"Warlord is leading the withdrawal from battle, along with the Helions and more than seventy civilian ships. They are moving fast, but look behind them."
Her hand moved a fraction below and tagged the mass of red icons.
"Fifty plus vessels from Ararrh III, and all in a pursuit course of the Admiral. Nearly a third of those are captured military ships."
She let that sink in for a second.
"And then we have us, three battered ships and a reduced complement of marines and fighters on board."
"Don't forget the third group," said a familiar voice.
They all turned to see the splendid figure of Prince Kratha approaching. He walked up to the Captain and saluted in the human fashion.
"I have just received another series of messages via the Cortex. It would appear the equipment is still functioning, for now at least."
"What do you have?" asked the Captain.
Prince Kratha pointed to the third group again.
"This is the vanguard of a major force. They are bearing the insignia of the Legate of the Interior. According to my sources, this fleet is responsible for internal security in their new Empire. It comprises almost a quarter of the available ships."
His eyes opened much wider before he continued.
"This one fleet includes military ships taken throughout the fallen systems. Byotai, Anicinàbe, and even a few Alliance that had been loaned to our military. And as for this one..."
His hand pointed to the vanguard formation.
"This supercarrier was unknown to my agents until recently. There is scattered information coming from inside Anicinàbe space that it is based upon a much older vessel, modified to use more recent weapons and fighters."
He handed over an electronic device, similar in size to the old Secpad used in the Alliance. It showed a coloured schematic of the ship, along with details in Byotai script.
"A loyalist special ops team recovered this data from a hulk two weeks ago."
Captain Galanos examined it for a moment, and then signalled for her tactical officer to come over. The young officer moved to join them and examined the diagram with growing interest.
"Can I add this to our system?"
The Prince nodded, and the officer moved away to his own computer system. Prince Kratha looked back to the senior officers.
"You should find quite quickly that the ship is based upon what we believe is a Byotai relic from almost four hundred years ago. I have no idea where they found it, but it will have taken a number of years to restore and refit to the level it is at now."
His eyes narrowed and he tried to smile.
"Now it is the flagship of the Deadlands Fleet, itself part of the many forces commanded by the Legate of the Interior. Who knows what other surprises this Tahkeome has in store for us."
He licked his lips again, clearly trying to be careful about what he said.
"Others ships have been seen and new designs are already being sent to shipyards in The Trinity. They have the capacity to produce new ships every month, the factories are a work of art."
The Prince looked bitter and angry as he described what the agents had seen.
"Entire new designs were taking the place of the tried and tested Byotai designs, with almost all civilian shipyards now working on the new programme. And my agents say the great robotic machines are slaving away night and day to construct them in blocks."
Captain Galanos laughed.
"From the people spouting the gospel of machine hatred. How ironic."
The icons that represented the ships showed little detail other than their estimated size and class. Yet there was a clear discrepancy between the majority of them and the so-called supercarrier.
"Wait," said Captain Galanos, "What technology are you talking about, exactly?"
Prince Kratha moved closer and spoke quietly in her ear, his translator automatically reducing its volume so as not to be too easily heard and understood.
"I cannot confirm or deny any of this, but my agents say Tahkeome has been exchanging technology with one of your own corporations."
Captain Galanos looked taken aback by this.
"What? Do you have evidence for this?"
Prince Kratha shook his head.
"Not yet. The information is scattered, but a derelict was mentioned. I am awaiting direct contact with my agents soon."
The name meant little to the Captain, and for now she put it aside, though making a mental note to mention it to the Admiral when next they spoke. For now, she had more pressing concerns.
"So tell me, Kratha. What else have you learnt from the people we rescued on the station? They've been here some time, I suspect. Have they other news from inside the Empire that could help in our struggle?"
The Prince lifted his head and considered her question.
"There is news, but most of it is unimportant. Political appointments, collaboration by several governors, and the like."
Captain Galanos kept nodding as he spoke.
"Tell me, all of it."
The alien was surprised to see her taking so much interest in his affairs.
"Why all the questions?"
Captain Dreuc, who until now had been silent, lifted an arm.
"Because it is clear to all of us that the future of the Alliance is now inextricably tied with our own. Since we escaped, the Captain and I have had many discussions about the Empire and our heritage. She is considered the resident expert on Byotai affairs in this fleet."
"I see," said Prince Kratha.
He gave the Captain a mock bow.
"In that case, where shall I begin?"
* * *
The powerful warship left the planet at maximum burn. Her engines burned white hot as the ship blasted away from yet another volley of gunfire from the distant warships. Just behind her were the battered shapes of her two escorts, ANS New Berlin and ANS London. Both had taken a number of heavy impacts, and large black marks showed the impact points of multiple missiles. For all the damage they'd sustained, all three were now moving away from the planet at an ever-increasing velocity. Behind them the station, surrounded by the wreckage of fighters and civilian ships, as well as fuel and spent ammunition. The bulk of the newly arrived ships continued on their present course to the station, but a portion changed course to match the route taken by the Alliance ships. They were now moving parallel to each other and for the Spacebridge that led to Fiorr Veej and beyond.
