They couldn't leave right away, of course, as any military operation cannot be launched too quickly, even more so when the vagaries of interstellar travel intercede to slow things down. The time was well spent, however, as the local National Guard needed to be assembled and run a few drills to 'get the cobwebs out,' as the old saying goes. In addition, with a large portion of the Guard leaving, the local Militia had to be called up to be ready to engage enemy forces that may sneak in during the Guard's absence. Other factors also have to be taken into consideration. Supplies had to be loaded onto transports, and ships and reinforcements had to be culled from nearby systems.
In addition, the four people who had been rescued from Bowman's Planet now needed to be readied for a return that would be met with force. Van Horn, especially, needed to get back into prime shape if he was to take Battle armor into the field again, as well as receiving a refresher course in the finer points of battle armored operations.
The three natives of Bowman's Planet too, needed some training as well. Although not officially part of the military, van Horn and Colonel Sakamoto had found an old, almost-forgotten regulation that could allow 'embedded civilian observers' into combat vessels and units so long as they were trained 'to protect themselves and the troopers they are embedded with.' Since no one really wanted to keep them on New Honshu against their desire or will, they had been given the roles of being interpreters and guides for the task force that was beginning to assemble.
Van Horn watched part of that force arrive, as he stood on the roof of the barracks building that he and the Bowman's locals had been put up in. He looked across the river and out towards the spaceport, where a pair of massive spheroid DropShips made their final descent. Wow, an Artemis and a Clysdale, he thought to himself. Between them, they carry five companies of battlemechs and Army battle armor. Over a battalion of the best equipped forces this side of Tukayyid. And the best trained. He thought with some pride. The regiment that the arriving forces belonged to were from the 7th Division's 5th Marauder Regiment (Desert Thunder), a force known for it's daring counterassault on one of Clan Star Adder's bases that they used to mount their abortive invasion of the Republic several years before.
To think that we have such a force coming to help! Van Horn thought as the 18,000-ton Clysdale landed first, sending out a muted thud that he could feel though the soles of his feet, even being nearly two kilometers away. Well, part of their regiment, anyway. The Desert Thunder could only spare two battalions from their home garrison on the planet Arrakis, their Alpha and Bravo battalions being deployed to reinforce the border near the Outworlds Alliance and the moving Snow Raven armadas. Still, it should be enough to reinforce the Neo Tokyo Grenadiers' Regiment, van Horn mused, thinking of the local name for the National Guard unit that was being activated. The mixed force of tanks, 'mechs, and armored infantry was sending almost the entire regiment, save two companies that would remain with the Militia and help to defend their homes.
As the much lighter (5,700 ton) Artemis-class transport landed, van Horn turned and headed for the roof access door that he had used to gain the excellent view of the spaceport. Within minutes, he was back at the second floor of the building where he slept. Small partitions had been erected between several of the beds to provide him and the three aliens some privacy, though with the way we've all been training, we haven't been able to use the beds or the privacy much. Even as he thought that, van Horn walked and sat down on his own bunk and lay back to think for a minute.
His most pressing though at the moment was related to the training that he and his three friends were engaged in. I can see mine, but they didn't have to do any at all. He was surprised at the determination of the three to go and help, by any means necessary. Which means weapons and limited physical training. Mikula and Pavlo have their previous soldier's training, which is surprisingly decent for such a primitive force, and Alexis is just determined as Hell. Van Horn sighed. Not like she hasn't seen the worst war can offer. She's lost friends, neighbors, even gotten hurt terribly herself. She's as tough as they come. Still, the idea that the three natives of Bowman's Planet receiving training in the latest Republic weaponry made him sad. The last of their innocence is leaving... To be replace with, what? It was said that innocence was the most precious of commodities, for everyone lost theirs at some point, and all wished to have it back. How long until they mourn its loss?
God, I'm getting angsty lately. He thought with some bit of self-disgust. Van Horn then stood and stretched. I just feel attached to them. Like they're almost my kids and I'm their father, or something. Oh, hell, maybe that is what this is about? He wondered, and then filed through his memories. I've basically had to teach them all about modern life, help protect them, take care of their wounds... Shit! He blinked hard. I might as well have had a damn kid, and I'd be doing all that crap.
Okay, van Horn continued to think as he walked out of his bunk area and headed towards the stairs, so that explains the trepid feelings about them going back with the counter-invasion force. He sighed as he reached the stairs and began the trip down. I still don't like it... But at least I know why.
But even fathers have to let their kids stand on their own at some point, the small voice at the back of his mind reminded van Horn. He sighed as he reached the bottom of the stairs and walked through toe door to the outside. That's right, they do.
"Dr. van Horn?" The person that appeared in front of him as he had opened the door asked. Blinking in surprise at the encounter, van Horn simply nodded, prompting the brown-haired woman in front of him to salute. "Private Jensen. Lieutenant Rodriguez sent me to bring you to PDHQ."
Van Horn returned the salute, and frowned a bit. "Is there a problem, private?"
She shrugged. "I don't know, sir. The Lieutenant just asked me to go and get you."
He sighed. "Very well. I presume you have a ride, then?"
"Yes sir," she replied with a nod. "I have a jeep around the corner. If you'll follow me?"
"Lead on."
Alexis sighed as she worked on cleaning the lens of the ER Laser Rifle that she had been using only a few minutes ago. So much you have to learn to use these effectively, she marveled as she finished the lens and turned to cleaning the lasing cavity. Not just in aiming and firing them, but also in their maintenance. Still, Mikula and Pavlo said that swords and bows are similar, in that it takes practice and cleaning to keep them effective. She looked up to where the two lupar were also working on cleaning their weapons, Mikula working on an M-200 assault rifle, and Pavlo on a combat shotgun. Standing nearby was a pair of instructors who had had the three non-humans go through the entire process from start to finish several times a day for the last five days. They were getting to be good shots, and Alexis had learned how to strip and maintain her selected weapon.
After a few moments, she finished cleaning the rifle and put it back together. Much easier than the ones Mikula and Pavlo are working on. With an extra minute or two until they finished their post-firing cleaning, Alexis took a moment to look around the room and reflect.
The room was just inside the building that served the firing range no the outskirts of the military base's developed area. Although it was warm outside, as this hemisphere of New Honshu was in it's summer months, the indoor area was air conditioned, which made Alexis thankful. The interior of the room was simply painted in an off white, and rows of tables stood throughout the room for an entire platoon to clean their weapons at once. Now, however, it was empty, save for the three non-humans and the two instructors who stood near the doors that lead to the rest of the building.
Alexis sighed again. It's so amazing, how different things are. If a few months ago, someone had told me that I'd be sitting on another world, cleaning a weapon that no one could have even imagined, then I would have called that person a liar. And yet, here I am.
Just then, the door to the outside firing range opened and a person walked in. Alexis looked over and saw a tall, black-skinned man. The man took a quick look around to let his eyes adjust, and then he walked over to the two instructors and spoke quietly with them. Mikula and Pavlo paused in their cleaning and looked up as well, and they all strained to catch the newcomers words, despite their large ears.
Finally, the newcomer turned around and walked over to where the three had been working. "Hello, folks. I'm Private Dunlop. I've been sent to get you three and take you to the planetary command post."
Mikula tilted his head quizzically. "May I ask why?"
Dunlop shrugged. "I don't really know. I was just told to get you three there soon. So if you'll come with me, you're excused from the rest of the day's training."
Mikula shrugged, and then stood up, Alexis and Pavlo mirroring him. "Alright then, if we're asked for."
"Good. Now, please follow me." Dunlop said and walked to the door to the outside and went through. Mikula, Pavlo and Alexis all shared a look of confusion, but they quickly moved off and caught up with Dunlop as he strode around the building and towards the administration building of the base.
