32: Prelude to War
"The truth of the matter, sir, is that I don't think we can win a conventional fight. Not with what we have."
Grand General Masrak, who was often so confident and assured if only for the benefit of those under his command, eyed the young Captain carefully. Toron had been thinking about their situation a great deal since they had learned of the home-world's intentions and the attack force sent their way. They had little time left before it arrived, and every one of Vargania's orbital defences were primed and ready for a fight. That also included the small civil defence fleet, comprised mainly of older frigates and cruisers that had formerly been in use by main Union forces before being retired from duty, superseded by superior models thereby allowing the older ones to fall into planetary defence roles. It was not a perfect setup by any stretch, and as far as Toron knew they had only a handful of actual modern Union military vessels under their control.
He could see the fleet layout now on the screen at the wall, portrayed by a series of green indicators, their positions relayed by beacons and transponders and such. The command information centre was located in a small bunker underneath the Governor's estate, and it was where Toron and the Grand General were now, making use of the emergency command systems that had never seen much use before today. They were, after all, intended for 'emergency' use and there had been very few large-scale emergencies through Vargania's history. Not for a thousand years had they needed to pull out all the stops like this.
Some of the technicians manning the computers around them had been pulled off assignments at the city's military base, so they at least had experience with this kind of thing. The inside of the bunker itself was small, little more than a glorified concrete box with a few small adjoining rooms. Living quarters, supply stores, a bathroom and other basic necessities in case the Varganian leadership had to stay down here for any significant period. The Governor was seated nearby, joined by his somewhat older aide. Governor Nalgen was currently attempting to enjoy a well-cooked piece of meat from one of the more common livestock animals of Vargania, but even he had appeared to have lost his appetite.
"What are you suggesting, Captain?" The General asked him, turning away from the display as to meet the young Captain's gaze. Toron had his concerns, but he did not necessarily have any of his own plans in mind.
"Well, we might have to fight dirty. They'll come here, to Rokasham. They'll want to sever the head so the rest of it falls. I don't think they'll bomb us, because they won't want to cause any serious collateral damage. They'll want to arrest the Governor and you, even me as well. Get rid of a rebellious colonial government and put someone more trustworthy and controllable in charge with a minimum of bloodshed. Maybe we can use their caution to our advantage?" It was a stretch, Toron knew this much. Even the Grand General appeared dubious, and he quirked one brow-ridge questioningly.
"Go on, Captain."
"I'm talking of ambushes and booby traps, sir. Guerilla tactics once they land their soldiers. Disrupt them at every turn. Evacuate the Governor and his people, that way even if they take the city they will not have taken our leadership. You and I will remain behind to lead the troops, but the Governor should be sent far into the hills, to somewhere we don't even know about. They'll want him to make a transition in power official, to downplay their overreach. Hold a gun to his head whilst he resigns as Governor."
Governor Nalgen perked up at mention of him, leaning forwards from his table a short distance behind the pair in order to listen closely.
"What was that, Captain?" The Governor frowned. "I will not leave the city when it falls under attackā¦"
"We won't give you a choice, Governor." The General spun about to face him, his voice suddenly sharp, authoritative. The Governor looked to be about to protest, but he instead stopped him and sat back in his chair. He knew better than to argue with some like Grand General Masrak. The General picked up a landline communicator from the panel nearby, contacting the guards on the surface above.
"I need a dozen trustworthy soldiers to assist the Governor and those ministers of his still present in the estate to evacuate the city," the General instructed. "Take them off into the wilderness as quickly as possible." He motioned for the two soldiers standing guard by the bunker's elevator entrance. They marched over, and he gestured for the Governor and his aide. "Take these two topside. See to it that they are taken far from the city."
"I would prefer to stay with my people," the Governor said, even as he rose to his feet and relented to the plan. "A leader is hardly a leader when he runs from those he must lead."
