Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

  On the battle map, Caden watched the unfolding of a three-pronged attack from Dauntless, Sabre, and Brio. A single dreadship twisted in space, caught between the three Imperial heavy dreadnoughts and their many escorts. It turned its bulk away from Guathelia, and for all the worlds appeared to ponder its situation.

  He glanced towards the far edge of the battle map: two more dreadships on approach, on two different vectors.

  “This needs to be quicker,” he said.

  He felt the deck plates vibrate, heard a muffled thumping far belowdecks, and knew that Disputer was adding her own firepower to the onslaught.

  “They’re ignoring our hits,” said Tactical. “Not that we’re much of a threat.”

  “Continue firing,” Thande said. “The more sensor confusion we cause, the more damage they accumulate, the less chance they have of taking out our star players.”

  “Acknowledged. Ah! Rift is firing.”

  Caden gripped the rail around the battle map, watched the strange flare which the holo animated between the representations of Sabre and the enemy vessel.

  “Direct hit.” Tactical swiped and tapped at his holo. “The dreadship has taken significant damage.”

  “Maintain saturation fire,” said Thande. “It’s still a threat until it’s in pieces.”

  “Yes Ma’am. Brio is now engaging rift system.”

  Caden watched the second of the three dreadnoughts release a free wormhole, catapulting a tear in space straight through the dreadship’s position. The technology was certainly effective, but as the flagship Fearless had discovered at Meccrace it had its limitations. Having more rift platforms than there were targets on which to fire had been an obvious workaround. Caden was secretly impressed at how quickly Fleet had rolled out the prototype system to more of their heavier ships, and guessed that it had been possible only because it relied on adaptation of technology that was already built into those vessels.

  “Another direct hit. I’m seeing multiple explosions across the hull, severe damage to the main fuselage. Looks like full penetration from both hits.”

  “Fantastic,” said Thande. “Not so impervious after all.”

  “Dauntless is firing her main beam.”

  On the battle map, a thin line revealed the invisible energy which Dauntless poured from her reactors and channelled directly into the enemy ship. The computers made the decision that some of the fragments breaking away from the dreadship were important enough to bother rendering in the hologram, and Caden smiled.

  “Situation of the other hostile contacts?”

  “The second ship will be in effective weapons range in six minutes, Captain. If their conventional drives are maxed out, the third hostile is a good fifteen minutes away.”

  “I’m not seeing any support,” Caden said. “They usually have a flotilla of stolen ships to confound us.”

  “Take that as a bonus, Caden,” said Thande.

  “What’s the range on our interdiction field? Could they bring in more ships?”

  “Fearless is blotting out almost the entire system,” said Tactical. “If enemy support jumps in from the system periphery, their accuracy is going to suffer.”

  “We’ll only have a small warning, true, but it should be enough.” Thande assured Caden.

  “Captain, I’m reading spikes from the damaged hostile. They’re launching nukes while they still can.”

  “Take those missiles down. The Dauntless will be dead in space while they top up their capacitors; we don’t want to lose them.”

  “Already on it,” said Tactical. “And all the nearest friendlies are firing off interceptors of their own.”

  “Anything getting through?”

  “No, Captain, not one of them. Enemy nukes have all been neutralised.”

  “Good. Send them some of our own ship-to-ship missiles. Call it a leaving present.”

  Tactical obliged, and Caden recognised the familiar double pip of the audio alert. Moments later he saw the dreadship vanish from the battle map. It was replaced by a spreading, fading patch labelled ‘debris’.

  “Second hostile is slowing,” Tactical said.

  “Having second thoughts perhaps?” Thande asked. She sounded less than hopeful.

  “I doubt it,” said Caden. “More likely they’re waiting for the third to catch up.”

  “COMOP, what’s the word from the Operational Commander?”

  COMOP glanced away from a busy holo. “Battle groups four through six are being tasked right now. Five heavy dreadnoughts standing ready to take on new contacts. Defensive holding points for everyone else; again, saturation bombardment at range.”