Around them the base was bustling. Trucks and jeeps drove about, hauling cargo and people back and forth. Many people also walked, and several times these were people in battle armor, moving about to make sure that their systems were working effectively. Overhead, VTOLs flew about, performing drills, and even higher, aerospace fighters soared through their own practices.
Alexis marveled at it all. I know these are machines of war, and this whole compound serves only to fuel their engines, she thought. And yet, I cannot feel a sense of wonder and awe, and even admiration at these works. Imagine, spending so much time and effort on such powerful machines...
She had to pause in her thought as they entered the headquarters building, passing into air conditioning once again. Ah. As much as I have to admire their war machines, I cannot help but to adore their mastery of their environment! From the way their tails seemed to perk up and wag a bit, Alexis could tell that Mikula and Pavlo felt the same way. She stifled a grin and shook her head a bit, having noticed the similarity of their moods to the animal known as a 'dog' that the humans had.
Now, there's another thing to be amazed at, Alexis thought as her attention shifted. To think, an animal they domesticated thousands and thousands of years ago, and they take it with them out into the stars. Alexis remembered actually seeing several of the animals being 'walked' by someone on the streets of Neo Tokyo, and she was amazed that there were creatures like the lupar on many other worlds. Then she had taken some time to do some looking through something called an 'encyclopedia' with van Horn's help, since she still couldn't read English much. And that is just as amazing as well! Imagine, creating a series of books that lists almost anything you could ever want to know about in alphabetical order, gives you a bit of information, and then tells you how to learn more! Their whole society is built upon educating people so that they can make the best decisions.
Then they reached the stairs that led into the basement. Walking down, they then took the corridor to the bank of elevators that serviced the command center. A quick wait and soon they had a car and they descended another fifty meters into the ground. The idea of all that rock and soil above them still made Alexis nervous, but her previous visits had proven that it was as safe as any other building.
Finally, the doors opened and they walked through another short corridor, finally arriving at a small alcove where two guards decked out in ablative-flak vests, helmets and boots/greaves stood on either side of the double doors that led to the planetary command center. Each one was fully armed, carrying an M-9680 Pulse Laser Rifle, holstered machine-pistols, and knives in their boots. Alexis subdued an involuntary shudder. Now that I know what kind of force is represented in those weapons, and more importantly, the training needed to use them effectively; they are as fearsome as a horde of regular bandits back home.
Dunlop walked up to the pair easily, however. "Private First Class Dunlop, escorting some visitors to see the Colonel." He said and handed the one on the left his pass.
The guard scrutinized it carefully, both through visual inspection and by passing it through a card reader. Finally, he had Dunlop press his hand against a wall-mounted palm-reader that again, confirmed who he was. The guard handed over the card with a sheepish smile. "Sorry about that Dave. Regulations yanno."
Dunlop waved him off. "Ahh, it ain't nothin' George. Gotta follow the regs, always." He replied as he took his card back and looked back at the three non-humans. "Through here." He said, and he pushed open the doors. Alexis followed behind Mikula and Pavlo, and like them, she paused to look over the large room.
It was large, being easily large enough to hold a pair of armored personnel carriers. Circular in shape, the room had three levels, the outermost being on the same level as the doors. This and the next level down had all sorts of consoles for communication and coordination. The third, lowest level that sat in the center of the room contained a large holoprojector mounted in a circular table, around which there were chairs.
Alexis could see that around that table were several people, most of whom she recognized. Van Horn was the first she could see, but he was also joined by the imposing bulk of the Colonel, the stout form of Captain Ladavic, Lieutenants Vickers and Rodriguez (the officer of the National Guard put in charge of the three Bowmanites), and a man in a khaki uniform who Alexis didn't recognize. They all stood around the table, leaning over it and staring intently at a map that was projected just above the table/projector's surface.
Lieutenant Rodriguez looked up and waved Dunlop and the Bowmanites over, and the four quickly climbed the steps down to the area called 'the Pit.' Alexis followed after the other three, and soon they all stood next to the table, getting the attention of all involved. Dunlop drew himself to attention and saluted. "Private Dunlop, reporting as ordered with my charges."
Alexis saw Mikula and Pavlo draw themselves up into attention as well, thought they did not salute. Well, might as well follow, she thought and drew herself up into attention as well. Why do the Lieutenants smile so?
The Colonel returned the salute. "Thank you, Private. You are dismissed." He said, to which Dunlop saluted again, turned on his heel, and walked out of the room. Then Colonel Sakamoto turned to look at the three non-humans, nodded, and turned to look at van Horn. "Doctor, since you're such good friends, maybe you can explain."
Alexis felt something in her gut twist as the looks on the faces of those assembled around the table made her wonder just what was going on. Then van Horn cleared his throat, and nodded towards the three new arrivals. "Mikula, Pavlo, Alexis, I don't suppose that any of you recognize this map here?" He said, indicating the glowing holoprojections.
Mikula and Pavlo frowned in confusion, but Alexis quickly grasped the area being shown. "That's the area around Hercor." She said quietly, though inside her stomach roiled. Oh Gods, what now?
Van Horn nodded. "Yes. Now," he paused and pressed a few buttons, which made the map rotate so that the three arrivals could see the area from a top-down view. "Hercor is the gray mark in the center of the screen, right next to the blue of the river." Van Horn said, describing the legend. Another button press, and the map zoomed out to show the entire eastern portion of the continent, including a zone shaded red to indicate the dominion of the invading Wobbies. Within that zone, several red icons popped up. Although their exact meaning wasn't too clear to Alexis, she had seen and learned enough to know they denoted military units of some type.
Van Horn took a breath as several of these icons moved together from various Lupar cities under the Blakests' heel. "As you know, though we can't move a complete military force on-planet yet, we have kept an eye on things from orbit." He gestured to several icons that came so close that they merged, and then they began to move west. "What you're seeing here is information that tells us that the Blakests have managed to gather up enough Lupar to fight for them, and they are now making their move west." Even as van Horn spoke, two small, gray-colored towns beyond the Blakests' occupation area turned red with the arrival of the large formation that had gathered together, and the red-shaded zone expanded around them. "They have begun to conquer towns and cities initially too small or too far away from their initial landings to bother conquering.
"Now, however, they have taken these two, and their path leads them to Hercor." van Horn pressed another button, and a highlight appeared around a small gray mark that represented Hercor. To Alexis, it seemed dangerously close to the ever-expanding red zone.
The room fell silent as the three Bowmanites took this in. "What of our families? Have they left Hercor?" Mikula asked with some hope in his voice.
Van Horn's slight shake of his head, however, made the lupar crestfallen. "Not really." He then pressed another button and the map zoomed back onto Hercor, this time getting much closer in scale. Suddenly, on the west bank of the river, another path of gray grew. "From what our observations indicate, the members of the caravan have been able to take up residence across the river, apparently with the blessings of the ruling council of Hercor. Not surprising, I suppose, since they don't use anything on that side of the river." Van Horn mused quietly at the last. "Anyway, the point is, is that Hercor and your friends and families are in the path of a large, lupar army that is reinforced by Wobbie 'mech and vehicle forces."
Again, the room fell quiet. Alexis finally cleared her throat and spoke up after a moment. "So why are you telling us this? It's not like any of us three an do anything from here." Although her words might sound cold to one who didn't know her, van Horn could hear the pain in her voice that came with the pragmatic realization of her situation.
"But there is something we can do." Colonel Sakamoto said. "But it is a decision that does not come lightly."
"What decision?" Mikula asked.
Sakamoto again turned to van Horn, who sighed before speaking. "You know that it is taking us some time to gather our forces." H waited for the three to nod, and Pavlo even spoke up. "Yes, and we understand. Even in our armies, it takes weeks to ready a sizable force, and we aren't even trying to cross between worlds."
