Transformers: Alone and Unafraid

[Dark Silver]

Hours had grown to days, had grown to weeks. There was a very real chance in Grindstone's quiet opinion, that weeks could turn to months, while the League's fleet and soldiers did nothing but take up space. Valuable time that could all be better spent training and preparing and on the assault. Of course, Grindstone also knew Deathstrike was doing the best he could, having to coordinate with the chain of command with their new allies - all who would want different things, different focuses....

Grindstone accepted this, and as such, had spent the bulk of his time on the ship that had carried the team, checking the ship, and his own, battle readiness, updating and disseminating Fleet Deployments for combat, and various attack plans depending on local spatial environment, fleet numbers, and any other variable he could assume or think of. He even provided planetary based combat proposals and deployments - for while Grindstone was a simple warrior, he was also a very experienced Decepticon Warrior. He understood the nature of combat, having learned from his betters, and studying combat in all it's forms for as long as he could. He had fought in countless battles not only on the ground, but in hard vacumm piloting and commanding ships. Grindstone did not say he was a master of warfare, he was merely a student.

When the alerts came over, Grindstone was already assuring the teams flagship was prepared to leave in short notice. When Deathstrike gave word for the datanet linkup, Grindstone had already patched in, his Virtual Avatar appearing in the Datanet before Deathstrikes, "Grindstone reporting Commander. Our ship will be prepared for deployment in ten cycles and systems are at 97% battle efficiency."

[Cynical Cat]

Of course he was. Somethings need not be said. Megatron was ambitious. Optimus Prime was stubborn. Shockwave was deadly. And Grindstone was always ready to fight a brutal and drawn out battle of attrition that would leave the terrain littered with broken Autobot wrecks. He endured while others fell. "Acknowledged Grindstone."

[LadyTevar]

Shimmer frowned as the alerts sounded. While there had been some data the GDE was readying a strike, she had hoped to have predicted where and when and not be surprised this way. To her, it was a failure of her team and herself, and it stung. Her voice was sharp as she snapped orders to her Intel Officers. "Get Deathstrike everything you have on that system -- planets, current occupants, exact numbers of FWA forces in the region, population of Sentients, Everything. I want that within the next cycle, understood?"

Orders were relayed, and Shimmer left her people to overwatch the FWA offiers as she upliinked to Datanet, her avatar joining Deathstrike and Grindstone, just in time to hear Grindstone's report and then add her own. "My apologies, Deathstrike, my team was still trying to verify data on possible fleet maneuvers. I should have anticipated this," she reported, her avatar reflecting her anger at her failure.

"I am getting full data on System Blue-32, planets, assets and available military from FWA files. Any info on the GDE fleet will be Priority as raw data comes in," Shimmer added, already starting Datanet subroutines that would allow Deathstrike and the other Cybertronians to access data on both the fleet and the System as needed. She may have failed to predict the attack, but she would get Deathstrike and the team all information they needed to stop the 'Cons cold.

[SirNitram]

The Cybertronian jet that was Shunt appeared in the datanet. "I'm ready to launch from the bay on command, Sir."

[rhoenix]

As the hours passed into weeks, Farshot simply did every task with his full ability, though he was careful to not reveal his full potential in any one area. Patrols, exploration missions, or information-gathering missions; he did them all with the same quiet grace.

Additionally, he had downloaded every text related to engineering to his quick-access database, and begun to study voraciously during his downtime. He was in the middle of studying his fourth book when the call from Deathstrike came across the comm. He answered it instantly, his avatar appearing on the datanet a moment later. "Farshot here, Commander Deathstrike."

[General Havoc]

Cavalier had not had a lot to do in the last couple of weeks. This was not a recipe for good things.

Dealing with organics came easily to some bots, harder to others, and of mixed difficulty to Cavalier. Though he knew how to be an imposing monolith, his temperament was not suited for debates and board meetings. He was a tank, after all, not a limousine, and public relations was not his specialty, nor his preference. Still, despite rumors, Cavalier was not actually insane, and did know the value of not blowing up the party before it could actually get started.

None of these organics had experience dealing with Autobots. None of them, likely enough, had even heard of Autobots before a week or two ago. Their sole experience of Cybertronians was the usual experience most organic species had with Decepticons. No surprises.

