by Blaze Ward
Today, they were sitting ducks. Tomas Kigali was supposed to blow right by them.
Jessica had taught everyone to concentrate their fire onto a single ship rather than spreading it out. That was effective in a balanced fight, where all you might normally do was recharge the other guy’s batteries faster.
This wasn’t a fair fight.
Six Expeditionary Cruisers fired.
Two hit the Mako with Bubble Guns. The other four had a Hammerhead each to themselves. Four Assault Corvettes, each assigned a Hammerhead, with CM-404 getting the Mako. Four Imperial Escort Corvettes. All of them targeting the Mako.
Nobody fired a single shot at the station.
Across the way, two Tigersharks, one of them injured. Three Hammerheads.
Valiant actually got their Bubble Gun back on-line in time. Tomas wondered if they had been lying about the level of damage sustained, just in case the sharks could somehow break the code.
Provst apparently went after the wounded Tigershark with his undamaged side.
Vanguard took the healthy one.
Nine of the GunShips went after the three Hammerheads. The other five crushed the wounded Tigershark after Valiant’s fire slammed into it.
And every Buran ship had a corvette pouring fire into them as they went by.
And just like that, it was over.
“All squadrons, begin evasive maneuvers now,” Jessica’s voice came out of the heavens.
Tomas looked at the damage reports as the two scouts looked backwards.
Expeditionary-class vessels had significant aft-facing firepower, and it was still going downrange, but the gaps between squadrons were growing at a rapid pace, and accuracy was about to go out the window as everyone twisted and rolled to avoid fire from the station.
Vanguard’s Tigershark had been flat-footed. It looked like the first one, the one that had just barely escaped and not come back for round two. Valiant’s victim made the dead Megalodon look healthy.
Kigali’s cruiser had turned out to be a Roughshark, so he gave up much of his offensive firepower for ramjet bombs. Apparently, he had been waiting to fire them, and waited too long. One salvo of three had started to clear the tubes, with one of them exploding in the tube itself and blowing a gaping hole in the side of the ship.
The rest of the fire had more or less torn the ship in two.
The Hammerheads over here were floating at the top of the tank right now, with their bellies toward the sun.
And now the fun starts.
Chapter XXXIII
Imperial Founding: 180/11/25. IFV Valiant, Severnaya Zemlya
Tom Provst growled under his breath, but kept the profanities inside his head. Firehawk would have come apart on her welds, to have suffered the amount of fire that had just blown apart his front shield and wracked Valiant’s hull so badly.
At least today he didn’t have to hold the Empire together from this broken deck. And the scent of burning insulation wasn’t even that great, so probably just a short, and nothing that drastic.
“Charlie, send a note to the engineering crew and gunners,” he said instead. “Admiral’s personal compliments on going above and beyond. Didn’t think we had it in us to get off that many shots, with all the problems.”
His Flag Commander nodded and went back to typing, while Tom reviewed the exterior situation.
He didn’t even have to command today. Denis Jež was commanding on this pass, and they had Jessica if they needed. He could just fight his ship, like in the old days.
And it wasn’t like this crew hadn’t developed a lot of experience in rebuilding their battleship without a dry-dock stint.
Megalodon: dead.
Two Tigersharks effectively crippled, possibly dead. One more Tigershark badly damaged. One who had escaped his wrath.
For now.
Eleven Hammerheads reduced to an effective force of four undamaged. The other seven were in some state of dead, especially the ones that had drawn First Squadron as a foe.
On this side, Valiant was hurting, but could still fight. In an hour, the shields would probably be fully repaired as well as feasible, outside of cutting the hull and swapping generators wholesale. Good enough that he just had to lead with his right if he wanted to punch anybody.
Everyone else had taken some level of fire from the station, mostly concentrated, as expected on Vanguard, but Jež and his staff were giving a master class in high-speed maneuvering and evasion, aided by two scouts pouring everything they had into confusion and electronic counter-measures.
“All ships, move on to Phase Nine,” Admiral Keller sent.
Tom had finally come to understand just how Jessica had managed to outdo everyone so badly. Every command came with an updated resource file showing half a dozen options, with the primary one highlighted, but allowing her commanders to adjust on the fly by picking a different approach.
It should have been chaos. A strictly Imperial fleet would have been, without one of a handful of admirals directing things. zu Wachturm could have done this. Tom didn’t know how many others, and figured he was among the finest Emmerich had to pick from.
Learn from the best.
Poor station behind them had been expecting another fencing pass, like last time Keller did this. Tom wasn’t particularly offended that they were reacting, instead of acting. He had been to Samara. And he had studied Keller.
Always a surprise.
Phase Nine. A lightly-armed military dry-dock a quarter orbit ahead of the primary station. Normally ignored, because there was too much firepower available in this system for anyone who wanted to engage it.
Except that there was nobody left. At least until that last Tigershark and the three Hammerheads got their heads out of their asses and decided to commit a particularly messy form of suicide by moving to engage eight times their effective tonnage.
Maybe he’d get lucky today.
“Tom,” Charlie d’Noir spoke up to get his attention. “One of the Fours is dead, but the other one might be good for about three shots.”