Van Horn nodded. "Yes. We are still not fully ready, but we can send a force to defend Hercor and hold off the Blakests for some time. But, this force won't be able to take the fight back to the Wobbies, and in the meantime, it would be a serious target. Which means that Hercor could likely get caught in the crossfire." He took a breath. "But, if we wait, we can send word to Hercor's leaders by shuttlecraft from one of our orbiting ships to not resist the Blakests, so that they won't be hurt and they can wait for our full-force return."
"So that's the decision, is it?" Mikula asked thoughtfully. "Either go now, and defend Hercor, but make it even more of a target, thus raising the danger to it. Or leave it to the predations of the Wobbies?"
Sakamoto nodded, and then replied. "Yes, that is basically it. Since this is your planet, and you three are the only representatives we have, it's up to you to decide how we go in."
Alexis felt a heavy weight fall on her shoulders, and from the way Mikula and Pavlo's shoulders sagged a bit, she knew they felt it too. "Colonel, I may not be the most educated person here in matters of war," Alexis began quietly, "but thanks to van Horn's help, I have started to read about your history and the wars fought in your past. In such wars, does not the recapture of cities usually destroy those places, despite the best efforts of both sides?"
The Colonel nodded in admiration. "You have it correct, Miss Hurano," he said, using the last name that Alexis had been able to be addressed by for the first time in her life. "We can try to avoid the damage as much as possible, even to the point that we might be able to scare them out of the town without firing a shot." He paused to sigh. "Or the Wobbies can dig in so deep that we'll have to level the town, no matter how much we try not to."
Mikula, Pavlo, and Alexis all looked at each other. They traded a few quite looks, and then some small nods before returning to look back at the humans. "I think, that it is better to fight the Wobbies whenever we can, than to let them take another inch of ground."
Alexis was a bit surprised at the grins that erupted on all of the humans' faces. Although their moods soon sombered back down, she pondered the incident. Well, it is what their history shows, isn't it? I may have only read bits and pieces, but they have always been tenacious over even the smallest piece of land.
Then the man Alexis didn't recognize cleared his throat and spoke up. "Very well. So Colonel," he turned to Sakamoto, "how many troops can you lift off soon enough to get to that town before the Blakests do?"
"At the moment, Admiral? None." Sakamoto said, which caused the naval officers and the Bowmanites to lean back a bit in shock. "Then why ask us about this?" Pavlo asked.
"Because, while we cannot reach Hercor before the Blakests, we can arrive there only days afterward." He turned and walked to the control console, waiting for van Horn to move aside before he punched a few buttons.
The map shifted, and soon it split into two representations of two different towns. "These are the two townships previously taken by the Wobbies." Sakamoto then pressed a few more buttons and the frozen images of the Blakest army began to move forward. At one point on both maps, they simply stopped advancing and encircled the towns. "As you can see, the Wobbies think themselves fairly well set up, even knowing that we have ships monitoring them." The Colonel's tone left an unspoken insult in the air that the humans could realize. Arrogant assholes.
"Since they feel so comfortable, they enacted sieges of both towns, weakening the their defenders until they either surrendered, as in the top map, or were too weak, even for the Lupar contingent, as on the bottom map." As he spoke, the two towns turned red, one by itself, the other after small icons representing the native forces swarmed in. "In either case, they gave the towns about a week."
The man addressed as 'Admiral' nodded. "So you're saying that you can arrive and break their siege up? I hope they don't pull a Julius Caesar on you." He said bemusedly.
Sakamoto smiled a bit. "Ah, but the Gauls didn't have Mobile Infantry." He said, turning to the two Lieutenants, who smiled a bit.
Ladavic nodded her head and then spoke. "So, what's the plan?"
Days later, Alexis was wondering what the Hell she had gotten involved in as the g-forces pushed her back into her seat aboard an ST-46P-class shuttlecraft. Although an aerodyne, and thus not experiencing the rigors of vertical takeoff, the shuttle nevertheless had to accelerate quite a bit to get to orbital speed once in the air.
Despite the pressure of two gees, Alexis managed to move her head and look out the porthole she sat next to. Down below, Neo Tokyo glowed in the darkness of pre-dawn, its magnificent buildings partially obscured by the shadows of night made even more sharper by the massive amount of light the megalopolis threw off from its numerous buildings. Then the shuttle banked and all she could see was the sky and the numerous stars that lay in patterns her people had never known existed, and she turned to sit back in her seat.
"Going to miss it?" Mikula asked in the seat next to her. Alexis turned her head and smiled at him. "Not so much the city, as beautiful as it was, but more for the memories we have there."
Mikula blushed and gave her his lopsided grin. "Indeed. Though I am not surprised that the city doesn't draw you. You seemed to love those museums so much."
Alexis continued to smile, and she lifted up her hand despite the gees and laid it on top of Mikula's. "Yes I did. And I would even like to come here a gain in happier times." she sighed a bit. "But as I said, our time together is worth far more to me."
Mikula just blushed again, and he turned his head forward to keep from staring at Alexis. "Almost as much as they are worth to me." He said teasingly.
The flight went on, and they reminisced. Although soon they both became fascinated with the view from the craft, as both hadn't exactly had the pleasure of seeing the orbital oddities on their trip in. Again, van Horn relayed to them the varied information about the orbital facilities. From factories that fabricated Endo-Steel and Ferro-Carbide alloys for the military, to the shipyards that maintained the freighters and WarShips that plied the space near New Honshu, and finally to the large facility of Port Kure.
Then they docked, and moved out into the hallways of the massive space station, where Alexis soon had to be taught how to handle microgravity. Unlike the Farkas brothers, unfortunately, she had spacesickness, though like most people, it passed soon and she was learning how to bounce around with the best of them.
Amazing how well they can adapt, van Horn mused as they floated down the corridor that would lead them to where the USS Rodger Young sat docked. Only a few months ago, and they couldn't even tell you what micro-g was, and now they're floating around in it like it was nothing.
They then arrived at a T-junction, and they all paused to make sure that no one was coming. Van Horn stuck his head out, looking left, then right, than left again in a pattern that had been drilled into his head when he was a child. 'Course, crossing the street is a bit more dangerous than floating in micro-g, but it's a useful habit.
Then he heard Alexis squeal, and he twisted in space along with Pavlo and Mikula. Then van Horn smiled as he saw what had surprised the gatón. "Well, looks like you made a friend, Alexis." He said, gesturing to the animal that clung to Alexis' M.I.-issue undress grays.
"What is it? Get it off!" She said and writhed a bit to try and reach to where the animal clung to her back.
"Okay, okay, hang on. Grab a rail on the wall and stop moving, because it's only going to hang on tighter the faster you spin." Van Horn said with a chuckle as he pushed off the 'floor' and drifted to where Alexis followed his instructions. Once she stopped moving, he deftly plucked the cream-colored animal from her back easily and curled it up in his arms. "There. Now say hello."
Alexis turned slowly, and her eyes widened in surprise. "What is that?" She asked. It looks like a smaller version of me! She thought. Well, except for the color.
Van Horn scratched the chin of the animal. "It's called a 'space cat.' It's modern variation on a species that humans domesticated soon after the dog." He said, and then slowly spun the cat. Unlike a ground-adapted animal, the little animal seemed to enjoy it as it drifted towards the relative ceiling. "Space Cats are just like the ones you find on most colonized planets, though they're smaller and are totally adapted to microgravity." He then laughed as the cat latched onto the ceiling and hopped off, aiming for and again landing on Alexis, who managed to simply stay still. "And this one likes you."
Mikula and Pavlo shared in the laugh. "Looks like we're not the only ones with relatives, eh Alexis?" Pavlo asked, referring to a time where she had joked about dogs and wolves to her lupar friends.
