"Sojourn of the Angel Moon"
Prologue
"Commander, hostile strike force approaching from astern!"
He, a static man on the verge of breaking, turned to his second. "Push up group four on comms, I need Captain Yulan to run interdiction,"
The second shook her head. "Vaygr forces have cut off the main force,"
"That's it then," the Commander stated. "Recall our escorts, whatever's left. Have them focus on bombers; our defenses will handle any fighters."
Countless strike fighters descended on the Hiigaran battlecruiser, orbiting low over the Angel Moon. Behind them lagged a hostile frigate squadron, waiting for their advancing compatriots to drop their prey's heavy weapons. The battlecruiser, separated from its escorts during first contact with the enemy, had dispatched its fighter escorts to assist civilian transports under fire. This act of charity had left the massive ship vulnerable. Now, the Vaygr intended to exploit the lapsed defenses.
The Commander shook his head. "How many can we expect?"
"A dozen flights, easily. And our fighters wont return for-"
"That doesn't matter," he lied "They'll get here."
The Vaygr leader sized up the ship. It was already in retreat. Its airspace was clear, which meant his fighters would have a clean run. His ships' first target would be the engines, then the ion turrets. Without its main armament, the frigates would be clear to bring their firepower to bear. It was an arduous series of events to down a single ship, this the leader acknowledged, but their victory would be worth the effort. The target was the flagship of the Angel Moon's defense fleet. Its Commander oversaw the moon's surface defenses. Destroying the battlecruiser would cripple the Hiigaran defenses in this sector and leave the path to their homeworld open.
"Ain't any heavy scorts lads, so stay tight up. PDS won't touch us. Fighters'll keep ny compnybay" The pilot's words were meet with a loud assembly of cheers and whoops, yelling and chanting. His pack was closing on the lone monster; a symbol of the Hiigaran Empire. Like the other nations brought to heel, the Hiigaran's were fractured, lame. Their destruction loomed.
On the battlecruiser, the Commander made ready his ship's defense. All battery captains reported stations manned, while damage control teams were situated at key points, chief among them the dorsal ion cannon - the ship's most valued asset. With nowhere else to run, there was little use in preserving the engines or jump drive. All that was important was maintaining the ability to fight. The ion cannon would stave off any capital ship, at least in small numbers, and as such was paramount to the ships survival. If these fighters were allowed to destroy the cannon, as their intent surely was, the Commander assumed the ship lost.
He had not expected the campaign to be so short. It was only a week ago the Vaygr first made contact with his navy's line. Now, the defenses of the homeworld were not only being tested, but were failing. His foes had struck quickly. They cared little for occupation. Isolation was their goal. In the early stages of fighting, they had divided fleets, battle groups, and squadrons. The Vaygr flooded the seams between Hiigaran forces with their fleets. Attackers came in endless torrents. As stalwart as the Hiigaran's defenses were, there was no end to their enemy.
The Commander was ignorant of what awaited his homeworld. He knew only that most occupied worlds were strip mined to their barest elements, and that the Vaygr had given no indication they had separate intentions for Hiigara. Perhaps the battle had been lost long ago, the Commander mused. It seemed the only thing he and his soldiers had been handed in this war was loss. Ultimately, he knew his ship would be destroyed, with all hands, if luck held.
He had plans for his nemesis. If he could draw his enemies in, he would detonate the ship's twelve fusion reactors. The explosion would destroy his ship and his crew, but also every enemy ship within seeing distance. It would be a worthy sacrifice, he contended, one as pragmatic as it was romantic. One ship for two score more. Most men only dreamed about such tallies.
The Vaygr maintained their course toward the battlecruiser's stern. With no hostile fighters to stand between the two combatants, the Vaygr pressed hard against their target. They destroyed the engines in a single pass. The explosion propelled the massive but slender spade in a forward tumble, one slow and arduous. As the attacking ships passed over the deck of the battlecruiser, light caliber gun fire from the crippled ship sprayed the Vaygr. Three small fighters were gunned down. The swarm of small ships pulled back over the larger one on a vector toward the ion cannon turret. They pounded the teardrop shaped weapon with ordinance. Unlike the engines, it did not explode. Instead it collapsed under the weight of the incoming fire. Armor around the weapon buckled, and several compartments decompressed, killing scores of crewmen. The Commander watched his three dimensional display. He saw his ship crushed in a sea of red blips, and observed an oncoming line of warships, approaching weapons range. His ship would not survive more than two salvos.
"Our brothers are performing gallantly. Losses are negligible."
"Every death could be a fatal blow young brother," War Lord Sapat lectured. "A single fighter could hold together a massive phalanx, and thus support the weight of an entire assault. Do not be so callus." His subordinate apologized. "Order our fighters to clear the perimeter. Bombers should fall back to their carriers as needed, while assault craft stand guard. Missile commanders should ready their bays for launch. Prepare to withdraw as soon as the battlecruiser is finished."
"Affirmed, Brother."
The War Lord could have had a cruiser squadron. Instead he stayed with the fast moving frigate fleets, where life was the farthest thing from a certainty. All his peers were dead now. Only skill and luck insured a frigate commander's survival, and Sapat had both. As his ships deployed their weapons, Sapat watched the opposing ship from the bridge. Rolling forward, the ship was now standing on its ends from Sapat's perspective. An officer one the deck below him noticed the battlecruiser's instability. The words came slowly to Sapat; "Energy flux, severe magnitude!"
Later, a recon picket from a Sobani fleet scouted the battle zone. The battlecruiser was gone. So were the fighters that had attacked it. A dozen husks lay in the peripheral of the battle space. There was only one indication of the battle which would survive the war. A transmission had been beamed to the surface of the Angel Moon before the explosion. "Guided by our wings, persevere and know overwatch." Fleet Command would find the actions of the Commander worthy of the Order Journeyman. He would live on, guardian of the Sojourn of the Angel Moon. A ship would bear that title. Launched over Hiigara and commissioned at the Angel Moon, it would carry on the defense of the homeworld as a ship of the Hiigaran Navy. After its service, the ship would be known as something much greater to those who could remember it.