by Yakov Merkin
“Tell the White Fang and the Koakhba to keep close.” Nayasar anticipated that there would be more evading necessary this time; if the attack team kept close and maneuvered as one it would make coordination simpler and safer than keeping further out and maneuvering separately. And, of course, it will provide the Felinar with more protection. While she didn’t like putting others at risk to protect her, Nayasar, as the commander in chief of the entire Royal Felinaris Army, had an obligation to keep herself alive, despite leading the charge.
“In range of platforms in fifteen seconds!” the weapons operator called out.
“Open fire on the platforms as we pass by,” Nayasar ordered. While Darkclaw had wanted to preserve as many of the platforms as possible for future use—and she had agreed—destroying some of them now would lessen the damage done to her ships. If Darkclaw got upset at her—well, he couldn’t get upset, or at least claimed he couldn’t—then he would have to deal with it.
The Felinar shook as it began to take fire. And then it shook again.
“Shields down to sixty percent strength!” called one of the officers still in the combat control center.
Already? Even with no ships serving as a diversion, the sensor-flooders should divert more fire.
“Are the sensor-flooding devices operational?” she asked.
“They are, Srei Felitzvah. The defense network must have compensated, or there are live controllers assisting it.”
“Damn it!” Nayasar cursed. This was not good.
“How close are we to the target?”
“We’ll be within range in thirty seconds.”
“Status of the attack force?”
“Contact has been lost with six vessels,” the sensor operator replied. “I have been unable to determine the severity of the damage dealt to them, but the defense network appears to be ignoring ships that it does not deem a threat.”
A blessing and a curse. On the one hand, fewer lives would be lost on those ships. On the other hand, that meant that all of the defense grid’s fire was directed at the rest of them.
“Shields down to twenty percent strength!”
“Switch to the secondary generator!” Nayasar ordered.
“In range of target now… opening fire.”
Nayasar stood despite the shaking as the attack force opened fire. She could see through the display screen Felivas’s forces doing the same.
Hits began to impact, and the shield glowed and flickered, but held, even as the volume of fire grew.
“Report!” Nayasar growled. She had to get back to the rest of the fleet. This was taking far too long.
“The generator complex is rerouting power to its own shields,” the sensor operator said. “It is depowering just enough platforms to add power to its shields.”
Nayasar spat a particularly vile curse in Felinari, then sat down as the ship shook even more than before.
“Can we determine what type of shield it is? Will it prevent ships from passing through?”
“Scans indicate it is a standard energy shield.”
That was good news, at least. Nayasar looked out at the generator complex as the Felinar continued to attack and evade fire from the platforms. If her attack force could get inside the shield….
“Open a channel to the Swift Strike,” Nayasar ordered.
“Admiral,” she said once the link was open, “I have a new plan.” They would need to coordinate quickly; every second they waited was time spent taking damage from the platforms, and more time for the enemy to get closer.
“I didn’t doubt it,” Felivas replied, sounding a bit overtaxed. His Swift Strike would have more trouble taking heavy fire than the Felinar did, being an older and smaller ship class. It had probably been even more unpleasant for him.
“We need to get ships inside the shield,” she said.
“My thoughts exactly,” he replied. “However, we will not be able to get very many inside safely.”
He was right. The space would be tight, and they would have to open fire at close range too many ships, and there could be collisions, or ships could be caught in the explosion. Had there been more time, they could have pulled back and formulated a new tactic, but there simply was no time now, with enemies on both sides. “How many do you think?”
“I wouldn’t take more than six.”
“Alright then. Your attack team and mine will make the run. We’ll come in at the same angles we set earlier.”
“Understood, Felivas out.”
A part of her wanted him to remain in contact with her; knowing he was hearing her would help lessen her anxiety. But efficiency dictated that they cut contact.
“Inform both attack forces that they are to get themselves to safety, and then have the White Fang and the Koakhba to get as close to us as they safely can. Take us into the shield at a forty five degree angle from above and planetside.”
The Felinar and its escorts came about, and began to fly at the generator complex. Nayasar shifted herself on her chair, gripped its arms tightly and leaned as far forward as she could while remaining stable. This would be one of the more… reckless actions she had taken, and despite the ever-present fear and stress, it was an exhilarating feeling.
The rest of the attack force had drawn most of the fire as they pulled back to the areas where the platforms were already deactivated, but even the reduced fire on the Felinar, Swift Strike and their escorts was more than any ship could take for long. Even as the thought crossed her mind, one of the bridge crew shouted, “Shields down to fifteen percent!”
“Divert every bit of power you can to the shields!” Nayasar ordered. They would only need to hold until they were inside the generator’s shield, another two minutes then. They should hold, Omnipresent willing.
As the generator complex grew ever closer, the shaking grew stronger, and the command deck’s lights began to flicker. The battle stations klaxon was still blaring, and a few moments later a new warning sound split the air, a high pitched wail warning that the shields were close to failing. “And shut off that damn siren!” she yelled, turning her head around.
