by Will Crudge
Don’t be on-station, Kara. Please! “Battleship? The Hailstorm is a heavy battlecruiser. Sure, its class can be upgraded to a dreadnaught, but…?” Darius shook his head. Apparently, his insights were fallible after all.
“I can only guess, sir. The IDENT began reporting the change while you were asleep. It would seem they’ve managed an upgrade. I can’t confirm how or why at this time.”
“Very well. Now, about this ‘pushing back’ part. I know Crimson spec ops commandos are tough, but they’re still no match for UAHCSoldiers. What’s changed?” Darius was also taken back by this aspect as well.
“We assess that they have more combatants on station then we’d initially thought. We can only confirm a battalion-sized element, but we’re also well-aware that the Crimson are utilizing civilian freighters to move assets in-system. For all we know, they could have brigades, regiments, or even divisions in the region. Plus, we have confirmed reports of heavy battle-mechs.” The Colonel’s face revealed that if the man was capable of fear, then he’d be projecting it by now. Certainly, soldiers felt fear like anyone else, but their training and discipline allowed for them to still function at a high level in combat despite it.
“Colonel, inform the Fleet Deputy Chief of Staff that he has the conn. A Fleet Marshal can’t command a fleet from a terrestrial compound four light-minutes away from the closest warship.”
“Sir, permission to speak freely?” The Colonel asked.
“Granted,” Darius replied, but he had a good idea of what was about to come out of the operations officer’s mouth.
“Is that wise? We have no warships between Tangine and Earth. If we lose you…” Darius put up his hand to cut the man off.
“Colonel, I empathize with your assessment. You are being pragmatic, which is exactly what you should be doing. I thank you for it, in fact. However, there’s a clear line of succession in place. Should I fall, the UAHC Fleet will not be without leadership. But if I don’t put myself in harm’s way at this point, then I stand to lose any chance of turning the tide. Besides, Colonel, it’s as you’ve said. There are no warships between Earth and Tangine. So, I’ll put three of them there.” Darius winked at the Colonel, and then nodded his head at the tarmac. Colonel Andy turned his head to look towards the window and saw the three LRF-90’s on the landing pads.
“I-I don’t understand, sir? Three vintage long-range fighters wouldn’t last thirty seconds if they are staring down an entire Crimson Fleet!” Andy just shook his head and turned back to his Fleet Marshal.
“You’re forgetting, Colonel. Those three ‘vintage long-range fighters’ destroyed three squadrons of drone fighters, killed over a thousand Crimson troops, and allowed three men, and two Zodiacs to retake this building from a horde of Crimson agents. All bets are off when War Masters are added to the equation.” Darius smiled, but could tell the Colonel wasn’t convinced. But it didn’t matter. The darkness awaited them.
Darius met up with Val in the corridor outside the CIC. The two men didn’t say a word—they didn’t have to. Their deep mental link was fully engaged, and they both were on task.
Val never factored into Darius’ plan, but he was there none the less. The ancient monk didn’t require Darius’ consent to do much of anything, he supposed. Val was four thousand years old… not including a millennium in stasis. Not to mention, he was a Sovereign of an allied nation. Had it not been for his help, then Darius may have been killed or captured by now. The Crimson Alliance had proven an eerie interest in their bloodline and had been targeting inactive Soldiers for decades.
The UAHC didn’t have reserve forces, like other militaries did, and heavily relied on inactive Soldiers to remain available for reactivation. The Crimson Alliance had killed, captured, or otherwise disposed of tens of thousands of UAHC personnel. It was a disturbing trend, to say the least. Darius hadn’t fully grasped the implications until he’d assumed command and could see the top-secret reports. His predecessor had been hiding it from the rest of the government and had reassured the Military Quorum that he was personally tracking vast numbers of combat-ready veterans. A lie to say the least. The Crimson forces were eliminating potential reserves methodically.
