by Lee Watts
"Negative, Sir."
"This shouldn't be too hard," quipped Commodore Upton, first officer of the battlecarrier.
With three dozen capital class ships in the quick reaction force, the Realm ships outnumbered the invaders by four to one.
"Too easy," Balin grumbled. "This may be a picket force aiming to draw us off so a larger force can jump in somewhere else."
Upton nodded. He called up a map of the sub-quadrant.
"If you're right," Upton began, "then their real target could be in the exact opposite direction. What do you think? Maybe the Groviths colony, or how about the outpost at Russen IV?"
"Could be either one really," Balin supposed. "Alpha group is sufficient to take care of these three Ramillie ships. Contact Bravo and Charlie groups. Tell them to fall back to the standard patrol route and keep their eyes open in case the real target is one of those other locations."
"Aye, Admiral."
As sensor data from a Ramillie ship was relayed to the screen of Ra'daq's sanctum, he smiled to see two-thirds of the Remnant ships suddenly change course leaving the system.
"Pride and overconfidence," Ra'daq hissed. "Good."
Lieutenants Dakota Farabaugh and Ian Hammond raced to their ships for their first engagement as part of the twenty-second fighter squadron, known as the Stingers. Since Ian had flown a Dagger class ship before, it was decided he should take the Arrowhead class ship so another pilot could get flight time in a Dagger. At least that was the reasoning Ian told himself Commander Iglesias must have used. Dakota's version of the story was quite different.
"Fireball, you are cleared to launch," called a voice from flight deck operations using Lieutenant Farabaugh's call sign.
Pushing the throttle full forward, Dakota let out an enthusiastic "YEE-HAW" as his ship sped out of the bay. Sitting in his cockpit awaiting his turn in the launch sequence, Ian shook his head in frustration at Dakota's lack of communication protocols.
"Ironman, you are cleared to launch," the control operator said using Ian's call sign.
"Stinger Four acknowledges," came the textbook response. His reference to his proper call sign for that flight was a not-so-subtle chastisement to the flight operations controller.
As the single-engine of Ian's Arrowhead class fighter spat flame out the back, it propelled the tiny starfighter forward and through the magnetic field at the end of the bay into the great void. Once clear of the Dauntless, he smoothly guided his ship into formation with the other members of his waiting squadron. With all fighters in position, Commander Miranda Iglesias, their flight lead, signaled them to increase to attack speed.
"Woo-wee! I'm lovein' this bird," Dakota called over the radio. "She's got more power than any three of those old Warhammers I used to fly."
"Don't let her get away from you, Fireball," Miranda warned. "Daggers have a lot of thrust, but you've got to throttle back and reverse thrusters to make normal high G maneuvers. If you don't, you'll turn like a tanker with a full load."
"No worries," Dakota dismissed. "I'll have her doin' one-eighties so tight you'll git dizzy just watchin'."
Inside his helmet, Ian smiled. Because of his experience in a Dagger class ship he knew how difficult it was to control one. He'd enjoy watching the country bumpkin have to eat his words when the ship bucked him like an animal tossing a new rider.
Seeing the blips on his screen, Dakota reported bogies.
"Commander, we got incomin'."
Though the quick approaching Ramillie fighters were still too far to see with the naked eye, the sensors picked them up clearly.
"Copy that, Fireball. I've got eighteen marks closing fast," Miranda reported. "Stingers Four, Five, Seven and Nine, peel off and head for that carrier. Take out its bays so they can't get anybody else in the air. Everyone else, break and engage the fighters."
Within seconds, the two sets of charging starfighters traversed the distance between them, and the black of space lit up with a frenzied hail of blue and red laserfire. Ian, Dakota and two other pilots plowed their way through the zipping fighters and dove toward the sole Ramillie carrier in the fight.
"Ironman, you and Dusty take the nearer bay," Dakota instructed. "Me and Killo will hit the one on the far side."
"Roger that," Ian called back, anxious to see if Dakota could hold the turn to the other side of the carrier.
Ian smiled as he noticed Dakota's Dagger class ship racing over the carrier at full thrust. He was going to enjoy this.
