A Greater Duty (Galaxy Ascendant Book 1)

by Yakov Merkin

  When the results of the scan came in a few moments later, Darkclaw’s fear was realized. The massive energy expenditure of the shield had been concealing another power buildup, this one emanating directly from the battle stations. The Darvians were overloading the stations’ reactor cores. The resulting explosions from the nine remaining stations would make the Tyrannodon victory a pyrrhic one, at best. It was lucky that the entire fleet had not moved in closer than it already had; there might have been no hope had he done so.

  “Grand Admiral!” he called to Nayasar. “The Darvians are overloading the stations’ reactor cores. We have to move the fleet away from them. Now.”

  Nayasar, who had emphatically giving orders, froze mid gesture. “Are you sure?” she asked. “We haven’t detected anything that might preclude an overload.”

  “The power expended for the shield was a distraction, covering up the surges of the reactors. I don’t know how long we have, but we have to get the fleet clear now!” Darkclaw replied, glancing back at the tactical display for a moment. “The stations are moving away from the planet. They enemy may have inadvertently granted us some more time.” Explosions that large would devastate the planet below if they went off too close by. And fortunately, the stations were very slow moving. “Maybe a few minutes,” he added. Darkclaw ordered Keeneye’s forces as well as the Snevans to keep clear of the planet, and to pursue and destroy the Darvians that had broken free. He gave the same order to the rest of the fleet, but they had advanced too far. Most of the ships would not get clear in time. The remaining Darvian ships were even pushing forward, seeming content to even use their ships as physical barriers to prevent the movement of the Tyrannodons and Felinaris, penning them within range of the explosion, even if it meant sacrificing what remained of the Darvian navy to do so.

  “We have to stop them from overloading,” Nayasar said simply. “There’s no other option.”

  “And how do you propose we go about doing that?” Darkclaw asked. “There is no time to land soldiers to manually re-stabilize the reactors, and destroying the stations now would not stop the reactor meltdowns.” Darkclaw began a mental count of how many ships they would lose, then stopped as the number kept increasing. There must be something that can be done.

  “Give me two minutes; I’ll think of something,” Nayasar said quickly, then shouted a rapid sequence of commands in Felinari to her command staff.

  Two minutes was a lot of time, perhaps too much time, but Darkclaw had no solution to offer, so he simply nodded and turned back to the tactical display. Praetor Keeneye’s ‘s forces and the Snevans were safely beyond the projected blast radius, coming around to pin the remaining Darvian ships against the fleet that the Darvians themselves were trying to hold in place. The rest of the fleet was falling back from the planet at an agonizingly slow pace. At this point, approximately forty percent of the Tyrannodon and Felinaris warships were still within the blast radius of at least three of the stations that were still functioning. With no other direction to send his forces, Darkclaw ordered them to get as close as they could to the Darvians and engage them at point blank range, if only to get a few more ships safely out of the danger zone. Darkclaw did have to give silent respect to the Darvian commander, whether he was still alive or not. Admirably done.

  “Darkclaw! I’ve got something!” Nayasar exclaimed one minute after she had gone silent. “We found something in the stations schematics, an old design flaw we exploited when the stations were used offensively during the last Darvian Conflict. It’s actually why the stations were pulled from offensive use. Though it will be more difficult now that the stations have been altered slightly.” Nayasar paused, glancing at a screen that Darkclaw could not see, then continued. “There is a key connection from the reactor core to the station that, if severed, causes the reactor to immediately shut down and vent. The connection is exposed enough to be exploited, but only my own Claw-class fighters are small enough to sever the connection. Severing this connection may prevent a full explosion, but most of the fighters will not make it out. That’s why this is not a standard tactic.”

  “Have you ever used this tactic to prevent a meltdown before?” Darkclaw asked.

  “No,” Nayasar admitted.

  “If any of my own ships can be of any assistance, they are yours,” Darkclaw said, seeing no point to dwelling further on the flaws in the plan; time was of the essence. Sending ships to their doom was a difficult enough decision when they were crewed by easily replaceable clones. He could not imagine how much more difficult for Nayasar to do the same with her own people.

