Ground Control, page 13
Had Lau done such a thing? How had she, except that Aquitaine ships were more advanced than even Unification vessels?
No, he had to assume that the woman had managed. That he had been facing her from the beginning, instead of Fortier and whoever might have been given local command by the Monarchists.
That made more sense, the longer he thought about it, so Amable pulled out the file on Heather Lau, largely compiled by the Three Traitors: Unification Commissioner Murielle Abaroa, Chevalier Bausse Aublahzieu, and Fortier himself.
How quickly had they been turned? When had their betrayal begun?
How much of this file could he trust, given who wrote these words?
At the same time, it was better than nothing, if only because the historic details could be cross-checked against reports from other spies.
Amable Bellamy would know his nemesis.
Chapter 37
Date of the Republic May 3, 417 EM Shanhai Pass, Checkpoint Triplet
Heather had won the argument eventually by dint of supreme command. None of the folks arguing with her were any less hard-headed, that was for certain.
And ‘Because I said so,’ worked with all of her berserkers.
Stormhawk would lead. Nobody was willing to challenge Makara’s right. Idly, she considered ordering somebody to build him a dreadnought, just so she could assign him to command it and make him sit in the center of things for once.
Instead of the center of the scrum.
Ilves had gotten sharp, but Captain Karl had finally accepted that his Fours had better hitting power than the Type-3-Heavy on the Gloran ships, so he could sit behind them. In fact, she was assigning him the anchor role for the entire formation, with four battlecruisers paired on his forward flanks and the two Motherships on the rear flanks.
All the Escort Destroyers would be in two shells outside that, flattened on the bow and spread on the wings to protect things.
Now she just had to manage a day when they only had one Overlord on station. That much force, she was confident they could overwhelm. More, and it would be a hit and run. Less and she might stay, save that this was only a hit and run anyway.
Forward Logistics Base 3-D on the Unification map of supply depots. C, B, and A still needed to be punched. But Atkinson and Morikawa had gotten together and come up with plans, if there was another one of those monstrous megafreighters here to steal.
Food was always the limiting factor of the Expeditionary designs. The ships were as automated as Bedrov had been able to manage, every generation getting more power and firepower from fewer crew members.
She still had to feed several thousand mouths daily. And nobody in their right mind would suggest fully automated warships.
That way lay the Sentient ships that had nearly destroyed humanity.
And Buran itself.
So Heather was back to thinking like a pirate, while hoping that her other pirates were doing enough to Zerzan’s planets to fully disrupt things.
When she had no idea where most of the players were located.
Or headed.
There was only the problem in front of her, as she watched ships slide fully into formation. Only Fleet Carrier Transport Wei Ying wasn’t here, but that entire Wing was tucked in with all of her Light Wing, ready to go. And would meet them on the far side to retrieve those Light Gunships and get them repaired in order to skip like a flat rock across the water and nail the next base.
Assuming she didn’t sink here.
“Yaumgan Squadron, this is Lau, aboard Shanhai Pass. I have the flag,” she announced calmly, watching postage stamp faces watch her in the projection. “Stormhawk, you have the van. Begin standard acceleration and call the cadence. Everyone stand by for JumpSpace.”
She leaned back and listened to Makara’s deep voice, and then they were gone.
Next stop, trouble.
Chapter 38
Mission Brief: Forward Strike Position Loong
Chevalier Ruben Coste understood the risks and the rewards of this dangerous maneuver, but he simply could not find it in himself to believe that the Monarchists could stop three fully prepared Overlord Transports. Just over three thousand aeromechia, with a pair of Assault Transports that had previously been acting as scouts until he attached them to this force.
They were in the tunnel known as Loong, according to the original maps provided by a traitor pirate, attempting to sell his soul and save his life when captured by the Unification. He had thankfully died during the original invasion, and presumably rotted in whatever hells would accept a man like that.
Today, it was Loong Ruben surveyed.
Previously, the Assault Transports had blinked into realspace long enough to scan the defenders from a safe distance, and then withdrawn before the light-speed wave of their arrival gave those defenders time to rush out and intervene. Thus, he had a solid understanding of what he faced.
A large moon slowly agglomerating as more materials were transported in and delivered, building a planet here for the purposes of establishing a base.
And preventing trespassers.
At present, Ruben thought that it might still be possible for a ship to skirt the edge of both gravity wells towards the top, but any mistake dropped you into realspace with your matrix disrupted, right on top of a number of those giant robot warships that Yaumgan had built in the beforetime.
Nothing useful against the swarms, but sufficient to destroy the carrier, which was effectively the same thing, since the swarms lacked JumpSails to escape.
It would be a fight to the death, and he hadn’t needed that, thankfully.
His force had previously dropped out at a point a third of the way in to organize and plan. No ships had gone deeper recently, so the Monarchists would have no warning, while his five ships settled long enough to adjust timing and prepare. And to have three thousand pilots suited up and ready to launch in one tidal wave of destruction that would carry everything before it.