Accordingly, much of what Cavalier had been doing was listening. Normally not his forte, even he knew that you couldn't brag before you had any reputation at all. Afterwards was another story. Besides, he wasn't being understanding, he was gathering intelligence. His own brand.

So he listened. He listened to the organics of the various species on the station as they told him about their planets and the battles they had fought in. Deathstrike was dealing with the senior management here, the generals and admirals and council presidents and so on. Cavalier talked to maintenance workers, soldiers, marines, ship and station crewmen. Some of them didn't want to give him the time of day. Some of them were intimidated beyond all speaking. But some talked, and Cavalier listened to them talk, and heard the anger in their words, heard them quiver as they told him about planets conquered and battlefleets destroyed and all the masked atrocities he knew went along with this sort of thing. As was to be expected, the various people here had all kinds of different theories as to what ought to be done, but the majority of them revolved around displays of particularly extreme violence. Some of them seemed to be subtly asking Cavalier, who to them might well have appeared to be the avatar of extreme violence, if he was prepared to provide such a display. Some asked directly. Some demanded it. Some pleaded.

Had this been a different circumstance, he would have promised it. As it was, he had to be non-committal. Violence he knew would be in his future. He did not know if it would be the violence he wanted to perform or not. But he was a robot, with a robot's perfect memory, and he remembered every single request, every planet mentioned, every atrocity hinted towards, and every person, mechanical or otherwise, whose name came up in conjunction with them.

By the time the alarm came, Cavalier had a very long list, and was beginning to consider shortening it by other means. But the exigencies of service...

This time though, he probably wouldn't mind.

The download took nanoseconds, and Cavalier knew what all the other Autobots knew. A Decepticon fleet was not the news he had wanted to hear, for he was wasted on fleet to fleet engagements, being powerful in a personal sense, but not relative to space battleships. Still, it was something, and it might well galvanize action. He connected his coms to the internal net, and patched himself into the Autobot circuit.

"This is Cavalier," he said. "Give me some targets, and I'll show them a magic show..."

[Agent Fisher]

Cutter had been busy, busy, busy. Reviewing the FWA's small strike crafts, their training, their operational doctrine, making recommendations where he could and complimenting when required.

The flier's avatar appeared among the others, observing the data from the tactical feeds.

[frigidmagi]

The Blue 32 System was relativity close in interstellar terms, a mere 12 light years away. A small system with only 5 solid planets and a single gas giant, the GDE fleet had dropped in from FTL and begun the attack, the stations around the gas giant were already falling. Only a single world was habitable in this system, a Lamia world, the first to be attacked. Sparsely inhabited with it's population only in the millions (330 million Lamia). There were an additional 10 million scattered about the system in oribtals and habitats. The reports were confused and varied, the presence of enemy capital ships was confirmed with visual evidence, but much of the attacks were being carried out by small one or two pilot fighter craft, it was unknown if any actual Cybertronians were among these craft.

[Cynical Cat]

"Raiders," said Deathstrike as he pulled in the data. They would do more than raid if they weren't stopped, of course but letting the heavy work to small fighters instead of bringing in the cap ships for heavy bombardments told enough of the story. "All crew to battle stations and prepare to launch," he ordered.

He was already on his way to the bridge. He signaled the main computer. "Begin FTL transit calculations for the quickest transition to Blue-32."

He switched to personal frequencies. "Shunt and Farshot are to prepare for launch upon arrival for scouting and strike missions, Cutter stand by for CAP duties."

He sat down in the command throne, which transformed itself into an acceleration cage. Power plant levels rose and engines came online. Umbilicals retracted and ports sealed as the ship readied itself for launch and combat. "This is Deathstrike," he announced to all units. "We are a go. If it is your custom to pray before battle, do so now. Launching in ten."

[rhoenix]

"Acknowledged," said Farshot with a nod, before cutting the link.

Getting up, he moved purposefully toward the launch bay, already running diagnostics on all systems. He had done so this morning, but it was always best to be certain before combat - combat usually involved enough surprises without bringing malfunctioning equipment into it.

Once he reached the launch bay, he moved to an open space, and transformed almost liquidly into his assault craft form. Bay doors all along the belly of the craft opened, and a large-barreled cannon dropped down. It swiveled from side to side for a few moments before returning to center, and staying still for a few moments before retracting again within the body of the spaceframe. His final checks in the diagnostic complete, Farshot smiled internally, even as the large assault craft sat motionless in the bay, engines unlit. And now, the waiting before the storm.