"You heard the Captain, sir. If this city falls, you'll still be out there to lead the people." Masrak offered him a wry smile, baring his somewhat uneven pointed teeth to do so.
"This is going to be a messy business, isn't it?" The Governor sounded regretful. Now was not the time for second thoughts, however. They had all agreed to make their stand, no matter what. That meant leaving all military decisions to the Grand General, now that he was the highest-ranking officer on Vargania.
"It always is, Governor." Masrak and Toron watched as the Governor and his aide were escorted by the two guards to the elevator, before they stepped on inside and disappeared behind its closing doors. Toron glanced at the General, amused to see some trace of relief on his grizzled features. With the civilian leadership well out of his way, he no longer needed to worry about hearing their input on any military decision he made.
"I should go out there, sir," Toron said, turning to the General again. "I need to help setup the ground defences."
"Not now, Captain." The General looked to the main display. "The enemy isn't here yet. They'll need to get by our orbital defences first."
"You think they'll open fire?"
"I think they will not want to be the ones to shoot first," the General replied. "They'll be counting on us to do it, but we won't. It'll be a standoff. And that standoff will provide ample distraction whilst they send shuttles down here full of troops to take the capital."
"If that happens, sir, will you shoot down the shuttles?"
The General shook his head. However, Toron detected some uncertainty in his gaze.
"Like I said, we won't shoot first. I won't have it." That was all well and good, but a situation such as a standoff in space provided the kind of tension that could lead to all manner of misunderstanding. One slip of one's trigger-finger and a war would start. Just like before, when Cassalis and her lackeys had paid them a visit. All it would have taken was one twitch, one slip-up and a whole lot of people would have died.
"General, we're detecting hyperspace energy surges." One of the technicians looked up from his workstation then, getting the Grand General's attention. Both he and Toron directed their full attention to the main display, whereupon a number of unknown contacts had started to pop into existence in Varganian airspace. The systems here quickly identified them as Union vessels, several of them, at the centre of them all being the dreadnought Sword of Calshara. On the screen, the indicators varied in size in order to denote the different classes of ship, with the dreadnought being the largest of them all, its ID code and name flashing up next to it. Toron knew the ship well, he had served upon it for some time when Cassalis had been its commanding officer. A promising position to have and a stepping-stone to a higher station. Now, however, Toron's concerns were no longer with his career as an officer in the space navy of the Calsharan Systems Union; instead, his concerns lay solely with fighting back against an increasingly tyrannical government that had now sent military vessels to outright invade one of its own colonies. If that was not the mark of a harsh regime, Toron did not know what was.
"That's seven ships, sir. One dreadnought, three cruisers, two frigates and one corvette. Our defensive fleet is asking for instructions."
"Tell them to hold. Tell them that if the enemy launches its fighters, then they are to do the same. However, none are to open fire. We'll let the High Protector's people make the first mistake." The General sounded confident of this. Toron, however, did not share the same optimism. Whilst they waited as the instructions were relayed, the Grand General turned to Toron once more.
"Get topside, Captain. Organize the planetary defence soldiers and the militia. I don't think we'll have to wait too long for our invaders to make their move."
Toron nodded in acknowledgment of these orders. He snapped off a quick salute before he turned and raced for the elevator, riding it back up to the Governor's estate. He had already spread out those under his command throughout the city, with the bulk concentrated on defending the estate and surrounding city centre. Major Voska would be among them, commanding a large portion. As for Captain Lahea Varollon, he had not seen her since the night before. She had left him before he had woken up this morning, and just when he was thinking that she was hardly the type to run from a fight, he found her waiting for him at the front of the estate.
Under the morning sun, her grey-blue planetary defence uniform and armour vest appeared in immaculate condition. She offered him a smile as he approached, and he returned it in kind, feeling a certain warmth build within when he saw her. He realised then that he may be developing something beyond physical attraction for her. Now, however, was hardly the time to bring it up.