"Dive at my mark," Dakota instructed his wingman. "And… mark!"
The highly-maneuverable Arrowhead class ship to Dakota's side easily accomplished the ninety-plus degree turn putting him on a vector for the carrier's far launch bay. Dakota's ship, however, began a high-speed, ever-so-wide turn, leaving the cruiser well behind him before he even completed half his maneuver.
"Confound it," he blared.
"What's wrong, Fireball," Ian asked gleefully. "The party is not over. If you leave now, you'll miss all the fun."
Irritated at letting the ship get away from him, Dakota's frustration was compounded since he was explicitly warned about it, and now Ian was rubbing it in his face.
"I'm comin'. I'm comin'," he groused.
Cutting his thrust and reversing it, he spun the craft around, heading back to strike at the carrier.
On the Tyrannus, Warlord Ra'daq ascended the steps to the command cubicle at the back of the bridge. Captain Crex, already in position, rose and clicked his heels as his superior officer approached.
"Status?" Ra'daq questioned.
"Our forces now report full engagement with Remnant ships."
"Good. What is the location of their ships that left the area?"
"Long-range scanners show them maintaining a flight path back to their original position. They're at extreme range now."
"Excellent," Ra'daq replied coolly while sitting down into his lavish command chair. "Open a portal behind their ships, and bring us into real space. It's time to teach these braggarts some humility."
A massive rip in space formed a short distance behind the Realm cruiser, HMS Liberty, and the gargantuan Tyrannus came forth like an angry dragon emerging from its lair.
"Admiral Balin," sounded an urgent voice.
"I see it," Balin called out. "Comm, send a signal to the Protector and the Stalwart, tell them to vector in on that ship from port and starboard. Helm, bring us about. Charge her from below. I've found ship designers tend to neglect underside defenses. Let's see if we can split her fire and punch a hole in her belly."
Not designed for quick turns, the Dauntless lumbered to get into the position its commander directed. The cruisers, Protector and Stalwart, far more maneuverable craft, were able to change course quicker and closed on the colossal Ramillie ship.
Unconcerned about the trio of approaching ships, Ra'daq deduced the enemy commander's tactic.
"He's trying to get me in a crossfire," Ra'daq explained.
"Shall I have our fighters launch?" Crex questioned.
With a wave of his hand, the warlord dismissed the notion.
"No need," Ra'daq said. They could deploy this whole force against us, and I don't think we'd even have to tax the secondary generators. No, let them come. I want them nearer before we show the beast's teeth. However, let's make a show of it, shall we? Have the tertiary guns commence fire."
Noticing the numerous, but relatively low power blasts coming from the Tyrannus, Commodore Upton was puzzled.
"Why don't they launch a barrage of missiles like they did at Theera-Enty," he mused aloud.
"Could be a lot of things," Balin answered. "No time to speculate now though. Helm, are we in position?"
"Almost, Admiral. They'll be in our main cannons' arc in ten seconds."
"Contact the Protector and Stalwart, we'll synchronize our big guns and try to overload their shields. Standby to engage. Ready… and… FIRE!"
From three separate angles, sustained streams of blue laserfire pou
red onto the shields of the Tyrannus. Ra'daq chuckled, but after a moment the smile melted from his face, morphing into a look of hatred.
"All cannons… fire."
Bursting from the dark tan plated ship came hundreds of balls of crimson-colored energy. Erupting from the Tyrannus like a volcano spewing molten rock, the rate of the blasts seemed to intensify. Each of the three attacking Realm ships shuddered under the heavy bombardment. Blast after blast came in rapid succession with no break. Balin, and the entire crew of the Dauntless had to grab onto something or be thrown to the deck from the violent shaking caused by the relentless attack.
"DIVERT REMAINING POWER TO THE FORWARD SHIELDS," Balin shouted over the roaring sounds of the assault.
As lights flickered and sparks shot out of consoles, the main screen of the bridge showed the billowing explosion caused by the destruction of the Stalwart.
"MAINTAIN FIRE," Balin ordered. "SIGNAL ALL SHIPS TO CONVERGE ON THE TYRANNUS!"