Van Horn, though feeling a slight twinge of discomfort over the hidden meaning he knew to be behind that statement, managed to smile. "Indeed. In any case, space cats serve a useful purpose in that they attack and kill vermin that can sneak up into ships and space stations."
Alexis brought her hand up and over to the cat, which then sniffed and licked it. "It's cute." She said. "But how do I get it off?"
"Don't like Thelma?" A new voice asked from behind the little group. The males all turned to look, while Alexis simply raised her head. 'Standing' in two magnetic slippers was a station crewman dressed in navy work coveralls. The brown-haired man was smiling, which robbed his words of any insult.
Alexis shook her head a bit. "No, it's not that I don't like him-" "Her," the man said politely. Alexis nodded and continued. "It's not that I don't like her, it's just that I don't know how I'm supposed to act around her, and it makes me nervous."
The man laughed a bit, and he walked over to pluck the space cat from where it sat on Alexis' chest. "Aw, Thelma's a harmless little cat, so you just act like you would around a friend, and she'll treat you like one."
Van Horn chuckled. "Sage advice for any cat. Thank you, Mr.?"
"Oh, sorry." The man said, and he simply tossed the little cat down the corridor he had walked from, and held out his hand. "Master Chief Michael McMann."
Van Horn shook the hand. "Dr. Earl van Horn. And these are-"
"Mikula, Pavlo, and Alexis?" McMann asked with a grin, and he smiled at the moment of confusion that passed over van Horn's face. "Sorry, but I think everyone on the station has heard of them. All the sailors on the Rodger Young speak highly of them."
"Which is strange, as I was asleep during the trip." Alexis said, and she gestured to where the cat still floated down the corridor. "And anyway, doesn't that bother her?"
McMann grinned at Alexis. "Naw. Thelma's like most space cats, and she loves to float about. That is, when they don't have anything to do. When they want to go somewhere, however, they'll move faster than any human or other animal."
Alexis blinked, still looking at the cat as it finally came in contact with a wall. Then, to her surprise, it walked along the wall, clinging to it. "How does it stay attached like that?"
"Eh?" McMann twisted about to look at the cat. "Oh, that. All space cats have magnets implanted in their paws, so they can hold on if they need to." He shrugged. "Anyway, Sorry to meet and leave, but I'm on duty. Just wanted to keep y'all from getting bothered by Thelma."
Van Horn grinned broadly. "No problem, chief, and thanks."
Aboard the USS Rodger Young, Captain Ladavic reviewed the forces arrayed for the first push onto Bowman's Planet in her ready room. Being the senior captain of a WarShip, tactical control of the naval operation fell to her, and she busied herself with the manifest.
Hmm, the Young, of course, and no other WarShips. Though the Broadsword, Battleaxe and Ajax will all be at the jump points to keep the escape doors closed. That leaves me with the two Diomedes-class assault ships already in orbit around Bowman's Planet, plus the old Achilles that they dragged out of mothballs. That's good enough for ship to ship, and the Cabot is supposed to boost in from the zenith point to support us with her fighters. Ladavic mused over the assault force, marveling that one of the massive Independence-class DropShip fighter-carries was even on this side of the Republic. Then again, since when has the NCA liked to put all his eggs in one basket?
She then looked over the lists of the transports and the troops they contained. The Young again qualifies, as does the Guardsmen's' two Confederates, their own Apollo, and an older-model LST. She sighed, wishing that National Guard units had more available transport. Given their defensive role, Guard units were seldom given many transports, save a few for shuffling forces across their planet, or to reinforce other, threatened planets with some - but not all - of their troops. At least the 5th Marauders were nice enough to lend the Guardsmen their two Gray Foxes and can send one of their own detachments aboard a Leopard.
Ladavic shook her head a bit. Still, all that gives us is a reinforced company of 'mechs, an under strength company of armor, and three platoons of battle armored infantry. She sighed. I may not be a ground-pounder, but even I know that a short battalion isn't enough to withstand the full force of a Blakest Level IV.
The intercom beeped, bringing Ladavic out of her ruminations. With a quick stab of her finger, she opened the line. "Yes?"
"Captain, we have taken on our last supplies and crew." Came the masculine voice of her first officer. "In addition, we have confirmation of the transport flotilla's liftoff from New Honshu."
Ladavic let go of the button and sighed again. 'Once more unto the breech.' "I'll be right there." She said and cut off the line. Slowly, she stood erect in the microgravity and straightened her uniform out. She took only a moment to compose herself, and then she walked to her door, letting it open itself and admitting her to the bridge.
"Captain on Deck!" Her first officer bellowed the ancient standard. Although most spacefaring crews had been spared the necessity of standing for their commanding officer, the bridge crew nonetheless awarded Ladavic such.
She felt pride swell in her chest. Best crew in the Human Sphere, she thought as she walked over to sit in her chair. "I have the conn." She said as she passed where her first officer stood near the holotank. He nodded as she did so. "Captain has the conn."
Ladavic sat down and strapped herself in out of sheer habit. "Comm officer, open a channel to traffic control."
"Aye sir." The young woman said from her console, only taking seconds to look back at her captain. "Sir, Control on line one."
Ladavic pressed the appropriate button to engage the communication system built into her chair. "This is Captain Ladavic of the United Systems' Ship Rodger Young, requesting permission to depart."
"We hear your, Captain. Permission to depart is granted. Godspeed, Rodger Young." The young man's voice replied via the radio.
Ladavic nodded, though she knew that the other couldn't see her do so. "Thank you, Control. We'll bring you back some heads for you to nail to the outside of the station." She said, and then cut the channel off, switching to the intercom. "Engineering, Bridge. Report status on all ship's systems." She ordered. Although the operations officer would have verified it, tradition demanded that the captain double-check everything. Some can disparage it, but I've seen it save lives.
A moment went by, unsurprisingly, as Ladavic knew her chief engineer to be a thorough man. "Bridge, Engineering. Life Support is operating at full capacity, all electrical systems show no shorts, the main reactor is nominal. Fusion drives are warmed and standing by, and we have a full charge in the KF-Drive core and Lithium-Fusion battery system. All reports are green."
"Thank you, Engineering." Ladavic replied, and then cut off the intercom. "Docking officer, verify that all umbilicals and connections are deactivated and ready to detach."
The young man she addressed checked over his console again. "Captain, I show no active umbilicals at this time, and all access hatches are closed. My boards read green."
Ladavic nodded. "Detach the umbilicals." She said, and the man quickly pressed a few controls. Muted thumps could be heard through the ship's structure as compressed gas propelled the service umbilicals away from the hull.
Ladavic waited for a second after that, wanting to savor the moment. As soon as I give the order, a quarter-million tons of fighting steel and flesh detaches from Port Kure to become mine to control once again. She sighed mentally. I'm getting too old for this shit. "Helm, full thrusters dead astern."
"Full thrusters dead astern, aye." The helm officer replied and pulled back on her yoke. Within a split second, Ladavic felt as if something was pulling her up, and her hair, despite being tied into a bun, still felt like floating upwards. Ladavic ignored that, and instead felt another surge of pride that nothing floated up from the deck or consoles. Good crew, they don't leave a thing unsecured.
The feeling of thrust continued, until the Helm officer spoke up again. "Captain, we are free of the docking collar, and we are moving away from the station at one meter per second."
"Cut thrust." Ladavic called, and the feeling of being pulled up stopped. "Helm, come left two-five degrees, up bubble eight seven degrees and then burn for one gee."
The officer relayed the orders back as it was custom, even as she moved to obey. This gave Ladavic time to lean back into her chair. "Sensors, display the Task Force on the main screen," she asked of the appropriate officer. Within seconds, the large screen in the 'front' of the bridge lit up and displayed a three-dimensional image of the Rodger Young, Port Kure, and the DropShips lifting off from New Honshu.