* * *
A great cloud surrounded the Mauler as its occupants clambered out of the spacecraft's hull. Many were wounded. Some even staggered and then fell to the ground as they moved away from the damage hull. First out were those marines able to walk under their own effort, and carrying or helping the many wounded onto the ship. More than a dozen medical personnel were already there with stretchers, emergency gear, and a pair of Mules. The robotic machines settled down low onto their four legs and waited until the wounded were loaded onto their panniers. Privates Valentine and Jackson came out together, and once on the deck they grabbed each other, sharing an embrace.
"That was intense. I mean seriously intense," said Jackson as they separated.
Private Valentine removed her helmet and let it drop down to her side. Her hair was matted with sweat, her faced marked from dozens of tiny scratches.
"Intense? Are you kidding me? That was insane!"
Prince Kratha, General Honorius, and his escort stepped out and stretched their limbs as they waited on the deck. Lieutenant Heiskell waited alongside them, the thermal bolt still embedded in his shoulder. Now his helmet was off he sported a new gash on his forehead, yet as usual nothing seemed to concern him about himself, only these marines and their guests. A group of orderlies moved past, and he directed them inside.
"We've got wounded Byotai soldiers inside. Take care of them..."
He grabbed the first medic.
"Don't forget procedure, though. They are unknown to us. They must be thoroughly vetted, and when th
ey are able, the Prince will see to each of them."
The medic nodded and then moved inside the shattered spacecraft. Lieutenant Heiskell turned back to his Byotai friends. Prince Kratha nodded in agreement of what he'd just done. His translator spoke a dull monotone voice, but that didn't seem to irritate the officer as much as usual.
"That is a sensible decision. Any of my people brought aboard must be disarmed and questioned thoroughly. All are welcome to join in my battle to reclaim the Empire, but there are many that have already changed sides. None of us can afford to take chances."
The Lieutenant acknowledged with a grim smile, but he'd already decided that he simply wanted to go through the motion, to make sure procedures were adhered to. In reality, if the Byotai had been hostile, they could quite easily have detonated a weapon on their way back. A single grenade could have killed the future of the Empire there and then. There would be other occasions, though, and like so many of the veterans on the ship, he knew how easy it was to forget the basics.
"Well, Prince. That went..."
"Well," agreed Prince Kratha.
Both looked at the craft they had arrived on. The General, normally silent on this alien ship, pointed to the Mauler.
"Your engineers are to be commended. This spacecraft is a true work of art."
The aged warrior walked slowly towards the craft’s flank and placed a hand on the metal. He proceeded to whisper something his own tongue, all while the others watch in a mixture of surprise and confusion.
"What's he doing?" Lieutenant Heiskell asked.
The Prince extended his tongue and ran it along his teeth before answering.
"He is thanking the spacecraft and our Gods for bringing us back alive."
He didn't seem very impressed.
"Don't thank the ship; she's just a lump of metal and spare parts. Thank the people that made and maintained her, and the people flying her."
Prince Kratha seemed to agree, but he refused to say anything to his old General and left him to continue his almost silent talking to the battered machine. The Prince moved his attention back to the Lieutenant.
"Your people have done me a great service today, and I cannot thank you enough. The signal from the Cortex is spreading, and nothing will be able to stop the signal. I have encoded it with my Royal seal, and given my orders as Imperator to what remains of the Imperial military and bureaucracy."
As the small group continued to talk, Nate and Billy sat still and waited. They were completely stunned by what had just happened, and neither could summon the mental or physical will to release their harnesses and leave the Mauler. They sat in the cockpit of the Mauler and said nothing. Nate could feel his entire body shaking even as the small side hatch clicked and hissed open. Ground crew signalled for them to get out, but neither could move. One of the men clambered up the side and leaned inside.
"You both okay?"
Nate nodded quickly.
"Yeah, give us a minute."
The man pulled back and gave them an okay sign with his right hand. As he vanished from view, Nate looked to his friend.
"How the hell did we get back in one piece, Billy? That last part, with the fighters. I thought we were goners."
Billy's face was white, so much so that Nate was sure he must have been injured. All of their readings read as normal on the bio-indicators, with the obvious exception of their heart rates. Both were still pumped up high on adrenalin, and their hearts hammered away like drums. Billy panted as he spoke, slightly out of breath.
"It was the squadron...didn't you see the markings?"
Nate shook his head.
"Billy, it was hard enough for me to keep this thing flying straight and level. Two engines on minimal power, and the secondary thrusters were dumping all kinds of stuff around us."
He tried to laugh, but it came out more like a howl.
"Frankly, I'm amazed we made it halfway back, let alone inside the ship. Maulers were never this tough in simulations."
"So OP," muttered Billy.
Nate laughed at his attempt at a joke in these circumstances. The acronym was actually a gaming abbreviation to describe something as Over Powered. It usually came up after a test release of the Star Crusader public platform. Anything new or unusual was often immediately labelled as OP, even if it was nothing particularly dangerous. Most of this was down to unfamiliarity with the craft or technology. More important, it was a reminder of the life they had led until recently and how it still affected them, even when confronted by the insanity and danger of actual conflict.
