They may not have encountered a Phantom force this large in over a decade, but they were more than ready. With a total of ten Blackstars belonging to the nine Apostles who agreed to engage the enemy, including Samael’s own which he left in their care and to some of the legions whose captains were esteemed enough to command one, and the majority of the Guardians’ destroyers, frigates and carriers, the fleet was assembled and waiting. A hundred infantry and another thirty armoured legions were spread throughout the fleet, all prepared to bring death to the enemy; it was the single biggest deployment of the Black Guardians since the war on Colossi.
Although some of the Apostles had questioned using such vast resources and leaving Hydron and Apollia comparatively unguarded by the minority, the Lion had insisted the force was necessary. Orion agreed with him; if the Guardians could not save Pheia, the Empire’s trust in them would likely shatter.
“Orion,” the Lion said, transferring his determined gaze from the view screens showing the might of the gathered legions to him, a mere captain. He couldn’t describe what that felt like.
“My Lord?” Orion managed. He’d fought with the Apostle for ten years now, but still he struggled not to be overwhelmed in his presence.
Then, looking back at the fleet for the last time, admiring its perfect formation, the Lion gave the command. “Take us in”.
“Yes, my Lord”. Orion flicked a few controls on his throne, calling out for the various officers on his bridge to check in their systems all clear. When the engines reported ready, Orion gave the order to jump.
With a thunderclap that was instantly sucked in by the void of space and a serial lightning display that dazzled the mind, the massive fleet was wrapped in their energy bubbles and sent hurtling through space to the Frontier.
A DAY LATER the Black Guardian fleet sailed into the vicinity of Pheia flawlessly, the instruments on every ship preventing suicidal collisions with the Phantom vessels. Upon immediate arrival every captain was bellowing orders for their gun batteries to fire on the closest enemy. The crews, already prepared for battle before the jump, punished the foe with every weapon available. It was a dizzying amount of firepower, enough to level cities if not whole planets and within minutes the first explosions began to blossom into the cold of space.
Despite the quick transition from the Aurora Sector, the shields of the fleet reignited with enough strength to protect the legion vessels until the systems were fully replenished. Fortunately, the chaos of their ambush provided enough time for that to happen. It’s a risk worth paying, the Lion had argued. They had precious little time for a more conventionally staged attack.
The Blackstars were the first to claim their kills, hurling salvoes of plasma torpedoes into the ranks of Hellbirth destroyers and ripping them apart piece by piece. Swathes of Voidhawk fighters rushed from flight decks to confront the enemy’s countermeasures whilst squadrons of Earthbreaker bombers sallied out to devastate the Phantom frigates.
Dozens of Guardian destroyers faced off against their enemy counterparts in support of their larger capital ship cousins, the Blackstars withdrawing to a safer orbit after having taken the brunt of the counter-offensive. Phantom heavy frigates tried to cut the legionary carriers down, but were met by a defensive network comprised of gunships, the legions’ own frigates and the impressive array of ship-to-ship missile bays festooned on their obsidian shells.
“Gun crews, concentrate your fire at the aft section of the Hellbirth to our port side – the armour is weak and her engine is exposed!” Orion yelled over the din of klaxons raging across his bridge.
Moments later, he saw his commands vindicated as the destroyer in question exploded in a brilliant fireball from the broadside that the Luminon dealt it mercilessly. Its twin banks of pulsar turrets beat in conjunction like a rhythmic, ship-slaying heart and ripped the enemy’s shields apart like paper before the heavier Ion cannons gutted its armour and tore its engines out, destabilising their cores. The result was a spectacular obliteration as the craft was sheared in half.
Like a cherry on top of the victory, another Hellbirth that had gotten too close to its Phantom ally was rammed by its dying ruins and smashed to spare parts. Even as the pair of them were wrecked, Orion picked his next target. “Starboard, fore. Bring the plasma torpedoes to bear. We can take out that whole picket of frigates in a single salvo!” he shouted. To take out a Hellbirth in a single strike was difficult - first you had to scrape away its shields – but the Phantom frigates had pathetic protection in comparison and the Blackstars could swat away at them like petty insects.