  “Commander, give me a damage report while we still have time.”

  “Yes Captain,” said the XO. “All systems are operating correctly; we took next to no damage.”

  “They knew where the real threat would come from,” Caden said. “Ignored anything that couldn’t take them down.”

  “Yes,” said Thande. “For all the good it did them.”

  “Those other two ships aren’t going to make this easy. They’ll cover each other, try to outmanoeuvre us.”

  “We have numbers.”

  “Numbers that are mostly ineffectual.”

  “Whose side are you on?” She asked.

  He flashed her a pained expression. “Ours, obviously. They’ll go straight for the dreadnoughts.”

  “What would you suggest?”

  “I’d like to see some Guardian Shields out there,” said Caden.

  “We’ve only got what we’ve got, and that doesn’t include Guardians.”

  “Then flak barrier insertion, right between the dreadships and the rift platforms.”

  “That will cost us. I really don’t think the OC will go for it.”

  “Maybe put it to the OC anyway?” Caden said. “We won’t know if we don’t ask.”

  Thande looked as though she were regretting inviting Caden to the command deck. “COMOP… pass the message along.”

  “Ma’am, sending to task force Actual.”

  “They won’t go for it,” Thande said again. “They’ll want minimal losses in this phase. We still need to hold the planet while you’re down there, and there’s no telling how many ships that might take.”

  “We lose our dreadnoughts, we lose the battle.”

  “There is that, yes,” Thande admitted.

  “Actual responding,” said COMOP. “Battle group one is to run interference on the dreadships, everyone else to proceed as instructed.”

  “It won’t be enough,” said Caden. “Those losses will be for no real purpose.”

  “It’ll have to do,” said Thande. “It’s clear that rift is effective with only a few shots; we’ll just have to hope that the ships we have last long enough.”

  “I’ve never put much stock in hoping for the best.”

  “Try joining the fleet,” said Thande. “Before long you’ll be relying on hope on a daily basis.”

  • • •

  Eilentes watched Dyne make his third check of the equipment he had stashed in their lander, and wondered if he really knew what he was doing. The counterpart had more or less kept himself to himself during the trip from Sol to Herses, and again from Herses to Shalleon. The one time Eilentes had tried to engage him in conversation he had seemed less than enthusiastic.

  Now he was shaking his head and muttering to himself.

  She left the rear hatch and walked around to the cockpit access, leaving him to his tasks. Eilentes had her own prep to complete, and if anything it was far more important. If the lander was not fully operational, they might never reach the surface of Guathelia.

  She pulled herself up the rungs recessed into the vessel’s hull and climbed into the open cockpit. The pilot’s seat looked inviting. Homely.

  “Operations logon,” she said, pressing her fingertips against the system holo.

  “Operator not recognised,” it replied.

  She blinked, confused. She had not had
any such problems before.

  Eilentes climbed back down from the cockpit and sought out the deck chief. She was not hard to find; a tall, striking woman who exuded a weird blend of casual authority.

  “Chief? Got a minute?”

  “Only a minute,” the chief said. “I’m snowed under.”

  “That lander there,” Eilentes gestured back the way she had come. “It’s not letting me log on.”

  “All landing craft’ve been prepped already. If you’re not being recognised, you’re not on the flight list.”

  “But… I’m an executive pilot?”

  The chief shrugged. “It’s all part of the OC’s grand design. Waaaaay above my pay grade.”

  “Right. I see.”

  “Sorry,” the chief said. She turned away to address some other problem.

  Huh, Eilentes thought. Well this will be a new experience.

  She headed back to the lander and walked up the ramp to the rear compartment.

  “Need a hand?” She asked Dyne.

  He looked over his shoulder, then back to his work.

  “Not much left to do,” he said.

  “Looks like I’m gonna be a passenger on this trip,” she volunteered. She made sure her tone was cheerful, even if it did convey her annoyance.