"Come on," said Nate, "Let's get out of here."
He pulled the release lever and clambered out from behind the seat. It took a little effort to squeeze past the broken storage units that lay behind their seats. Once there he pulled on Billy's harness only to find it locked solid.
"Man, we were lucky. Your gear is locked up. Hold on."
Billy tried to twist around, but the harness kept him locked in place. He started to panic, so Nate put his hand on his shoulder.
"It's okay. I've got this."
He reached down and tapped a rectangular plate between the two seats. The plate lifted open and inside was a small signal pistol and survival hook. He grabbed the latter and placed the hook end over one of the straps and yanked it hard. The internal blade severed the strap with ease and with that, Billy was free. Just seconds later Nate was out of the hatch and helping his friend to the deck.
"Wow," said Nate.
Nate looked back at the hull of the Mauler and shook his head with bewilderment. He knew they'd taken a lot of hits, but now that they were safely aboard the ship he could finally see the damage caused by gunfire, rockets, missiles, and debris. The entire right-hand side was covered in small holes, many of which had penetrated inside the hull. Long black marks showed where bullets and chunks of metal had scraped along the length at high speed. Billy was there, along with Hawkins, and Matilda who had just arrived after climbing out of her own Lightning.
"Insane," she exclaimed.
Billy laughed nervously, now seeing the damage for the first time. Matilda walked up to the plating and ran her hand along the side. She paused and kept her hand on the spacecraft while examining the Mauler carefully. Rex then arrived, but as he wiped his face, he ended up smearing grease along his cheek. He hadn't noticed, and Hawkins laughed as he passed by to see Nate. They might all now be one squadron, but there was always going to be a difference between the two original intakes of pilots. And good or bad, he felt a stronger bond with Nate, Billy, and the others in such circumstances.
"You two really don't believe in coming back aboard without wrecking your ship, do you?" Rex said.
Matilda laughed at that, something she rarely did.
"And it seems you took a missile blast to the cockpit. Look."
She extended out her arm and showed the familiar blast pattern caused by a fragmenting warhead. A long line ran from top to bottom that consisted of scores of tiny finger-sized dents and punctures. There was so many that Nate just shook his head slowly in amazement. Matilda even pushed a finger into one of the breaches and then looked back at them both.
"Three centimetres higher and this one would have penetrated the cockpit. Instead it went right through and must have bounced around the landing skid mechanism."
Billy tried to speak, but his voice was so dry there was nothing but a grunting sound. He swallowed several times and could finally talk, much to his relief. Nate opened his mouth to speak and then stopped as Billy stepped past him and towards Matilda. To everybody's surprise, he pulled her close and held on for several seconds. When he released her, she waited upright, her arms hung down low and a bemused expression on her face.
"Thanks for your help out there."
Next he turned to Rex and grabbed him, too.
"Hey, easy now there, fella."
He couldn't stop Billy's enthusiastic embrace, though, and when they separated, Billy looked even whiter than before. Nate moved clos
er to his friend, but Billy now walked around the Mauler, muttering to himself. Matilda tried to grab him, but Ensign Hawkins stepped through at the wrong time, completely ignoring the confused figure of Billy and pointed at the Mauler.
"And look at this one."
He had moved further to the back and pointed at something strange just below the rear left engine mount. A large, jagged piece of metal had embedded itself in the flank of the Mauler and torn open a hole large enough to squeeze a man's head inside. He leaned in closer and began to chuckle.
"This isn't a weapon. This is a fragment of a Byotai fighter. Look."
He right hand pointed to where a runic symbol common to the Byotai could be seen. None of them seemed particularly interested, and instead tried to get to their friend. As this odd interaction continued, Prince Kratha and his escort approached and waited as he observed what was happening. Like Hawkins, he seemed fascinated by the broken wreckage. When Hawkins stopped speaking, he joined in.
"You are of course correct. This is part of a Hawkmoth wing membrane, and that rod is the mounting structure."
He looked to Nate and bared his teeth, possibly trying to smile.
"Your ship took a lot of damage in the fight." He lowered his head in submission, "I owe you, and my people owe you once more, Ensign Lewis of the Alliance Navy."
His right arm touched his chest, and he turned to leave. No sooner had he done so, his entourage formed up behind him. All were filthy, covered in the dirt, blood, dust, and grime of war. The marines, several of whom dropped to the floor and lay down, took their place their bodies shattered with exhaustion. The badly damaged flank near the exit door fascinated Private Jackson. As he reached the metallic surface, Billy cried out something and was gone, running off into the distance. A medic approached Nate.
"Is he injured?"
Nate shook his head.
"No. He needs to be alone for a minute. Don't worry, I'll see to him."
The medic paused and then moved a little closer.
"He needs to come to the med bay, and fast. I'll give you ten minutes, any more and I'll send for him."
Operation Hellfire Page 18