1705 Hours, January 23rd, 2532
UNSC Eye For An Eye, C-713
In orbit over Vodin, Wake system
Dozens of local constellations shone clearly through the reinforced glass windows that comprised much of the bridge-familiar stars viewed from a familiar room.
Rear Admiral Andre Borstnar wasn't looking for anything familiar out there, though, at least not familiar to him since childhood.
There! Just between the two sensor operators seated inside the bridge's observation chamber. One constellation didn't hold still like the others. If anything, those 11 violet stars were only getting bigger.
Rejecting his errant whimsy, the Rear Admiral glanced down at the bridge crew ahead of him.
"How long until they have us in weapons range?" He asked the sailor on his left, just to prod the man a little and see if he was paying attention. It was Ensign Torocelli, a fellow native of Vodin just like everyone else in the room.
The ensign shivered at the sound of Borstnar's voice, but recovered quickly.
"Estimates show that the Covenant will be within maximum range of their plasma torpedoes in just over 6 minutes, sir." The answer was clinical and smooth without resorting to haste. Good, thought Borstnar. He didn't expect to be disappointed by the crew's reaction to a genuine battle. After all, he had been drilling them himself.
Footsteps clunked elegantly down the sloped deck behind Borstnar that led to the observation window.
"Sir, we should head to the CIC, there could always be additional ships prepared to perform an in-system jump ahead of this group." The warning came from his XO, Captain Cagnov. The lanky young officer didn't speak from experience, of course, but he had devoured numerous AARs from other battles and had come away convinced that the Covenant were an unpredictable enemy, just as Borstnar had hoped.
"Not yet. I need to observe the first round with my own eyes," the Rear Admiral solemnly declared, and he could feel the stale air of the bridge grow cold at this announcement.
Still, he did withdraw from the window, albeit towards the primary tactical display on the bridge rather than the CIC located deep within the Eye For An Eye's hull. The 11 stars were now 11 red symbols of various sizes, representing the covenant scout fleet that was now advancing his way.
Although the Covenant had actually arrived in the system on the 20th, they were only now moving to attack Vodin after hitting the other planets in the system, two unnamed dwarf planets and the gas giant Fabio, which hosted a few mining facilities on its moons. Knowing well beforehand he could do nothing to protect those outlying stations, Borstnar had done nothing but grimly send out courier ships in the hopes of bringing in reinforcements from Admiral I-hyeong's 6th fleet, which was supposed to be protecting this sector.
In the end, the Covenant's thoroughness had bought him 3 extra days.
That wasn't nearly enough time, as he knew from experience.
Now Borstnar turned towards the simulation of his own fleet, where 33 symbols stood their ground in 3 lines. He had a 3-to-1 advantage over the Covenant.
This too wasn't nearly enough.
At the center of the 3rd row was his own ship, the Halcyon-class cruiser Eye For An Eye. Looking over the pristine state of the bridge, from the calm crew to the walls that had been practically forced to shine after enough cleaning despite their original dullness, Borstnar was filled with whimsy at the thought of how he'd so effectively whipped the Halcyon's crew into shape, accomplishing in 1 year what had taken five years on his previous command, the Eye's sister ship Texas. For ten years he'd helmed that ship, 3 of them in action against the Insurrection and another 3 against the Covenant after being sent to the front in 2527.
But Texas was gone now, destroyed over Arcadia a year after he'd been promoted to Rear Admiral and transferred back to Vodin to oversee the defense of his home.
No, Eye For An Eye was more like Texas' sister Pillar of Autumn, which had fought in the same battle and survived thanks to her ultra-redundant superstructure. Eye For An Eye was the last of the initial 11 Halcyons designed with the same expensive hull layout, although due to a quirk in how the ships were ordered she received the ominous hull number of 713.
There were two more Halcyons on either side of the flagship, albeit from the subsequent "generic" sisters: C-730, Edward J Moran, named after some old US Navy captain, and C-725, Rudolf Lowenberg, a destroyer captain killed by an Insurrectionist car bomb in 2504 because they could never beat him in a proper fight. Borstnar had moved heaven and earth to get both Halcyons reassigned to the Vodin defence fleet; they were the only larger ships available as the class was slowly but surely being pulled from frontline fleets and replaced by Marathons.
