The way her eyes sank and looked bashful revealed that she knew he was right, despite her misgivings. With the point made, Oz tried to use his humour to return her mood to a positive plain.
“Besides, all this brother and sister talk…we as a group are not family by blood, but by endearment and a sense of common purpose – much like many see the legions as our children. Vecq, Solitaire sees her commander like a father. But with the First and Second, it’s different. Perhaps if Lupus and Calla still called each other brother and sister, then it would be wrong” he joked, but she didn’t seem to see the funny side of it.
Valkyrie shook her head in resistance. “You may be right about Calla, but you won’t ever change my mind about Lupus even if he is the First and you all love him dearly”. Her tone changed then to a stone seriousness, a warning almost. “There is something unpredictable about him, a part that’s unsafe…something we haven’t seen yet.”
Oz nodded his head slowly to show that he was listening, but he wasn’t ready to agree with her about the Lion. “Next you’ll be accusing him of Corruption – and before you do, remember, that’s impossible for any of us Twelve. Still, no matter how good we can be, we all have a sort of nightmare inside of us, I’ll grant you that. I bet even Seraphim the angel does.”
A noise escaped Valkyrie’s lips. Oz couldn’t tell if it was a grunt of acknowledgement, or a surrendering laugh. Yet, for all her warming to his words he had one more challenge to her resentments. He thought the risk of her becoming cold again was worth it, so he played his last card. “If you still doubt the righteousness of their coupling, then ask yourself this; if they’re happy, who are any of us to deny them?”
Valkyrie considered the question. She could come up with a hundred answers, but she never gave any of them. They would make her seem cold and she had no desire to misplace her frustrations onto Oz. He was innocent, after all.
THE FLEET COMPLETED its jump to Hydron with a dazzling array of flashes. The ships surrounding the bastion-world cooled their weapons down with relief, prepared for anything when the signatures of the incoming vessels hit their sensors. Having identified them with practised efficiency as friendly, the defensive formation around the planet eased up and allowed them to join their orbit.
On the bridge of the Luminon, Lupus made haste to open a communications channel with Hydra, eager to ascertain how much his brother on the ground knew of the recent events. There was a smaller, podium-sized version of the holo-table from the Primary Tactical Hall next to Orion’s throne. Lupus stood expectantly over it, a projection of Hydra popping up from it mere moments after the fleet’s arrival.
Hydra was the first to talk. “I’m relieved to see the Heaven’s Lament found you quickly, brother. Althea came to us first before we redirected her to you. It is good to see you unscathed from the skirmish” he said sincerely.
Lupus nodded his head in thanks. “The Phantoms on Noiran have been destroyed,” he replied. “Yet, we return to discover a much bigger threat. Do you know why the Promethian Fleet was not sent to the Frontier at its due time?”
A figure appeared alongside Hydra’s projection, though he too was on the planet with the Apostle and whispered something in his ear before vanishing. Lupus recognised him as Tiberius, the commander of the Astral Titans; Hydra’s own legion. Returning his gaze to Lupus, he spoke with gravitas and regret.
“When the Heaven’s Lament came to us, she was already fleeing from the battle. No Phantoms followed on her tail, so we sent our own picket of recon vessels to the Promethian Shipyards to discover the reality behind the chaos. My Recon Master received an emergency hail from them before they were destroyed by an undetermined foe. They could tell us only one thing; the shipyards were entirely unresponsive.”
Lupus groaned in frustration. “Destroyed? None of this makes any damned sense…”
The door to the bridge opened and Calla walked in, Samael at her side. As they approached Lupus they overheard him asking Hydra for any extra support he could spare, whether it was independent legions or vessels. Unwilling to leave the fortress under strength now that war had officially been declared, Hydra agreed to relinquish each of the Apostle’s own Blackstars – not that it was truly his choice - and a trio of destroyer squadrons, twenty legions and the necessary carriers, frigates and gunships required to supply, ferry and defend them.