"Navigator, calculate course to Zenith jump point, and feed it to the helm. Helm, initiate course as soon as you get it." Ladavic gave her last orders for the moment. "Lets' get going."
Several days later, they arrived at the jump point. The small flotilla of eight DropShips and the Rodger Young decelerating to meet the two JumpShips that would carry the force through two jumps.
Captain Ladavic Stood in the holotank, looking over the graphical representation of the flotilla under her charge. In addition to the DropShips, she now had an Invader and a Star Lord class JumpShips under her wing, which made her all the more nervous. Even with the higher technology of the Republic, JumpShips are still immensely valuable, she mused. Now I have to spend half my time worrying about them, too.
Just then, the communications officer turned in his chair. "Captain, we have an incoming transmission zip-squealed from Port Kure, code level two."
Ladavic turned and walked out of the tank to look at the comm officer. "Only level two? Very well, pipe it into the tank."
"Aye sir." The officer responded and he began to feed the information to the holotank operator. Ladavic went into the tank and continued to gaze over the scene of the flotilla's DropShips docking to the JumpShips. Then, as she watched, a window popped into being in front of her, as the operator fed the transmission into the virtual monitor.
On the virtual screen appeared the crest of the Federal Navy, its golden anchor superimposed over a stylized version of Terra and surrounded by a wreath. Then the image dissolved to show the face of Admiral Fitzpatrick. Without preamble, he began to speak. "Captain Ladavic, since by the time this message gets to you, you'll be getting ready for the jump to Idaho, I'll make this brief.
"As you know, supplies for Operation Last Call are part of the reason for the delay we've had to endure before launching the operation. Although supplies have been cut loose from our reserves here in the New Honshu System, they are not enough to fully supply the full forces arrayed here." Fitzpatrick paused for a moment, and then smiled. "However, we just got word via HPG transmission that an Invader-class JumpShip belonging to an independent trader has agreed to an emergency contract to transport two Charleston-class attack transports. They both contain essential supplies for operating on a hostile planet, so you should be able to keep your stock of ammo, parts, and medicines in good order until the rest of Last Call's forces arrive in-system.
"Now, that should be making you happy enough right there, but it gets a bit better. Fleet Command has seen fit to move a Seabee contingent from their previous duty on Trantor. They were originally assigned to repair a staging base damaged during a groundquake, but they'll be with that Invader as well. Hopefully, they'll be able to reinforce your initial landing zones, and maybe even work on initial base facilities."
Fitzpatrick then stopped smiling. "Here's the bad news, Captain. We can't afford any more escort forces at this time, and so you'll have to stretch what you've got thinner to cover the additional transports. In addition, the Seabees don't have anything special, only an old Mule refitted with some minor factory tools for fabrication." He paused again and sighed. "In any case, they will be jumping into the Idaho system about a day after you get there, so don't be too surprised when you read them incoming.
"That's about it. Colonel Sakamoto reports that the rest of his regiment and the detachments from the 5th Marauders ought to be prepared on schedule, so they'll be only twenty days behind. Just keep our troops safe for that long, and y'all will be all right. Good luck, and God bless." With that, the screen ended with the seal of the Republic, and then the virtual screen disappeared.
Great, more responsibility, Ladavic thought with a mental sigh. Ah, well. No use whining about it, just get it done. She turned and walked out of the tank. "Mr. Falkirk, time until the flotilla is ready to jump?"
The operations officer quickly checked over the reports he was getting. "About two hours sir, and we'll be ready to jump."
Ladavic nodded at his reply. "Very well. You have the conn then. I'll be in my ready room, so call me when we're set to go."
"Aye aye sir."
Two hours later, van Horn was strapping himself into a chair in the observation lounge along with Mikula, Pavlo and Alexis, the latter a bit nervous over her first jump while conscious. "You are sure it won't hurt me?" She asked van Horn. "Mikula mentioned that it was... Very strange."
"You'll be fine, Alexis," van Horn replied with a reassuring smile. "After all, those two got through it okay." He gestured to where Mikula and Pavlo sat.
"Well, if they survived, then I should be safe." Alexis said with a smile.
"Such a lack of faith in our abilities." Mikula said with mock astonishment. "I suppose I should be grateful that you don't feel the need to hold our hands when we walk to the mess hall."
Alexis stuck her tongue out at him. "You didn't seem to complain about it this morning."
Mikula blushed, all the worse because his brother and van Horn were there. "Uhh, heh. Perhaps." He reached up and scratched the back of his head.
Van Horn coughed. "Oh, excuse me." He said, drawing attention to himself and getting a thankful look from Mikula. "Anyway, Alexis, remember what I told you about jumpsickness. If you feel pretty bad for too long, then tell me and we'll see about helping you out."
Alexis nodded at that. "Very well, but I don't see what-" She was interrupted as the five tones of the final jump warning sounded, and she gripped her seat's armrests after she saw the others doing so. Then she saw the reason why, as everything around her dissolved into blobs and shapes that made no sense, yet seemed utterly familiar. As she watched, the blobs fractured into tiny shards, and each one reflected the light of the entire universe. For an instant, she thought she could see all things, and all times through the many shards, and her mind ached at the limitless information.
Then the hyperspace gate snapped closed, and reality returned to normality so fast that it left Alexis' mind spinning. "Oh... Dear Gods..." She said. "I don't... I don't think I have even felt that way before."
"It is quite the experience, isn't it?" Mikula asked from where he sat next to her. "And you're right, Earl. It's never the same twice."
Van Horn smiled a bit. "Just got that now after your third jump?"
Mikula smiled a bit back. "Well, yeah. I didn't know if it was a fluke or not."
"Best two out of three." Pavlo added jokingly. They all shared a quick laugh at that, though it was made short by their continuing recovery from the effects of the jump. Finally, they felt better and the group unbuckled themselves and 'stood up.' "Well, you all were right," Alexis said. "That was... Beyond description, really." She looked at van Horn. "What did we see, exactly?"
Alexis was surprised as a look of frustration came over van Horn's face. "To tell the truth, Alexis, no one really knows," he said and walked off, heading for the mess hall, as again, they had avoided eating before a jump for Alexis' sake. The others followed him as he spoke. "Physicists tell us that we shouldn't be experiencing anything at all, since when we jump, we're not moving just the ship through hyperspace, but the entire 'bubble of Einstein-Hawking Four Dimensional space that the ships and its contents occupy. Therefore, we shouldn't see anything but the inside of... the... ship..." Van Horn trailed off, realizing that what he was saying might be too much to swallow. He stopped and turned around to look at the other three, and he was not surprised to see nothing but confusion on their faces.
Van Horn sighed. "I'm sorry, I got carried away again. The short answer is that, according to he idea, we shouldn't see anything special. But we do, and no one really knows why."
Alexis blinked hard at that. "You mean, there are things even your people don't know about what you do?"
Van Horn smiled. "Alexis, you sound surprised." She blushed. "Well, I just thought that, with all your people seem to know, that you'd be able to figure out these things."
Now van Horn blushed. "Alexis, that's very flattering to my race, but I think you place too much faith in us." He said and turned around to keep from becoming more embarrassed. He started off slowly, and the other three followed. "True, we've discovered a lot, but there's always more to find. Always."
They finished their walk in silence, which Alexis used to think about what van Horn had said. Strange... Don't even know what their own ships do to them? What if it's something awful? She then gave herself a mental shake. No. Earl says that they've been using this form of travel for eight centuries. If it were something bad, they'd have found out already. But then, he did admit that they don't know everything... But no, we've gone through several of these 'jumps' already, and we're fine.
Still, it's a strange way to travel.
"Initializing drive core. Jump in five... Four... Three... Two... One... JUMP!"