[Lys]

It is generally common knowledge, among most species familiar with Cybertronians, that the Children of Primus do not stop. They do not get tired or restless; their bodies do not complain due to thirst, hunger, heat, or cold; their minds do not lose focus from pain or weariness; put simply, they do not stop until they drop. This is not entirely true, of course. Every being in the Galaxy needs downtime of some sort of another. Without maintenance the bodies of Cybertronians eventually break down, and without proper data organization and indexing their minds slow and become inefficient. Yet it is more true than not, for Cybertronians are durable beyond compare. The best specimens among a hardy organic species may manage a week of maximum sustainable effort before their strength begins to flag. Cybernetically enhanced and fully mechanical beings can last longer, but it was still a question of number of weeks.

With that in mind, to say that the last three weeks had been busy would have been akin to suggesting that stars are big and hot. True in the face of it, and yet a massive understatement of the facts. Within a day Blastcap had fully engaged her mental capacities to the tasks at hand, and she had known no pause or rest since. Three weeks of every processor cycle allocated to something of some importance, of data gathering and analysis, of discussing strategy and logistics, of reading and writing documentation on any number of things, of laying the groundwork for far reaching infrastructure upgrades, of talking with physicists, engineers, admirals, generals, and politicians. Every second of every minute, every minute of every hour. For nearly any being in the Galaxy it would have been a titanic effort, for a Cybertronian like Blastcap it was warm-up.

On the subject of strategy, Blastcap had dispassionately argued at length for the need to be cautious, adopt a defensive posture, and fortify. Offensive operations were invariably enormous drains on manpower, materiel, and supplies. The FPA had not been blessed with an over abundance of any of them. It was struggle enough to hold the line on scarce resources against a superior enemy. To try to go on the offensive before building up stockpiles would be naught but foolishness, to do so with a technological disadvantage was inviting utter disaster. Better to wait until the infrastructural and technological upgrades were sufficiently advanced that the FPA did not have to depend on the limited numbers of the League Expeditionary Force for its offensive spearheads. She did not expect her position to be earning her many friends among the Trea, but the suffering of their conquered brethren was nothing before the suffering that would occur if the entire front collapsed.

As for the disposition of the Expeditionary Force, Blastcap suggested that fire brigades were the best use of its military assets. That is to say rapid response units that would be deployed to critical situations along the front to hold the line or counter-attack as appropriate. This would both help keep the front stable while upgrades were conducted, and provide a number of lightning successes to help keep the morale of the FPA up. In her experience most sapient beings responded well to the arrival of reinforcements to save the day. The downside was that the high tempo of operations inherent to fire brigades, and the need to constantly switch fronts to deal with one crisis after the other, tended to wear on units. However, it would only be required until the first of the FPA's upgraded units came operational. Blastcap was also not adverse to the idea of using elements of the Expeditionary Force, including herself, for raiding operations, provided good intelligence and planning could be provided. Raids could cause much damage on enemy resources for light losses, but when they went wrong, they tended to go disastrously wrong, so she counselled caution and remained adamant that an overall defensive posture be maintained.

***** ***** ***** ***** *****

Blastcap was doing a number of things, but mostly she was examining the plans of a space fortification, and wondering why those responsible had not been executed for the atrocity. She was glad when alarms began to blare, for she was not looking forward to the arguments that would ensue from her official recommendation that the thing be demolished, the plans burnt, and the names of the design team added to the dictionary under "imbecile".

In moments Blastcap had cancelled or postponed all her outstanding activities, and called the four of her helper 'bots she had running errands. One reported back that it would be unable to make it in time, and she had it go into standby mode to keep it out of trouble. She quickly viewed the data on the GDE raid while she moved toward the docked ships, and made a decision. Presently Blastcap had secured herself in one of the combat transports and reported to Deathstrike, "This is Blatcap, I'm with the 273rd Pioneers. We're ready to go."

[LadyTevar]

The same trick that had kept Blastcap going Shimmer now used to quickly rush to their ship, one processor in the 'Net, one updating the raw data as it came in, a third extrapolating from the data, and the fourth was hurriedly navigating to their vessel to join the others before takeoff. Just because she was Intel didn't mean she was the type to miss the first engagement. Once in System, she wouldn't have to depend on second-hand data.