Lupus thanked him for his generosity, bid him farewell and turned the pedestal off. He gestured his greetings to Calla and Samael, the latter of which seemed to be more amiable than ever towards him. Lupus suspected that the battle on Noiran had shown his brother that he was more than he could appreciate before.
“I owe you an apology, brother” Samael began, taking Lupus by surprise. “You showed my suspicions about you to be wrong. I was mistaken to hold my ire against you; you have proven yourself as befitting the rank of First. I am honoured, truly, to stand at your side with the others”. He held his hand out and Lupus shook it with newfound respect, a bond between them finally taking hold.
Orion oversaw it all on his captain’s throne and tried not to raise his eyebrows too high in astonishment.
“Your words are most welcome, Samael. You make me proud to be your brother in arms” Lupus replied.
“I am glad to hear it, but I didn’t come back from the Burning Spectre, beautiful as she may be, only to shake your hand” he smiled. “I have a suggestion to make.”
Lupus looked at him expectantly. “Go on”.
“Let me go back to the Abodian Sector. I will investigate what happened at the Promethian Shipyards and regroup the new fleet my legion was building. Then, with them back under my control, we can go to the Frontier as a united force – the Phantoms won’t stand a chance against us, trust me on that brother”.
Lupus wasn’t convinced. “We already know what happened. The fleet was either never completed or they fled without any indication of to where. Take one answer or the other, but the vessels Hydra sent were destroyed by whatever awaits you there.”
Samael looked hurt at the implication of his legion’s courage. “We shouldn’t just assume that my legion fled, brother. You have much to forgive me for, I know, but give me more credit than that; I wouldn’t have them run away from any fight”.
No, I doubt you would and that’s what worries me Lupus thought. He shook his head at Samael. “We cannot afford to take any more risks going there. We have a clearer threat to face right now - one we actually know something about - and a human world that is being overrun even as we speak. We must go to the Frontier with all our speed, and delay it no longer. Pheia is in too much danger; we cannot lose a planet this early in the war”.
“The news would devastate the Empire,” Calla agreed. “There is no doubt that word must have spread of the attack by now, and there’s no legionary force at the Frontier to prevent it. No matter how we try to control the humans’ calls for aid, it is beyond our power now. The Senate on Gothica will soon discover the reality of our situation, along with every Sector our there that’s listening”.
Samael locked eyes with Lupus, then her, and then back to his brother again. “I am not asking you to risk more than my own skin and a single ship. You can take everything else to Pheia, and if that isn’t enough, then we are surely undone anyway” he insisted.
Lupus sighed and thought about what Samael was suggesting. He needed all the strength he could muster to relieve Pheia. It was impossible to determine the enemy’s forces waiting for them there, even with Althea’s testimony. By now, the entire Phantom fleet could be in action again.
Yet, part of him knew Samael had to go. They had to learn the truth about the Promethian Shipyards and the fleet that should have prevented the invasion of Pheia to begin with. If they were going to have the victories they needed in the days to come and the power to prevent those becoming pyrrhic, the firepower and technology of the new ships was their most crucial asset.
Lupus eventually caved and listened to the voice in his head telling him to
give in. “Alright, Samael. You may have one ship, any of your choice, but I cannot sacrifice a Blackstar to you”.
“I wouldn’t ask for one. Not in this situation, anyway” Samael assured him.
“Take the Clandestine. It is a small ship, lightly armoured, but the best scout we have” Calla suggested.
Samael turned to her in doubt. “She belongs to the 101st…Nightingale would not approve of me taking a Shadow Legion vessel”.
As if by some ethereal sorcery, the Apostle in question materialised on the bridge by their side. Lupus wondered if she had ever gone back to her Blackstar or if she had stayed hidden on the Luminon ever since the jump from Noiran.
“Actually brother, I would. I cannot think of a more suitable mission for the Clandestine” Nightingale said, her voice a ghostly murmur. “You may have her and its crew. It has room enough for a single squadron of Voidhawks, but nothing more. It would be best if they all returned”. There was neither friendliness nor hostility in her voice, so Samael found it very hard to determine if she had just threatened him or not.