The navigation officer's last word became slurred halfway, as if it was played by a tape recorder that had run out of power. Reality fractured into billions of snaking trails of light that wiggled and pierced every living thing. For a moment, one could imagine seeing the cosmic strings that formed the basis of all reality. Then the hyperspace gate snapped shut, and the USS Rodger Young and her crew ran headlong from their faster-than-light jaunt into a brick wall collision with Reality.
Ladavic's head swam with ghostly images of people and places she never knew... And would never know again, as they disappeared, leaving only the memory of their presence, but not of their content. Blinking her vision clear, Ladavic looked around the bridge.
The entire room was bathed in the dim light of console displays and the blue 'battle lighting' that accompanied a call to General Quarters: Battle Stations. Ahead of her, Ladavic saw her first officer working at his position at the secondary operations console. "Status Report, Mr. Kenner."
The officer looked back to where his captain sat. "All sections are reporting in. Everything and everyone seems to have come through without a hitch. Sensors are clearing from the jump effects, and will be ready in a minute. All fighters are on ready alert status and Lieutenant Vickers reports his platoon is ready to repel boarders."
Ladavic nodded. "Good," was all she said, and it was all her crew needed to hear. Jumping into a contested system was always nerve-wracking for any WarShip crew. Unlike conventional, transport JumpShips, WarShips were main battle units, and therefore legal targets under the Ares Conventions, subject even to attack by nominally-forbidden nuclear devices, if far enough away from an inhabited planet.
Christ, you're full of happy thoughts today, Ladavic mentally chastised herself. She was naturally worried, the jump into the PX-65098 system being one of the most dangerous parts of the mission for her task force. Well, my part of it, anyway.
"Sensors have cleared, Captain." Her operator relayed. Then he spoke again, louder this time. "Contact! I multiple sensor contacts between bearings 330, 010 X and 30, 130 Y." He called out, using the bearing references needed to translate an object in three-dimensional space.
"IFF?" Ladavic's first officer asked, speaking up so that his captain could process the information calmly.
"Interrogating now..." The sensor officer's voice was tinged with not a little amount of tension. Then his shoulders relaxed and Ladavic could hear the relief in his voice. "IFF confirmed. Contacts are USS Battleaxe, Broadsword, Cabot, and Dunnellon. They are holding at fifty kilometers."
Ladavic could feel the tension in the bridge evaporate like a fog after a bright dawn. Her communications officer then turned from her seat and looked at Ladavic. "Captain, incoming message from the Broadsword. It's Captain Euller, no special protocol."
Ladavic nodded. "On the main screen, then, Mr. Lanning." She said, and in two seconds, the two-dimensional image of her counterpart in the aging Bonaventure II-class corvette appeared on the screen. The dark-skinned, middle-aged man sat in the midst of his bridge. Unlike the Rodger Young, the Broadsword was a ship so old that its construction predated the colonization of nearly a third of all human-inhabited worlds, and thus the small bridge was cramped and built in the circular style that the now-dead Terran Hegemony had favored in its WarShips. Because of this, all one could see the shoulders and heads of crewmen at the feet of the venerable officer in the picture's frame.
In apparent ignorance of this, Euller smiled. "Captain Ladavic. Even though we were expecting you, your emergence signatures had us holding our breaths."
Ladavic smiled in return. "Well, you know the old saying. 'When you see like Hell.'" Euller completed the old JumpShip sailor's adage. "Still, can't do that when I'm expecting guests, now can I?"
Ladavic smiled a bit wider. "Indeed not. In any case, has there been any change since your last report to Fleet Command?"
Euller's smile disappeared as they began to talk business. "Not to my knowledge, no. The last transmission from the Glacier Bay still showed the Wobbies approaching your friends' town at a leisurely pace. They haven't sent up any fighters or ships to attack her or the Twilight Tornado, though we know they have at least two squadrons of light birds and at least one Assault Triumph-class vessel available for combat."
Ladavic frowned. "Hmm, I don't like that. Not that I'd want those Diomedes ships to take the brunt of the fighting, but this isn't quite like the Blakests to sit back and wait for us to come knocking at their door."
Euller shrugged on the screen. "It confused me a bit as well. When we were just doing gatekeeper duties, I didn't look a gift horse in the mouth. But now that you mention it, it is fishy." He stroked his chin a bit in thought.
Ladavic shrugged herself. "Well, I suppose we'll have to just chance it. I hope you won't mind us borrowing the Cabot and her fighters for a while?"
Euller shook his head. "Nah. We got enough to deal with any of their escaped JumpShips that want to try running back, and you'll be in-system to tackle them if they try a pirate point."
"Excellent." Ladavic replied with another smile. "Well, I guess this means we'll be going now, Captain. Please watch over my JumpShips. Admiral Fitzpatrick would nail my ass over his doorway if they got into trouble."
Euller smiled. "No worries, Captain. Go kick some Wobbie ass, and we'll watch the jumpers."
Several days later, the flotilla approached Bowman's Planet. With the Rodger Young in the lead, the fourteen ships descended through the planet's outer gravity well.
Alexis took one last look out of the windows in the main observation lounge at the moon of her home world. From here, it looks so large and imposing, she thought. Even more so, now that I know it is waterless, airless, and lifeless; a dead rock drifting around my home. She couldn't help but wonder if that was to be her fate this day, as well. The entire crew had been on pins and needles for the last day. Alexis and the Farkas brothers had easily picked up on it, despite the crew's best attempts to keep their anxieties from their normal routines.
But the tension is as thick as when we jumped into the system. Even more so, with the Wobbies not acting like they expected. She sighed and turned away from the windows as protective blast shields suddenly whirred to life, reaching up and over to close off the view to space.
Alexis was then about to walk back to her 'duty station' - all assigned personnel were given a place to be during combat, even if they had nothing to do - when she stopped herself. She turned around and looked again at the blast shields that now covered the windows, he face showing amazement. Have I really become so used to these wonders that when something new happens, I don't react? She wondered. I feel like I should be asking someone on how those things came up... But then, I know, don't I? Earl called them 'motors' that rely on power created from the engines. Nothing more than machinery, nothing special to humans... And now to me?
Her wondering thoughts were interrupted by a blaring alarm klaxon. "General Quarters! All hands man your battle stations! This is no drill! Repeat, man your battle stations! Enemy ships inbound!" The intercom blared, and Alexis felt her pulse quicken. She turned and ran down the corridor from the observation room, leaving just ahead of the automatic doors that started to seal off parts of the ship from one another; a precaution against atmosphere loss and boarding parties.
After a hectic trip, in which crewmen running about bumped her, Alexis finally caught the lift to the bridge, and she managed to get to the entrance hatch as Mikula and Pavlo were checking their weapons.
The former looked up. "Alexis, glad you didn't get caught behind a door." Mikula said with a lopsided grin, though Alexis could tell that there was more worry than humor in his face.
Alexis nodded as she straightened out the ablative-flak vest that she wore. "Yes. A bit hectic getting here, but I am here nonetheless." She said nervously. "I suppose you have my weapon still?"
Mikula nodded and turned, grabbing the ER Laser Rifle from where it rested against the bulkhead and then handing it to her. "Kept it safe, like I promised."
Alexis sighed as she took the weapon. Again, I seem to take these things for granted... She thought and looked up, taking in the area around her. Ladavic's plan of action was to drop the Mobile Infantry and National Guard battle armor over the Blakest forces that had encamped around Hercor, and she had wanted every platoon to make the drop. This would mean leaving the Rodger Young without her usual protection against boarders, and so several crewmen had been assigned firearms in case the battle should turn for the worst. Since the three Bowmanites couldn't help in any naval battle and couldn't drop with the M.I., but had some weapons training and combat experience, their duty stations were in the bridge as 'security.'
