And so the Great Conquest, Warlord Junju thought, had begun.
It was a frustrating thought. He should be out among the stars, winning glory with his clan-brothers, rather than stuck defending a worthless planet. The Great Lords might argue that Malachi had to be defended, but Junju knew better. There was no way the prey could or would muster the nerve to attack a world of their betters. They were prey! The forces that had shaped them hadn't given them the killer instincts his people had needed to survive their homeworld, let alone their work for the Tokomak. No, he was trapped because the Great Lords feared what he would do, if he were given his freedom. He would win such great victories that they would no longer be able to turn their backs on him.
“Warlord,” a voice said. Warlord Junju turned to see a junior officer prostrating himself on the deck. “The destroyers are intercepting the prey freighter.”
Warlord Junju hissed his amusement as he turned to examine the giant system display, his eyes flickering over his subordinates. The prey had no idea how much things had changed, now the Tokomak were gone. Their ship would be confiscated, their cargo would be put to use supporting the Great Conquest and, if the prey submitted quickly enough, they would be put to work as labourers of war. Or, if they didn’t submit, they would be dumped into the hunting pastures for his soldiers to hunt. They needed practice, after all; the Great Conquest needed experienced soldiers. Maybe he’d take a few hours off and go hunting himself. Some of the prey were almost intelligent in how they fought back against their betters.
“The destroyers ...”
The speaker broke off as the display turned into a haze of static. Warlord Junju bared his teeth, fighting down the reflex that would have turned the CIC into a bloody combat zone, and waited until his officers calmed down. In that, so much as anything else, they took their cue from their betters. Warlord Junju had earned his post and he never let any of them forget it.
“Report,” he ordered, calmly.
“The freighter released a courier boat, which jumped into FTL seconds before the freighter exploded,” one of the officers said. She sounded terrified, knowing her superior could execute her on the spot if he held her responsible for failure. “The explosion released a wave of charged gravity particles. Damage to the system’s long-range sensors has been extensive.”
Warlord Junju flexed his claws. If it had been the officer’s fault, he would have cut her throat and drunk her blood without a second thought. The weak and foolish died so that the strong could survive and prosper. But there was no point in punishing her merely for giving him an accurate report.
“Get the repair crews out there,” he ordered, keeping his bloodlust under tight control. The freighter crew must have sensed their fate and panicked, like some of the more challenging forms of prey. But why had they been carrying a courier boat? “I want those sensors back up within the hour!”
***
Hoshiko sucked in her breath the moment she materialised in the CIC, then keyed the intercom as she sat down in front of the big display. “Do you have the data download from the courier boat?”
“Aye, Captain,” Wilde said. “We’re passing it to the remainder of the fleet now.”
“Inform them we’re going with Attack Plan Alpha-Three,” Hoshiko said. She’d composed nine separate plans, but Alpha-Three fitted the situation best. “Order them to bring up their drives and be ready to jump within five minutes.”
She leaned back in her chair, then looked at Lieutenant Brown. “Is the CIC ready to take over as fleet command?”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. He was a competent officer, although his file claimed he was a little unimaginative for his role. “We’re ready.”
Hoshiko sat back in her chair. They’d practiced, endlessly, but now they were about to undergo the real test. If something went wrong ...
At least we can break off and escape those battlestations, she told herself. A handful of destroyers and a light cruiser won’t pose a major threat if we have to leave.
“Then take command,” she ordered. “Signal to all ships. Go to condition one, then jump on my command.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. “All ships report ready.”
“Jump,” Hoshiko ordered.
She sucked in a breath. If everything had gone according to plan ...
Stop worrying, she told herself firmly, as the timer ticked down to zero. You’re about to find out the hard way.
“Emergence in two minutes, fifteen seconds, Captain,” Brown reported. “Fleet control systems, up and ready; fleet datanet sub-networks, up and ready.”
“Good,” Hoshiko said. “Pass the word. If any enemy ships are within engagement range as soon as we arrive, they are to be attacked with maximum force.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.
Hoshiko sat back in her chair as the timer ticked down the final few seconds. No one, apart from the Tokomak, had ever deployed so many ships in a single battle - and no one had deployed quite so many different types of ships. Command and control was going to be a major headache, even if everyone cooperated perfectly; her simulations had shown her, in far too much detail, just what could go wrong. But there was no longer any time to rehearse ...
“Emergence, Captain,” Brown reported, as the display began to fill with red lights. “No enemy ships within engagement range; I say again, no enemy ships within engagement range.”
Pity, Hoshiko thought. She looked at the display towards where the freighter had been before she’d abandoned the vessel to her fate. One enemy destroyer was nearby, clearly crippled; there was no sign of the other. Let us hope it was destroyed in the blast.
