Commander Komalov stood on the bridge of his Jaguar class carrier, an older model but more than sufficient

for the services required. The Red October was the largest ship in what the citizens of Aggersal called the peoples militia and what the government simply called rebels. Aggersal was an outer planet and often came under attack by raiders, Vanduul , basically any scum looking for an easy target. After pleas and cries to the government for support those who could afford to leave did, those who couldn't, weathered the Storm. The Red October drifted in an asteroid belt on the outer edge of the system, waiting for the founder and funder of the peoples militia, Majana Rodrick , who was arriving back for a family matter. "Comrade Renjin, what's the status?" Komalov barked " We should have heard from them by now." "No Signal yet, Sir!" Came the reply from the comms station. Majana was running late, which was almost unheard of, and further no message had been sent ahead. Something wasn't right and Komalov knew it. Where was he? Why hadn't he heard from them? Was the Government involved? Thoughts and plans were forming in his head, preparing for any eventuality. "Sir, Contact, Bengal Class carrier, and escort squadron, 11 Ships total." The call came and lights dimmed and klaxons flared. "Have they detected us yet?" "No Sir" The holo imager in the center of the bridge flared to life, and the grizzled face of Admiral Karchev appeared. A old scar across his cheek tugged at the corner of his mouth , giving him the appearance of a perpetual smirk. His eyes scanned the bridge briefly until they fell upon Komalov , hardening in an instant. If Majana was the financial backer behind the militia than Karchev was the military mind. Having served for years in the Imperial navy he rose to command of his own destroyer, and was sent on a suicide mission. A mission he survived against all odds, but after that his military career went through the floor, insubordination, flat refusal of orders all culminating in his dishonorable discharge after striking a superior officer. "Stand down, they know where you are and what you're doing, let them board, it's all you have left." The admiral stated, not a question just a pure fact. Mind racing as more possibilities formed and were shattered within his mind , unwilling to accept the truth he knew, he had been betrayed. Betrayed by a man he thought was his friend, a man he had shed blood for and a man he had fought beside. "Sir? You cant be ..." Kamalov began before being interrupted.

"I am, the operations over, hell the militias over. Were not fighting anymore the military is taking over the sector and this is my assurance of a way out." His voice came calmly over the holo. " Im not going down in another suicide mission you know better than anyone we were done. And as good as one last fuck you to the military sounds Id rather keep my skin and if it means offering up Majana so be it." "Fucking traitor" Komalov spat back and slammed his hand down on the panel , closing the conversation. "Get me comms across the ship." Speakers came to life in every corridor, every room, over the vast hanger. They carried his voice, the voice of a desperate man a committed man and a doomed man. "We have been sold, betrayed, given up. Our glorious comrade Karchev has made a deal with the military to save his sorry ass, the price? Our asses. So I say we make them know who we are, what we are, we make them bleed so they remember the betrayal of this day, we make the price high and make them remember, we are from Aggersal, they weren't there when the vanduul came, they weren't there when our lives were threatened, they were there when we rose up and made this system ours, So I say to you let us remind them why Aggersal still stands, and why we have the right to live!" Kamalov shouted, voice rising to a peak until in a crisp clear voice he continued , " Battlestations!" Roars of approval echoed throughout the ship, they could be heard across the bridge down to the mechanics prepping the fighters for launch. The imperial fleet, as it were, was approaching the belt, all the ships arrayed around the carrier, clearly not expecting the Red October to put up resistance. "Engines full, get us around that big asteroid over there" As the sun was occluded by the asteroid, 8 fighters launched arraying themselves around the aft sections, trying to stay in the shadow of the asteroid as much as possible. "On my command, engines full, gunner don't wait till were all the way around that rock to shoot we've got plenty of ammo for what we need to do and surprise might be all we've got. " Seconds passed, Kamalov stood arms behind his back a faint trace of counting on his lips. Utter silence enveloped the bridge as everyone waited for the command that would cause chaos in the serenity of space. "Engage" The engines of the great behemoth in space flared bright and strong as the Red October lurched into motion. As the ship came around the dark side of the asteroid, the guns suddenly sprang to life on the starboard side of the ship molten metal point defense turrets, high powered lasers and missiles

streaked from the behemoth towards ships barely in sight, let alone prepared for such an offensive maneuver. The initial impact from the broadside disintegrated two of the cruisers closest to them. Heavy gashes ran along the sides of the enemy carrier and an engine exploded into space. Another cruiser, unlucky enough to collide with the wreckage of the first two, drifted venting atmosphere into the cold void. "Sir three enemy cruisers down, minor damage to the carriers hull. Laser batteries 3,5,and 7 are overheating and the enemy cruisers seem to be forming a strafing line." The bridge shook violently as a missile exploded against the hull. " And sir the enemy carrier is matching our course and speed" the bride shook again , harder, sparks flew threw the air as several consoles exploded. " And they are firing!" Most of the enemy missiles were being destroyed before hitting the hull by the point defense turrets, but laser scores marked the hull. " 23 degrees starboard, bring us closer to that asteroid" Kamalov barked. " Open a channel to the fighters, tell them to make sure our engines stay clear, if we can't maneuver in this belt were done anyways." A massive explosion blossomed between the carriers , a cruiser unfortunate enough to have been caught in between by the course change. Fighters from both ships were engaging above and below the field between the carriers. 6 escorts remained, more or less intact, and the initial element of surprise had been lost. In a pure slug fest between the carriers the Jaguar class might have won, having more bulk and relying less on it's fighter compliment. But with escorts, fighters and the asteroids the newer, faster and better equipped Bengal class was beginning to inflict more damage. "Damage report!" "Point defense turrets are down, port engine at 25% hull plating is offline. We only have 2 fighters left and both are severely damaged." Came the call across the bridge that ended hope for Kamalov. Damn, he thought to himself. If only our engines had made it. The plan was to cripple the enemy carriers engines and run into the asteroid field where a slow unresponsive ship would be pummeled to pieces. Unfortunately that's exactly the position he had put himself in. Suddenly finding himself laying on the deck, muted sounds began. "Power is down throughout the ship sir, were adrift" Came a distant voice as he was helped to his feet. " Sir? Sir! " Came the same voice much closer as he was shook.

"Yes signal all hands abandon ship, get as many people back to Aggersal as you can comrade. Move!" The hands let go as he shouted and Kamalov steadied himself and his feet. Looking out the panoramic windows surrounding the bridge the array of destruction was impressive. Rounds stopped firing, and those few still left in space either exploded or drifted out of sight. Wreckage once dim in the radiance of explosions now smoldered away, plasma leaking into space, oxygen leaking out to fuel fires along the hull. Escape pods flared and boomed into space, most making it past the cruisers, and the carier loomed above it all , slowly closing in on the Red October, ready to claim its prize and all the survivors still on board. Mamalov stood there on the bridge, just as broken as his red October, the connection went deep, from the day Majana and Karchev presented it to him through countless battles , relief missions and patrols The Red October was Kamalovs sun, always rising the next day. But there was no next day here, as the ship was beaten, broken. Just as Kamalov was.