Which is why I'm wearing this strange outfit, Alexis thought. This prompted her to reach up and check to make sure that her helmet was fastened properly. The crew in engineering had a hard time getting these to fit us, especially with our ears so much different than a human's, she remembered. They had to cut holes for our ears to stick through, so I don't want this slipping off and yanking my ears. In addition to the helmets and armor vests, the three also wore boots made from the same laser-diffusing metal-stopping material over their gray uniforms.
"Well, here goes," Mikula said and turned to enter the code to make the bridge door open, even during combat. It did, and the three stepped through quickly, letting the hatch slam itself shut after they had entered. In front of them stood a bridge transformed, with nearly every console attended and quiet, urgent calls and phrases being sent back and forth. Amidst this flurry of activity, Captain Ladavic sat in her captain's chair, an island of calm determination.
Then she turned and looked at the three Bowmanites with an expression that Alexis couldn't discern as distaste or sadness. With a nod of her head, Ladavic indicated for them to take up the three bucket seats that were built into the 'rear' corner of the bridge, since the designers of the corvette had realized that sometimes, somebody might need to ride along with the crew into combat.
As the three quickly and silently moved to make themselves secure, Alexis couldn't help but have the feeling that they were practically helpless. I hope that the Captain knows what she's doing.
I have no fucking idea what I'm doing, Ladavic thought as her flotilla moved forward, inexorably inching closer to the Blakest ships that now were on an intercept course. I'm used to raids, striking quick and leaving, avoiding ship-to-ship and just being a glorified bus driver. She sighed mentally. Well Mary, if you couldn't hack it, then you should've told George back at Kure. With that self-doubt conquered, or at least suppressed, Ladavic turned in her chair to look at the holotank and tallied the enemy forces coming to meet her force.
Seems like this is what they were wating for, she realized. Every fighter we know about is here, plus another six that must've been hidden in one of their ships, since we counted all the ones at their makeshift base. Ladavic brought her hands together and steepled them underneath her chin. They're also sending that Assault Triumph, an upgraded Union, and two Leopard CVs. A decent force against most fleets. But not one boasting my WarShip.
With that thought, she turned to the front again. "Ops, distance to closest enemy DropShip?"
The officer checked his figures for a moment. "Six hundred kilometers and approaching, sir. They will be within range of our main battery in ninety seconds."
Ladavic nodded. "Our little friends?"
"Right behind us sir." Operations responded, a note of amusement entering his voice.
Captain Parker adjusted the straps on his command couch for what seemed like the thousandth time. These things always annoy me when I gotta sit and do nothing, he thought in annoyance. His squadron had taken off from the Rodger Young and moved into in a trailing position in the sensor shadow of the 250,000-ton WarShip. They were Captain Ladavic's nasty surprise for the Blakests who thought that the Cabot was the only fighter carrier.
'Course, they might know that already from our last trip here... But then, they might not have seen where we came from last time. Heh, their flyboys sure didn't, he remembered with a grin. That, and the Young is a brand new class of ship, so they'll not know her full capabilities.
All these thoughts soon exited his mind as the radio in his helmet came alive. "This is Romeo Base," said the air boss aboard the Rodger Young, "Enemy fighters have boosted ahead of their ships. I repeat, their fighters are moving in. All commands stand by."
Parker didn't respond with the other squadron commanders. His balanced force of twelve fighters needed to stay hidden, and so they were under radio silence. They could, however, receive, and Parker watched icons light up on his HUD as Blakest fighters began to be painted by friendly fighters that transmitted targeting data via encrypted radios.
"Range to target one is now five hundred forty kilometers." The sensors officer called out tensely.
"We are in range, Captain, and we have a lock on their leader." The weapons officer spoke up. Ladavic nodded almost absentmindedly. "Naval PPCs only this round. I don't want to waste shells on long shots." She said, and the weapons officer turned back to his console and input the information to his battery commanders. "Standing by, skipper."
Ladavic sighed deeply. "Fire."
The information was relayed almost instantly, from weapons officer to battery commander to gunner, and then to the machinery. With a press of the old-fashioned triggers, two 'Light'-class Naval-grade particle projection cannons, fully charged during the call to General Quarters, moved slightly as their computer controls adjusted for drift. Then their massive capacitors discharged, sending unimaginable energies racing along magnetic coils, creating charged plasma and high-energy magnetic fields. In milliseconds, these fields and particles leapt out the only exit, and they headed straight for the Union-class ship in the lead of the Wobbies' formation.
The effects were astounding, as megajoules of thermal and kinetic energy impacted into the bow of the spheroid-shaped craft. In the blink of an eye, nearly nine tons of advanced armor vaporized as that energy spent itself.
"Direct hit!" The Sensor's officer yelled ecstatically on the Rodger Young's bridge. "Enemy has taken severe armor damage."
Ladavic simply took it in stride. "Helm, cut thrust and heave to starboard. Unmask our broadsides."
Even as the helm officer replied, she yanked hard on the steering yoke, and her co-pilot slammed the thrust to zero. Microgravity returned as the WarShip ceased its acceleration and spun on its vertical axis.
"Fighters are engaging!" Operations called. Ladavic turned in her chair and looked over the holotank readout. "Very well, ops. Weaps, target the Assault Triumph this time. I want that symbol of the Blakests dead."
"Aye aye sir."
"Tallyho!" The ancient call of the fighter pilot rang out over the comm frequencies. Captain Parker tried his best to keep himself calm, despite the need to maneuver so that he wouldn't careen into his mothership. His HUD was now a multi-colored mess as Blue Republic Icons intermingled with Red Wobbie icons. The latter were outnumbered, but they fought hard and skillfully, keeping the numerically superior forces of the Republic from gaining a too-decisive lead.
All that was about to change. "Romeo Base to Hammer Group. Engage, engage, engage!"
Parker smiled savagely as he flipped his radio to active. "You heard the man, people, lets kick some ass!" He called out over his squadron's frequency, hitting his controls for active sensors and max thrust. Within seconds, he was accelerating at four-and-a-half gees, his wingmate not far behind.
"How do you want to take this, Sledge?" Drunkard called.
"You take the high road..."
"...And I'll take the low road." His wingman finished.
"And I'll kill the Wobbies before ya!" Came a third voice, as Parker's second-in-command raced his Visigoth A out. Parker didn't have time to counter the phrase, as now he approached the 'furball' of dueling fighters.
Parker's HUD painted him a nice target. A Defiance Omnifighter! Must be one of their last advanced-tech fighters. He grinned again as he maneuvered and then triggered his ER PPCs as he got a lock.
The twin streams of charged particles reached out and clipped into the port wing of the Defiance, cleaning off half the armor and causing the enemy craft to shudder. The Blakest pilot then swung up and around, cutting his thrust to face his attacker.
"That's right fucker, come get some!" Parker exclaimed in his cockpit as he triggered his ER PPCs again and added in his LRM-20 rack. The PPCs both hit again, one to the already-weakened port wing, the other flaying armor over the Defiance's nose. Neither weapon scored anything but armor, and Parker's missile barrage missed and it flew off into deep space.
The Defiance's return fire was staggering, as it returned fire with its own ER PPCs. He's good, was all Parker could think of as he was battered in his seat as the enemy weapons carved into his craft's nose armor. Even as he was shaken, Parker hit his thrusters and twisted his craft out of alignment with the enemy ship.
Which freed up his wingmate to finish his work. Drunkard fired both of his Large Pulse Lasers and his LRM-20, scoring deep gouges in the enemy craft's nose. Damaged even before Parker had engaged tit, the Defiance's armor buckled as the missiles and lasers impacted into the fuselage, eventually tearing away the canopy and killing the pilot within.
