Chapter 17: Front 10.5; Operation Deadlight – Part 2/3

The rest of the briefing proceeded along in much this fashion for some time.
 Nate would explain some detail, like how the Fluchtig's mech team would be in charge of all 15 machines from between the three ships - only for Batty and Louise to interject before finally Kolme would throw his own ore back in to bring the conversation back to sanity, usually with some simple comment about how each ship's Vijaik-team leader would still hold relative authority.

 It was through this Hoki began to see a new side of Kolme.
Clumsy and in-punctual? Definitely, but bizarrely enough he was proving to be a viscous negotiator.

She could only presume it was his uncouthness that helped.
 Put bluntly he was vulgar, his language rough and his opinions unsuitable for such a discussion. It was this, Hoki believed, that kept taking the trio of Captains in the room by surprize.

Thanks in large part to Kolme aiding Commander Nate in his pursuit of a sensible discussion, they did eventually reach the true meaning of the meeting. A new slide with black block capital words;

OPERATION DEADLIGTH
#IAFS-OP-C-0030-TG

The room for the first time in a while truly quietened down when those words appeared, with a sense of anticipation spreading through-out everyone.

 The next slide to come up was somewhat less imposing, thought no less intriguing. On it was a full size map of all human controlled space. It was by no means a unique sight for those present - It pertained the familiar sight of two planets (Bhaile, a bright blue and green orb to the left - and the desolate dusk of Abhaile to the right) surrounded by rings of Satellite-Nations and a moon like object orbiting either of the main bodies.

Being a full screen display the image was depicted in it's full high definition state, clearly showing the vivid watercolours of Bhaile's lush climates - While equally portraying the drab dusty greys of Abhaile's surfaces.
 As for the Nation-States or 'Satellite-Nations' they were depicted with simple gunmetal grey rectangles to represent they're positions as literal cities and countries based from space bourn satellite colonies.
 Further marked were a number of capital cities and the likes with simple red font.

"As you all know--" Nate began.
'Know what?'

"We have gathered here today to form the Tristan Group in that we, the battlegroup, may take the fight back to the enemy!" He finished in what was borderline broken grammar.

The rest of the room stared up at Nate as he made his strange statement, though most at this point we're growing used to the mans elongated way of explaining details.

 He nodded at his two aides and the projected map updated to include new details.

 Reaching into his puffed sleeveless bomber-jacket's pocket he drew fourth a folded telescopic stick and proceed to swing it forward.

Nothing happened.

He shook in again.
 No response.

Internally Hoki's felt as though she'd die of embarrassment as the man, her commanding officer, her boss's boss - Began to vigorously shake the small piece of metal around his person.

 Finally he managed to force about half the thing open with blunt force;
 "That will do I suppose, hem. Now then as I was saying, yes, what was I on again?"

It took all her willpower for Hoki not to clutch her face in dismay. Behind the man on the map was a series of markers, one in particular stood out with as being a unique image. A scaled down diagram of a somewhat famous repair ship known as the 'Clover'.
 The image was crudely layer to be in position to the north-east of Abhaile.

This might of struck Hoki as odd (were she not busy being ashamed) due to the fact it was uncommon to chart the positions of individual ships on a regular map for no reason.
 This was a fact not lost on Kolme sitting beside her, now more alert and well, up-right then he even had been earlier when talking down to the Captains.

"Ah yes. As you are all aware Operation-Deadlight will see us track down and destroy the submarine labelled, labelled...." As Nate again fumbled to remember the words of his script, a new fear crept into Hoki's mind.

'All aware? He...he couldn't of, of forgotten to send me the files before the meeting by accident?'

 She had thought it odd not receiving any details prior to the meeting but now it seemed that fear was confirmed. Glancing around the collected group of people in the room, their expressions showed no signs of confustion. No only her and Kolme seemed to be hearing of this 'Submarine' for the first time.

'For the love of the Sun he can't be that forgetful can he?'