She made it in the vessel and secured her restraints as Deathstrike started the countdown to go, before redistrubuting processor power to continue following the data and extrapolating for the 'Net, now that she did not need it to concentrate on moving.

"Deathstrike, is it almost certain the capitol ships are holding back to repell counterattacks," Shimmer warned, stating what others were certainly thinking. "There is an 90% probability the 'Cons are holding back waiting to see which of us appear before they reveal themselves." Of course, she herself was going to be IDing which 'Con appeared, so her own Intel could track them.

Privately, another message was sent to Deathstrike: I can pilot this vessel if you believe you are needed in the fight. He was a Aerospace warrior, Shimmer was intel and ground scout. He should not be stuck in the command chair if he was needed.

[frigidmagi]

"Commander Deathstrike this is Admiral Qash, our ships are ready to go. More reports are coming in, the capital ships have taken up position around the gas giant and troops are securing the orbitals around it. The inhabited planet is under heavy fighter attack, no ground troops or capital bombardment at this time. Over." Came the com from the led League ship.

[Cynical Cat]

"Understood," replied Deathstrike as the maneuvering thrusters moved the ship clear of the station. Electronic impulses from the Decepticon sped into the ship's computer caused the firing sequence of the thrusters to shift, turning the ship around. He brought the main drive online at ten percent power. The ship rumbled away from the ring. Distance figures and vectors flickered through Deathstrike's consciousness. Power was ramped up to twenty-five percent. Six seconds later he went to fifty percent.

"Proceeding on course for FTL jump," said Deathstrike. He hesitated and then tight beamed a heavily encrypted burst. "The enemy capital ships are our target. This is our projected course. Preparing for FTL jump."

[Dark Silver]

Grindstone remained at his station on the bridge, plugged directly into the computer systems of the ship, it was almost as if he was one with the vessel. The great ship reversed thrust, and Grindstone felt the power of the engines as they stirred to life, heard the ships AI systems in his own mind, as it went over their duties, preparing the ship for the Jump to the Blue-32 system.

Deathstrike was giving the ships orders for piloting, but there were not just Cybertronians on the bridge, and while Deathstrike was tied in and knew what the ship would be reporting, sometimes it helped to hear it with the audio sensors as well. "Jump coordinates calculated commander. Jump engines are primed. Ships weapons control and targeting protocols have been tied into my systems."

Grindstone would be mostly useless until it came time for boarding actions - but until then, he could serve as gunner, using his knowledge and experience to help the AI "learn" which targets were best to follow, and better exploit any defensive weaknesses he may detect in the enemy ships.

[Steve]

In the engineering bay, the alert klaxons were greeted with a sigh. Crankcase had expected the Cons to try something eventually, but they always tended to make an attack when he was busy with a project.

Looking away at an incomplete attempt to miniaturize a Cybertronian sidearm to act as a heavy infantry weapon for organics, Crankcase began to ready his work space to take Cybertronian casualties. He keyed the intercom to the bridge. "Crankcase here. I'm reading the engineering bay for casualties and setting up the repair drones. Try not to get us all blown up."

[frigidmagi]

"Understood," replied Deathstrike as the maneuvering thrusters moved the ship clear of the station. Electronic impulses from the Decepticon sped into the ship's computer caused the firing sequence of the thrusters to shift, turning the ship around. He brought the main drive online at ten percent power. The ship rumbled away from the ring. Distance figures and vectors flickered through Deathstrike's consciousness. Power was ramped up to twenty-five percent. Six seconds later he went to fifty percent.

"Proceeding on course for FTL jump," said Deathstrike. He hesitated and then tight beamed a heavily encrypted burst. "The enemy capital ships are our target. This is our projected course. Preparing for FTL jump."

There were a thousand combat ships in the League Fleet. Deathstrike had ordered 800 to proceed to the combat zone. They moved quickly into FTL. System Blue 32 at 12 light years was a short trip, they were there in 45 minutes. They arrived on the outskirts of the system in good formation. The GDE fleet was roughly 400 ships, not a small fleet but not a large one either. But given that the League ships were worth about 2 Alliance ships, it could be said that the Deceptions in general didn't need to use large fleets.