Standing by on the flanks of the third row was the original centerpiece of the defense fleet: Æthelstan and Jormungand, two Vulcan-class heavy cruisers. On paper, the former CMA ships were even more heavily-armed than the standard Marathon loadout, but this was offset by the fact they had been commissioned almost 40 years ago. Their twin MAC batteries had a much slower rate of fire than the Marathon, and any modernization of the main gun would inevitably be accompanied by extensive refits for titanium-A battleplate seeing as how the class preceded it by a few years.
Still, the pair were an indispensable part of his fleet, especially given what made up the two rows of screening ships ahead of them.
Whatever the flaws of his cruisers, at least all of them had been designed with MAC guns in mind. The same couldn't be said for the rest of his fleet.
Despite his best efforts to secure more modern vessels for his screen over the course of the previous year, the Rear Admiral was forced to make due with ships that had received extensive modernization: there was the Koeia, a former missile cruiser that barely qualified as a destroyer after receiving a spinal MAC gun, and 4 CMA Champion-class destroyers with the same upgrade. The rest of his destroyers consisted of 6 old Resolutes and 4 even older Diligence-class vessels, both of which had once been regarded as cruisers an epoch ago and now had two "outrigger" MAC guns strapped to each of their hulls.
But even the oldest of his destroyers still had a fighting chance against the Covenant, unlike the 13 ships in the front row. There Borstnar had been forced to make do with some of the smallest ships in the Navy, the 4 aging CMA Akita-class heavy corvettes, the 4 Mako-class corvettes with their Mark 40 BB guns, and 5 Zodiac-class light destroyers, the ship the Navy loved to hate after the Callisto incident.
He watched the Covenant signals continue their head-on advance on the display, the ETA skipping a few seconds before it settled on just under 4 minutes.
If Borstnar were in charge, what remained of all those classes would've been sent to the breakers. Missile boats were of meager use against the Covenant; their shields could withstand any amount of missiles that made it past their point-defense lasers. But they were no nowhere near close to being phased out, as the Rear Admiral had seen for himself in past battles. Despite appalling loss rates, it wasn't as if the Navy was so short on ships that they were sending such weakly-armed escorts to the front. No, some clever FLEETCOM desk jockey had likely figured out that the Navy could pack defense fleets in secure systems with the obsolete ships to assuage worried colonial leaders while they rushed more modern ships to the front. It was borderline criminal-there were no "safe" sectors against an enemy with superior astronavigation tech like the Covenant.
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By now, the fleet's sensors had confirmed the composition of their foes. Leading the attack was the CHR-class frigate, a 900 meter-long ship that resembled a tailless stingray. A larger SDV-class corvette followed the frigate to its left, while one "mini CCS" CRS-class scout cruiser followed on either side of the pair. The rest of the fleet was a mix of 4 DAS-class storm cutters and 3 scorpion-tailed DAC-class light frigates.
Borstnar breathed a sigh of relief at the information-this was a mere preview of coming attractions, not the main body of the Covenant fleet. Numbers never told the whole story in this war. If a single CAS had been among those 11 ships, he doubted the fight would last more than 10 minutes, though he would've fought anyway.
"All ships, pick your targets," he ordered. His fleet could hit each of their opponents with at least two MAC rounds on the first salvo if he ordered it, even if almost half of it was effectively useless.
For those ships, he had something else in mind.
The 4 minutes passed shockingly quickly as he brooded over his battleplan.
"Elevated energy readings on 3 Covenant ships. They're firing," the operations officer warned. Multiple alerts blazed on the tactically display before resolving into 20 separate readings-8 plasma torpedoes from the CHR and 6 each from the CRS scouts. Borstnar could now see over 30 violet stars approaching his fleet from outside the window.
"ETA is 80 seconds."
"Get us trajectory estimates and transmit them across the fleet," the Rear Admiral replied.
Several red lines flashed on the tactical display between the incoming torpedoes and his fleet. Sure enough, the enemy Admiral was no novice. He knew enough about UNSC ships to concentrate this volley on the second and third rows-just like Borstnar had planned.