"Good morning, Captain," she said. She stood upon the front steps of the estate. Outside on the street were dozens of planetary defence soldiers, and all of them were forming into ranks. "I was just warming these troopers up."
"The inspection will have to wait, Captain," Toron said. He looked up towards the orange-tinted mid-morning sky, trying with some futility to spot the ships high in orbit. Of course, none of them were apparent across the vast distance involved, although he thought he sighted a few small moving points of light. Satellites perhaps, or maybe some of the ships that were up there standing by to defend one of the Union's oldest colonies.
Flight Lieutenant Kavi Norrok of the Varganian Planetary Defence Force had not been looking forward to this particular flight. Sure, she loved flying, loved the sensations that it brought and she knew there was little else that could match it. Flying in-atmosphere or in-vacuum, it did not matter for either one had its joys. The older fighters the VPDF had at its disposal retained the common wedge or chevron-shape that so many Calsharan craft carried, albeit much more scuffed and dented from the rigors of frequent use over many years. Sure, they were refitted and maintained, but wear-and-tear was universal, and short of a complete overhaul the VPDF fighters and attack craft did indeed show their age. Compared to Kavi herself, who was little more than twenty-two years of age and had only been a pilot for about a year. Young, with a dull-green skin tone, she sat comfortably in the cockpit of her fighter as it soared out of the cruiser that she had called home since the start of her deployment. The typical flight suit for a Calsharan pilot was comprised of a sleek black and grey outfit, complete with helmet, the synthetic fibres of the suit designed to resist against g-forces and high heat to an extent.
The cruiser was her first actual deployment, no less. Planetary defence was not as glamourous as the actual Union military, but it still offered plenty of opportunities. She had intended to apply as an officer in the Union space navy after a few years in planetary defence, but now it seemed those plans had been thoroughly disrupted by the current crisis. Her experience in the VPDF would have helped her prospects greatly when it came to joining the actual Union military. Now, like many, she felt a sense of divided loyalty: they had all sworn to protect the Calsharan people and to serve the Union. And yet, here were their own people coming to Vargania in force, seemingly intent on launching an attack. In the end, it became a question of loyalty: was she more loyal to the central government or to the world she had grown up on?
Blue and grey were the official colours of the VPDF and were also present on the Varganian colonial flag. As such, all the fighters that came spewing from the ships in Vargania's orbit were painted much the same. Kavi was at the head of her formation, her cockpit becoming filled with the black of space and the stars that packed it. The Union ships were much further ahead, arranged in a vague wedge formation. Their own fighters, mostly painted the sleek black and grey so common to Union regalia, came racing out of the ships ahead. The largest of them all was the dreadnought, the Sword of Calshara, a long and sleek black vessel that was absolutely piled upon with guns. They pointed in all directions, ranging from standard plasma cannons to missile launchers and beam weaponry. A frontal assault on that thing would be suicide, even more so with the other ships around it, flanking it.
"Hold fire." The voice of her flight leader was clear in her comms. Kavi slowed her fighter a little, keeping in formation with the dozens of others all around her. There had to be scores of the Union fighters, but then there were scores of the VPDF fighters, not to mention plenty of black Union ones coming from the Union space navy vessels that had aligned themselves with the Varganian government. Her scanner screen, set in front of her on the dashboard, was brimming with contacts. It was a mess, and she was already having problems determining friend from potential foe.
"Don't be the first to shoot," her flight leader added.
"They're coming straight for us." Another pilot's voice broke in, laced with a mounting worry.
"Just stay the course."
They were flying straight for each other. Two vast swarms of fighter craft, with some of the larger ground attack craft thrown in the mix for good measure. Neither side showed any signs of stopping, for neither side were willing to be the ones to give ground to the others.
"What the hell do we do?" The chatter in her comms became filled with increasingly worried and frantic callouts. Fighters hurtled towards one another, meeting in the space between the two opposing lines of ships in a chaotic melee. Far below lay the blue white of Vargania, a vast sphere that from up here carried with it a certain natural beauty. And high above those swirling white clouds, the first aerial engagement of the civil war began.