The ship chose just that moment to lurch violently, and Nayasar was thrown from her chair, landing on her side on the floor. The shields have failed, was all she could think. If they didn’t get inside the generator’s shield quickly…
A moment later, the ship stopped shaking, though the lights were still flickering. “We’re inside the shield!” announced the flight controller, relief plain in his voice.
Nayasar pushed herself up from the floor, but did not stand, instead catching her breath; at some point she had begun to hold it in. The way was clear now. Even if the platforms would still fire in the direction of their own power source, the shield would protect her ships as well as the generator. Nayasar glanced at the display screen, and saw the Swift Strike and its escorts enter the shield, still in one piece. Thank the Omnipresent. Now, to end this.
“Open fire!”
The Felinar and its escorts opened fire with everything they had; on the other side of the complex the Swift Strike and its team did the same. As soon as the shots were away, both teams pulled up and began to fly away as fast as possible. Even as they angled up, explosions erupted on the generator complex, a beautiful sight, even if they were uncomfortably close.
Moments later, the entire complex erupted in a satisfying explosion, and cheering filled the bridge again.
“Srei Felitzvah, we’re being contacted by Kanor’s government,” said the communications officer, unabashedly smiling, despite knowing that this fight was far from over.
That was quick. Nayasar, after realizing she was smiling as well, stood up and sat down in her chair, and breathed a sigh of relief. “They can wait,” she replied. The enemy fleet had already begun to engage the rest of their fleet, and despite her forces’ superior position and the heavy damage inflicted on the enemy fleet as they’d arrived, they were far from safe. Battles with worse odds had been won, and she did not inte
nd to let her enemies get such a victory. “Have repair crews see to restoring the shields as much as possible, then bring us into the fight. We have a battle to finish.”
* * *
Executor Darkclaw sat quietly in his command chair, counting down the minutes until the primary attack on the Irhani system would commence. He had decided to follow the same general plan of attack he had used to take the Zarian, Cytan, and Reathan systems, with a few variations due to his new assets: stealth-equipped ships were sent in first, as before, to cut off communications, and following them this time, instead of the rest of the fleet, were three Snevan interdictor squadrons, which could more easily prevent enemy vessels from fleeing. Both of those tasks had been accomplished, and Darkclaw and the rest of the fleet were mere minutes from arrival.
“Convert to fleet command,” he ordered, and even as the center of the command deck rose and the three-dimensional display screen moved into place, he stood and moved into a position from which he could most easily observe. Now that the war was moving from small, backwater systems and to major worlds within the Alliance, he anticipated stronger resistance. Not only did the systems have sufficient defenses, but now that the Alliance was aware of the danger it was in, they could support their worlds with ships from other systems or the Legion Navy, though the latter at least would still take time to mobilize in full.
According to the intelligence he had been given by the Felinaris, the Irhani system was protected by a fleet six hundred ships strong, in addition to a handful of orbital defense platforms stationed over the system’s only inhabited planet. It was the right decision, forging an alliance with the Felinaris, and Snevans. From the Felinaris intelligence files he had had time to read thus far, he was convinced that conquering the Galactic Alliance would have been far more difficult without their aid. The information captured at the space station had been even more limited than he had previously thought; he could very quickly have found himself completely outmatched and outmaneuvered if he had not been as careful as he was to keep their existence secret. Of course, no enemy could possibly hope to match the High Lord, but until the power sources for Selixan Station were completed, the High Lord would remain there.
“Estimated time to arrival?” he asked.
“Five minutes, Executor.”
Darkclaw put on his helmet and attached the control panel to his arm, connecting to the battle network. He had ordered his technicians to work with the Snevans to rapidly integrate them into the network—the work had been completed, but only a test under fire would tell if the integration had worked. The success or failure of the integration would determine the speed of the offensive; if the Snevan integration was successful, the Felinaris integration should be simple enough.
He noted the time on the display within his helmet. If things were proceeding as planned, the Felinaris and Snevan attack on the Kanor system should be well underway. It would have been interesting to monitor their progress; he was curious to see how the grand admiral commanded a battle; as the deputy commander of the allied forces, she would take charge should he be unable to do so, and, as in this instance, would command a portion of the fleet should their forces divide. Unfortunately, they had decided it best to maintain a communications silence during the operation, so as not to alert the enemy to the fact that two systems would come under attack simultaneously.
As he counted down the minutes, his thoughts returned to the Felinaris. While he better understood them now—in part thanks to his conversation with Admiral Kharitzon, Felivas— there was much he could not grasp. All the more confusing were the similarities he saw between them and his own Tyrannodons. Both had a natural tendency to remain isolated from outsiders, and were completely loyal to their own kind—just as no Tyrannodon committed a crime against another, the Felinaris had practically eliminated crime on their world. Both were raised as warriors; Felinaris out of an almost fanatic patriotism, the Tyrannodons out of loyalty to the High Lord and being bred for war. Apart from that, however, they differed in every conceivable way, making the similarities seem even stranger.
