Neville and Susan shot up from their lying position as the klaxons sprung to life. The two looked at each other and then at the whirling red light above them, and then back at each other.

"Is that…?"

"Could it be…?"

"What time is it?"

"Less than two hours to arrival."

"It's real, then."

"Yep."

"That's bad."

"That's really bad."

Without wasting another second, the two shot out of bed and donned their uniforms as quickly as they could. Neville kept repeating the same curse over and over as he got his boots on and buttoned up his new red jacket.

"Damn, damn, damn, damn…"

Susan was the first in getting ready and briefly gave Neville a kiss on the cheek before she ran towards the door. "I'll see you later, Neville!"

Neville merely grunted before finally giving a whoop of satisfaction as he finished getting ready and ran out of his room towards his designated area, the third firing corridor, near the bow of the ship. He had quite a distance to run, too, as his particular section was well over short sprinting distance. So, twenty minutes later of running at full sprint, Neville finally arrived at his station, only to feel the entire ship shake as he entered the corridor, making him lose his balance and fall onto the ground. The impact alarm sounded shortly after.

Neville quickly picked himself off the ground and turned towards his designated crew. "Report!"

"Enemy shots impacted topside, near the communications array!"

"Do we have a visual?" he asked a nearby technician, who shook his head. "Damn it! Direction of fire?"

"The lads on the other side report they saw the shots, sir!"

Neville swore once more. So there was little they could do to help in this situation, since it was the starboard side who'd been shot at. Neville felt his insides freeze, however, as he realized that Susan was on the starboard side of the ship. As he quickly tried to remember which deck she'd been assigned to, the proximity alarm blared.

"Incoming projectiles! Forty in total! Approaching quickly from our side!"

Neville broke out of his train of thought and yelled, "Target incoming projectiles! Open fire!"

The corridor suddenly came alive with sound as the massive cannons roared with each fire. Neville cheered every time one of the missiles was shot down, but a few did make it through their barrage.

As such, he wasted no time in hitting the communications button and yelling. "Inbound missiles have passed through defensive barrage! Prepare for impact!"

The klaxons only seemed to intensify more as he made this announcement and a brief look told him that his men were not abandoning their places for safety, but rather trying to load up as quickly as possible in an attempt at shooting down the missiles.

He turned to look at one of the console technicians. "Are the missiles in range for the short-range automatic batteries?" he asked.

The technician nodded after typing in a few quick keys. "Aye, sir. But their incoming attack vector is too erratic for them to do any good."

"Erratic? Damnit, man, I need clear explanations!"

"Sir, they're not coming in a straight line! They keep changing position every few seconds! Our automatics weren't programmed to deal with that sort of MO!" explained the frantic technician.

Neville blew out angry air through his lips before turning to his sensors technician. "Time to impact?"

"Thirty seconds, sir!"

"Gunnery status?"

"None ready at the moment, sir! Guns two, five, fourteen, seventeen, and twenty-five are almost ready, but not yet!"

"Relay the order to fire at will! I want as many of those missiles down as you can!"

"Aye, aye, sir!"

"What of the other Fire Corridors?" he then asked another crew member. The woman relayed the question over the intercom and then turned to face Neville.

"C-Seven and C-Nine report impacts, sir! Four of their guns, each, have been put out of commission! C-One reports an all-clear, while C-Five reports a similar situation to our own. No contact from C-Six or C-Two."

Neville blinked. "None? None at all?"

"None, sir."

"Inform the command deck of this. Send out a team to investigate what happened there!"

"Yes, sir!"

"What about the other decks?"

Another crew member relayed the question over the intercom and turned to face Neville. "Decks One reports no damage. Deck Three states that other than the initial volley, the enemy hasn't attempted to fire at them again."

"Good, anything else?"

"BRACE FOR IMPACT!"

Neville barely managed to grab onto something before he felt the entire area jerk around mightily, throwing him off balance and slamming him against the wall. He yelped in pain as his head smashed against the metallic wall but, other than suffering from total dizziness and pain, he assured his crew that he was alright. A brief check to the back of his head, however, told him that he was bleeding, though not profusely.

