Chapter 12

I do not own Blake's 7. This is a very short chapter. Sorry about that.

254.35 NC Earth

Earth died.

There was no warning. No grand final battle. The enemy simply appeared outside the range of their detectors and began to fire at where the Earth would be when the rounds arrived. The math wasn't particularly difficult and there was nothing to be done. The Federation ships could not detect the, comparatively, tiny rounds moving at a significant fraction of the speed of light.

The comet detectors, which might well have detected objects that size, for the purpose of shielding the ship, simply weren't sensitive enough to detect objects moving that fast and the combat sensors couldn't detect objects that size.

Of course, even if they had been able to detect the rounds, their options were limited. A plasma bolt would vaporize any unshielded ballistic projectile and could undoubtedly hit them as they travelled on a ballistic course significantly slower than the light-speed travels of the plasma bolts. However, the enemy appeared to be able to fire an essentially limitless number of their ballistic rounds, while each plasma bolt would drain the firing ship's energy banks. A battleship might be able to fire a thousand rounds, before its banks ran dry, but pursuit ships would run out of energy after some few dozen shots.

Shots rained down on city and factory, port and ocean, people and empty field. The enemy did not bother with precise targeting, simply raining down fire until every living thing on the planet was dead. The armies of the Federation died to the last, without firing a shot in their own defense.

The Alphas died in their towers, the Betas in their apartments, the Gammas and Deltas in their ghettos. There was no time for riots, there was no time for anything. The Fleet quickly figured out that there were four task groups firing simultaneously on Earth, sweeping over the globe from all angles, too fast for anyone to take cover, even if any warning had made it through the usual Federation censorship, which held, despite the unusual circumstances.

Fleet vessels raced toward the zones the ships had fired from, the reserves leaping in to attack and found nothing. The enemy had clearly decided to simply avoid them until their ships died from lack of fuel.

The Earth died, without an opportunity to fight back and without extracting any price at all from the enemy. Oh, Servalan gave a speech about denying them, about hurting them back, revenge, fire and blood. Though she did not give that speech until after three ships had mutinied. What they hoped to accomplish with their mutinies, no one could say, as everyone involved was massacred by the mutoids onboard.

There were mutters everywhere, people talking about running for the colonies, grabbing family and hightailing it into deep space. Those mutters died as Servalan let word leak out of what had happened in the colonies and what was happening. The enemy had abandoned all attempts at conquest and chose instead to simply eliminate everyone.

With that change, the only option available was to spit in the face of those who had taken so much from them. In the battle between defiance and despair, neither Servalan, nor Blake was inclined to tilt towards despair.

The desire to strike back was powerful and focused, not against those who had committed the genocide, but against those who had failed to prevent it, despite the fact that they had justified their crimes, their cruelties and their power on the idea that they would protect humanity. And now they had failed. Even amongst those wearing the uniform and badge of the Federation, there was discontent. Only the patent pointlessness of striking against the remnants of the Federation prevented it from spreading.

Earth was dead and Servalan had to figure out how, exactly she was going to strike back. So, she gave the order and the full might of the Federation moved out. Or at least, as much of the full might remained, with half the fleet destroyed and all the armies fallen.