“Yes, captain!” someone answered him. Orion couldn’t tell who it was over the madness of the bridge and the mix of voices screaming for this and that, but he knew that as long as someone had heard him, his orders would be seen through quickly and effectively. A long series of blasts a short while later was proof enough.
The captain searched on for the next move as, by his side, the Lion scrutinised the battle through the banks of view screens. The Apostle seemed unsure of something despite the small number of losses they were having and it made Orion uneasy.
“My Lord?” he asked, intent on knowing what distressed his liege.
Lupus turned to look at his captain. “Doesn’t this seem too…easy, Orion?”
He hadn’t experienced anywhere near the same amount of space conflict against the Phantoms as the legions had, the Crusades consisting mainly of ground operations, yet he had a hunch something was amiss. He knew the Guardian ships were vastly superior to the enemy’s - hence Samael’s confidence in the potential of the Promethian Fleet - but still he was bothered by the apparent lack of challenge. The battle was going too smoothly.
“This has not been without tarnish, my Lord. We have suffered losses too…the Santigar, Shadowlight and Centaur to name but some of them” Orion answered, unsure of his Apostle’s displeasure.
Lupus shook his head in rejection of the captain’s failure to understand. “A few carriers and a squadron or two of frigates, yes, but there should have been more…the 89th and 511th were annihilated here by this force…”
He could tell that the captain wasn’t following his implications, which surprised him. Perhaps Orion was trying to focus on the dozens of status reports his officers called across the bridge without relent. “Althea said a Blackstar was destroyed in fourteen minutes by the force she encountered. We’ve been here longer than that and all of ours remain. Something’s wrong” he continued.
Orion thought for a moment, trying to reach a plausible explanation. “My Lord, perhaps it is because this time we have been the ambushers. The deployment was flawless – they never had the time to react, much like Commander Althea did not.”
“Yes, what you say is reason to my ears Captain…but doesn’t part of you think that the Phantom fleet should have been bigger than this? The 89th and the 511th were well-equipped, but they couldn’t have left so little of the enemy for us to find…”
The Luminon rose above the ruined shell of a Guardian frigate before opening fire at yet another Hellbirth. Orion considered the numbers and admitted that although this was the biggest conflict he had participated in since the time-lock on Colossi was made, somehow it was underwhelming. If the Great Enemy truly was free, the Phantoms had at least a thousand more ships than they had present here.
Lupus and Orion locked eyes, the same realisation crossing their minds. “The moon…” they murmured.
“Sensors!” Orion yelled. “Scan the Pheian moon; find me the second enemy force!”
The Heaven’s Lament’s instruments had been working fine, there was no interference; the Phantoms had laid a trap for them, safely predicting the Guardians would assume a technical blip on Althea’s part.
Lupus walked over to the holo-podium and opened a communique to the Burning Spectre. A few seconds passed before Phoenix appeared alongside Solitaire, the latter flitting away just as quickly to issue kill-orders to their crew.
“What is it, brot
her?” Phoenix asked in a rush.
Lupus leaned down to whisper. “What losses have your forces taken?”
Phoenix looked to the side to ensure that her legionnaires couldn’t overhear. “Barely any; though the fight is fierce, it is the enemy’s hulks that litter Pheia’s orbit. It appears everything went to plan; our jump here was perfect…” she told him not ingeniously.
Yet, though she seemed impressed and convinced by the boon of their attack, he could hear the hint of suspicion in her voice as he questioned her. “What of the others - have you heard any of the Blackstars to take any serious damage?”
Phoenix looked as though she had been struck by sudden awareness of an alarming fact. “No…the Hellbirths have focussed only on our own destroyers. I thought they had simply realised they cannot match our firepower and sought a foe they could take a bite from” she confessed. “It isn’t a shocking tactic, though. We took the brunt of their firepower without much more than a dent to speak of. Even the Phantoms are smart enough to know the odds aren’t quite in their favour this time. Their strategy may be unusual for them, but it’s doing some damage – more than it would if they took our Blackstars on head to head”.