Samael was as surprised as Lupus to see their spectral sister here when he expected her to be on the 101st Blackstar Nighthunter, but found he didn’t want to question her about her…methods. Interestingly, Calla didn’t seem as perturbed as either of them.
“My thanks” he managed to say. She nodded in reply, a peculiar movement in her wraithlike form.
“It is decided then,” Lupus announced. “Samael, you will travel to Promethia on a covert mission only. There is to be no engagement of the enemy; you go purely to ascertain the fate of the fleet. If you are fired upon, you withdraw first and ask questions later. You get out if it gets too hot too quickly.” There was no question in his words, it was all statement. When Samael indicated his understanding, Lupus continued. “Hydra and Seraphim will remain here. Their places are with the Gate; its safety is more important than ever with the Great Enemy free. The rest of us will take what forces we have here and jump to Pheia, and whatever fate awaits us, together.”
“It is agreed” the others replied, though he didn’t need to hear their assent to know his plans would be followed.
Behind them on the captain’s throne, Orion wondered for the first time in what felt like an age if he was going to survive the next battle.
“Retyr Auranair…” he whispered to himself, knowing all too well the chaos and hell they were about to face.
ORION WATCHED THE Clandestine jump away and wondered if it would ever return. Things had gone awry; chaos and ambush were supposed to be a thing of the past for the Guardians, but here was a covert mission being conducted to solve a riddle that should never have existed.
He recalled a discussion he had with Commander Chana, of the 10th legion Eternals, when he first came to Hydron. He along with the other officers of the 617th had been allowed to go down to the surface. If you can see what you’re fighting to protect, you’ll do a better job of it, Sabre had said.
Chana could say more about the widespread legions than he was able to offer, her time with Whitewolf and the other Apostles somehow more roaming and informative than his own with the Lion. He learned from her both the existence and the purpose of the Promethian Fleet. At first, he was in disbelief.
“The Fourth Apostle has been working all his years”, she told him. “He designed a vast armada with ships all as powerful as our Blackstars. They are to be the vanguard at the Frontier. If the time-lock ends prematurely, the Phantoms will be met with a force capable of withstanding them until reinforcements arrive.”
Orion had enough courtesy to smile at her claim. “Our enemy has a great many more vessels than us, Chana. How could one Apostle be capable of denying their full strength singlehandedly, even for a short time?”
The commander shrugged back at him honestly. “Who knows?” she replied. “I believe in him, though. I believe in all the Apostles. Who couldn’t? They are the living remains of the Auranair …She lives through them”.
Now, as the captain watched the scout ship slip away to the Abodian Sector, he wondered how all those plans had gone so wrong. It made him uncertain about the future, where before he was confident. The last time he fought the Phantoms at Colossi, it wasn’t mere rabbles like those they met in the Purge Crusades; the Guardians had been vastly outnumbered by an organised foe, one that could overwhelm entire dimensions. It was only the legions’ skill and expertise that had saved them; even then, the majority had fallen. Nevertheless, he trusted that victory would belong to them. He had no choice but to believe it, lest the war would already be lost.
“Captain Orion,” an authoritative voice called to him, snapping his attention back to the bridge and the present.
Orion turned to see an Apostle standing next to him. Not just any of them, but his legion’s own; the Lion. Over the last decade Orion had learned much about this man, this noble warrior who would lead them to the Great Enemy’s destruction and when Vermillion had told the legions of her plan for the Blessing, he didn’t dare to hope he could be so in awe of the Twelve Chosen. Now, with the First standing next to him, he couldn’t understand how wrong he had been not to dream of their grandeur. The Apostle was, in every sense of the word, amazing to behold.
“My Lord” Orion acknowledged him.
“Is the fleet ready to jump?” the Apostle asked.
Orion checked a couple of screens that were embedded into the arms of his throne and adjusted some settings, giving him the figures and details he needed to ascertain the fleet’s status. It appeared that everything was as planned.
