With an arm gesture he commanded one of the knights to fetch Sokolova's sword. The weapon was mounted beside the door to the left of Frost and White.
"I brought you up here to tell you it doesn't matter any more," he pronounced Frost's fate. "I brought you here to tell you – today you are redeemed, Father."
The knight returned with the sheath hosting Sokolova's sword. Ryan wasted no time in reaching for the handle, drawing out the ferocious weapon and brandishing it to bear with an aquiline scream of rasping metal.
Then suddenly the doors split open. Into the throne room sprinted one of Ryan's levies; his sudden appearance prompted those who had brought Frost and White here to raise their weapons at the intruder.
"My lord!" he introduced himself, his eyes betraying panic. "We've been outflanked! Our ships are under attack!"
"Well then why are you here telling me this, when you should be helping your fellows blast that wretched city to ash?!" Ryan bellowed as his eyes flared a brilliant cinnabar, swinging Sokolova's sword at the levy in a threat gesture.
"The city is still cooperating, my lord!" the levy stated, still catching his breath. "These are foreign ships, make and origin unknown!"
Ryan said nothing as he returned to his throne, urgency in his every step. Built into one of the arms was a console, with the chair's lord and master activating it and inputting a command into the keypad. Over Frost and White's heads exploded into prominence a holographic sphere, the crimson display recognisable in an instant as the world of Ceres. Above Port Royal was the thirty three strong fleet that Ryan had brought to the dwarf planet, highlighted in a dark green. Two other fleets coloured orange were present. One of the fleets, posted on the opposite side of Ceres to the Iron Fleet, was of equivalent size. A smaller flotilla, however, was making its way towards the ships under Ryan's command.
With another input into the control console, Ryan zoomed in on one of the approaching ships. It turned out to be a makeshift attack craft; once a civilian cargo skiff, now bearing armour cobbled together from scrap metal, the occasional block of reactive armour, even some pieces of asteroid. Most prominent of all, however, was a large metal spike appended to the front of the vessel next to a series of canisters which, upon closer inspection, were filled with expanding sealing foam.
White's face lit up with joy; a wrinkle of anger set itself on the Hound's.
"Pirates..." he grumbled, his bitter voice colder than the cosmos.
~
Within each of the incoming assault craft stood an indeterminate number of pirates, a figure that ranged between thirty to seventy dependant purely on the cobbled boat's size. They were all packed into seats taken from salvaged spaceliners, guns, armour and all like an army of tinned sardines, with the stone-cold expressions of men and women about to embark on the grandest of all heists.
The Ghoul himself looked almost comical as his enormous bulk was squeezed into one of the seats, the two pirates beside him leaning away to avoid being crushed – whether by his immense mass or the smell that befitted any respectable pirate worth his salt.
"Keep the galleons behind us to suppress their escorts!" the pirate lord bellowed back, the pirate to his right groaning as his boss turned around. "Command all raiders to target the dreadnought, divert all power to thrusters, swing out the blast shields! Gunners, focus fire on incoming missiles!"
"Target locked, boss!" the attacker's pilot called to the Ghoul from the rear of the boat.
Faint specks of light streaked across the depths of outer space, sparking with electrical fury as they closed in on the Iron Knight warships; shells from huge siege guns slammed into the first two cruisers. Rather than a massive explosion, the stricken vessels found themselves wrapped in a cerulescent swaddle, before they emerged duller in colouration than before. Plasmatic energy shields, devised originally to defend fast-moving ships against micrometeorites, could stop projectiles with great ease, but were easy to bring offline by a powerful electromagnetic pulse fired from an ion cannon. The EMP warheads were soon followed by a shower of railgun fire, their bright red tracers surging over the horizon.
As the hypervelocity shells struck their marks, some scuffed off of the cruisers' heavy armour and ricocheted into the distance. Others pierced vulnerable parts of the ships' hull, with at least one explosion leaving a blink of light before the void snuffed out the flames. The Iron Knight ships were quick to react to the assault, their powerful gigawatt plasma cannons erupting to life. The bolts burst from the energetic artillery pieces, sending miniature blue stars careening across the permanent night of outer space, as visible as a meteor shower. Puffs of smoke were belched forth from the tops of some of the ships; they were followed soon by the illuminant white of rocket motors throwing long-range anti-ship warheads across the sky.