  “I need as many of your Wounding Tooth-class ships as you can spare, to disable as many of the stations’ static defense systems as the fighters make their attack runs.”

  “And you are certain that my fighters would be too large?” Darkclaw asked.

  Nayasar closed her eyes for a second. “I am certain. My pilots know what may be expected of them, and we are no strangers to the concept of sacrificing for the greater good, though it’s not something we encourage generally.”

  “Understood. My ships are yours.” Darkclaw relayed the necessary commands, even as he felt a hint of amusement at the High Lord’s potential reaction to his choice of words. “Is there anything else required?”

  “Thanks,” Nayasar replied. “And no, all I need from you besides the ships is for you to do what you’re already doing—destroying the Darvian fleet. I can’t have them guessing what we’re trying to do.

  “I understand.” Darkclaw paused for a long moment. “May your deity watch over your forces.

  Nayasar smiled silently, in thanks, Darkclaw was sure, then muted her audio output. Darkclaw again returned to the tactical display. He much preferred the simple, disconnected feel of the shapes representing ships as opposed to the real thing, though he deliberately did not look at the battle stations, now glowing orange as the Hudecar monitored their energy outputs, and the large number of larger, slow and damaged warships still struggling to escape the projected blast radius, the Felinaris gradually pulling ahead of the Tyrannodon ships. Darkclaw turned his full attention to crushing the remains of the Darvian fleet. Even if they succeed, none will remain to see their triumph.

  * * *

  Nayasar muted her audio output to the Hudecar and turned back to her command staff. “The fighters are away?” she asked.

  “They are,” replied Captain Eirsen, her deputy officer on board the Felinar. “All squadrons on course, and the Tyrannodon stealth craft are on approach.”

  “Open a channel to the commander of the Tyrannodon ships,” Nayasar ordered.

  “Link established,” said Lieutenant Seirifel, the Felinar’s senior communications officer.

  “Captain,” Nayasar began, addressing the Tyrannodon. “Did the executor inform you of your task?”

  “I have been ordered to place my ship and the infiltration and disruption group it leads under your command for an assault on the Darvian battle stations.”

  “Correct. Your task is to disable as many of the stations’ defenses as possible, and then to dash out. I’ll send you the coordinates of the stations you’re to focus on.” Fortunately, the fleet had been able to maneuver so that only four stations needed to be dealt with. Nayasar doubted it would have been at all possible to stop them all. As it was this attack would cost enough lives.

  She heard the Tyrannodon give an emotionless order to his silent command deck before he spoke to her again. “If I may, Grand Admiral, my ships might be capable of weathering the explosions, assuming we prevent the reactor cores from completely overloading. We may be able to protect a number of your fighters.”

  Who would have thought that such cold beings could be so generous, and selfless? Whatever Darkclaw’s deal was, the Tyrannodons as a species were more similar to the Felinaris than it seemed, once one passed the cold, blank exterior. “I truly appreciate the offer, Captain. Do what you can, but don’t take any unnecessary risks. I’m pretty sure the executor wan
ts you back intact.”

  “Of course, Grand Admiral,” the Tyrannodon replied before closing the channel.

  Nayasar leaned against the briefing table at the top of the command deck. There was nothing more she could do about the Darvian stations; her fate and the fate of so many lives was fully in the hands of the brave souls flying toward the death traps, them and the hope that the plan would work. She hated feeling helpless.

  “Take us into the fight,” she ordered. “Some of the Darvians seem to be having second thoughts about fighting to the last.”

  The Felinar and its escorts did as ordered, moving into the thick of the action as the knot was closing ever tighter around the still defiant Darvians. Half of Nayasar’s attention, however, remained on the tactical display, where the fighters and the Tyrannodon infiltration group approached the stations. One way or another, the battle would be over soon, and much of the fleet was not completely aware how much danger they were in, despite the strict orders to clear away from the planet.

