[ATTN APS] A Great Game

Commonwealth vessels were of utilitarian, cylindrical, simple construction; though not open-frame, they were as minimalist as possible, often painted very little aside from what was needed for a modicum of posterity, ceremony and identification. Nothing adorned their surface, no embellishment or luxury, save the Union Jack, the vessel's name, and what was needed for the functioning of the ship; they were metallic, emotionless monsters, decorated only by sensor arrays, docking ports, the occasional turret, and the shining dragon-scales of radiator panels. Yet this was intended; as plain as they were, they were beautiful in their construction, even if the kind of beauty appreciated only by the engineer or mathematician, as in a ruthlessly efficient theorem or equation.

An entire fleet drifted above the British Dominion of New Albion--the entirety of the planet Ceres. The HMS Indefatigable, the Brittania-class dreadnaught of the Proxima Fleet, surrounded her entourage in a protective spatial distortion. Her followers consisted of the Battlestars Levitas, Nelson, Ireland and Gracemaria, among smaller combatants.

Admiral Gilbert Cornwall sipped a cup of tea as he reflected upon orders he had just received. To launch, and to engage a Prosperity Sphere fleet in combat, to prevent it supporting the ground invasion launched from one ground colony to another. It was a standard colonial landgrab, and hardly anything out of the ordinary. The duties would be performed, of course, but the Admiral could not help but wonder about the strategic implications of the move.

No doubt that the Prosperity Sphere would see them coming. They could call in local fleets at very least for resistance, leaving the two Great Powers mostly equal. The colonized world of Station Four awaited conquest, but would have to be landed on and neutralized only after the APS fleet in the area had been taken down.

As the time approached, an army of crewmembers gathered in engineering to approve and coordinate the course. The ship had more than enough reaction mass for the journey, but plotting properly was essential. As this happened, the rest of the fleet formed up.

"This is Admiral Cornwall," the loudspeakers said, crackling to life. "We initiate movement in thirty seconds' time. Please be in position. Helm... activate engines."

The fusion drive sprung to life; as the orange glare of the engine emerged, the ship began to move forward. The fleet followed.

The opening move of the Pacific Game had been made.

Over the next week, the fleets grew ever closer. Minor course corrections by both sides ensured that battle would occur in deep space, among the Asteroid Belt of the system--far away from any actual Asteroids, of course.

At a round table, the Admiral gathered along with the Captain of the ship, mission planners, and intelligence. The fleets were equal, the intelligence said; and so it would be craftiness and luck that decided the battle ahead. The APS, it was anticipated, would along with the Commonwealth decelerate to engage in combat. They would, also, be hoping to open fire and inflict as many casualties as possible.

The decision was made to pull off a glancing "broadside", as it were--to arrange the ships in a moving swarm, to at the point of Sphere intersection open fire with all of their might. Hopefully, then, the Indefatigable could create a Sphere gap to deal with the APS return salvo. They would expend much delta-v, then, to meet the opponent after this endeavour, and so action would be taken based upon the enemy reaction.

The fleets neared to combat range, and the message was relayed: a single request to the APS to surrender the fleet.

The Zeppelin drifted slowly through space. It's black exterior and fearsome shape was an intimidating sight to behold. Two other ships were on The Zeppelin's flanks: The Axe, and The Redeemer. The fleet, while small in number, was the main power of the Middle Eastern army.

In the distance a battle between the APS and the Commonwealth. The commanders of The Zeppelin cared for neither, and were just here to spectate this event. Commander Gardez stood looking over the terminals at the bridge, viewing the ships approaching each other on the screen. He was garbed in a black uniform and his face was covered by a metal mask to hide his battered and ruined face. Beneath his mask, he smiled. This battle would be interesting and either way, one of his enemies would be injured. He didn't even have to intervene.

"Commander Gardez," one of his officers said, approaching him warily. "Do you have any orders concerning those fleets, sir?"

Gardez turned slowly, sending shivers down the officer's spine.

"No," he said in a gravelly, muffled voice. "We shall hold our position and watch as they destroy each other. We do not have any reason to intrude."

"Will do, sir," the officer said, turning slowly and walking back to issue the commands. Gardez turned back to his terminal and continued to watch and wait for something to happen between those fleets.