“Hold it for later,” Tom decided. “Strip parts from the dead one if that will help. I’ll want three when we complete this circle.”
“Roger that,” Tom’s Flag Commander nodded.
That station wasn’t going to give Kigali’s squadron much fuss, and there wasn’t much Valiant could add.
Six hours from now? That might be a different story entirely.
Chapter XXXIV
Date of the Republic November 26, 402 IFV Indianapolis, Severnaya Zemlya
They had learned. Every civilian vessel that could was gone and not coming back until the evil Jessica Keller broadcast her taunting message that she was done and leaving herself.
Except today she wasn’t.
The projection in her flag bridge told the tale.
The local defensive squadron was shattered. Two major stations had been hammered hard enough to risk deorbiting over the next three weeks. That dry-dock wasn’t ever servicing ships again.
The only thing left in orbit of any value was the primary command node station for the system.
First Expeditionary Fleet had coalesced above the north pole of the planet. Two of the bombers were damaged enough to be out of action, but had escaped destruction in the surprise of their last run on the station. Five of the GunShips had taken enough fire to retire to Arad for long term repairs, leaving her nine in a pinch.
Jessica found it amazing that none of them had been destroyed. But for surprise, the casualties would have probably been more in line with her original projections.
Valiant was like a bull in the ancient ring, with spears stuck in his back. Bloodied and angry, but still capable of killing the stupid bastard with the red cape. And today he had help.
To keep the secrecy intact, Reif Kingston’s team had established a tight-beam laser to Vanguard, so her words would be broadcast by Denis’s dreadnaught, rather than this one cruiser over on the soft flank.
“Attenti
on Severnaya Zemlya, this is Red Admiral Jessica Keller,” she announced in a slow, angry voice. Mongolian, because she had been studying enough to write speeches, if not have many casual conversations. The people below her needed to understand this without any confusion.
Seeker would have applauded. The Khan of Trusski that he had been might have even been impressed.
“Two hours from now, I will destroy the station,” she continued. “If you abandon ship immediately, I will allow you to escape and get to the surface without being harmed. After that, there will be no prisoners. This is your only warning.”
She closed the line and scowled. Enej scowled back, but he had studied the language more than she had, adding nuances to the words to make sure everybody got the message.
And she had a powerful reputation with these people. Cruel, yes, but also honest. For good as well as evil.
“CM-404 and Hans Bransch, see if you can crack their communications intelligence,” she said on a team line, naming the two ships with the best sensors, at least until Ballard made an appearance.
Jessica wanted Kanda and her team to remain a surprise as long as possible. Especially since they should be sitting out there in the darkness right now, probably listening to the traffic from those last four undamaged ships. Deciding among themselves if today was a good day to die.
Several long minutes passed while her ships worked on repairs and the station stewed.
“Flag, we’ve got signals,” CM-404 called. “Warship just blinked in next to the station.”
The message was followed by three dots appearing as close to the station down there as Buran’s navigators were famous for.
Gutsy. She had to give them that.
“Flag,” Denis called first, but Kigali probably had his finger poised on the call button as well. “Orders?”
Do we go kill them? Or let them go?
Jessica checked the display.
“Buran warship Build The Future, this is Keller,” she said carefully. “What are your movement orders?”
Long pause. A shuttle launched from the station obviously on a rendezvous course with the Tigershark. Around it, emergency lifepods in every size available began to rocket away from the station on fast de-orbit paths.
“We transport the Director to safety, Keller,” a woman’s angry voice came back.
Very gutsy. And Jessica had done it to herself. Promised them two hours of safety, and they had actually taken her up on it. They could be long gone by then.
“Fleet, this is Keller,” Jessica said, switching channels. “Hold for orders.”
“Build The Future, this is Keller,” she switched back and conjugated as fast as she could. “Your parole is to leave this system now, with all of the escorts. Anything else will make you a legitimate target. As will returning.”
“We go, Keller,” the woman said.
Somewhere, that Director would have to explain fleeing, rather than fighting. Probably before The Eldest himself, especially after what was coming next. But Jessica had given her word.
And staying aboard that station was a surer death than stepping out of the airlock naked.
She watched the shuttle dock, almost in real time, with so many sensors focused on the ships. Other shuttles were diving as fast as their hulls could bleed heat, while the pods moved like a tree casting seeds into the summer breeze.
Build The Future vanished, with both Hammerheads gone a beat later.
Enej grinned at her. It cut some of the grimness off her soul.
“What?” she asked, aware that he obviously had some joke in his head that couldn’t be contained.
Not the place for jokes, normally, but this was Enej.
“This is what you get for dropping spears in someone’s back yard and frightening his sheep,” Enej giggled.
Around them, the rest of the flag crew laughed as well. Jessica joined them, letting the moment grow a little lighter on her flag bridge.
It was an outcome of that terrible legend.
As would what happened next.
“Notify Iskra that the way is clear,” Jessica said. “Have her send Archangel and Akatsuki in to rendezvous with us here, bringing everyone in from the darkness.”