"Tell the fleet to concentrate on the sources of those torpedoes," he ordered, "and be ready to engage maneuver Omicron."
Borstnar silently checked the range overlay on the tactical display, comparing it with the falling ETA of the enemy plasma: 49 seconds until they were hit, 60 until he could hit back.
The Covenant scout fleet showed no signs of deviation from their charge, the simplicity of their plan on full display: once the plasma torpedoes had scattered or crippled Borstnar's best ships, they would rush guns blazing through the remnants and come around for another pass on anything still alive. After that they might establish a toehold on Vodin and bombard anything that looked like a counterattack from the local Army divisions until a fleet capable of glassing arrived to relieve them.
Perhaps UNSC reinforcements could salvage the situation if they were fast enough, even in the face of a total defeat. It was a rare reversal of fortunes, but Admiral Cole had pulled it off on a few occasions.
Rear Admiral Borstnar wasn't going to let his world down like that, however. He had a plan, as gruesome as it was.
"15 seconds until plasma torpedo impact," the Operations officer called out, a slight shiver in his voice.
"All ships disperse and execute maneuver Omicron then prepare to return fire."
Borstnar checked the windows once again, being just close enough to see the engines of several ships flaring to life, including a few faraway missile boats. A few plasma torpedoes were also visible, their violet wakes stretching dozens of kilometers in the vacuum before slowly dying out. On the tactical display, signals for the middle row had already spread out, but it was the first row that maneuvered the most erratically-towards the incoming torpedoes.
Several of them, connected to the CRS cruisers, missed altogether-the smaller ships were known to possess the sloppiest guidance systems of any Covenant vessel. But ten torpedoes still swerved hungrily towards the new targets that had appeared in their path, each one a missile-armed corvette operated by a skeleton crew of sailors. Against a Covenant plasma torpedo-or three at once if they were particularly unlucky-the little ships stood no chance. Superstructure warped and split off in seconds under the assault of superheated plasma, the destruction accelerated when missile pods cooked off, often destroying the ship outright.
Borstnar could see one such ship split in half from out the window, a plasma torpedo quickly burrowing into the aft section and setting off its engines. That was the Akita-class ship Tarantula Hawk according to the tactical display, which also listed her sister Koriyama, 2 Zodiacs, and 2 Makos as destroyed.
Borstnar read the names of each ship one by one, reflecting on how unerringly they'd thrown themselves into the path of those torpedoes just as he'd planned months before. It was a crude way to use the ineffectual ships in his battleline, but it had worked. Now the Covenant had shot their bolt.
And every ship that could hit back was unscathed.
"Return fire!"
In the few moments it took for his destroyers to line up their shots, the enemy barely changed course. Whether they understood what had just happened or not, the usual Covenant overconfidence was on full display. Perhaps, knowing how shoddy the CRS' torpedoes were, they were even satisfied with the results of this salvo.
Reality soon hit home when 20 UNSC ships unleashed 30 total bolts of silver vengeance and hundreds of Archer missiles at the blithe Covenant fleet. They were joined by the remaining 7 corvettes and Zodiacs, which added 100 Archer and Ares missiles of their own to the barrage.
The Covenant fleet's signals finally wavered on the tactical display, most of the lighter ships escaping harm altogether, but it was too late. One heavy slug from Æthelstan hit a CRS cruiser on the bow and removed its shields, leaving it easy prey for another slug fired by the Diligence-class destroyer Don't Tread On Me that struck its engine block. The crippled ship was finished off by several Ares missiles fired by the San Marino, a Zodiac.
Several slugs fired from both the Eye For An Eye and several destroyers hit the ventral shields of the lone SDV corvette as it swung up to follow the CHR frigate, causing them to flicker and die. Pulse lasers from nearby ships erased a few dozen missiles bound for the vulnerable ship, but a few got through, punching through the weaker armor and snapping the elaborate outer frame that housed the corvette's drop pods in several places. The heavy corvette began falling behind its flagship, and was soon left in the dust by the remaining 9 Covenant ships as they rose above the defence fleet and began to loop around back the way they'd come.