“Entering the system in one minute,” the flight controller announced, needlessly, as Darkclaw’s helmet display provided the same information.
Darkclaw turned his full attention to the display as the timer counted down. More than likely the Irhani would still be scrambling to get their forces into place, but in case they were ready, he meant to be able to deal with them as quickly as possible.
The Hudecar shuddered slightly as it dropped out of hyperspace as close to Irhan as was safe. Darkclaw immediately spotted the advance forces on the display, his Wounding Tooth-class stealth ships and the Snevan interdictors, the latter being pursued by enemy vessels. As the main fleet moved into position, the ships being pursued retreated to the safety of the fleet, while their pursuers broke off to rejoin the other ships arrayed to defend the planet.
After a quick count, Darkclaw was surprised by how few there were. Felinaris intelligence had said there would be six hundred, but barely two hundred stood against him now, and the sensors would have shown if the rest were present, but separate from the others. It was either a trap, or… Darkclaw let his thought trail off. He felt surprised. This was an unwelcome development. The emotion flashes were only controllable because they were so strong, and forced him to come to a stop when they occurred. But this… this was more problematic. How could he have missed the feeling coming on? Could he be becoming so accustomed to the emotion flashes already that emotions were starting to feel natural? Had this happened at a more crucial moment, it could have proven disastrous. He focused his mind, and just as he did when the obvious emotion flashes occurred, forced the feeling away. He did not get surprised. He would need to find a way to deal with this soon, but now he had a world to conquer.
He pressed a key on his console, ordering the fleet to advance. The Snevans did as directed. The integration had been successful, it appeared. As the fleet advanced, Darkclaw gave a quick series of commands, ordering the lighter Tyrannodon and Snevan ships to begin to flank the defenders from both sides and from below. He issued another brief command, and the main body of the fleet shifted, the ships more in the rear rising higher than those in front. If the enemy fleet attempted to flee through the only direction left to them, up, almost all of the Tyrannodon and Snevan warships would be able to fire on them.
The enemy commander must have realized this, as the enemy forces attempted to scatter before the noose was tightened. As the Irhani defense ships, white half-circles on the display, began to flee, Darkclaw ordered his own ships into a larger formation, which would enable them to intercept the fleeing vessels. Some of the Irhani ships began to flee around the planet, which he could not prevent, but the rest, with nowhere else to go, would be easy prey for his fleet. Those that he chose not to chase down were still trapped by the interdictors.
As the fleet began to pick off fleeing ships, the Snevan light warships, which were not in position to attack any of the fleeing craft, broke formation and began to pursue some of the enemy vessels that were out of range of the body of the fleet. Darkclaw considered ordering them to cease their pursuit, but decided to allow them to continue, to see what their plan was.
He watched on the display as the red triangles, the Snevans, began to chase down the Irhani warships. They were easily faster than just about all of the enemy vessels, and gained steadily. A number of the Irhani ships were trapped between the Snevans and the rest of the fleet, and began to get picked off. The others, who had managed to flee to the opposite side of the planet, would not get past the range of the interdictors before being intercepted. Impressive. The attack was going even more smoothly than he had anticipated.
Over the next twenty minutes, the fleet continued to cut down the fleeing Irhani ships, until finally the Hudecar was contacted by their commander.
“I am Admiral Nilash, field commander of the Irhani Defense Fleet,” he began. “I am prepared to discuss terms of surrender.”
&nb
sp; “My terms are simple, Admiral,” Darkclaw replied. “I will give you twenty minutes to evacuate your remaining ships and to order your forces on the planet to prepare to surrender to me immediately. If you comply, there will be no need for further bloodshed. Should you refuse, I will not guarantee the safety of any of your underlings, nor that of the inhabitants of the planet.”
The admiral did not reply immediately, but his leathery face took on a paler shade of grey, and the short sensory tendrils that lined the lower half of his face twitched.
“I would be happy to comply,” he began, speaking slowly, “but my authority does not extend to the surface army. You would have to speak directly to the grand marshal.”
Darkclaw thought for a moment. The Irhani was unlikely to be lying, but all the same Darkclaw did not intend to waste time speaking with another officer. It would only give the Irhani more time to prepare, and if they figured out that he meant to take the planet intact, he would be forced to begin a costly invasion or bombard the planet.
“I will give you thirty minutes to abandon your ships and to persuade the relevant authorities to power down your defensive batteries and surrender your weapons.”
The Irhani’s tendrils twitched again. He thought I did not know about the batteries. He would not have known, had he not recruited the Felinaris—one more debt he owed them. The defensive batteries were well concealed, and the fleet had been able to locate them only because they knew where they were installed. The defensive batteries here were different from those on Reath; those were meant to ward off large vessels. These were not powerful enough to threaten the fleet in orbit, but would wreak havoc on landing craft. If at all possible, it would be preferable to capture them intact, and avoid having to land ground forces under fire.
When the Irhani did not immediately reply, Darkclaw terminated the transmission and began a countdown. As the minutes began to creep by, Darkclaw idly wondered how different in length Irhani minutes were.