From the pit was a quick notice. "Unknown contact is breaking from the liner sir! It's en route for our friendly vessel!" The voice, an officer he recognised, Ensign Thomas MacGrille. Calm, for a man on his first voyage into deep space, and his first real bite of true action and danger. The main screen centre of his bridge updated past the tactical holomap to display a lightly magnified and enhanced image of the moving object, while his holomap updated it's suspected path in orange, leading to intercept the other IUN vessel.
As Newman stared at it, flicking back to his data on the pad for some kind of reference, and finding none, he hesitated for only a second longer before deciding. He hadn't expected this, a shuttle maybe, full of enemy troops, perhaps. This didn't fit the bill of a mere pirate attack as he had been breifed for, this was something else entirely. His last source of intel said Aeron was readying to board the crippled liner, and he could only assume he had troops on board, and his dossier info made it all but clear that he would chose to be with them. A ship full of civilians, he would be alright. Newman, on the otherhand, wasn't so sure about his ship. "Anaylse target!"
Someone else in the pit spoke up, this time a voice he didn't recognise. "Object is small, no more than two metres in height, seems to be made of a gem like material, very tough by composition. Heavily damaged by small arms fire, but I can't confirm. She's on an intercept course with the engines of Aeron's vessel, sir." The holomap began to spit out raw code, reading off all the sensor data it had in quick scrolling form.
He nodded, only once, turning to Lieutenant, the two seasoned officers exchanging a single glance before putting the unspoken plan into action. Those in the operations pit who had been there before knew what was going to happen before anything else could be said. An unknown wasn't to be allowed that close to another IUN ship, especially not one under their protection. Newman ordered first. "Alert Stage Five!"
A long, final wail sounded throughout the Sea Star's alarm system, a final warning to battlestations as the rolling screens updated, and the Lieutenant barked out orders over the noise of it all. "All ahead full, Helm Intercept course with the object! Fire Control, Lock onto the object with Tubes One and Two, load Anti-aerocraft ordance! Switch the C-P-M-Bs to active mode and shoot it down!" And even as those orders rolled across the command centre, Gemmini's voice echoed within the ship, and across the cold, empty void of space, a transmission antenna directed right at the moving object, transmitting a message in her cold, metalic voice as it's only warning.
"Attention, crystal entity. You are violating the control zone of an Ural Navy vessel. You have been fired upon. Turn about and communicate, or you will be intercepted. You have been fired upon. Transmission terminates, Sea Star Six-One-Eight"
That firey blue glow expanded upon the battlecruiser's aft, twenty-eight 100cm cannons sliding upwards from her hull, above and below, seven metre cannon barrels extending from the turrets and locking into place, all swivelling moments afterwards towards the contact too small for them to shoot with any real effectiveness. Red strobe anti collision lights flashed at all of her corners twice, then paused... then twice more as thirty-two Close-In-Weapon-System batteries were lined towards the target.
And finally, her missiles. From the bow, two upper launchers and two lower launchers fired, the LL-2 Counter Projectile Missile battery emplacements ripping a shot into the void around them each, four long white missile trails arcing through the sky as they held a lock on their target. Four green laser dots were fixed upon the crystal form, and the missiles each had their own sensor and radar paint to follow it with. To the missiles themselves, if they could think, it was an easy target given it's size. The LL-2's were designed for shooting down other missiles and incoming cannon rounds, a man sized target was easy picking.
At the same time, her two central bow torpedo tubes let loose, a plume of fire fifteen metres long and six wide shot out from the left side of the bow, hidden from above by the curved angle, two 400cm torpedoes flung at the object. Except as they closed the distance, those massive capital ship destroyers split, the casings breaking away with the help of explosive bolts, each torpedo breaking into a dozen smaller missiles loaded with an airburst charge and a proximity sensor. Like the flak cannons of old, they were designed to surround a target, and shoot it down through fragmentation damage. Those single black torpedo trails had broken from not two, but now forty-four seperate missiles, all tracking to that one target.
And if those failed, Newman thought... The LancePulsars would be next.