Fighters banked and rolled and darted either side as the two sides met, without a shot being fired. Kavi's field of view became filled with fighters, blue and black ones, spinning about one another in an effort to avoid colliding. Kavi had to swing hers left sharply, and she swore under her breath as the black Union fighter ahead of her swept through the space she had occupied only seconds previously. That pilot had not even slowed down, seemingly intent on flying straight into her. A mark of bravery, or arrogance. There was no doubt in her mind that these Union pilots considered themselves far better than some colonial pilot flying an outdated fighter craft. All the more reason for Kavi and her cohorts to do all that they could to prove their opponents wrong, even if that meant starting a shooting war.
Her comms channel was full of panicked chatter. No one knew what to do, and it seemed that neither did the Union pilots. They flew circles around each other, zipping about, attempting to enter formations only for an opposing fighter craft to get in the way. It was a growing game of simply disrupting the other side through one's flying, of trying to out-manoeuvre the enemy without hitting anyone. Kavi found herself on the tail of one of the Union fighters, lining it up in her sights only for an alarm to sound from her cockpit dashboard. Someone had acquired a missile lock on her, and she saw in the rear camera that there was another Union fighter on her tail. The alarm kept sounding, a rapid and annoying beeping that filled the cockpit. No missile fired, and Kavi broke off from her own pursuit, swinging the fighter around in an overhead turn that put her straight on course with her pursuer.
"I got one coming straight for me." The voice of another of the Varganian pilots sounded through her comms. Kavi swung away from the incoming Union fighter, and she saw the fighter craft belonging to the Varganian pilot in question further ahead, off to her right-hand side. Both fighters were on a head-on collision course, and neither appeared to intend on breaking off. Kavi spoke then, voice sounding throughout the squadron's communications, her own heart pounding as the excitement and anxiety of the chaotic fighter melee set her adrenaline pumping.
"Gorok, break off. He won't fire." She knew Lieutenant Gorok well, for he flew in her wing. She also knew that he was much more of a thrill-seeker than most. If anything, he was the last man to back away from a fight.
"He's going to have to break first." The Lieutenant sounded absolutely certain of this. Kavi's heart sank; she knew that tone of voice, and she knew then that no attempt to dissuade him otherwise would be successful.
"Gorok, break off. Don't embarrass the Varganian Defence air wing." She added this last part somewhat jokingly, although her voice wavered, betraying her true uncertainty. The fighters were closing, and she watched with rapidly growing anxiety as they became seconds from colliding. Suddenly, the Union pilot pulled up, but even that was not enough to save the situation. The underside of the Union fighter scraped the top of Gorok's own fighter, shearing metal and sending both fighter craft spiralling out of control. The Union fighter belched smoke, with Gorok's own falling into a rapid, uncontrollable spin. Fire blossomed from the engines of the fighter, seconds before the entire craft exploded into a soundless ball of flame. The vacuum of space ensured that it dissipated quickly, leaving behind little more than fragments of metal and one continuing, spiralling chunk that began a slow descent into Vargania's atmosphere.
Kavi heard a stream of angered callouts over her comms. Even she felt a surge of anger at the sight of the accident, but it was not her who started shooting first. Someone else did that, far off to her left, and before she knew it the space around her became filled with the streaks of plasma cannon fire and the vapour trails of multiple missiles. The alert in her cockpit sounded again, and she braked hard before pulling up, causing the missile on her tail to scoot underneath her fighter and fly on by. It began to turn some distance ahead, but by that point she was already zooming far from its reach, watching as a Union fighter above her exploded into a ball of flame. The lack of sound gave the whole fight a strange, almost ethereal quality, as if it was not entirely real. The nearest explosions provided some faint, almost indiscernible thump as the concussive waves from the detonations landed against her fighter. Yet, beyond that the guns and the missiles fired silently, crisscrossing the vacuum with an odd beauty that belied their lethal nature.