Chapter XXXV
Imperial Founding: 180/11/29. Ground Coordinates B-227, Severnaya Zemlya
“All friendly forces, this is Saber Command,” Vo heard the call on the Legion’s command channel. “Request assistance and heavy support at map position C-943 soonest. Defenders have finally woken up and started to push back.”
The message was accompanied by a map with a flashing vector arrow in the center, as well as a picture of…
What in the hell was that thing?
Vo was in his command tent, rather than out on patrol, but all ten Cutlass teams were within earshot, as long as everyone spoke between the crumping blasts of long-barrel artillery being fired over the horizon.
Outside, looking through the window, there was the slightest mist falling, with temperatures just cool enough to wear a jacket or a thermal layer under your regular coat and armor vest.
“Stolz,” Vo called across the tent. “Find me something in Imperial records that matches that monster. And feed the coordinates to the Artillery Centurion.”
It might have been the ugly stepchild of a land tortoise, crossed with an alligator, maybe. Eight stubby legs propelled a long torso as the thing waddled forward. It had twin-barrel turrets at each end, plus a larger turret just forward of center, with a single barrel twice as long as the other guns, and bigger in the bore.
Scale was hard to guess from here, as he was seeing images captured by the turret camera off one of his scout skiffs, somewhere forward. Everything was jittery and blurry as the vehicle’s driver moved laterally, plus smoke between the camera and the beast downrange.
It was walking down a major thoroughfare in the city of Xi-Shong-Ri. Vo froze the image as it brushed a building with a shoulder, gouging a long welt in the stone.
Eighth floor. Buran’s architecture tended to put floors four meters apart, so the walking nightmare was roughly forty meters tall, to the top of the center turret. Big enough to simply walk up and stomp on any of his tanks or skiffs, like they were chittering mice around his feet.
“General,” Stolz broke into his concentration.
Vo looked over and blinked.
“Artillery is launching a time-on-target barrage now,” the man continued.
Vo opened the channel back to Pyotr Martin and his team.
“Pyotr,” Vo said. “Keep eyes on the target and back off for now. Artillery support incoming.”
“Acknowledged, Cutlass,” Martin said.
The image suddenly changed, as those skiffs got the word and turned away from the current engagement, moving to a flank where they could spot and harass, but staying well away.
“Imperial notation, General,” Stolz said. “Someone called it a Mechanical Terrapin. Name’s stuck since them. Got a fuzzy orbital picture and not much else.”
“Start updating the records now from Saber,” Vo replied. “And tell Hardball to shift some firepower around.”
Assents as people went to work.
Hopefully the heavy tanks of Hardball, his Fifth Ala, could do something about that beast.
In a way, it was like being back in charge of his small team. Maybe parts of this same group around him storming the Imperial palace, in his least favorite fairy tale. Pay attention. Issue orders. Think fluidly, because you’re two days into raiding a hostile planet and have finally run into something they think can stop the 189th.
Who the hell builds a tank on legs? That thing was practically a small starship.
Yes. Of course.
Vo cursed himself inwardly as revelations unlocked.
This was Buran. They didn’t go in for snubfighters or small-crew vehicles or spaceships. Everyone was raised communally in a crèche and expected to be part of a larger whole.
It made perfect sense to build a monstrously-h
uge land whale that probably required a crew of fifty to operate. Less risk of individuality breaking out that way.
Around him, all the artillery pieces opened up in rapid succession, instead of the ragged drumroll that he had unconsciously suppressed in his head for the last hour.
Time-On-Target.
Fixed location. Simple physics.
Every gun fires in a sequence determined by distance to the enemy being hit, as each shell has a different flight time.
You want them all arriving at once.
The vehicle sending Vo images grounded hard enough that he was looking at a tree for a moment, before someone got the barrel elevated and slewed around enough to lock on the beast.
Rangefinder display being transmitted said eleven kilometers away, so Martin’s folks must have thought that was good enough.
He waited.
The Mechanical Terrapin was large enough to have short-range shields, something none of Vo’s craft could carry. They were too big, and required an inordinate amount of power, and didn’t do much to protect something at this scale.
Better for Imperial palaces and cities.
Or turtles, apparently.
Vo watched a wave of fire engulf the mighty machine, but it was held at a distance. Maybe thirty meters above the skin, as the shells impacted on shields tough enough to stop them.
Not good.
His artillery could probably punch through those shields eventually. Or churn up the terrain in front of it bad enough to maybe twist an ankle.
In a worst-case-scenario, he could call for an orbital strike, but he didn’t want to go there. Jessica had never resorted to that sort of thing, and he understood the moral and ethical advantage they had from it.
Still, couple of Type-4’s from low orbit would probably slag that machine.
Vo turned to Reese.
“Where are Pilum, Trident, and Halberd with their current missions?” he asked the Decanus.
“The primary starport is a slag-yard now,” Reese said. “Alan’s gathering everyone up from their pyromaniacal endeavors and getting ready for the next set. Trident is standing off a little from a warehouse district on the north side of town and bombarding buildings, rather than get down in that mess. Too easy for an ambush. Halberd is just hitting a refinery facility now.”