"Leave that one to us," Borstnar ordered, seeing targeting data from the rest of the fleet swarm over the limping corvette in a growing display of overkill. Instead, the Eye For An Eye managed to hastily recharge her MAC and deliver an uppercut to the corvette's bridge. A few seconds later, the crippled ship's engines gave out and it tumbled into Vodin's atmosphere.
With the battle over, Borstnar checked the tactical display one last time, waiting for a single distress signal to appear near any of the destroyed corvettes. When none appeared, the Rear Admiral slowly tapped the display and reoriented its focus towards Vodin, where the planetary capital of Lucania lay below him. The city's space elevator remained overcrowded, and that was after 3 days of unmolested evacuation efforts, and people would only get more erratic now that the Covenant had finally tried their luck against Vodin's defenses. The military had total control of all planetary news outlets, but they couldn't censor the sky itself. For now, the evacuation remained orderly, a mix of cargo haulers, auxiliary Navy ships, and even a few cruiser liners confiscated from the ruling families waiting for the chance to load up on passengers and escape.
Borstnar looked out the window one last time, towards the final resting place of the sailors he'd sacrificed so crudely.
I trade hundreds for hundreds of thousands…may their families find it in their hearts to forgive me.
–
2003 hours, January 29th, 2532
Covenant Battlecruiser Introspection for the warrior
Over former UNSC Colony Skrody, Pogesania system
"Vigilance."
Shipmaster Bolyas 'Jeqkogoee uttered the word that was even then being seared into the surface of the human world.
Outside his ship's observation blister, The Assault carrier Seventh Grandmaster led several Sinaris destroyers in carving the next section of the Covenant glyph with their excavation beams. If one ship slipped even slightly off-course, the carrier would open fire and swat it down. Such was the severity with which Fleetmaster 'Pau'uranee's Fleet of Transcendental Chastisement took their sacred duty. Covenant traditions had long mandated marking heretic worlds with one of the sacred sigils, but this was the first time in their long history that such an act was being performed across an entire continent. Already, large sections of the symbol had cooled from white-hot to mere red in the days since they were completed.
'Jeqkogoee was intimidated by this display of righteous vengeance, but the soldier in him still found flaws in the choice. Namely, the fact that he and several other ships weren't allowed to partake in it, if only to speed up the process. 'Pau'uranee permitted only ships from the Ministry of Fervent Intercession to enact the ritualistic glassing, leaving those drawn from the Ministry of Resolution's fleets that made up almost half his strength to stand by until the time came to begin a more typical bombardment.
Furthermore, he didn't see why this particular planet warranted such attention. The dozen or so ships in the human defense fleet had fallen to a single massed salvo of plasma torpedoes, hardly a battle worthy of note. Yet 'Pau'uranee had wound up announcing that he would enact a ritualistic glassing, as the fleet was dispersing to perform a standard one, no less!
This was depressingly typical of his new superior, 'Jeqkogoee decided. During their crusade, he frequently issued new orders based seemingly on a whim, often with little regard for the fact that they were advancing deep into enemy territory with no guarantee that the Ministry of Resolution could provide reinforcements if they ran into trouble, or even would.
He was distracted from his concerns by an emergency comms request bearing 'Pau'uranee's personal encryption code. This was concerning as well-the young Fleetmaster hadn't contacted Bolyas once during the expedition.
Quickly accepting the hail, the Shipmaster was greeted by a hazy hologram of his commander, a usual side-effect of the energy requirements needed to sustain a glassing.
'Pau'uranee began speaking the moment he laid eyes on 'Jeqkogoee, skipping a formal greeting entirely.
"'Jeqkogoee, I've just received a troublesome report from Su-akaee's scout force." Already, the Fleetmaster was off to an ominous start. For the first time, he was discussing information gleaned from his scouts with something other than elation. As he spoke, the Warrior's central holodisplay began to project a multitude of images, indicating that 'Pau'uranee was transmitting the data as well.
"They've discovered another human system and destroyed several mining facilities around a local gas giant. Unfortunately, Su-akaee encountered a substantial human fleet over the primary colony and was forced to withdraw. He claims to have inflicted thrice the number of losses as he endured during their clashes."