"Warlord, they're-" Crex began to report.
"Yes," Ra'daq interrupted with a smile. "Like moths to a flame they come, and death awaits them."
Before the first of the other Realm ships were within range, the Protector shattered under the Tyrannus' intense volley of fire.
"I'LL RECALL THE REST OF THE REACTION FORCE," Upton shouted over the deafening sound of the battle.
"Negative," Balin countered as two more Realm ships exploded. "There's no time!"
The ship and all aboard shook violently as the attack continued.
"Launch a drone with the ship's logs," Balin instructed in what he thought might be his last order.
Commodore Upton knew the only reason to give such an order was because the ship faced imminent destruction. Realizing there was no time to waste, he began downloading the logs to a drone that would leap to light speed as soon as it cleared the area.
"SHIELDS COLLAPSING," a crewman reported.
In rapid succession, three more Realm ships detonated in brilliant plumes of orange and red. With the battlecarrier's shields destroyed, the flying wreckage of a shattered Realm ship slammed hard against the unprotected Dauntless. Its cannons fell silent, main power went off-line, and it began to list as the fury of red blasts continued to hammer it. The remaining capital ship exploded, leaving the Dauntless and her fighters alone in the desperate struggle.
"ALL HANDS ABANDON SHIP," Balin ordered, but the words were barely from his mouth when the cannons of the beast ceased fire.
A sudden and eerie silence filled the air causing everyone to virtually freeze in response to the unexpected reprieve.
"Belay that order," Balin called out then turned to Upton in confusion.
The first officer shook his head, indicating he could offer no explanation for the enemy's unusual move.
On the Tyrannus, its first officer was equally puzzled.
"Cease fire enacted as ordered, Warlord, but why don't we finish them? There's only one ship left, and if our records are accurate, I believe it is their flagship, the Dauntless. Do you want prisoners?"
"No, not prisoners… witnesses."
"Witnesses?"
"Yes. Remember our target in this fight. If they are all destroyed, there will be no one to go back and spread fear among their fleet. Fear is a great tool, Crex. It spreads like fire and can do more to destroy morale than simply destroying another ship. No, these survivors will go back and do our work for us. In their telling, they will do more damage to their fleet than we could do merely destroying the Dauntless."
To Balin's bewilderment, instead of a killing blow, the mammoth Ramillie ship veered away from his defenseless craft and opened a hyperspace portal. As the Tyrannus disappeared into the hole to the other dimension, Balin considered the unusual move. He knew it wasn't the last he would see of that ship, and if the Realm was to survive, he must find a way to slay the beast.
CHAPTER 27
"…we do not war after the flesh: (for the weapons of our warfare are not carnal, but mighty through God to the pulling down of strong holds;)" – II Corinthians 10:3-4
"Alexander Lyons, King of the United Realm of Theera-Enty," announced the herald of the royal conference chambers behind the main hall of the palace. Everyone in the spacious yet crowded room rose as Alexander went to his seat at the head of the elongated table. Aulani was positioned at a chair on his left, and Yilib Wasi stood behind the chair to the King's right. Crammed around the table was one Councilor from each of the twenty-five liberated worlds. Also at the table was the queen mother in a place on the opposite end from the king.
Alexander sat, then Cheyenne, followed by everyone else.
"It's getting crowded in here," Alexander began lightheartedly. Everyone smiled… except for the ever-crotchety Baroness Montay. "Actually, I'm glad of it," Alexander continued. "Every time we add a seat, it means another world is free, but I think we've reached this room's limits. Yilib, how much longer until the reconstruction of the main hall is complete?"
"They estimate by the end of the month, Highness."
"Excellent," Alexander chirped.
"Highness," queried a pretentious voice Alexander recognized without even looking. Dreading what the Baroness was going to grump about now, but obligated to ask, he acknowledged her.
"I was curious, when the hall is completed if you will then see fit to reinstate the full Council? The situation here is completely intolerable. Something has to be done about it."
Suppressing his urge to have something done about her, Alexander paused for a moment before answering.