Swearing, Neville took out his handkerchief and pressed it against the wound, hissing as the cloth made contact with the irritated skin. Still, he had no time to worry about his wound.

"Damage report!"

"Guns four through twelve are down!" reported a crew member. "Guns twenty through twenty five are similarly damaged!"

"Fifteen guns…" whispered a nearby crew member, who'd gone pale. "In a single strike…"

"That's half of our firing capabilities!" shouted another.

"One more like that, and we're useless!"

"QUIET!" roared Neville as he slammed his open hand on the top of one of the consoles. "Defeatism is not the solution I need now, gentlemen!" he reprimanded them. "I need the wounded to be cleared out of here! If the gun can be repaired, get it repaired. If not, take its ammunition and redistribute it among the others, emphasizing on those nearest to the downed guns to make up for their loss in fire coverage."

Forced into silence by Neville's fierce shout, the crew members obliged his orders by soon running around, relaying his orders. Nodding in satisfaction that they were listening to him, Neville turned to the crew in charge of communications.

"Patch me through to the command deck."

"Fifteen guns down? Are you sure?" asked Harry.

"Very sure, General," came Neville's voice through the intercom. "Engineers reckon maybe two or four can be saved, but even that's considered a long shot."

Harry sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Very well. Thank you, Lieutenant."

"Sir!"

The intercom went static then, signaling the end of the transmission. Harry turned to Wolf.

"Any other reports?"

Wolf nodded, somewhat sadly. "Reports just came in from Lieutenant Longbottom's Search and Rescue team," he informed Harry. "Unfortunately, it seems that both decks were caught still somewhat unprepared for the incoming volley and were totally unable to repel the attacks."

Harry sighed as he lay his head in his hands while slumping forward in his chair in depression. "Just give it to me straight, Captain."

Wolf sighed. "Sir, the team estimates that in both Corridors, there has been an eighty-seven percent total loss of the crew, including commanding staff. Of the thirteen percent left alive, only three percent are expected to survive the day, if given immediate medical attention."

"Give it to them. Now."

"Yes, sir."

"How many men does that mean we've lost, specifically, in those two corridors?"

"About…four hundred and three, sir."

"Dear Lord…" whispered Harry. "Four hundred and three…in a single volley…"

Harry was, for lack of a better word, devastated. The maiden flight of his personally endorsed project, and already he'd suffered huge losses. He'd now left probably four hundred and three families without their sons or daughters. All because of his ambition.

As he sank deeper into the gloom, however, Captain Wolf rapidly recognized the symptoms and walked in front of Harry's chair and, grabbing his superior officer by the shoulders, slammed him against the back of his chair.

"Don't you dare, sir!" he shouted, catching the attention of everyone on deck—most of them surprised or horrified that anyone would talk to the commanding officer in such a way.

Harry's eyes looked confused as he looked at Wolf, who bared his teeth and growled.

"Don't you dare retreat into a shell at a time like this!" repeated the older man. "Sure, we've lost good men and women, but that's the cost of war! You said it yourself in your thesis! I know you did—I read it!" he asserted to Harry, who looked somewhat shocked.

"You have to pull yourself together, sir! Yes, there are four hundred and three dead men and women on board right now, but there are over seven thousand more still alive who'd really like to be able to go home after this thrice-be damned mission!"

That seemed to provoke some reaction from Harry, who seemed to regain some of his determination. Still, Wolf saw it was going to need a bit more, which he'd expected, which was why he'd kept the intercom activated during his scolding.

The sudden cheering from the speakers around the command room seemed to spark some life into Harry, who looked around in confusion.

"General, this is Corridor Six, Deck One! We're behind you, General!"

"Sir, Corridor One, Deck Two is ready for duty! Tell us where to aim, sir!"

"Harry, this is Susan in Corridor Five, Deck Three! Don't you dare let us down now, Harry!"

"Ernie here. Corridor Three, Deck Two is ready to kick some Dark Wizard arse!"

"This is Neville speaking. Corridor Ten, Deck Two is at your orders, General."

"Corridor Nine, Deck One is standing by for orders, General. Just give us the word and no missile will ever hit us again."