Parker didn't give it another thought as he swung his 70-ton craft into the chase position behind an enemy Thunderbird that was pursuing a damaged Republic fighter. Without a thought, Parker fired his LRMs and Pulse Lasers, managing to hit them all on the enemy's rear armor. Although not enough to fully melt or blast the protection away, one laser bolt found a weak spot and penetrated all the way to the engine.
Parker felt elated as he saw the spike in the enemy's heat profile. Engine hit! That sucker's gonna be hot now. Then an attack warning in his helmet earphones caused Parker to react automatically, pulling his fighter into a high-g turn that managed to break the lock of a trailing Gotha fighter, its twin LRM racks missing entirely, though it managed a hit with its PPC, slagging armor on Parker's starboard wing.
Before he could figure out a new attack vector, Parker saw the enemy Gotha disintegrate underneath the barrage of eight ER Large Lasers, forty long-range missile, and several short-ranged missiles. As the cloud of metal and scrap cleared, two Stuka IICs flew straight through the debris and angled for the Thunderbird.
"Thanks for the help, boys." Parker called on the open frequency."
"No problem. You saved our captain's ass, now it's our turn." A female voice replied as the two Stukas arced upwards to chase the enemy fighter. Parker then scanned his HUD to see to the status of his squadron, and then too look for targets. Holy Shit, they're all gone? He thought with amazement, as the enemy Thunderbird died a quick death, leaving nothing but a field of blue.
The captain really knew how to fuck them up.
"Hit him again!" Ladavic called to her weapons officer. The man readily complied, sending another command to fire the broadside guns of the corvette. The twin naval class-20 cannons shook the entire ship as they loosed nearly a ton of high explosive and metal. The two shells flew across the expanse of space and rammed themselves into the limping husk of the Assault Triumph. Already devastated by the Young's earlier strike, the hull fractured under the kinetic impact alone. Then the explosives went off, and soon the 8,000-ton vessel ceased to exist as such.
The Young then bucked as several small weapons from the enemy DropShips reached out, finally able to begin to hit the vessel. "Enemy ships are closing... I think they mean to ram us, sir." The sensor officer spoke almost-normally, behaving professionally during the thick of battle.
Ladavic grunted as she studied the holographic display on the tank. "I think you're right. Helm!" Ladavic turned to face towards the woman she addressed. "On my mark, thrust of three gees and change course nine zero degrees to port, thirty degree up-bubble."
"Aye aye, sir." The helm officer said, somewhat confused over the unusual order, but preparing for it nonetheless.
"Guns, target the lead Leopard with bow batteries and fire when ready." Ladavic ordered as she watched the holotank intently.
"Aye, sir." The weapons officer responded, and soon another PPC discharge raced outwards. This time, however, the Young's luck ran thin, and the particle streams missed their target, sending their energy into deep space at the speed of light.
The bow NAC-20, however, made up for it by reaching out and hitting the hapless fighter carrier in its starboard wing. The massive shell and its explosives ripped into the side of the Leopard CV and disintegrated the entire portion of the craft it came in contact with, causing the 1,800-ton DropShip to slew around and loose thrust as its engines shut down from shock damage.
That left, however, one more ship coming. Even as Ladavic watched, the Blakest ship angled in for a suicide run at her own ship. Not today cocksucker. "Helm, initiate course!"
"Coming left nine-zero degrees, thirty up-bubble, three gees." Although the helmsman had started to react at the very second Ladavic had spoken, she had repeated the course back anyway, as was tradition. Ladavic sat back in her chair as her weight increased to three times normal, and she let the seat take the brunt of supporting her. The rest of the crew was doing the same, and Ladavic spared a moment to pray that the three aliens in her bridge were following the limited training they had been given in shipboard operations.
She didn't spare a second to glimpse at them, though, as she watched the tank for the exact moment to make her move. "Guns. Broadside weapons, hit him if possible." Ladavic managed. Although under extreme pressures, her officer and the crew reacted nonetheless, aiming and firing the dual NAC-20s mounted in the starboard arc. Unfortunately, the stresses of the high-gees were enough to make the gunners' aim off, and the two shells hurtled past the enemy DropShip by a scant twenty meters.
Ladavic wasn't counting on the guns, however, but rather on the Blakest's moves. There! "Helm, new course! Maximum up-angle and max burn! Straighten your rudder and hold her steady!"
The helmsman repeated the course orders back in a strained voice, even as she complied. The apparent weight of the crew increased by one-and-a-half times more, and they were pressed at an angle that most ships couldn't thrust at and maintain their structural integrity. The Rodger Young, however, had been built with such radical maneuvers in mind, and her exact performance specifications had been kept secret for such occasions.
It proved decisive, as the quarter-million-ton vessel angled up farther and faster than the Blakest Leopard CV anticipated. Rushing forward, they had seen the Young's previous maneuver and thought that the small WarShip had started to evade at its maximum ability, as most WarShips couldn't thrust more than two or three gees, and so the craft had accelerated in order to make its attempted impact as destructive as possible.
But now, Ladavic's tactic succeeded, and the Blakest pilot couldn't compensate for the radical change in time. The entire bridge crew held their breath as they watched their monitors display from cameras mounted on the outside of their ship. The Enemy Leopard CV passed so close that Ladavic could see individual portholes on the upper surface of the design, but only for a split second, as the craft shot past in the blink of an eye. "Helm, cut thrust! Continue up angle and roll to starboard fifty degrees!"
Captain Parker stared in disbelief as the Rodger Young did a rolling somersault, deftly avoiding a collision that could have destroyed her. Parker and his squadron had maneuvered away from their mothership on orders from the air boss, and they had a spectacular view as the 250,000-ton ship moved like an elephant doing a ballet; impossible, but true nonetheless.
"Sweet Jesus, did you see that?" "The skipper's crazier than a Liao on Rasalhague!" "Rasalhauge? Try on Washington!" The comm channel lit up with multiple voices, as the entire squadron marveled over the feat. Then Parker shook his head and triggered his radio. "Cut the chatter, Hammers! Stand by." The channel rang with affirmatives, and then quieted down, as everyone wanted to see what happened next.
They didn't have long to wait. The Blakest pilot aboard the Leopard CV, so ready for death, had been naturally surprised when he didn't immediately die. Thus, caught off-balance, he simply reversed his course one hundred eighty degrees and burned hard, trying to forestall his velocity and make it back into the fight somehow.
It would be his last mistake, as the Rodger Young completed her turn, bringing her broadside guns in line with the enemy ship, which due to its simple reverse heading, was now presenting an aspect of a dead-still target on the Republic gunners' scopes. Without hesitation, they unleashed the devastating broadside from the corvette's main guns, sending a coruscating particle stream from her Medium Naval PPC and dual NAC-20s straight into the nose of the hapless fighter carrier. The particle stream evaporated half of the armor off of the vessel's nose, sending massive streamers of liquefied metal into space, where it cooled instantly and formed solid, silvery streamers. Then the two heavy cannon shells arrived, and they plowed through the remaining armor as if it wasn't there, sending their explosives to detonate deep within the Leopard CV's core.
Parker flinched as the bright light for the explosions briefly overcame his visor's dimming threshold. Opening his eyes after a moment, he looked out to see that the last Blakest ship was now more memory than metal, or of Flesh.
"Romeo Base to all commands. This is Juliet Actual," Ladavic's voice came over the radio, giving her command code name. "All transports are to begin their combat drop assignments. All fighter commands are to escort the transports, and defend them at all costs." She paused, and Parker could've sworn he heard a sigh of relief. Then Ladavic's voice came back with vigor. "We smacked them in the face, now let's kick them in the balls!"
Ladavic heard the cheers, both on the radio channels and on her own ship. But all she did was close her transmission channel and leaned back into her chair. But not before she patted the armrest. "Good Girl." She whispered to the spirit of the Young. And thank you God. "Helm! Burn for the planet, maximum orbital insertion velocity! Let's catch them napping!"