Snippet #1752034

; Admiral Riley stood in front of a holographic display, looking at the cosmic map of the region with various anomalies sounding to faint alert beacons across the screen. Cursing under his breath slightly, the Admiral turned away and grabbed at a wireless transmitter; as he watched a hologram of the rest of Task Force Obsidian move out in a loose formation. Suddenly, alerts began singing across the bridge, bright lights twinkling across the display.
"Sonuvabitch ... You've gotta' be fucking me ... " He said, a cold chill coming down his spine as a single little icon flashed across the display. Riley's stomach churned.
"Get me a broad-com to all ships in the system. Aschen, Terran, everything with a pair of god damned ears." He ordered, having to shout over the alert as it was now sounding in a massive drone. As he watched the screen fade away, another replaced it to show the Terran and Aschen ships spread throughout the inner system of Sol.
"This is Admiral Riley, I need all of you to listen right the fuck up and lock down tight -- The Aschen need to take the shit caked between that pathetic excuse of a skull, stand by and arm all weapons for combat ... "

Turning away from the large view screen, several of the officers in the bridge turned to look at the Military Counselor curiously, before he stood in front of a battlemap with a pre-combat parameter display showing a trio of signatures stamped with a small Belkan icon beneath them.
"Terran Command, there is a Belkan strike group inbound to the system. They've caught the trail of blood and they're following it home -- I won't trust the Aschen to fight with a backbone if you're sticking a knife at their throat. I hate making the call but it is my professional suggestion to disengage this blockade and prepare for combat." He said, stepping away from the display as it flashed, and then another alert sounded.
"Prepare to defend yourselves, gentlemen."