“Yes, my Lord. We are in formation and ready to translate to the Frontier at your word”.
As he told the Lion this he experienced another flashback while the Apostle stood and gazed at the massive power of the fleet arrayed around them. This time, he remembered the tactical meeting that had been made to discuss the relief of Pheia and its population - if any were left alive, that was. Once again, only some of the other Apostles came in person. The majority remained on their own Blackstars, content to use the holo-communications technology to converse.
“We will jump here,” the Lion had begun, indicating an area of space around Pheia. “Commander Althea of the Star Healers reports the enemy had already started their invasion when she withdrew. This means that the Phantom fleet should still be orbit around the world; they like to plunder as much as they like to leave everything to ruin, so we have no shortage of time to act. Nevertheless, we must be quick and brutal” he continued, gesturing for Althea to step forward.
“The Phantom fleet appeared to have no strict discipline and their organisation was poor. As it was in the old days, it remains now; they win through numbers, not through wisdom. However, with their numbers so high it is no surprise they had so many Hellbirth destroyers deployed in one go. We will need to eliminate those first otherwise the odds will truly be against us; once those are gone, there will be little left to threaten us and we can smash the rest aside with ease. Before I jumped the Heaven’s Lament away, they began to circle Pheia in a pillaging formation. There was little if any defensive thought. Whether they expect retaliation or not this soon was unclear; perhaps in their arrogance they think nothing can stop them. That will be their undoing…” she explained, moving her eyes to regard everyone in her audience, from commanders and captains to Apostles alike. Gone were the fear and the paralysing shock she had experienced when she came from the Frontier and saw the demi-gods for the first time; now there was only grim determination and resolve. “We should be able to jump in close, take them by surprise and use their own ineptitude against them. We take out the shepherds and the whole flock will be in chaos”.
Solitaire spoke up, her voice crackly as it came through her projected holo-form. “Can you please be any more specific about the enemy fleet, Althea? I really hate surprises”.
“It’s difficult to say, my Grace” Althea replied, at first taken aback by the way Solitaire spoke. The commander hadn’t head the Apostle talk
before and it was strange to think that someone so powerful sounded so…indescribable. “There are at least three dozen Hellbirths and two cruisers for each of them, but more were arriving even as we left. The only odd thing was that whilst the main force began planetary invasion, there was a smaller reserve mustering by Pheia’s moon. We weren’t able to determine the vessel types, but they were far smaller in number and shouldn’t pose a problem” she answered confidently. “Perhaps the Great Enemy decided not to risk every ship after all, or maybe He was on one of them.”
“Could that really be an option?” Gaia asked, aghast at the possibility.
Cerberus laughed darkly. “Of course, there’s no way He wouldn’t have joined the attack. Maybe your sensors were hit in the battle?”
Althea regarded him coolly. “It’s entirely possible. We have still to gauge whether much of the damage is artificial or real. Without a shipyard there is only so much my legion’s engineers can do; Blackstars are vast and there are so many systems that we didn’t have time to recognise if there was any interference.”
“It doesn’t matter! We are special, we can fight away anything” Solitaire grinned at her kin, projections and all. Then she looked to Althea and it almost chilled the legionnaire to behold her attention again. “Thank you, lady Commander. We should continue with our assault plan and strike at the Hellbirths first. If we play with the smaller force we’ll lose the game…The enemy would only go down there,” she pointed at Pheia, “if they wanted something worthwhile on the ground”. Her voice had become serious again when it concerned military strategy, but as soon as she was done she clapped her hands together, happy with her own assertions.
Content with this perspective, the Lion had gone on to broach the finer details of the strike. Fleet disposition, withdrawal points, invasion-relief strategies were all discussed in full length until the Apostles had perfected the war plan together. Now, as Orion sat in his command throne on the bridge, a feeling of purpose and righteousness coursed through not only him, but every legionnaire in the fleet.
The Deian War: Vermillion's Apostles Page 32