  “Guess that makes two of us,” he said.

  “Two?”

  “Don’t try to tell me you don’t know.”

  “I don’t… what are you talking about?”

  “Caden. Doesn’t want me here.”

  “Oh. He’d not said.”

  It was a total lie, and Dyne could probably tell. Caden had in fact expressed his thoughts on the matter — at great length and with vividly described analogies — and Eilentes was fairly certain that everyone on Disputer would have been able to hear his tirade even through the bulkheads, Dyne included.

  “Right. Well let’s just say he’s not a fan.”

  Eilentes thought for a moment before replying; it seemed like anything she might say would turn out to be the wrong thing.

  “You know, I’ve not been working with him for all that long. It wasn’t exactly all smiles and banter when I showed up either.”

  “This is different. I’m guessing he didn’t basically call you a liability from the word go?”

  “Well… no. No he didn’t,” she said.

  “Or suggest that the first thing you did was march yourself off to a court-martial?”

  “Certainly not.”

  “Not the same thing at all then.”

  “I guess not.”

  “I don’t know how I’m supposed to keep him alive if he can’t bear to be anywhere near me. I’m gonna be the first counterpart to lose two Shards in a row.”

  Eilentes suppressed a smile without knowing why.

  “Just keep your eye on him, Rupus. Once he gets stuck in down there he’s going to forget you’re even around.”

  “Oh, well that sounds like an improvement.”

  “Nothing personal,” she added hastily. “He’s the same with everyone. Unless he has something specific he wants you to do, he’s going to be talking to himself for most of the mission.”

  “Sounds like a head case to me.”

  “You’d be surprised.”

  Dyne made a noncommittal noise and stopped talking. Gathering that the conversation was over, Eilentes wandered back down the ramp to the flight deck.

  She watched squads of MAGA troops moving across the cavernous space, seeking out their respective landers. Aside from the thumping of boots on the deck plates, and the occasional clang of a tool being applied to a stubborn fixture, the flight deck was strangely quiet.

  “We’re dropping in twenty.”

  She looked to her left, saw Caden approaching with Volkas following behind him.

  “Are you okay?” She asked. “You look like hell.”

  “I just got to bear witness to a tactical travesty.”

  “I thought the battle was over?”

  “It is. But we’re now down by eleven ships. If the Operational Commander had just listened to me, we’d have taken more hits but suffered fewer losses.”

  “Who’s the OC?”

  “Fuck knows.”

  “Well, we did survive a head-on assault against three dreadships. Something to be proud of, yeah?”

  He said nothing.

  “Seriously, Caden. Three dreadships. That’s no small achievement.”

  “We could have done it with fewer casualties. I’m surprised you’re not more upset about that.”

  “I will be,” said Eilentes. “But… later. Right now we need to make those losses count, and get down to the surface before enemy reinforcements turn up.”

  “If any do.”

  “You think they won’t?”

  “The gate is gone already, and we started interdicting the moment the first of our ships arrived in the system. Chances are, the Shaeld on those dreadships didn’t get word out in time.”

  “I hope you’re right. I don’t fancy being on the surface if it gets hit from orbit.”

  “The only snag is, I was expecting us to be welcomed here by some of our own ships. The Shaeld have used them as cannon fodder in pretty much every encounter we’ve had so far.”

  “So they could turn up at any moment?”

  “I don’t see why not. Oh sure, they will have to get through our orbital cover, but it will only take one ship on a suicide run to wipe out the ground teams.”

  “Great,” Eilentes said. “Just great. And I won’t be able to do a thing about it because I won’t even know it’s about to happen.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Didn’t you know? I’m riding in the back with you chumps today.”

  “You’re not going to be at the controls during the drop?”

  “Nope.”

  “Who is?”

  Eilentes shrugged. “How the hell should I know?”

  “I’m not really fully sold on that idea.”