The ships in defence of Vargania and those Union vessels who had arrived to attack it had also opened fire, sending forth plasma beams and bolts and missiles across the distance between them. Rapid fire plasma cannons spewed forth from all vessels, providing a flak screen against the enemy fighters and incoming missiles. Shields flared under the impacts of energy beams and heavy plasma torpedoes. One of the older Varganian frigates, a narrow hammer-shaped craft, saw its shields flare up and fail as one of the Union cruisers landed a stream of plasma energy across its forward section. The beam cut through the hull like butter, severing the head off of the rest of the ship, a brilliant flash from within signifying the rupture and overload of its power core. The entire frigate exploded into a dazzling array of blue-white flame, with sizeable chunks of it scattering every which way, falling end-over-end as they tumbled through the vacuum.
Kavi jumped on the tail of a Union fighter. Her forward plasma cannons let rip, battering the shields on the fighter, causing them to sputter and fail before she let fly with a ship-to-ship missile. Within seconds, the Union fighter had been reduced to a wreck, fire surging as it came apart, only for the air within to dissipate in the vacuum and the fires to abruptly cease. She was not sure how she felt about killing one of her own, a fellow Calsharan. In the heat of the moment, she did not think about it much at all. In the end, no one would be certain who had fired the first shots. Just that the war had started somehow, and in the end either side would end up blaming the other.
The waiting was perhaps the worst part of a situation such as this one. It was one thing to head into battle with the threat of death readily apparent, but the waiting before that battle only gave rise to wandering thoughts and, in turn, doubts. That was something Toron wanted to avoid, not only in himself but for those under his command: doubt, for that was to be the biggest killer, more so than any gun or tank or aircraft. If one doubted themselves, then they doubted their actions. Second-guessing only lead to hesitation and mistakes.
Waiting was all they were doing now. Toron waited in the shade on a street corner some distance from the Governor's estate, joined by about thirty other civil defence soldiers who were scattered about the street at either side. An anti-aircraft battery was located further ahead, surrounded by sandbags; a hastily erected emplacement, one of many of its kind dotted throughout the city. Lahea was across the street from him, plasma rifle held at the ready, her gaze and those of the soldiers around her drifting skyward as the battle in orbit progressed. They could not really see it from down here, save for the odd distant flash, although only the largest explosions showed as such. Toron suspected that a couple of the capital ships had taken serious damage, even having been destroyed entirely, judging from what he had seen so far. He did not have an open channel to the communications chatter from the forces in orbit, none of them did; it would have been a chaotic cacophony of voices anyway, holding little meaning for the soldiers on the ground. Down here, they waited for word from the Grand General, who would warn them of any potential landings being made by the Union forces. It was only a matter of time, which meant more waiting. And again, Toron hated the waiting. He could see it on the faces of those soldiers around him; they were anxious, tense, fearful. Most had never seen actual combat before, and the planetary defence force was not necessarily the most well-trained or most thoroughly drilled force on Vargania. Most of these people had other jobs, planetary defence was simply a side-occupation for many. Lahea was perhaps one of the few here who worked it full-time.
The street itself was quiet, as was most of the capital city. A large chunk of the civilian population had evacuated, leaving behind those who were willing to take their chances amongst the impending battle, among them those who would try and defend their homes if they came under direct attack. Toron was counting on the Union forces to attempt to limit the collateral damage; they were here to remove a rebellious government and put in one loyal to them. Reducing the capital to rubble would hardly endear the locals to that change.
Toron found himself wondering what had become of the fugitive Vigilant, Jorran Casker. He could have been watching from somewhere nearby, cloaked as he so often was. It seemed more likely that the General had put him on some kind of special assignment.
Out here, Toron and his platoon were flanked by rows of modest brick townhouses and squat shopfronts. Usually, this street would be bustling with activity; now, it was as quiet as a graveyard. When was the last time Vargania had seen open conflict? Not since the time of Visala, Toron reckoned. More than one-thousand years ago, when conflicts between the colonies had been common.