But Darius was also well aware that the War Master Guild was fully aware of this and had been countering the Crimson’s efforts. He was comforted in that fact. Nobody in the entire UAHC Fleet Forces knew of the actual plan. Only Consul Gerhardt knew the truth, and that was as far as it needed to go. Crimson Agents could be everywhere. There could be more puppets, or subverted AI’s that lurked in UAHC controlled ships and facilities.
The several minutes of walking had brought them to their fighters. Jep and Growl were already aboard Death-Nail, and he supposed their pre-flight checks were underway. Jep trusted his NAV with his life, but still preferred the visceral experience of manually running through the procedures himself. Darius knew that the Guild members often did things like that. Doing mundane tasks, that were otherwise redundant, helped them feel human, or so he was told. He wasn’t sure why they needed a reminder, but then he still had a lot to learn about his own birthright. He even declined to inquire about his own origins and biological parenthood. He didn’t want emotions to gum up his mind when there was a war to win. A war that was one engagement away from being lost.
The sleek black image of the atmospheric variant LRF-90 rose up in Darius’ awareness. The Death-Nail dusted off and went into a hover. Darius smiled, as if Jep was being impatient. He knew it wasn’t the case at all. Aside from Val, Jep was the most patient human being Darius had ever met.
Val wordlessly boarded his dark red LRF-90. The fighter, known as Blood-Reaper, was already priming its keel thrusters. If Val’s hair was longer than half a centimeter, then Darius suspected it would be blowing wildly in the thruster wash.
“Knock-knock, Doom! I’m coming on board!” Darius said, as he approached the base of the port-side retractable ladder.
“As if I didn’t know, boss!” Doom answered through the audio array in Darius’ armor. “I’ve already got two big black kitties onboard, and neither of them have retractable thumbs or a neural interface to fly me anywhere!”
Darius was about to ask why there were two panthers on board, but then the connection between he and Shadow filled his mind. He felt Sheba’s presence by extension of her marital link with Shadow. He didn’t anticipate her to join them, but if she was half as dangerous as Shadow was, then he welcomed the backup.
“Hello, you two.” He smiled as he entered the berthing area of the fighter. The two panthers were curled up on the floor, and Sheba’s head was lazily resting atop Shadow’s shoulders.
“Hello, Fleet Marshal,” Sheba said with a smile. Her voice module was obstructed by Shadow’s girth, and her voice sounded sinister and sweet at the same time. “I hope you don’t mind me coming. Shade insisted on it, and we don’t question her wishes.”
“I bet not! A panther that was nearly a millennium old, and was a grandmother, is likely not one to question. I think if she considered me an enemy, she’d scare me more than Shadow could!”
Shadow just let out a feline approximation of a laugh. “She’s scarier than Grinder!”
“Grinder? Who’s that?” Darius took his seat in the cockpit.
“Growl’s son. Half k-wolf, half wolfhound, remember?” Sheba chuckled.
“He’s a badass, huh? Too bad he’s not with us too,” Darius said.
“Yep. Shadow may be the most powerful Zodiac in the Guild, but Grinder has his mother’s massive frame, and Growl’s viciousness. When he finishes his training, and pairs with Jimma, they’ll be the most formidable pair since Kaylen and Sundown,” Sheba said.
“Really? I thought she was paired with Sasha?”
“That’s just temporary. Many War Masters operate independently for a few decades after they complete their training. That way they can develop the confidence to operate alone and learn to control their gifts without developing a dependency on their mount to keep the
m grounded, but Jimma is a different case,” Shadow added.
“Jimma? Different?” Darius asked.
“She’s more prone to Primal Rage than most human Guild Masters. If she experiences prolonged combat without something to keep her grounded, then she’d likely turn into a two-legged warhead,” Sheba answered.
“Primal Rage, huh?” Darius lifted the LRF-90 from the tarmac. “I’ve heard of that, but thought it was just part of the inflated mythos, more than fact.”
“It’s real enough. All War Masters are capable of it under the right conditions, but some are more prone than others. Depends on the individual bloodlines of course. Remember, you are in that same bloodline. That’s why pairing you with the most powerful Zodiac was critical. If you somehow tapped into Primal Rage without training, then you would likely consume yourself in a fit of rage and energy… likely take a few square kilometers out in the process,” Sheba explained.