Everything.
“Flight Control, are we green?” Ruben asked simply.
“Nine hundred and seventy-eight Kuài ready to launch, Chevalier,” the man replied.
Even Ruben was impressed. Down only four today? Given normal wear and tear alone, he’d been expecting as many as twenty.
“Nicely done,” Ruben smiled at the man. “Tell your pilots that, as well.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Nav, how soon?” Ruben continued.
“Ninety seconds to arrival, Chevalier,” she said. “Updates are being transmitted to all pilots. They will launch as soon as we can clear them.”
As it should be. He would be coming out rather close to the enemy forces, risking himself some but giving his swarms that much less time to be subject to defensive fire as they formed up and began launching torpedoes.
Then the Monarchist ships would melt like cotton candy.
“Contact,” Flight Control called when they dropped into realspace. “All pilots, SWARM!”
The ancient call, designed to rouse the mighty to do the impossible. To launch everyone and send them to destroy those fools that would resist Unification.
Ruben settled and began to study the revealed battlefield before him. Dozens of ships, of every shape and size, supposedly representing the coalition that had chosen to die fighting for aliens to their worlds.
The Monarchists did not belong here. He would have normally expected the natives to assist in crushing them, save that someone had rightly convinced those other cultures that they would be Unified next.
As was the proper way of things.
Chapter 39
Loong Gateway Control, The Passage
Station Commander Kui Wa-Su had woken this morning with a premonition. It had gotten her up early. Fortified her day with extra chewy tea and a second pastry.
Brought her to the bridge of her forlorn hope in a mood she had once heard called waking up on the wrong side of the junkyard.
The alert siren, when it sounded, was almost anticlimactic in scope.
Then the scans rolled in.
It would be today.
She had lived a good life. A life of martial competence that had taken her to the highest peaks of duty, once commanding the Immortal Zhongli Quan itself.
Today she would die in battle.
“Confirm those signals and alert the squadron,” Wa-Su said simply. “Dispatch the couriers immediately. Kyulle needs to know.”
Acknowledgments across the board. They had all trained for this. Volunteered to be here, because the Scholars needed them.
And the Warlord.
Heather had warned her that someone would eventually face such a thing.
“There are three Zerzan Overlords and two Assault Transports disgorging aeromechia at high speed,” she heard. “Outside heavy weapons range.”
As was to be expected. The Power Tap and Titan Bolt were known quantities. Even improved as Yaumgan had managed, creating weapons of legend.
There were still going to be three thousand stinging wasps coming for her, and Heather was not present.
“Defensive forces, begin firing immediately,” Wa-Su ordered. “Even at this range, damage is damage. Minefield teams, stand ready to engage, but do not move until ordered.”
Nothing she had could stop that wall of aeromechia. Not three Immortals in close orbit. Not the many Skycruisers. Not the forces of Gloran, Aditi, Dalou, and even pitiful Ewin could manage that.
“Commander, should you be prepared to evacuate?” someone called. She didn’t bother looking for a face or a name.
“No,” Wa-Su replied. “We are all going to die today. Our job is to kill as many of them as we can, in order to protect the Electorate and the Cluster. That was your oath as well as mine. If Heather and Phil have given us this many extra years of liberty and contemplation, let us not regret those things yet undone, but revel in all we have accomplished and the legends that others will tell of us tomorrow. Passage defense forces, stand by to engage.”
Chapter 40
Mission Brief: Forward Strike Position Loong
Ruben was willing to give them that much credit. Faced with annihilation, only two small ships turned and ran. And both, from the lines, were the messengers that would tell the others that Zerzan had finally come for their pitiful souls.
The others tightened up the formations around that immense rock and began firing.
Not that beam weapons intended for warship combat were of much use here. One beam might cripple or destroy a single aeromechia. They did not have enough to stop him. And shortly, torpedo waves would force them onto a defensive that they could not afford, because he had so many more launchers that they could not stop.
Thus, the defenders would be slowly crushed themselves, every ship lost leaving that many more holes in their defensive fire, until all were destroyed.
Then he would annihilate the base built on the surface of the small moon and take ownership of Loong.
The Monarchists behind him outside the cluster would starve. Better, they might sail close without realizing what he had done here, letting Ruben’s force mousetrap them as well.
It would be excellent, to win the war for Amable today, letting Bellamy gather up that adamantine fist and end the Monarchy forever.
“Chevalier, we are scanning three of the biggest robot warships,” Optics called. “The so-called Immortals that were marked as flagships previously.”
“Concentrate fire on them,” he replied. “Let their champions fall first, that the rest can know despair in turn.”
Nods. Excitement, even.
Revenge, centuries in the planning and hunting, to be finally consummated.
“Inbound missile flights detected,” Optics said. “Ewin missile frigates from the logs.”
“They will run out of ammunition soon enough,” Ruben reminded him. “And those weapons are subject to torpedoes as well. Have a Flight shift and engage as a shield for the rest.”