  Even as the Felinar exchanged fire with the ever-dwindling Darvian forces, Nayasar felt compelled to count down the last remaining minutes until the stations were expected to explode, and she brought up a small visual display of the stations for herself—the crew’s focus needed to be on the fighting at their present location. The Felinar itself was on the edge of the blast radius, and barring any extremely risky maneuvers would not be completely out of the danger zone should the overloads complete.

  With only a minute estimated to be remaining, Nayasar felt compelled to offer a silent prayer to the Omnipresent. Surely He would not allow the Darvians such a victory!

  There was still nearly a third of her fleet in range, as well as six hundred Tyrannodon warships; they had advanced too far.

  Then the first station overloaded and erupted into a fiery explosion. It was the station furthest out, and no ships were within its blast radius. Then another detonated, this one also out of range. They were running out of time.

  A terse report came in from the pilots that they had completed their objectives and were falling back. They had done it! But when Nayasar looked back at her tactical screens, she saw that she had been wrong, or perhaps simply too late. Three out of the four stations that would catch the fleet were not showing decreasing power signatures; the reactors were too far gone to stop.

  Nayasar hurriedly opened a priority channel to the entire fleet. “All ships, get as far from the Darvian battle stations as you can. Now! Do whatever it takes!” she shouted.

  She watched helplessly as ships began to move more erratically, attempting to maneuver, whether to navigate through the debris field that had been the Darvian fleet, down toward the planet, or elsewhere.

  Nayasar watched in horror as the stations exploded, the bright flash blinding her on the Felinar’s command deck, which shuddered as the tail end of the explosion reached it. “Status!” she demanded.

  “Damage reports coming in,” Lieutenant Seirifel said slowly, almost as though she was in shock. “Ninety-seven of our ships were destroyed or crippled, along with four hundred Tyrannodon vessels. The Selban is somehow intact, despite being in the thick of it all. The Tyrannodons took the brunt of it. Omnipresent preserve us.”

  Nayasar didn’t respond as she looked out the display screen, at the massive debris field where nearly five hundred ships had been moments before. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. They had come to avenge over twenty thousand Felinaris lives. How many had been lost just now? Hundreds? Thousands? I’ve failed them again.

  Just then, Darkclaw’s voice came over the audio output. “Are you alright, Grand Admiral?” he asked.

  Nayasar unmuted her audio and activated her video feed, staring at the executor for a moment before replying. “It’s my fault,” she said, eyes downcast. “I should have been better prepared. We shouldn’t have rushed in…”

  “Blaming yourself accomplishes nothing,” Darkclaw replied stoically. “In fact, we were very fortunate. By preventing one station from self-destructing, over two hundred ships were spared. All told, we lost approximately one fifth of our strength to one hundred percent of the enemy’s. Your actions nearly halved the total casualties.”

  “Can’t you see past the numbers?” Nayasar practically shouted. “Of course we won. Of course we minimized casualties. But those were lives we lost, not numbers! Over five thousand Felinaris, most likely, and how many tens of thousands of Tyrannodons?”

  “That is correct,” Darkclaw replied stiffly, but still completely emotionlessly. “The losses are unfortunate, particularly your own, but we have just won one of the most decisive victories of this war, one that will be long remembered. Ships will be rebuilt, my forces will be replaced. Your losses will not drive you out of the war.” He was correct, of course, but he was still wrong. This was a disaster; she should have been more careful, should not have sent her loyal forces into such a situation. Had it been a rescue operation, that would have been one thing—rescuing a hostage was worth dying for. But a simple battle?

  “What kind of commander,” she said loudly, her voice tone changing, “doesn’t care about their forces? We’re responsible for them, Darkclaw, and we let them down!” she gestured behind her, at the screen displaying the wreckage.

  Darkclaw remained perfectly still. “Our forces fight for us. They knew the risks. Death is a part of war. It is past now. It is not worth dwelling on.” He paused briefly. “Oh, you might be interested to know that most of the fighters sent to assault the stations survived, sheltering behind my ships—through the captains’ decisions alone—or escaping into the atmosphere.”