She turned her attention back to Malachi itself. “Order the fleet to shake down and advance towards the closest battlestation,” she ordered. The enemy was already sweeping the fleet with tactical sensors, looking for targets. They’d have to be blind to miss the fleet, although human-grade ECM was already making life difficult for their tactical staffs. “Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2 are to engage with missiles as soon as they enter engagement range; the remainder of the fleet is to hold back and ready itself for a successive engagement.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said.
“And once they have expended their missiles, they are to retreat to the RV point,” Hoshiko added. The alien crews already knew, of course, but the desire for revenge burned strong in their breasts. “They’ll be nothing more than targets once they’ve shot themselves dry.”
She forced herself to watch calmly as the giant fleet slowly closed in on its target. For once, the Druavroks didn't seem inclined to launch suicide attacks, although she had a nasty feeling they suspected such attacks would be useless. But then, if they took out a handful of genuine warships, her fleet’s ability to fight would be sharply reduced. Thankfully, the ECM would make it harder for them to pick out the targets they should be hitting. Instead, their handful of starships were slowly settling into a defensive formation. If they’d been human, one or more ships would already have been dispatched to raise the alarm.
“Twenty seconds to engagement range,” Brown reported. “Task Force 2.1’s CO requests permission to launch a wide spread of missiles.”
“Denied,” Hoshiko said, sharply. A wide spread, under normal circumstances, would force the defenders to concentrate on preventing missiles from striking the planet’s surface, but she had a feeling the Druavroks wouldn't give a damn for their own civilians, let alone anyone else’s. “Missiles are to be targeted on the battlestation and its remote platforms alone.”
And the battlestation mounts plenty of point defence, she thought, grimly. We need such a high density of missiles to be sure of scoring a kill.
“Ten seconds to engagement range,” Brown said.
“The missile-slingers are to open fire as soon as they enter engagement range,” Hoshiko reminded him. “They’re not to wait for orders.”
Because the bastards will start opening fire as soon as we enter their engagement range, she
thought, grimly. Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2 carried Galactic missiles, not human. It was a calculated risk, but Malachi was a fairly soft target. Besides, it gave the fabbers time to produce hundreds of additional human-grade missiles. They’ll try to give as good as they get.
“Five seconds,” Brown said.
“Stand by point defence,” Hoshiko ordered.
***
Warlord Junju’s first inclination had been to demand the head of whoever had started a training simulation without giving the command crew sufficient warning, as laid down in the regulations they’d copied from the Tokomak. His second had been to refuse to believe in the invading fleet. It couldn't exist. It simply couldn't exist ... and yet, the more his sensors reported on its composition and steady approach, the harder it became to deny reality. The freighter hadn't been an accident, or a panicking crew; the freighter had been the first shot in the Battle of Malachi.
“Keep the ships back,” he ordered. Their commanders wanted to charge into the teeth of enemy fire, weapons blazing in their contempt for the prey, but these were clearly very dangerous prey indeed. And yet, three-quarters of their giant fleet was composed of freighters, rather than warships. “They are to hold position until I give the order to move.”
He hissed in agitation as the enemy fleet moved closer. Some prey were cunning, almost intelligent in their cunning, others ... were inclined to panic the moment they encountered true predators. These prey looked to be the former, except there were so many ships in their formation that it was hard to tell who was crewing them, let alone who was in command. He couldn't tell if sending freighters against his battlestations was a desperation move, intended to soak up his missiles, or if they truly had no conception of the difference between warships and freighters.
“We shall not fall for such simplistic trickery,” he hissed. “Our missiles are to be targeted on the warships - and the warships alone.”
“Yes, Warlord,” his subordinates chorused.
Warlord Junju ignored them as the sensor readings started to fuzz. He was familiar with ECM, of course, but this was a great deal more advanced than anything he’d seen in his long career. It was suddenly a great deal harder to target the warships, although it wouldn't matter as much as the prey presumably thought. His sensors would have no difficulty locating and tracking the warships when they opened fire. And then ... the warships would no longer be able to hide.
“Enemy ships are entering engagement range,” one of his subordinates warned. “Enemy ships are opening fire ... impossible!”
***
“Burn, you bastards,” Hoshiko muttered.
The engineers had done her proud, as always. They’d crammed hundreds of missile launchers and thousands of missiles into the freighters that made up Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2. The Druavroks could not possibly have expected to see so many missiles from only a hundred ships ... and, if they had a moment to think about it, they’d have good reason to worry about what the remainder of her fleet might be carrying. A solid wall of nuclear firepower was making its unstoppable way towards the enemy battlestation.
“The enemy are opening fire,” Brown reported, as the battlestation began to spit fire towards her fleet. It was pathetic, utterly pathetic, compared to the single giant volley she’d hurled at the battlestation. “They’re targeting Task Force 2.1 and Task Force 2.2.”
“Order them both to jump out, as planned,” Hoshiko said.
