He should have known better. The rumors had been around for weeks now, but he’d been too damn dense to put it all together and now he was doomed.
The ships had jumped in-system without warning, appearing on the long-range grav sensor net and immediately fanning out into a high-speed inbound assault formation. Worse, they’d come in from a non-standard vector. Somehow they’d scouted and cleared a jump route big enough for a light cruiser. By coming in this way, they’d bypassed the standard defense grid, rendering it useless.
The Denine and Winter Wand, the system’s two Cutter class patrol frigates, were poorly placed to defend against this kind of rush attack. Their commanders immediately brought them about and the grav sensor net showed a near-dangerous attempt at an intercept, but it was too little, too late.
The assault group consisted of four ships, a Flare class light cruiser and three Meteor class assault frigates. They came out of jump at relativistic speeds; so fast that they immediately began deceleration upon hitting normal space, their grav drives pulling huge wells of distorted space in each ship’s wake. There was no attempt at subtlety, nor was any needed. Even with the patrol frigates, the system had no chance of defending against a task force like this.
And if he’d been paying any sort of attention he’d be long gone. Instead, he stood numbly in the station’s command tower and watched the inevitable as it unfolded. Two of the Meteor class frigates slowed even further and altered their trajectories to match the intercept courses of the Denine and Winter Wand. Long before the patrol frigates could even bring their weapons to bear, their grav drives both went offline. There was no doubt that they’d been hit by long range missile fire from the more heavily armed assault ships.
The cruiser and its remaining frigate escort continued to scream in toward the station, the cruiser launching its compliment of fighters while still at high speed. The cruiser then deepened its grav well, slowing faster and allowing the fighters and frigate to reach the planet first. As they approached, they fell into high, fast orbit, using their grav drives to augment the planet’s own gravity so they wheeled around the planet at impossible speed.
The cruiser, on the other hand, arrived in a stately manner, cautiously approaching the research station with the clear intent to match its natural orbit. The comm systems station-wide carried the same message, repeated over and over: “This is the Imperial Cruiser Nymidion. Deliver Doctor Mauro immediately and suffer no further aggression. Resistance will result in stern reprisal.”
He could see the fear in the eyes of the young officer in command of the station’s defense. The kid was torn between his training and duty, and the undeniable fact that the station’s defensive weapons couldn’t penetrate the Nymidion’s armor, much less its shields.
Mauro decided to ease the officer’s dilemma. “Commander, please let me speak to them if you wouldn’t mind.” The kid’s shoulders visibly relaxed as he complied with the request.
“Cruiser Nymidion, this is Doctor Mauro. There is no need for further aggression, I will come with you voluntarily.”
The repeating transmission from the cruiser stopped, resulting in a seemingly endless moment of silence.
“Doctor. It is a pleasure to hear your voice,” came a cold and familiar female voice, which betrayed no sign of pleasure whatsoever. “A shuttle will dock to collect you and your research. Be ready in 15 minutes. Be alone.” The tone in her voice left no room for any reply, much less argument.
Yes, he was truly doomed.