  “The fighters?” Nayasar exhaled, then let out a mirthful laugh. “The fighters! What good does that do the thousands that didn’t make it? I, we brought them to this fight, and we failed them. How can you be so callous?”

  “I view things in a logical manner, Grand Admiral,” Darkclaw said stiffly, more so than usual. “I take the larger image into account, and… do not let myself develop emotional attachments. I understand why you are grieved, and that you are angry. Your view is not invalid. But we must remain focused.”

  He was correct, again. Nayasar shook her head, and rubbed her forehead. “I… I suppose we can agree to disagree. And thank you, Executor, for assisting my forces. Your orders did save a great many, at the cost of far too many of your own.”

  Darkclaw nodded, though what specifically at was unclear. “It is good that they were able to be of service,” he replied, naturally, his voice as frustratingly unreadable as ever, the stiffness in his voice gone. “The entire Darvian fleet has been annihilated; they fought to the last,” Darkclaw added. If he had any opinion on the Darvians’ actions, he did not make them known.

  Nayasar nodded. That was as it should be. However evil and cowardly the Darvians were, with their tendencies to target non-combatants deliberately, they at least remained true to their principles. A Darvian ship surrendering would be like a Felinaris commander selling out her own people. Still, it was just more and more death. Though doubtless thousands of members of the ships’ crews had survived in life pods, their losses must have been in the tens, or even hundreds of thousands. A significant victory, as Darkclaw had said. But at what cost? What was the point of trying to avenge the dead when only more death would come of it?

  “We should begin our landing now,” she said rigidly, forcing her mind away from thoughts of death. There was still a battle to fight. The mourning would come later. “Our forces await only your command.”

  Darkclaw was silent for an uncharacteristically long moment. “I will defer to you, Grand Admiral. The Darvians committed crimes against your kind; this invasion is more than just another step in this war for you, and you lost many of your own today. The order is yours to give.”

  Nayasar’s eyes suddenly felt dry. “Thank you, Executor—Darkclaw.” She had considered asking to command the attack, but as she had just done so at Algen, Nayasar had felt that Darkclaw would have preferred to resume
his command position. This was… very sensitive of him. “You are right,” she added, and noticed that her voice sounded slightly off.

  Nayasar cleared her throat as quietly as possible and ran the back of her hand over her eyes, then turned to Lieutenant Seirifel. “Connect me to all of the ground forces,” Nayasar ordered. Once the link was established, she began. “All forces, this is Grand Admiral Nayasar Khariah. Commence Operation Selban Eternal.” The Selban, named for the massacre, had somehow survived the flames. A small mercy. “Begin landing sequences immediately; we fight to avenge today’s dead as well as the past dead. No mercy to the enemy! And may the Omnipresent watch over us all, and over the lost.”

  CHAPTER 11

  Nayasar dropped flat to the ground as the distinctive buzz of an unguided thresher rocket tore through the air. A split second later a section of the wall several meters behind her erupted into a small rain of concrete shards, which impacted her shields along with shrapnel from the rocket. The threshers were antipersonnel weapons, and as such had little effect on buildings. So long as Nayasar could avoid getting too close to one, they were not particularly dangerous. But of course, that was easier said than done.

  Nayasar gave a signal, and one of her soldiers fired a rocket at the building the thresher had come from. These rockets were designed to destroy structures. As smoke filled the street, Nayasar stood and shouted a command over the battle network.

  “Kademah, Felikhai!”

  A moment later, the soldiers in the unit Nayasar was personally commanding surged forward with a roar, broadcasting it out through their armor’s external speakers.

  They crossed the street without too much trouble despite it now being rough terrain, littered with debris, and then began the difficult and dangerous task of storming the building. Nayasar’s force broke up into smaller units and began to spread throughout the building. While she led one of the small teams herself, which was also in essence her personal guard, Nayasar also monitored the status of the entire unit through the battle network, checking to see if teams needed support or direction, and grimly noting casualties.