Her eyes narrowed as the solid wall of icons roared towards its target. The Druavroks had made a mistake in trying to hit her freighters, the ones that had already shot themselves dry ... why? Had they thought they were shooting at warships? She hoped, inwardly, that the enemy wouldn't be able to adjust their missiles to engage new targets, but she doubted they’d be that lucky. The Druavroks weren't the Horde.
“Forty seconds to impact,” Brown reported. “Enemy missiles are retargeting themselves on Task Force 3.1 and 4.1.”
“Order point defence to cover them,” Hoshiko said. She'd feared the enemy would try to use their missiles as makeshift point defence weapons - they could, if they were carrying antimatter warheads - but it seemed as though the Druavroks hadn't had time to think of it before it was too late. “And ready a second barrage, just in case.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. A new set of icons flashed to life. “Enemy ships are altering position.”
“Order Task Force 1.2 to engage,” Hoshiko ordered. The chance to smash a handful of ships at little risk could not be disregarded. Their allies would like a crack at the bastards before they were destroyed. “And move Task Force 1.3 up in support.”
***
“Order all point defence to engage as soon as the enemy missiles come into range,” Warlord Junju hissed. “We will not be beaten by prey!”
He glowered at two of his subordinates until they got the message and went to work. Their brains had practically shut down the moment the enemy ships - a tenth of their force, no less - had begun spewing out missiles, as if they couldn't accept the sudden shift in reality. It was hard to blame them, he knew; he’d never suspected the presence of battleships in the enemy fleet, despite their ECM. And yet, the battleships were jumping out. It made no sense. How much of the fleet looming over the battlestation was actually real?
“Monitor their formation to determine who engages the missiles,” he ordered, grimly. If he’d had long-range probes, he would have launched them. No ECM could hide everything from a prowling probe. “Once you know, reassign the missiles to target them.”
He hissed again as the wall of missiles swept towards his command. They had to be real ... and there were just too many of them to stop. His subordinates hadn't realised it yet, but the battlestation was doomed. The prey had turned into predators. Indeed, they’d shown tactical brilliance by positioning their fleet so the other two battlestations couldn't hope to engage them, while the defending ships couldn’t hope to match their firepower. Warlord Junju and his subordinates were on their own.
“Order the ships to retreat,” he said. It would get him in trouble, when word reached the Great Lords, but he doubted he’d survive long enough to face their rage. And he was beyond caring what the commanders thought. “They’re to jump out and alert the Great Lords to a new and dangerous species of prey.”
The point defence opened fire as soon as the missiles came into view, but for every incoming missile they killed there were ten more that made it through the defences and rammed into the shields. Warlord Junju clung on to his command chair for dear life as the battlestation rocked, time and time again, before the shields finally failed and the missiles started slamming into the hull. Damage reports mounted so rapidly that he could barely keep track of them before they were superseded by something new, enemy warheads exploding within his hull ...
... And then the universe went away in a blaze of white-hot light.
Chapter Seventeen
Mobs stormed the palaces of the rich and powerful in Brasilia after the economy, looted beyond repair, collapsed into chaos. Reports from sources within the Brazilian military suggest that the soldiers flatly refused to intervene, when ordered, as their families are among the hundreds of thousand starving to death ...
-Solar News Network, Year 54
“Commander,” Biscoe reported. “The first battlestation has been destroyed.”
Griffin nodded. The Druavroks had fought desperately, but even a human-built battlestation would have found it impossible to stop more than a fraction of the missiles fired at it. He had to admit the station had lasted longer than he’d expected, yet the outcome had been inevitable.
Score one for the captain, he thought, although cold fear was coiling through his gut. Amstar was one thing, but this was a direct attack on a world that undisputedly belonged to the Druavroks. They wouldn't find it so easy to write off the attack, when - if - the diplomats met to settle the war. And they’ll feel obliged to hit back.
***
“Order Task Force 4.1
to target Battlestation Two,” Hoshiko ordered. “Task Force 4.2 is to target Battlestation Three.”
“Aye, Captain,” Brown said. He worked his console for a long moment as icons moved over the display. “Orders have been sent, Captain.”
“All other ships are to target the automated platforms,” Hoshiko ordered. The handful of remaining Druavrok starships had either mounted suicide charges or jumped into FTL, fleeing the system as fast as they could. She had a nasty feeling they were only going as far as the nearest enemy squadron. “I want the skies cleared of everything hostile.”
She sucked in her breath as the remainder of the fleet opened fire, targeting the automated platforms and blowing them out of space. Like the missiles she’d hurled at the battlestation, it was overkill, but she needed everyone in her fleet to think they’d made a contribution. She rather doubted any of the spacers would be fooled - they’d understand the realities of interstellar combat as well as her crews - yet if the alien media outlets were anything like their human counterparts, the news could be spun to make it appear that their contribution had been decisive. Assuming, of course, the aliens had media outlets. The Tokomak had never been big on distributing information to the peons.
The Black Sheep (A Learning Experience Book 3) Page 17