The 'blast shields' that the Ghoul had mentioned were enormous fin-like plates of ablative ceramic, affixed to motorised hinges on the sides of the assault ship. Their intention was to absorb hits from incoming plasmatic artillery pieces and deflect railgun fire away from the hull of the ship. They also served a secondary purpose as impact brakes to prevent a ram boat from piercing too deep into the enemy vessel's hull, shattering upon colliding with the armour.
~
One observing the battle, now in full swing, from the surface of the demi-planet Ceres below would be treated to a light show the likes of which had not been seen so bright since the Earth-Mars war.
Kane, however, was witnessing the blossoming skirmish via a three-dimensional blue holoprojection of Ceres from the OCCS precinct's situation room. In addition to the dwarf planet's spherical shape, it showed the two battling fleets in the overhead space; the Iron Knight fleet was marked in red, while the Ghoul's fleet of similar size over Ceres' horizon was denoted via green. Missiles, plasma bolts and railgun fire exchanged between the two armadas lit up the projection with streaks of red and green; they would careen into the distance offworld if they missed, but those that hit would bloom as circles of their corresponding colour.
"Looks like White's pirate buddies showed up to the party after all," Morgenstern remarked.
"Better late to the fight than never," Kane stated with a stern expression. "Still, I can't help but think the pirates might be outmatched. What say we even the odds?"
A sinister grin crawled up Morgenstern's face. "I say it's time to unveil our little surprise..."
Kane nodded; he them turned and addressed Wilkins and the others at the new consoles. "All TELs, target the Iron Knight vessels' surface bombardment cannons, prepare to fire on my mark! Make your shots count – if even one of those guns comes online, the city's toast!"
At that moment clusters of cargo crawlers positioned outside of Port Royal's city limits sprung to life. Their bays split open and unfurled to the ground, unveiling military-grade transporter erector launchers housed within. Borne aboard the transporters and rising to face the sky were two bus-sized rockets per crawler, directional thruster blocks affixed to the sides and powerful hydrolox-fuelled main thrusters fixed to their base. Stamped upon the cone-shaped warheads was the prominent logo of the Wayland Company's Military Development Bureau.
On the holoprojection, new green marks mushroomed all around the Occator crater where Port Royal was situated. Staggered lines marking the trajectory of the missiles led from the TEL positions all the way out to the Iron Fleet, terminating right on the pixellated hulls of the enemy warships.
"Locked and loaded!" Wilkins called back.
"Launch!" Kane barked aloud as he swung his arm forward.
"With pleasure, boss!" Morgenstern acknowledged, herself manning one of the fire control consoles. "Fox two, fox two!"
The ear-shattering roar of the missiles' rocket motors far away was silenced by the vacuum of space. Even the cosmic night, however, could not suppress the colossal, towering clouds of moon dust thrown by the force of the rockets towards the heavens. A flurry of guided missiles rose into the stygian blackness like massive fireworks to face
the Iron Knight warfleet duelling the pirate fleet overhead.
"This is what they call blitzkrieg back on Mars!" Morgenstern cheered.
Wilkins recoiled his head with shock. "Wait a minute, you're from Mars?!"
"And they say ladies are from Venus!" Morgenstern laughed. "Ladies are from Venus, but real women are born and forged in the Martian crucibles!"
The missiles, now thousands of miles above the surface of the dwarf planet, burned out their rocket fuel, careening at escape velocity to the battling juggernauts above. Their warheads began to spark and glow, their payloads bubbling within their aluminium frames; from each erupted a blazing orange spear of atomic fire at a high percentage of light-speed. The casaba howitzers unleashed their infernal spikes, a nuclear phalanx slamming into the underside of the spacefaring turtles and lancing them through the heavy turrets.