"Captain Kavellan." It was Grand General Masrak, and his voice broke through Toron's ear-piece communicator suddenly, carrying with it the expected authoritative tones. "Can you hear me, Captain?"
"I hear you loud and clear, sir."
"We have landing craft coming in from orbit," the General warned. "Ready your soldiers, Captain. It looks like they're headed some way east of your position."
It was not unexpected that they were going there. The parkland out that way would offer plenty of room for the craft to land. Toron looked up, sighting the distant black shapes of the shuttles, escorted by a handful of fighters. They were coming down fast, and some of the anti-aircraft batteries and ground-to-air launchers opened fire seconds after he spotted them. Plasma fire and missiles streaked up from nearby neighbourhoods. All heads turned to this exchange, with the large wedge-shaped landing craft pushing on through the hail of fire, letting fly with dozens of sizzling flares to ward off the guiding systems on the missile batteries. One of the ships was struck nonetheless, one wing peeling clean off in the explosion, fire blossoming out of its fuselage as it began a rapid nosedive. At a glance, it looked to be headed for the very street Toron and his soldiers were positioned within.
"Keep your heads down," Toron called. He need not have worried, for the bulky black landing craft soared overhead, trailing smoke whilst small, scorched slivers of metal peeled off of its frame, falling to the street like flaming confetti. It slammed into a house at the far end of the road, the building and those immediately closest at either side erupting into a sudden and impressive spout of flame. The roar of the explosion filled Toron's ears and he, along with those soldiers around him, ducked down as fragments of metal, brick and concrete came raining down all around. Three townhouses now lay in ruins, and at least three of the bulky landing craft had made it through the immediate anti-air barrage.
Toron turned to the planetary defence soldiers, all outfitted in the blue and grey of the Varganian forces, complete with armour vests and plasma rifles. Some looked stunned, eyes wide as they regarded the burning ruins where the ship had crashed. Toron knew he had to focus them, get their minds off of the fact that if anyone had been in those houses, they were more than likely dead.
"Everyone, on your feet! We're moving to intercept!" He sighted Lahea amongst the group, and she was urging some of her less-cooperative regulars into a proper formation.
Toron lead the way, as any combat squad leader should. From the front and straight into the fight. They rounded a corner and started down a main road, with the Governor's estate some distance further behind them. There would be similar clusters of soldiers like the one he was in charge of, scattered throughout the city. Until they were certain as to the extent of the enemy landings, they would remain apart until a proper frontline could be established. For the time being, Toron would lead those under his direct command to contain and hopefully neutralise the invaders before they themselves could be reinforced. They were counting on those in orbit to reduce the amount of ships that made it through. That was an uncertainty, as they all knew full well that the ships and defence platforms in orbit would be outgunned.
There was a large public park further ahead. That was where the ships had landed, and Toron could see one of them now, touching down, becoming partially obscured by the stone wall that surrounded the perimeter of the park. Toron broke into a jog, motioning for his platoon to do the same. They had to move fast to contain this beachhead. The General was likely already diverting some of the reserves their way as a precautionary measure. There would not only be soldiers coming out of those landing craft, but vehicles as well. Tanks even, land crawlers covered in guns. Toron thought he could hear one of them, its engine a distant rumble that only amplified in volume as they neared the park's edge.
"Captain, we've got more landing craft breaking through to the west." The General's voice sounded through his comms, his tone grave. "You hold the east; I'll send some of our people to the western landing zones. And you hold them, Captain. We can't afford to get flanked."
"Understood, sir." Hold the line. A simple enough order, but one difficult to execute. They would be facing some of the most elite units the home-world had to offer. Toron had been part of one of those units until recently, so he had a good idea how they worked. At least now he had something to distract himself from any second thoughts. Nothing like getting shot at to provide ample distraction from one's troubles.