Nate continued on to explain about the Submarine 'An-Curadh'.
 Submarine itself simple being a catch-all term used to designate any weaponised-ship that attacked alone or in small groups - Usually lightly armoured, hitting supply lines or even civilian vessels before retreating without a trace.

"But this submarine is no ordinary affair. In the last two?... The last couple of months this 'Curadh' has destroyed over 18 supply vessels and 3 warship escorts. All while seemingly taking not a single casualty of its own as far as we can tell."

 The tone in the room was far more settled now. It was one thing to argue petty politics but Hoki was atleast glad to see ample respect being shown towards the loss of life.

Still for her she could only presume it came as more of a shock than it did the others.

 As someone with an intimate knowledge of the history of modern warfare, she could safely assert she had never heard of a lone vessels with such a high success rate in that short a period. 'Well except maybe for it....'

The markers on the map made more sense now too. The series of red X's plotting out the path of carnage 'An-Curadh' had marked out for itself.
 "The submarine displays some strange tendencies that make it hard to so much as gather data on, in fact until recently it was undecided as to whether it was the culprit behind all these deaths."
 Even Nate seemed a little less boisterous as he traced a line through the X's with his half-drawn pointer, before turning back to the rest of the room.

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"It jams all communications before a battle begins and then seemingly appears from nowhere.
 It Does Not Leave Survivors.
 We have confirmation of it destroying escape pods and continuing to engage against surrendered ships.
It leaves no traces and no survivors. Further unlike most submarines it's not only carrying a Vijaik team but also what we believe to be a new model of Casnel."

This last point caused a new stirring of voices - "We were not informed of such a machine!" Exclaimed Commander Batty half-way standing out of her chair.

"Certainly not, command gave strict orders that you should Only be Informed in Person by me." Nate replied with just a hint of satisfaction at 'winning' one over Batty.

'Well atleast there's some things that I'm not the only one in the dark about.'

 Casnel's, the machines made from the exceedingly rare metal Goibniu. Capable of almost supernatural feats, with near infinite energy generation, hyper heat resistant armour and equally devastating weaponry. A single Casnel could easily sink an unsuspecting fleet, even one protected by its own friendly Vijaiks.

"So just to get this right, you expect us with 15 regular Vijaiks and three ships to hunt down an invisible enemy that's guarded by a Casnel and who knows what else?"
 Louise stated with a raised-brows and a combination of venom and disbelief in her tone.

"I take it Lt.Commander Emilia will be joining us then Sir?"
 This question came from Louise's second in command, Lt.Tabitha. Her tone was far more respectful and it being the first thing she had said all day, Hoki had almost forget the small woman was over sitting in Louise's shadow.

Nate shuffled on his feet with clear discomfort, "Not exactly..."

An uproar rang through-out the room.
 That temporary reprieve from earlier long since lost - And than Nate did something entirely unexpected (which considering all that had already transpired Hoki was genuinely surprised she even could still be, well, surprised at this point).
 He walked silently over to the terminal, all the while questions and curses from almost everyone present (even some of the engineers and pilots) hurled towards him.

He reached over, Lt.Sunglasses leaning back in his chair to allow the stocky Captain access to the terminal.
 After a few miss press's, the correct file blipped onto the large screen - Its volume cranked up just enough to be heard over the cacophony of complaints.
 The recording that came up had a found-footage quality to it with a grainy camera feed and slightly distorted voice over.
 The image (where not corrupted by a static blur) seemed to be of the large windows of a warship's bridge, with rolling metals columns in-between each sheet of heavily armoured glass.

The view it afforded was bleak.
 On that blackest backdrop of space was the site of three or maybe four other civilian transport vessels - Shrouded in flames.
 Shafts of metal protruding in and out of hull's bloated to look like butchered metallic animals. The ship's so badly disfigured that one couldn't hope to identify what they had once been as flames and explosions splurged in and out of the carcass remains of the 4 stricken boats.

Hoki could of sworn she momentarily saw the bodies of people dressed in plain clothes, floating lifelessly in the vacuum of space to one side of the camera's sight. Their face's drained of all oxygen as they shrivelled and froze as though they'd never held any life to begin with.

