Sasto, what is the distance of the nearest planet?" Renolds asked. He motioned for his XO to come closer. "Commander, I have a sneaking suspicion our dear friend Scotty is having a bit too much of a good time. Go down and check up on how the reactor room is doing. I don't want them going through half our supply of beer we smuggled aboard."

"Yes, sir. So you knew about that?"

"I was the one who got it, Commander." He smiled. Going back to a straight face, one Renolds knew was one of confusion, she began to walk towards the vertical hallway entrance. Gravity was no object in space, so the designers had decided not to put in any ladders, stairs, or personnel elevators in the ship. It was initially a shock to see people walking on an apparent ceiling, but it was something the crew quickly got used to. Rumor had it that if you jumped, you would float in null gravity until the other side's gravity would pull you in. So far Dr. Kemngo, a supposed Frenchman, hadn't reported any mysterious bumps on the head, though.

"Sir, the nearest planetoid is approximately 5 days away at best speed. No signs of life, fuel, or resources."

"Set a course for it, continue gathering information on this system until we reach the planet, and set up a lottery for the crew for possible names. If we're going to start exploring space, we might as well name what we make clam to."

"Yes sir."

Down in the reactor room, Katie "Scotty" Anderson, a rather young former coal miner and US Marine Engineer, was letting her boys loose. Granted, she hadn't been the intended Chief engineer aboard the Enterprise, but she did her job well. It had been her father, Scot Anderson, who was supposed to fill that role. Unfortunately, the man had a heart attack a mere week before launch, leaving his daughter the only one who knew how to work the reactor on their own. She wasn't even supposed to be on board for the first jump, let alone the entire dark voyage into space, but her father had taught her everything on his pride and joy engine. No one had stopped calling the Chief Engineer 'Scotty' though, even though it never would have fit the bill. Her father had helped to design the engine, and considered it his other child, and treated it as such. Katie, on the other hand, hardly cared for it at all. Renolds knew it would make thing difficult, but hardly saw any alternative when it came to knowledge of the engine. Right as he thought, There was definitely more going on than on the bridge.

Upon walking into the Reactor Room, Commander Prager's sight quickly froze the group in position. Some of the younger crewmembers seemed even more rowdy than should have been otherwise permitted. Scotty herself was not in the desirable position to get caught. Still, after the walk down, and the feeling of jumping for the first time, left Chelsea with a slight compassion for the sorry group, who had already began lining up at their stations.

"I take it there was some kind of reactor leak that caused all this commotion, Chief?" She sternly said, walking up to Scotty. Before the girl could answer the XO continued her tirade. "This is not how a ship off to kill the most vicious beasts in the galaxy acts normally, or at all in any sane situation, and especially not where pushing one wrong button could 'accidentally' cause the entire ship to go up before even seeing action. Now, obviously this wasn't your fault that it happened," she continued, hinting on what would happen if she ever caught the crew here like this again, "but if for some reason a disco party suddenly should erupt here, its your job to control it. And if for some reason you cannot handle it, then..." Prager cracked her knuckles "...I will just have to take care of it for you. You get the picture?"

"Per-perfectly, sir."

"Good. I don't have any desire to come down here again to catch some guy with his pants at half mast, unless they got blown off in an engineering breech. Not a sexual one. Now clean this mess up, and get back to attending to the reactor." She opened one half the heavy sliding hatch, similar to those on a submarine but moved like sliding doors rather than opening outwards, with one hand. "And if I find out about anything else down here ever, I'll make sure your father gives you just as much hell as I will once we return." She closed the hatch, turning the wheel several times to close it again.

Meanwhile, in the ready room, the pilots prepared to go out on their first patrol. Abraham 'Lincoln' Tzu gave the appearance of a strong willed man, but apprehension gripped him, as did excitement. The new, unfamiliar space caused both, as it's tactical implications were clear to him. The advantage was that there was no longer any worry about any planets getting bombed, but from here on out it was unfamiliar territory. They would have to learn how to spot places to lay traps merely by sight and sensors alone, and to do it independent of the environment. Some people, namely the younger, cocky American pilots, said he was too focused on strategy. Tzu was certain a good portion of them were dead, failing to learn the true art of fighter combat. Listening to his pilot 'aces' now, 'Lincoln' began to wonder how most of these had managed to live at all, let alone make it aboard _Enterprise_. He stepped up to the podium, looking out to humanities 'best and brightest.' Most of the pilots settled down. One of the rookies, though, had not.

"Madtown!"

Startled, she looked straight ahead, almost itching to stand up and come to attention. "Sir!" she stated. Lincoln began to wonder how she had managed to get that name. The girl was from the northern states, that he could tell by the accent. But such a talkative rookie would no doubt make an even more confident, more talkative, and more annoying ace, in time. If she was on this ship, there was a good chance of that.

"Hear, don't be heard," he warned. It was a cryptic, and in his own ranks it wouldn't have been much of a warning. To the majority of those who had not been part of the former Chinese Stratospheric Navy, though, they took it at its worst. He allowed a brief smile, looking down at the assignments on his paper, before speaking again.

"The coming days are littered with turmoil and destruction. Patrols might not be your most ideal form of entertainment, but they are necessary to get to know your wing men in the cockpit, not just in the chair next to you." Taking a pause, difference was something he intended to maintain with _his_ pilots. "Your assignmens are on the board. Show up and depart. Dismissed." He turned slightly before some noise reached his ear.

"Hey!" he had heard of this particular Englishman. Benjamen O'malley, probably as annoying as they got. Probably worse than the rookie, too, "Aren't you going to wish us luck and say 'good hunting?" He smirked and laughed. Bringing up the rear, that's where he'd gotten his nickname, Caboose.

"Do you need it?" Lincoln smiled back, the room beginning to resume the noise level it had earlier. Caboose was slightly red in the face, but the quick thinking Chinese man was just as quick on his feet, already out the hatch, suppressing a smile.


End file.