The League fleet headed towards the gas giant, with the enemy capital ships clustered about it. The gas giant was a huge reddish sphere with dozens of metal orbital structures clustered around them. The League was 3 minutes from maximum combat range. The Decepticons reacted almost at once, the Capital ships steaming forward without their escorts to met the League fleet head on. They have rampaged through Free World Alliance Fleets with little fear in the past and had none now. There were no enemies for thousands light year that could match them one on one.

"Decepticon Fleet is closing into tactical scanning range." Came the report as the seconds counted down. Meanwhile the enemy escorts began to press their assault on the orbitals around the gas giant. While the fighters continued attacking the colony world.

"Commander Deathstrike, we're seeing increased comm chatter from enemy fleet. New code, we're running it through the computers to see if we can decode but... Don't expect much." Came another report.

The Decepticon fleet began to decelerate forming into a diamond formation with the heavy capital ships in the forward point. The fleets sprinting into killing range the seconds racing by.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike traced a pattern of envelopment in the tactical display. He then started issuing direct orders. "Launch all attack craft, small craft target priorities are enemy small craft. Close and englobe the enemy fleet. Concentrate fire on light and medium capitals. Engage the enemy heavies with boarding actions. Take prisoners for interrogation, but do not endanger yourselves to do so. " He switched to the shipwide channel.

"All Cybertronian non flyers on board who need transport to the enemy vessels, meet me in Hanger One." With a hiss of shifting parts and the hum of active machinery, the command throne transformed and let Deathstrike stand. "The bridge is yours," Deathstrike said the first officer. "I'll be leading a boarding party."

The tall warrior strode to the launch bay and transformed into his guncutter form. He charged weapons and engaged tactical links. "Standing by to launch. All units who wish to board, do so immediately."

[rhoenix]

At the order from Deathstrike, the engines of Farshot's assault craft form lit with a blue-violet light. Smaller thrusters lit with the same blue light appeared, gracefully lifting him off the hangar bay floor - and then the trio of main engines lit to full power. He shot out of the hangar bay, and having already updated his telemetry, had located his first few targets, almost at the forefront of the charge.

The Nova cannon lowered from his spaceframe, now locked onto its target. A high-explosive shell was loaded into the firing chamber, and the shell's computer was hard-programmed to fly until it was near several of the enemy small ships, and explode at maximum burst.

A moment later, the shell fired from the 105 millimeter cannon, through the depths of space toward its designated target, silent and swift. Its destination had already been locked in, so there were no active sensors on the shell - only passive ones for guidance. Even its engine was unlit, relying on the velocity from the cannon, and space itself to not slow the shell.

Farshot smiled to himself as he flew rapidly toward the enemy ships, keeping himself to roughly Shunt's maximum speed, even as he watched the mortar shell silently speed toward its target. He knew that as well-armored as he was, he still was a spaceframe - and less maneuverable than an interceptor design.

[SirNitram]

Diamonds of superheated air appeared behind Shunt, and he looses himself from the hangar floor. In a moment, the fighter-bomber was streaking across the void, towards the light capital ships. The transwarp shunt was already plotting shifts around the battlefield, but not yet. No. Now, an Empty streaked across the void between two fleets, outpacing the Alliance ships.

At least, that's what most scans would read. He was the color of an empty, and no weapons locks suggested he was anything but.

[LadyTevar]

"Commander Deathstrike, we're seeing increased comm chatter from enemy fleet. New code, we're running it through the computers to see if we can decode but... Don't expect much." Came another report.

Shimmer made sure to record all of the 'Con chatter as the ship's comms could overhear, as a larger sample may have repetitions that would make breaking it easier. A part of her wanted to drop everything and start working on the puzzle, but the middle of the battle was not the time nor the place. "Begin jamming 'Con frequencies," Shimmer ordered as she rose to follow Deathstrike. With luck, they could disrupt the 'Cons just enough to break communication between the Capships and the raiders on the inner planets.

The small fembot strode into the launchbay and into Deathstrike's guncutter form. Once aboard she rechecked her weapons and linked to the TacNet as Deathstrike had. Why stay and play with code, when she could go wrest it from the Con's own communications? "Shimmer, locked and loaded."