“Captain!” Zeno exclaimed, capturing Orion’s attention though he was more interested in the Apostles’ conversation. “We have sensory reports of a confirmed Phantom force arcing around the moon and heading in our direction. They’re using the gravity well to boost their speed”.
“Why didn’t we see them before?” Orion demanded. Had they fallen for the same trick that the Star Healers and the other legions had?
“The magnetic field of the moon distorted our sensors; until now, there was nothing but interference like we expected, but when the enemy advanced, the sensors caught them” Zeno explained. “We have a fix on them; three large vessels…enormous, even…awaiting identification and a flotilla of Hellbirths”.
Orion had no time to worry about the size of the enemy ships; he had to reform the line before the Phantoms reached them and sprung their trap. “Bring us about” he commanded. “Perhaps we can persuade the Everlasting and Nighthunter to do the same”.
“No, belay that!” Lupus yelled over the din of the bridge so he could be heard by every officer ready to obey the captain.
The crew waited hesitantly for the Apostle to confirm his correction, who in turn looked to Orion. “Whatever is in that splinter force, they were waiting all along for this strike. We have culled the threat of the orbiting Phantoms; now we have to make planet fall while we still have the room and the time.”
Part of Orion screamed at the folly of the notion. Yet, another, larger part knew not to question his Apostle - the First, the Lion. He may have been a captain and fought across a dozen different warzones, but his Lord was an aspect of the Auranair Herself. He had infinitely more wisdom than Orion did. The captain had no choice but to acquiesce.
“Disregard my last order,” Orion confirmed. “Navigation, bring us into safe orbit. Clear us a stable harbour for deployment. Once that’s done, then bring us into formation with our destroyers to face the new enemy.”
“Yes, Captain” he was answered.
Phoenix, still in communication with Lupus via the holo-podium, had overheard everything on the bridge of the Luminon.
“Brother, is this wise?” she asked tentatively, referring to the plan that Orion had been too dutiful to object to.
Before Lupus could answer, Solitaire returned to her side. “It is our only choice” she said, as if she had been there the entire time and knew exactly what they were talking about. “The enemy waits below in the Capital, ready for us to begin the game. They will get bored soon and claim their victory early if we don’t join them down there…” she frowned.
Instead of asking Solitaire to explain herself, like any sane person would, Lupus simply agreed and asked if they were ready to deploy. They gave confirmation and swiftly closed the communique so they could join their legion’s infantry already prepared for a ground assault. After sharing the same exchange with the other Apostles, Lupus bid Orion and the bridge crew good luck and asked for Sabre’s attendance as he walked the long corridors down to the hangar bay where his Stormfalcon awaited him.
Together with the commander, Lupus made his way through the numerous decks of the ship. They passed legionnaires on station, while squads rushed past, paying their respects as they went, and the ship felt more alive than it ever had done now that it was going to unleash its deadly payload on Pheia’s evil plague.
When they reached the hangar, they stopped to stand on the balcony overlooking the colossal chamber filled with Stormfalcons and their heavier Ironwrought cousins; above and below this deck were those serving the vast squadrons of Voidhawks and Earthbreakers as they went out, returned for fuel and sallied back forth to meet the enemy. Lupus and Sabre both admired the way the legionnaires of the 617th and their allied legions, who had found an honoured posting on the Luminon, sorted themselves quickly and proficiently into their own transports.
For the commander it felt like the war of old, where a thousand legions had fought as one against the Great Enemy; he was sad to reflect that they probably numbered less than half that now, yet he swelled with an energy and determination that rivalled even what he felt all those years ago when the Auranair was still with them in Her true entity. For the Apostle, his pride was unmatched by any previous experience; here was the proof that the Phantoms could be beaten, here was the evidence that victory would belong to the legions. There was no doubt in his mind that the Black Guardians would succeed and he could feel the energy of them beat in unison like a great tidal wave ready to drown the foe in righteousness and cleansing fury.