Me? A human warhead? “Well, I suppose I should switch to decaf until this war is over then.” Darius let out a nervous chuckle.
The Battleship Skull-Crusher
Location: UAHC Heavy Battlecruiser, Hailstorm, CIC; Tangine Interstellar Port
Date Time: Post Interstellar 08/04/4201 0543HRS Local
System: Sol System, Mid Region
“You’re insane, Steve. I don’t understand why you can’t serve as the Hailstorm’s AI.” The Rear Admiral scoffed. The Commodore seemed to share the sentiment, as his face was incredulous as well.
“Trust me, sir. I wish I could. I’ve been recently upgraded to be roughly on-par with a military-grade AI, but I still have design limitations that prevent me from effectively operating a vessel with so much bandwidth and processing power. It’s like having an ancient digital calculator trying to figure out how to navigate through FTL transitions,” Steve replied.
“Granted, you may be right, but what you’re suggesting is ridiculous. You want us to keep a two millennia old space fighter hooked up to a flagship and have the NAV system act as the AI? I think I’d rather just wing it with a human crew under manual operation,” John spat.
“Wouldn’t work. The upgrades done to this ship has likely made it the most complex warship that’s ever seen combat to date. Your crew will need weeks of maneuvers and training to scratch the surface. Not to mention, the sentience of Skull coupled with the technical support of Crusher, will be your greatest weapon. They’ve both achieved sentience on their own. They lack manufacturing limitations. Even if your AI’s in containment were up to their full capacity, they’d run into the same limitations I would. The Hailstorm is too complex… too powerful. Skull can make this floating city dance across the stars like a ballerina, and then take on a Crimson Fleet at the same time!” Steve retorted.
“Fuck! Whatever! I’m passing my tokens now. Get this, Skull, to report to me ASAP!” The Admiral didn’t know if he was fuming or just letting his pride get the better of him. Either way, he couldn’t argue.
“Here, Admiral. I am Skull.” Skull chimed in.
“Fine! Well, Skull, what now?” John’s flushed face was none-too-pleased.
“Sir, now we have to cover our personnel on-station,” Skull said.
“Already happening. Tell me something I’ll be impressed with.”
“Well, we need not stay docked to do so. I understand we’ve remained docked to allow the intake of casualties, and the rotation of combat troops to occur, but we can do better,” Skull said.
“As if I need a lesson on combat operations from a navigation computer! I am a…”
“Rear Admiral, I get it. With all due respect, let me finish!” Skull’s own impatience escalated the exchange rather quickly.
“Who do you…?” The Admiral was cut off again.
“I’m a two-thousand-year-old sentient entity who’s fought more battles than any living military grade AI. If I say there’s a better way, then I’m not just being an asshole, I’m being an asshole who knows what the fuck he’s doing! Shut up, sit down, and listen!”
***
“We’re being recalled again,” David spouted, and then took aim from behind cover and fired off a few more bursts from his plasma rifle.
“How’s that going to work any better than the last five times they’ve sent the order, sir?” The newly promoted Sergeant Jefe asked. The shootout was raging within the food court, and the intense fighting wouldn’t allow for freedom of maneuver.
“Seems like we’re not being called back to the airlock at our ship. We’ve got new coordinates,” Lieutenant Kelley said ask she took a break from shooting and focused on her neural interface feed. “They’ve undocked. They want all personnel to fall back to the customs area half a click down the main concourse.”
“SHIT!” Jefe shouted in response to a ballistic round glancing off his helmet. He tucked his head and shoulders back down behind the portable energy shield. “What’s Colonel Elder’s location, ma’am? We need to confirm she’s got the message. These Crimson fuckers have ion fields set up all over, and she may not have gotten word.”
“I can’t raise her. She’s off my HUD,” Kelley replied.
“Mine too, damn!” David added. “We can’t help her if we wanted to. She’s got a War Master and a gigantic fucking cat with her, so she may be in better shape than we are.”