At once the sky was filled with a light show of magnificent, plasmatic fulminations as the phalanx struck to devastating effect. Seven escort frigates were vaporised outright. Two destroyers were snapped in half like twigs when their fusion reactors exploded. One of the battleships was impaled by three casaba spears, gouts of molten metal and fire flowing out of its desolated hulk as if spewing forth from a range of man-made volcanoes. The debris from some of the battered destroyers crashed into the other battleship, striking where the CIC room would be situated and rending the deadly vessel through the top. Finally, the underside weapon systems of the dreadnought found themselves targeted; in battle formation, weapons could not be fired through shields, so were unprotected from enemy firepower if taken by complete surprise. That this proved to be the flagship's undoing was perfectly attested when casaba spears thrust their atomic tips through the railguns underneath it, detonating their magazines in an immense parade of plasma blasts.
~
A thunderous cheer resounded from the control room as the battered fleet took shape on the holoprojection. Kane himself breathed a sigh of relief as eleven Iron Knight warships faded from the screen, reducing the opposing fleet to but a third of its prior number. Only one of its capital ships remained relatively intact – the Indominus dreadnought.
"It's funny," Wilkins laughed. "You were born on Mars, yet here you are fighting Martians!"
"These are no Martians, boy!" Morgenstern reminded him. "A proper Marinerländer fights his battles in parliament, or on the battlefield! And if they have to fight in the streets, it's always one Marinerländer versus many Earthlings!"
"There's no call for ethnic slurs, Mags!" Wilkins protested in jest.
"You don't get to call me Mags, Mister Wilkins!" Morgenstern stated with a grin. "You're no Teddy Rourke! Now bring those defence sats online – make sure none of that debris makes planetfall!"
"Yes, Ma- Ma'am!" Wilkins was about to use Morgenstern's first name when he caught himself.
~
Witnessing the Iron Fleet be gutted by ground fire provoked a similar reaction aboard the approaching pirate rams as in the control room down below on the planetary surface. The brigands' whooping was audible both in the vessel itself and the radios from the surrounding boats.
"Relative velocity, one hundred yards per second, distance one thousand yards and closing!" the skipper aboard the Ghoul's raiding craft bellowed aloud. "Nine hundred!"
In the seconds taken to reach the battered dreadnought each of the pirates took the time to check over their weapons once again. Each of the weapons they were outfitted with were personal purchases varying wildly in expense and age. The wealthier pirates armed themselves with the latest assault rifles, machine guns and even a handful of energy weapons in addition to an equally impressive variation of weapons for melee combat. The rank and file of the marauding band had to make do with cheaper weaponry sold as surplus, often looted from their myriad raids. Some of their weapons had been manufactured long before humanity even took its first steps on the moon, in the shape of a couple of bolt-action rifles and shotguns.
"Eight hundred ... seven ... six ... five ... four..."
A speaker overhead emitted a bong sound, a belt buckle-shaped light salvaged from an aircraft coming on after. The Ghoul and his warband were prompted to strap seatbelts over themselves in preparation for the impending impact. The last few still unsuited for the assault finished with strapping on their pressure suits and breathing apparatus.
"Three ... two ... BRAAAAACE!!!"
Not a second later, a thunderous calamity caused the pirates to lurch forward and the lights to flicker, the boat shuddering as if having been struck by the hammer of Thor himself. No time was to be wasted as the boat's original alarms began to blare; but the sound from the boat was nothing compared to the horrific cacophony one could hear reverberating from within the stricken dreadnought. Alarms and voices all screamed alike as the pirates poured forth from the front door beneath the spike.
One of the knight levies, rolling on the floor howling as he clutched his bleeding ears, was rendered hapless before a charging pirate. Seconds later, his shrieks turned to guttural choking as the serrated bayonet of an ancient assault rifle pierced his chest. Scenes all across the area transpired similarly to this one as the shocked levies were set upon by the Ghoul's warband. Some barely raised their laser rifles before they were shot apart by the pirates' slug throwing death machines. Others were hacked to pieces by berserk cut-throats brandishing knives, axes, mining picks, motorsaws and everything in between.
The Ghoul himself stepped away from the mangled remains of a levy, brandishing a sparking plasma warhammer of his own making in his left hand and a heavy machine gun fixed to a powered brace on his right arm. Taking a moment to survey his surroundings, lit as they were by the red alarm light, his eyes almost bugged out of his head. All the riches that Sparrow lady had promised – the gold paintings, the reliefs, the statues...