The beautiful orchestration was something they had witnessed together dozens of times, but still they were honoured by the men and women they fought with. With all their weapons, supportive tank armour and ammunition, the Black Guardians directed themselves flawlessly for deployment to the world below.
“My Lord, Valerian reports explosions throughout the Pheian capital. Long-range life-scans reveal only a fraction of the Gothican population remains. Vast armies of Phantoms hold the city completely undeterred by the fate of their foul brethren up here. It appears the city’s defences are largely intact. Are you certain this is the right move?” Orion finally steeled himself to ask, his voice thick with the inner conflict of duty and concern as it come out of a nearby comms-unit bolted to the wall behind them.
Lupus walked over to the device and pressed the small clear transmission button so he could reply. “The assault will continue as planned, Captain. Even if only a single human remains breathing on that planet, it is our job and purpose to save them”.
There was a pause as the captain regretted his doubts. “Yes, of course my Lord. Retyr Auranair” Orion answered. There was a resounding click as he ended the comms.
As Lupus and Sabre walked down the steps to join the legionnaires boarding their Stormfalcon, the hangar bay shuddered violently as a swarm of enemy Reaper bombers, escorted by flanks of grotesque Nightshades, made it through the Luminon’s defensive net and unleashed their payload.
The Reapers, shaped like ochre axes with a double-bladed head for its wings, earned their name as they cut a bloody swathe through the hangar bay. Fortunately the angle of their flight path meant the majority of their payload was sent hurtling to the far side of the deck, but those few that found their mark were enough to lay whole platoons to waste. As the enemy craft whooshed out the other side of the bay and back into the blackness, scores of medics rushed out to the wounded and automated systems began to drench the fires out.
“Where the vecq are the Voidhawks?!?” Sabre cried over the warning klaxons to no-one in particular. The sirens soon faded away as the shields, temporarily shut down by the overwhelming and sudden attack by the cloud of small enemy craft, reignited and protected the immense deck once more.
“Oh, they’re fighting the enemy Sabre, have no doubt about that…” Lupus a
nswered as he helped a legionnaire to her feet. “I saw the reports when we jumped in. There are thousands of Nightshade fighters out there; they’re so small and fluid they blend into the darkness before we can target them.” His description Sabre knew was far from melodramatic; the enemy vessels were more than capable of speeds that would crush a human’s guts, its hull a sublime quicksilver shaped like an oval where the cockpit and under slung engines could change angle at any moment to allow the fighter to veer off in unpredictable directions.
They reached their Stormfalcon without further discussion and seated themselves promptly. Olympus was already on board and Arcadius was following them in with a few other legionnaires. One carried the banner of the 617th legion; Aurelia, her name was, and she carried the pole and cloth resting against her right shoulder, her long rich obsidian hair in plaits down on her left, with a firm delicacy that gave the impression she was afraid to dishonour it somehow. Yet for all her beauty and gentleness, they knew she would never let it fall from her hand in battle or allow the enemy to take it from her. To Lupus’ knowledge, she never had in all the Purge Crusades, even on Dystopian when the fighting was as fierce and as close as any the legions had known.
There was a holo-podium near the middle of the craft and Oz popped up, much the same as he did in all the transports across the fleet, to address the Apostles and legionnaires alike. “My legion tells me this should be a rough ride…I hope you’re all buckled in safely, my commander almost yelled at me for missing one latch” he grinned, his morbid humour surprisingly uplifting as he faded away.
“If only the Stormriders were here so they could test the atmosphere first” Olympus laughed, referring to Samael’s legion, their fate at Promethia unknown. He made his voice loud enough for the whole transport to hear. “They used to love a tough offensive. They’re missing out. Has the Dragon’s legion finally realised they don’t actually have wings too and we alone are strongest?!?”
The Deian War: Vermillion's Apostles Page 33