“Understood, sir. Orders?”
“These marines lost their CO, and their XO is missing an arm. I’ll order a staged withdraw and lead them back to the fallback point. You two blaze a trail back to the extraction point and make sure we don’t have any surprises waiting for us!” Davis spouted.
“Yes, sir!” Kelley and Jefe responded in unison. Their four-man crew was down to just three now, so they both seemed more comfortable with robotic responses than showing true emotion.
David saw them take off at a dead sprint and reach at least seventy kilometers per hour by the time they vanished from sight. “Listen up, marines! Get your wounded to cover and start E and E maneuvers!” Davis was referring to Escape and Evade.
***
The Battleship Hailstorm had undocked and was now gliding through the Tangine taxiways that laid between the individual hyper gate lanes. Skull was now one with the mighty ship. He’s never operated another ship before and was now excited to be in control of a full-scale warship. He had never even experience slip-space before. Being aboard a larger vessel during FTL transition wasn’t the same. But now he could feel what it would be like to bisect the laws of physics and leave the pesky photons of starlight behind.
Crusher, however, didn’t give a crap about any of that. He was busy building upon the existing improvements he’d already made. Doing his best to improve and, in some cases, completely reengineer certain systems without even taking them off-line. The hull maintenance entity was in his own state of bliss and could care less about the battle that was about to rage around him. In fact, he was almost looking forward to it. Not only could he see how his new shielding and energy deflectors perform in actual combat, but he’d get the chance to repair damage in real-time. The ability for near-instant repair wasn’t an entirely new feature aboard any UAHC warship, but now the battleship could be fully repaired given enough time. Self-repair nano-tech was limited to critical systems and could only prolong functionality to a certain degree. But Crusher had maintained his LRF with few physical repairs ever having to be needed.
Skull was so busy enjoying his new experience, while keeping track of Crusher’s, that he’d almost not noticed the anomalous change in traffic. The STC transmitters went silent all at once, and the taxiways began to clear of traffic. Trying to eavesdrop on ship coms would be a moot point. Nearly all the freighters were drone-operated. The human-crewed vessels had already been diverted by the STC hours earlier.
The human UAHC personnel knew that was an indication of an impending attack, but they had no clue exactly how and when it would occur. Amateurs! He thought. He paused to make his vector adjustments, as was required when a space-based ship had to fl
y in a continuous arc around an abject that lacked the gravitational mass to allow for orbiting.
The anomaly became more and more clear. He sent a countdown indictor to the CIC. He figured the UAHC meet-sacks might as well be involved. God forbid they not feel in control. If Skull had eyes, they’d be rolling right now. And of course, the meat-sacks now had questions that they needed answers for. How humanity had ever managed to develop faster than light travel by using chemical-based biological processors, known as brains, escaped him.
“What is this count-down I’m seeing on my command console, Skull?” Rear Admiral John asked.
“Oh, that? Meh, that’s just when the Crimson Fleet will be pouring through the hyper gates. No worries, sir,” The cocky NAV replied.
“What? How can you be sure?”
“Because the drone freighters are thinning out. By my algorithm, that means that when the timer hits zero, the first wave of Crimson vessels will be punching through. But they have no idea what’s about to happen.”
“Explain!” John spat.
“I’ve used our upgraded coms array to put our own data filter against the gates. As far as the Crimson knows, this ship is a sitting duck with the reactors powered down too low to be of any threat,” Skull explained.
“We’ve had the reactors powered up for two days. Surely, they’re aware,” John surmised.
“Yes, they are. At least the Crimson fuck-sticks in this system are. The incoming fleets are expecting no resistance. As far as they know, the Crimson spec ops folks on station have been kicking our asses, and they’re free to glide on through to the HAL launchers unopposed. To be honest, they may not even have their shields up to full power. They don’t want a fleet of combat ships radiating that much energy through or near a hyper gate. Might throw a wrench in their plan if one decided to implode into an unstable singularity and take out the station. They can’t afford to spend a month or two in slip-space, lest the UAHC have a chance to reposition our forces.”