Then, Sharpe's voice crackled over the speakers. "General, I know you and I didn't always get along in the Academy, but if anyone can get us out of this mess, I know it's you. Don't let us down, sir. I'm sure your wife would love to see you again after this mess is over. That being said, Corridor Ten, Deck Three is ready for duty."

Harry stood from his chair, his face alit with wonder as he looked around as the many other corridors reported in to show their support. With a sigh, he shut his eyes momentarily and, taking a deep breath, said clearly,

"Thank you, lads. I'll do my best."

The cheers exploded again throughout the intercom, and Wolf smiled before shutting it off. Still, the captain was worried when Harry didn't move or open his eyes for another minute.

"Sir…?" he asked tentatively.

Wolf jumped back when Harry suddenly snapped his eyes open, his Killing Curse green eyes alit with a coldness that made the normally implacable Wolf shiver.

"Prepare for counterattack," was all Harry said.

"Report on shields," commanded Harry. "Why did they not stop the incoming projectiles?"

"Sir, the projectiles weren't detected by the shields. It's as if they'd never been there at all."

"Or as if someone knew our shielding system inside out and told the enemy," muttered Harry before turning to the intercom and pressing the switch that would connect him to the Engineering sector nearest to the shield generators. "This is General Potter."

"Sir!"

"I want you and your men to check our generators and its output protocols. See if any tampering has occurred that would allow it to recognize the projectiles as organic."

"Yes, sir! We should have the report ready in a few minutes!"

"Good. General Potter, out."

As Harry turned to look out the view port, Wolf looked at Harry curiously. "Organic, sir?"

Harry nodded. "A side-effect of our shields, Captain, is that it can only block out metallic objects of a particular size. Normal, regulation rifle and pistol bullets would not be stopped, which is redundant anyway, as our plating would stop everything without a dent, but it will stop anything the size of a rocket or larger."

Wolf nodded. "So that would mean that our shields should have stopped the missiles."

"Indeed, captain. They should have never even made it to SRAB distance."

"Which means that either we've been tricked into believing these shields work…"

"…Or someone's tampered with them. The latter choice being the most credible at this moment, as I doubt Professor Eisenheim would ever collaborate with his wife's murderers."

"Point taken, sir."

"What's the status on our attackers? Any visual? Any reading?"

A technician nearby shook his head. "None, sir. We've managed to extrapolate their location, however, based on projectile trajectory…or rather, whatever we could actively trace."

Harry nodded as he was handed a sheet with the estimated locations circled in red on the map. "Hmm…"

Wolf watched as Harry's eyes narrowed at the map and could see how his eyes reflected the intense degree of thinking going on in the younger man's head. It was like watching a TV show in fast forward time four. They were flashing with bouts of insight and denial and doubt and certainty.

He was so concentrated in watching his superior, in fact, that when Harry spoke, he jumped in surprise.

"Any incoming projectiles?" asked the raven-haired wizard softly.

Wolf asked the same question to a nearby technician, who responded negatively. "None, sir," he relayed.

Harry nodded before clasping his hands behind his back. "Bring up a holographic map of the area."

A crew member quickly complied and Harry was rewarded with a floating, three-dimensional image of the area, with the HMAS Retaliation distinctly floating above ground and moving, the terrain underneath moving as well to accommodate its detected terrain.

Harry watched silently as the holographic airship moved, locating, in his mind's eye, where the attackers (for he was certain there were at least two) had been, and where they would be.

"What's the key…?" he mused softly as he tried to see what was so special of their initial ambush location.

He couldn't remember anything specific about the area. There weren't many trees around, that was for sure, so AA sites were ruled out. Mountains? No. None of consequence. Bodies of water? Sure, a stream here or there…and maybe a small pond, but nothing that would hide something that could launch such a devastating attack.

Harry looked out the viewport, trying to find some inspiration. What had been the deciding factor for them to use that area?

"Sir?" cut in a female voice. Harry turned to the female technician, a Jillian King, if he guessed correctly.

"Yes?"

"Pilot Hawthorne wishes to let you know that we're entering another high-density cloud sector."

Harry nodded vaguely before returning to the map, trying to think hard on what could have made such a place an ideal ambush spot. They'd been at 10.5 kilometres above ground, which, in and of itself, should have ruled out any conventional Dark Wizard weapon he'd ever heard of. Which left the unthinkable—that Muggles were firing on him.