Desperation, but none of them were running. Not that such cowardice would give them more than a few days or weeks of freedom.
The Unification was coming. Would not be denied. The Monarchists first. Then the rest.
And maybe, if he was lucky, Ruben would one day be part of the grand fleet that would be necessary to go conquer Aquitaine.
How glorious would it be to sail into Ladaux’s harbor, destroying things?
It was enough to truly excite a man.
“WARNING!” Optics suddenly yelled. “Someone is locking weapons on Rauda from our rear starboard flank. Stand by for hostile forces.”
“Close Protection Wing, turn and engage,” Ruben ordered. “Who was lying in wait for us?”
“Stand by,” the man called. “Identification signals received. Vessel identifies as Imperial Fribourg Vessel Firehawk.”
What a stupid name. Ruben failed to be impressed. And had three hundred aeromechia already igniting their thrusters to go crush the fool who thought to sneak up on him in turn.
Shortly, he would make an example of them.
Chapter 41
Imperial Founding: 195/05/06. The Passage
Admiral of the Red Diether Förstner had chosen well for his forward patrol. Or been blessed by the gods to be able to be here.
Today.
Now.
Because he was facing literally the depth and meaning of his oath. Of his promise to the Emperor herself, that he would stand with Yaumgan and defend them.
He looked around his flag bridge, all of these men swollen with pride, that they might make the difference. That Fribourg, late to the West after First Centurion Kosnett had shown the way, might redeem themselves from any who might whisper of cowardice in not being there before.
Save that they had.
And had remained.
And Diether had convinced First Centurion Tanaka to let him take the van.
To stand at Loong.
To defend the honor of the Empire.
“All stations to red alert,” he said simply. “Maintain scanner silence, but stand by on all systems. When we go, I’ll want everything we have.”
Across the command table, Captain Franz Aust nodded and typed. Forward, Captain Horst Jordan would be issuing orders to his crew.
Firehawk didn’t have the rest of her squadron today. The risk of removing that many ships from Kyulle had been too great, but he’d been able to slip out through Lau’s newly discovered passage, circle around, and slide into the swamp back where Chevalier Fortier had once predicted that an attacking fleet would drop anchor as they began launching their bipedal snubfighter wings.
Diether Förstner still had a Heavy Dreadnought to do the job.
At least as much of it as could be done.
He wasn’t even certain that the captain of the base below him in the gravity well had known that Firehawk had been parked out here for the last three days, scouting and listening.
Another two days, and he might have gone home.
The base would have been lost with all hands. As would that fleet in front of him, thrown out here by Lau and the others for no other purpose than to die in giving the warning that Zerzan had returned.
On his screens, two couriers departed, so the news would escape. Possibly, Tanaka would send relieving forces, but those would be days in arriving, and the station had hours at most.
“Sensors, confirm enemy movements,” Diether said as he watched things unfold in the projection he and Franz shared.
“Most enemy fighters are headed inward, Admiral,” the man replied. “Ten percent are being held back as Close Air Support for the carriers themselves. My records show that the warships have almost no offensive firepower.”
“Correct,” Diether said. “They have snubfighters to do everything they need. Those are Fleet Carriers, not warships. Bridge.”
“Bridge, Jordan here.”
“Horst, when I give the command, I want you to charge the middle carrier,” Diether ordered. “Fours and Implosion Generator on him first. Type-3 batteries into the fightercraft to clear a channel for us.”
“A channel, sir?” Horst asked.
“The carriers aren’t that important, but I want them destroyed as we go by,” Diether confirmed. “Those fighters are the most valuable part of the invasion. I don’t care if they’re trapped here when the Fleet Carriers are lost. They’ll become more dangerous as trapped rats, so we have to get down in there and kill things. No other vessel in the anchorage is better equipped for that.”
“Understood, Admiral,” Horst Jordan replied. “Orders laid in and ready.”
Diether looked around his flag bridge.
“If we are to die this day, it has been my infinite pleasure to call you my shipmates,” Diether spoke to the room. And the ship. And to eternity. “To stand beside you in defense of the helpless, aboard one of the most legendary names the Fribourg Empire has ever given to a warship in service. Firehawk, charge!”
Chapter 42
Mission Brief: Forward Strike Position Loong
Ruben blinked as the ship suddenly jarred under his feet.
“What the hell was that?” he asked the officers around him.
All of them were buckled in at their stations, but a Chevalier was expected to stand at his and provide inspiration.
His boots had lost contact with the deck for a moment as the gravity had twitched or the hull itself had flexed.
“Unknown weapon, Chevalier,” Optics replied. “Four of the Station-grade weapons from medium range. Shielding on that facing is fully degraded, as is shielding on all facings.”
“All facings?” he demanded. “How is that possible?”
“The unknown weapon appears to have detonated early, then engulfed Rauda, sir,” the man replied, a shrug implied in his voice. “Damage on all sides of our defensive sphere.”