"Yes, Baroness. Actually, I think that is an excellent idea, but we should do more than simply begin meeting in there. Completion of the new royal hall will mark a major step in the rebirth of the Realm, I think we should hold a celebration of some kind, make an event out of it. It will encourage the people to see the progress that's been made."
Cheyenne, who rarely inserted her opinions in Council meetings, spoke up.
"I believe it's a wonderful idea," she said. "As I have great experience in such formal evenings, and you all are extremely busy with a million other items, I'll offer to arrange the details."
"How gracious of you," Yilib condescended with a broad smile then turned to the king. "But I don't believe it appropriate to have the queen mother acting as an event coordinator."
"Oh, rubbish," Cheyenne quipped. "Alex, you've said it many times yourself how everyone needs to do their part. This is a way I can contribute. So, what will it be?"
Though king, Alexander knew better than to cross his mother and decreed she would head the planning of the gala. Turning to Yilib, he asked what was on the day's agenda. The vizier checked his datapad.
"Sire, the first item listed is a proposal from someone describing himself as an independent businessman in acquisitions."
"Businessman? Good. By all means, send him in," Alexander instructed. "We need to take every opportunity to rebuild the economy."
Yilib nodded to the Herald at the door who then opened it.
"Captain Sosimo Degare Fauntleroy LaRouche," announced the Herald.
The pirate leaned over and whispered something to the herald who then dryly added, "…the Fourth."
Baroness Montay rolled her eyes in disgust, but Sosimo countered by confidently striding in with a beaming smile, making sure to give the Baroness a wink. As the rogue spoke, Aulani wondered if she should translate because even though the man was using their language, no one seemed to understand a word he said.
"Captain LaRouche," Alexander said with a slight shake of his head to help clear the confusion. "Let me get this straight. You want the Realm's assistance and coordinates of the planet I was marooned on so you can find the legendary Vault where the riches of ages are stowed?"
"That's right."
"And how does this benefit the Realm?"
"Ah how indeed you may ask, and indeed you did. See, I offer to let you have part of it."
"Part of what?" Alexander asked. "You mean you'll split the
treasure with us?"
The renegade paused a moment before answering.
"…Uh… no actually," then under his breath added, "It's mine, all mine." Readdressing the room, he continued. "But I do offer to give you the weapon."
Alexander looked to Yilib, but the vizier shook his head indicating he didn't know what the man was talking about, so Sosimo elaborated.
"Legend says The Vault holds two things: the Treasures of Ages, and The Weapon the ancients used against the Ramillie."
"What type of weapon?" Alexander probed.
"See that's the thing, no one knows exactly. All the legend says is The Weapon is of ancient design and the most effective tool against the enemy. Now, I'm not a greedy man, I just want what's rightfully mine. I guess I'm not really what you'd call a patriot, but I have no love for the Ramillie, so I am willing to let the Realm have exclusive access to The Weapon in exchange for the information."
From the corner of his eye, Alexander saw Aulani hinting that she wanted a word alone, so Alexander bought some time by saying the Council needed to confer and for the captain to return in a few minutes. After the door closed behind the pirate, the room let out a collective sigh of relief.
"That man's not working on all thrusters," Cheyenne put in, all the Councilors muttering their agreement.
"I don't know," Alexander rebutted. "Admiral Balin mentioned him to me and how he helped The Remnant keep its supply lines going. Balin said LaRouche waffles between insanity and genius. I wonder which side of the fence he's on with this venture."
"I think it's insanity to even entertain such a preposterous claim," Baroness Montay snipped. "Everyone knows the wild story of the Vault Keeper who hid away things from the first Ramillie Empire is just that, a wild story."
"I'm not so certain. I heard the stories when I was a kid. Seems there's always some element of truth to those tales," Alexander theorized.
"Alex- Your Highness," Aulani corrected herself. "I know I'm not supposed to add my comments to Council sessions, but this situation affects me directly. That man is the one responsible for the Morningstar crashing. He's the whole reason I was stuck on Acatus for most of my life. It was his men who attacked my mother that caused her to go into premature labor and killed her. He's not a businessman, he's a criminal! He should be locked away for the rest of his days for what he's done!"