"Carry on, lads!" he shook his head and barked. Greedy as he was, the Ghoul never reached his high status by being an impetuous fool. "We'll tear this ship apart once the knights aboard it have been dealt with!"
~
It took an average of fifteen metres to kill a falling human being. For a heavily augmented Knight of Iron wearing power armour, that figure would go up to about forty.
Ryan Frost arose from unconsciousness as if rising once again from the grave. He briefly regretted having his trophy room below his throne room, some thirty two metres below the gangway rather than housed within the chamber itself. He rolled off of a flattened plate carrier suit, one he had taken from a prominent veteran soldier during a raid on another prison fortress. As if to add insult to injury, the massive impact that send Ryan cascading down here must have been caused by a pirate ramming ship. The distant rumble of gunfire lent further credence to the theory that his vessel was in the process of being boarded by raiders, assuming it had not already been.
With that Ryan spat out a dislodged tooth and stood to his feet; the denture skittered across the floor with a metallic ping. Injuries to his person would heal, and would be healed if they did not do so of their own volition. Injuries to his pride, however, would take longer to nurse. Perhaps extirpating the pirate scum that had dared to muddy the hallowed halls of his dreadnought with their boots would be a decent starting point to cure his latest malaise.
The Hound set out to recover Sokolova's warblade, presently buried inside of a strongbox, and cake his dreadnought's corridors a pleasing shade of haematic red. At that moment the door clanked open. Initially expecting pirates in search of loot, Ryan drew out his plasmacaster and aimed it towards the intruders, only to find three of the levies and one knight in their place. Lowering his pistol, only then did Ryan discover the fourth levy impaled on a spear he had taken from a pirate lord on Dysnomia.
"Status report..." he grumbled as he wiped off his bloodied face with his free hand.
"The ship is being boarded by pirates, my lord!" one of the levies answered him. "We believe them to be the Ghoul's band! He has brought his entire fleet to Ceres! All of our surface bombardment
guns are offline, we have lost eleven ships to ground fire, and the rest are holding steady!"
It was with a blink that Ryan realised the absence of his two captives, or what was left of them. He glanced around the room with saucer-like eyes.
"Where in the hell is Frost and the bitch?!" he snarled.
"We don't know, my lord..." the levy almost hesitated to say.
"What do you mean you don't know?" Ryan demanded in disbelief.
"We ... lost them..." the levy looked as if he was about to faint with fear.
"Oh, is that what it means?!" the Hound bellowed as he made his way to the sword. "Go and find them!"
"But my lord, what about the Ghoul?" one of the other levies asked.
"The Ghoul can go fuck himself up the arse!" Ryan barked as he dragged out the blade. "I will not be denied this kill again! Not when I've promised the Broken Angel his head! Now find Frost, and bring him to me – ALIVE!"
"My lord," one of the Knights addressed him in a calm tone. "If Frost's words are true, he is likelier to come looking for you. Perhaps it might be a wiser option to draw him towards you."
"Finally, some useful bloody counsel!" Ryan bellowed, returning the blade to his sheath. "I have just the distraction in mind. Ready my gunship and order the remaining vessels of our fleet to deploy their landers for a ground assault!"
"What about the remaining levies on the dreadnought?" the Knight enquired.
"Their sacrifice will be remembered," was Ryan's icicle of a reply as he stormed off through the door from whence his levies had come.
~
So far the invading pirates were making good progress in sweeping the Iron Knight juggernaut clear of foes. The levies were not ones to panic in the middle of a firefight, but against experienced marauders hardened by launching audacious raids on hydrogen freighters and space stations alike, they were chopped down almost like wheat to a scythe.
The armoured knights toting equally powerful plasmacasters, however, had proven far more problematic. So too did the defensive turrets built into the ceilings, both types of enemy spitting firepower to keep the pirates at bay. Even these had proven little issue for the Ghoul's raiders until they reached one of the hangars. With ample cover for both attackers and defenders to utilise to their advantage, the latter apparently unafraid to use rocket launchers despite the presence of aircraft munitions and volatile fuel, the assault had reached a standoff.
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