The man's voice that accompanied this image was ragged, on the verge of shouting in rage or perhaps just bursting into tears. Through gritted teeth it commented over the continuing visuals;
 "Th-They just appeared the bloody bastards. No sonar, radar, no look-out - friggin nothing saw them.
 The Puma just exploded, it was there and then it weren't. We--"
 The voice forcefully halted in time with the camera suddenly shaking wildly around.

A new noise of a ship groaning, a crunching screech of metal compressing against metal filling the air. A sound that made nail's on a chalk board seem pleasant by comparison.
 "We haven't long now. Escape pods are no good, they shot them all out of the air when the Pirelli tried to run. T-There were kids on that ship, kids for Sun's sake--------- N-no God no----"

The commentary paused again.
 This time something new came into the camera's focus. Although partially blurred one could make out the humanoid shape of a mech, jet black to the point of almost blending in with its surroundings.
 A faint green shimmer around it, a clunky looking cannon fixed to its arm and an angular head on its shoulders.

Said head turned as though to look straight at the camera before suddenly the whole thing swung rapidly to the right of the shot in an almost elegant cartwheel motion, before shooting up and out from the camera's limited field of view.
 In its place raced a bolt of orange energy fire, helplessly missing the target and careering off into the distance.

"That's John. Remember him you hear me? Ha, hell if anyone finds this."

 The so called 'John' came into focus now, his machine was the green and cyan shades of the Neo-M-type Vijaik, a variant of the same mechs used by the Fluchtig's very own crew.

 It rose its thin rifle to the sky, feet almost touching the deck of the warship below it with face towards the anonymous cameraman, as it fired desperately into the sky above again and again.

"He's the only one of his team left, remember John Smith you hear me, rememb--"

 Even as the Neo-Vijaik fired, a single return shot of bright, shimmering green smashed back down through its oval shaped head in a mere second. Then bore into the body, sizzling momentarily like sparks off a welder before appearing straight through the underside of the mech with a violent flourish - Finally piercing into the into the deck of the ship beneath.

The camera footage completely cut out for a few moments at this point but the voice over persisted, now with interspersed panting and the sound of someone running on metal flooring.

 "This is the Cruiser Class 'Red--"
 The audio less cut this time but instead was drowned out by the sounds of screeching alarms and more buckling metal;
 "--The enemy has a Casnel, I rep-------- further multiple Vijai-------- tell m-my ------ lov--------"

The voice stopped.
 A few moments of silence passed through-out the briefing room and just as it looked like someone would have to break the moment - The screen suddenly flashed back to life, even more distorted then before as crack lines and static scored the film.
 Lying hunched in on himself was the voice's owner, his back pressed against a non-descript grey wall. Aside from the distortion itself there also now appeared to be another layer of glass in front of the lens.
 The man was smeared in blood, whatever had hit him had come up through the floor just out of camera shot and in doing so had severed his left leg, which lay a few feet away from the rest of his body, pooling vivid crimson blood across the floor, seeping ever closer to where the camera seemed to lay.

The man was middle aged but past that was so battered as to be near indiscernible.
 His face was smattered with harsh burns, his black uniform singed or absent entirely in large patches, where bare blackened skin showed from underneath.

He clutched one arm to his stomach, that same shade of red seeping through the gaps between where he held himself and the flesh beneath.
 Where the leg had been served just below the knee seemed at first the most grizzly. The culprit had been brute-force rather then heat, leaving the former limb open to the air, tendons and all.

Finally as his hands fell limply to his side, a massive gushing wound across his sternum was revealed, bleeding profusely into the lapping layer that already covered the floor.
 In the final moments of the tape the man somehow seemed to find strength enough to lift his head up, stare straight at the camera and nod in what might of been a salute of sorts - Before finally going fully lame.

All the while the image seemed to shrink.
 The blood still spreading across all the floors surfaces but now further away - Which Hoki soon realised must mean the man had launched the recorder off of the ship in some manner.
 The camera was literally moving further away from its former owner.

The recording ended this time.

****

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