After all, what other explanation could there be?

Harry's eyes snapped suddenly to his holographic map, where he froze the image. He looked at their position and noted the high-density clouds they were going through. He then had the map show the ambush site once more.

Wolf noticed his superior's sudden mood shift and asked, "Sir?"

Harry ignored the query and turned to Jillian. "Lieutenant, you said we'd been going through high-density clouds again?"

Jillian nodded nervously, feeling distinctly uncomfortable as Harry's Killing Curse green eyes looked at her sharply.

"When was the last time we passed through such a cloud system?" he demanded.

"Just before the attack, sir," answered Hawthorne instead from his place at the steering controls. "I reported it."

"How shortly before the attack?"

"A few seconds, sir. Why?"

Wolf's eyes suddenly widened as he made the connection. His eyes found Harry's, who nodded grimly. Immediately springing into action, Wolf ordered, "Hawthorne, lose us some altitude! Lieutenant King, get in touch with Engineering! Find out what's taking so long with that damn report! Sensors! Give me an update on our sensor blackout!"

Harry nodded in approval at Wolf's orders and went to the intercom and pressed the general intercom switch.

"This is General Potter to all available crew. We have determined that we have just walked into another ambush. Every gun available, load your weapons and standby to shoot down any incoming projectiles! The shields are not reading the missiles, gentlemen! I repeat, the shields will not save you!"

Harry's message having gotten through, he now turned to Wolf, who was reading a technical report. "Well?"

Wolf's gaze flickered briefly to Harry. "Your guess was correct, sir. Someone tampered with the shielding protocol."

"How bad?"

"Not as bad as we feared, General. Whoever did this was an amateur. Rather than making our shields permeable to any projectile, they specified it down to a single type of projectile," explained Wolf as he passed the sheet, pointing out the missile in question.

"An APMM Missile?" asked Harry with a confused look. "I've never heard of such a thing."

Wolf shrugged. "Me neither, sir."

Harry was about to ask another question when the intercom flared back to life. "Sir! This is Engineer Riddick reporting from Corridor Six, Deck Two! We've just managed to recover what seems to be a missile that failed to detonate! The lads have managed to defuse it, sir!"

Harry's eyes snapped to the intercom. "What can you tell me, Engineer Riddick?"

A pause. "Well, sir, it's cylindrical in shape, with a conical head. Six fins attached to the head, sir, with movable directional flaps incorporated to it. That's how they kept our SRAB guns guessing, we're thinking."

Harry nodded. "Sound reasoning, Mr. Riddick. What else?"

"The head is an impact warhead, sir. The reason this one failed, we're guessing, is that the detonator must be faulty. It's redundant at this point, sir, since we've disarmed it."

"What of the warhead's core? What is it made of?" asked Wolf, interjecting himself into the conversation.

"Still working on that one, captain...wait, I think we've got it…" Both Harry and Wolf heard some discussion before a new voice joined in. "Sir, this is Engineer Michaels. We've managed to recover the core. Now, I'm no expert, sir, but this seems to be the same design as the ones we use for our artillery shells."

Harry felt his insides chill. "What do you mean, Mr. Michaels?"

"It's a Magical Artillery Shell Core, sir."

From: "Weapons of the Empire" by Chris McFarlane

Excerpt from Chapter 4, "Development History"

"...after a long period of retooling and redesigning, a working model of the Magical Artillery Shell Core was finally completed by the Roberts family on...

...Long kept a strict Imperial secret, was later leaked by the known traitor...

...rumoured to have been used against the Empire at the Battle of the Retaliation...

...no official sources confirm this, however..."

AN: Sorry for the delay folks. I don't usually do this, you must understand, but the last few weeks have been hectic as all hell. First off, I got to Canada without a place to stay, then spent a week in a hotel trying to find a suitable home, ended up finding a place which I now share with a University friend of mine, had to argue with Customs, get my Student Permit belatedly, and several other fun things that have made me unable to focus on the story. And the best part of it? I have a test tomorrow and we're -still- not fully moved in yet! Yay!

In any case, till next time! Enjoy!