[Agent Fisher]

Parts shifted, clanging in place, engines spooling up, the whine of the small strikecraft's engines piercing through the bay. A trio of ordinance techs ran about Cutter, pulling tags on the micro missile pods on the hardpoitns of his alt form. While hardly enough to hurt a Cybertronian, each missile was more than a match for small fighters he would be facing. Quantity was the limiting factor though.

Cutter lifted off the deck and zipped out into hte inky blackness of space, scores of small strike ships forming up behind him as he led the way towards battle.

[Dark Silver]

As Deathstrike strode from the bridge, Grindstone had given the targeting AI instructions, and followed behind the flier. Battle - the type that Grindstone exceled at - would be found in one of two places here - planetside, or on those Decepticon ships. And if the ships weren't taken out, then freeing the planet wouldn't last.

As Deathstrike transformed, Grindstone climbed aboard - his weapons ready and primed. He linked himself into the TacNet, and took a place next to the much smaller Shimmer. "Grindstone, armed and ready."

[Lys]

True to their name, Pioneer units were often the ones leading the way on the attack. Equal parts assault marines and combat engineers, with a side of tech specialists, their job was to assault, break through, destroy, undermine, isolate, neutralize, capture, or otherwise deal with enemy defences and fortifications. When it was time to dive into the teeth of the enemy, the Pioneers would be with the shock troops in the first line of fire. It was the combat engineer half of the job that Blastcap had been built for, though she was well familiar with all its aspects. Among the Pioneers, she was in her element.

If one thinks about it, a warship is ultimately a mobile fortification possessed of heavy artillery, a castle of durasteel and cerametal. Thus Pioneer units were well suited to storming enemy ships, and would frequently do so in support of marine and naval infantry units. Blastcap had anticipated that Deathstrike may wish to board the ships of the enemy fleet, for the opportunity to have such superiority in a fleet engagement may not come again. So she boarded the jagged assault transport belonging to the 273rd Pioneers, and set off to battle with them. She had worked with the unit before, and knew them to be excellent soldiers, while they appreciated her expertise and leadership. Together, there were few forts in the galaxy that could be their match.

Blastcap looked impassive when the order for boarding actions came, but was glad inside, for she'd anticipated her commander's wishes correctly. In an instant she was querying Signals Intelligence on one of the Expeditionary Force's Electronic Warfare vessels, asking if they had gotten a fix on the enemy's flagship.

"Negative. We've narrowed it down to several capital ships with command function, but don't know yet which one has overall command. We'll keep you updated," was the reply.

With a mental shrug, Blastcap looked at the tactical display and the ships indicated by SigInt. Some were more heavily defended and riskier than others, and most likely the enemy flag would be in the thickest part of their PD grid. On the other hand, there had been no order to attack it in specific, only to board the enemy's heavies in general. Likely Deathstrike did not wish such risk so early in the game. After a brief moment's consideration, she turned to her ship's captain and indicated one of the more vulnerable of the enemy's command ships, "This is our target. We'll need distract their point-defences, batter aside their shields, and suppress their artillery. Request some support from our capital ships and screens. Once the way is clear, we go in."

The captain nodded, and with that the Cybertonian left the bridge for the drop pod bays. Along the way her voice boomed through the ship's intercom system, its usual deadpan mixed with excitement, "Alright boys and girls, saddle up! We're going to go get ourselves a new ship!"

Throughout the transport, mechancial and heavily cyberized beings in powered armour rushed to grab weapons and equipment from armories, and then double-timed it to the drop pod bays. Though their name suggested planetary insertions from orbit, the drop pods were multi-purpose and just as capable of breaching the hulls of starships and space stations. Armoured vehicles were driven into other pods, for the corridors of ships built by Cybertronians were large enough to hold them. Blastcap transformed herself to her alternate mode, and her tracks rumbled their way into one of these larger pods.

Meanwhile, outside, a number of warships clustered themselves around the assault transport and began to fire on the indicated target. Bright lances of light, bolts of shimmering energy, and boiling swarms of missiles streamed their way across space to the enemy capital ship. Thus the boarding operation began.

[Cynical Cat]

Deathstrike powered his engines up. A dull roar fill the launch bay as his fuel lines fed his engines and his thrusters glowed fiery orange. The bay doors slid open and the Decepticon warrior launched into the dark.

He turned to orientate himself towards the enemy fleet and drove at them at full power, piling on the gees as hard and as fast as he could. "Shimmer, find me an enemy ship with lots of communications traffic."