  “Tell me about it. I hate the idea of being stuck in that compartment back there, not having a view of the descent, thinking we’re about to be spread across the clouds every time the lander hits turbulence. Hate it.”

  “Now you know how the rest of us feel. Every. Single. Time.”

  Eilentes opened her mouth to reply, but she was cut off by a blaring announcement from the flight deck’s PA system: fifteen minute drop warning.

  “Weren’t we supposed to have some troops or something?”

  “If you had to guess at why they aren’t here yet, what would you say?”

  “It’s Bullseye isn’t it?”

  Caden grinned. “You just said that because you saw Volkas.”

  “That, and the fact that they’d be late to their own funerals.”

  “Guess Volkas needs to get a grip of that.”

  • • •

  Bullseye company gathered on the flight deck impressively quickly once Volkas started to make irritable calls to the other platoon leaders. Caden could not help but feel uplifted when he saw First Platoon ambling sloppily towards his lander.

  “Where the hell have you been?” He asked, to nobody in particular.

  “Observation deck,” said Brokko Daxon. “Checking out the utterly awesome.”

  Caden puzzled over the corporal’s vague answer.

  “The utterly awesome what?”

  Daxon and Maxil Brohidder gave each other a knowing grin.

  “What’s the best thing you could hope to see happening on the surface?” Bro said.

  “I don’t know. That could be a lot of things.”

  “Come on, what does everyone always say they want to see first hand?”

  “I’m sure I don’t have the faintest idea.”

  Daxon made a sound that was probably supposed to express exasperation, and Bro looked at Caden as though he were a rookie.

  “I don’t think you’re trying,” said Bro.

  “I’m not really a fan of guessing games,” Caden said.


  “Fine. Your clue is that a heavy carrier joined our battle group once the fight ended.”

  “Seriously, Bro, just tell me…?”

  “Tanker Regiment brought a Pale Horse,” said Bruiser, trudging past the three of them.

  “Bruiser!” Daxon said.

  “Ruined it!” Bro added.

  The Rodori ignored the admonishments, heaved himself up the ramp to the lander’s rear compartment, and stowed his gear.

  “That’s why you were all late? Really?”

  “We’re not late,” Daxon said. “Five minutes yet!”

  “Ten minutes early is on time,” Caden said. “Seriously, your whole company was there?”

  “Near enough,” said Bro. “You don’t often get to see a Pale Horse up close, never mind being towed through space.”

  “But you’ll get to see it on the surface.”

  “No we won’t.”

  Caden had not even noticed Taliam Norskine arriving. She approached from behind him, along with Sergeant Kohoi Chun, and broke into the conversation as if she had been there from the start.

  “We get up close to that thing,” she said, “and we’re definitely in the wrong place.”

  “The Pale Horse is going to the capital,” Chun said. “We aren’t.”

  “It’s not supporting us?” Caden asked.

  “Nope,” said Chun. “It’s there purely as a distraction. We can see the assets on the surface from up here, but nobody knows whose side any of them are on. The Horse will provide a feint to draw the hostiles.”

  “Subtle.”

  “It had better not be,” said Norskine. “Or it won’t work.”

  “Trust me, it definitely won’t be subtle,” Bro grinned.

  “As fun as this is, you guys need to haul ass,” said Caden. “This lander will be leaving in three minutes and none of you are ready.”

  “Move it,” Chun said. “All of you.”

  The troops hauled their gear into the lander and made themselves ready for the drop, moving far faster than Caden had expected they would. Before long the ramp had folded up, the rear hatch was closing, and the lights in the compartment dimmed.

  “Prepare for lift,” the pilot’s voice sounded over the comm.

  Caden felt the vibration of the lander’s engines long before he heard the whine. The whine became a roar, muffled by the hull but reinforced by a surging shudder, and a rubbery jerk hit them as the flight deck’s gravity was selectively disabled on the exit run beneath them.