'Jeqkogoee weighed this news carefully. Having only 11 ships in his squadron, Su-akaee would be hard-pressed to call even a 3-1 kill ratio a success for long. Fortunately, the holodisplay soon elucidated the exact course of the battle, displaying recreations of the human losses: 8 light ships armed with missiles and one ungainly vessel with two cannons mounted on either side. In exchange, the scouting force had lost a light cruiser, a heavy corvette, and a storm cutter.
"When did this engagement occur, Fleetmaster?"
"The battle commenced 3 solar cycles after he arrived in the system and concluded 4 solar cycles ago according to the data we received." 'Pau'uranee's voice oozed frustration, and 'Jeqkogoee could understand why. Su-akaee, that imbecile, had likely hoped he could sweep the humans from orbit and present the rest of the fleet with an undefended world when they arrived. When that plan proved impossible, he had dawdled for days in shame instead of immediately contacting the fleet and requesting reinforcements. The humans, meanwhile, almost certainly had a head-start on assembling a relief force despite their slower slipspace capabilities.
'Pau'uranee went on as 'Jeqkogoee considered the precariousness of the situation.
"Take your ship and gather a subfleet to besiege the human colony. I'll send you reinforcements as we finish the glassing here."
The Shipmaster tilted his head in shock. "You're entrusting part of the fleet to me?"
'Pau'uranee rattled his mandibles gradually.
"There is nobody more suitable for the task, this expedition has given me ample opportunity to confirm that. Pick your forces, and when you arrive…make sure Su-akaee's squadron spearheads the attack."
Without waiting for a reply, the fleetmaster shut off the transmission, his visage replaced by data on the human fleet's strength. Not wanting to appear indecisive in front of the bridge crew, he gave the order to send out a call for volunteers while he pondered what awaited him.
—
0318 hours February 4th, 2532
UNSC Kayenta, DDL-391
Deep Space Transitional Zone, near binary star system HD 114837
UNSC Navy rendezvous point
Captain Henri Greyveld studied the orders given to him on his datapad once again. He could sense tension spreading all throughout the cramped bridge, the curious glances of the crew illuminated in blue by the light of their respective displays.
After 6 years of war, it was inevitable. Unexplained transfers always heralded unwanted assignments, and this latest reassignment was shaping up to be unpleasant indeed. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the signals for almost 3 dozen UNSC ships on the personal tactical display mounted to his command chair. Notable among them was the carrier Spruance, a ship that had been fighting the Covenant for six years prior. There weren't enough of those to go around. The Epoch-class carrier was accompanied by her newer sister Orcus, but also 3 old Noryang-class light carriers (Ark Royal, Audacious, and David McCampbell), 13 Charon-class frigates, 4 Hillsborough-class destroyer leaders, 3 Marathon-class cruisers, 7 gladius-class corvettes, and a half-dozen support ships. Greyveld had no disrespect for his fellow sailors, but this party was already starting to feel a little too crowded for his tastes.
Holding position a short distance away from that half-formed battlegroup was his own squadron, 10 Halberd-class destroyers of Task Force Caesium. The task force had been intending to raid a Covenant outpost on the former colony of Amasa before a prowler had arrived at their rendezvous point carrying urgent new orders: divert to one of the 6th fleet's rendezvous points and prepare to be placed under the command of Vice Admiral Teodor Duško.
Duško had indeed been awaiting Caesium's arrival, having selected Spruance as his flagship. Now that Greyveld had taken his time absorbing what the man was planning and how he figured into that plan, the Captain decided to contact someone he could reliably bounce his thoughts off of and ordered his comms officer to flag another ship in his task force.
A few seconds later, the primary tactical display on the bridge lit up to reveal the youthful features of Edwin Loufborrow, Captain of the Chaco. But Greyveld knew better than to judge the other man solely by his appearance, because his dark green eyes betrayed a concern borne from years of war.
Instead of saluting his assigned CO, the younger man got straight down to business.
"All ships report they're ready to move out and proceed with the mission on your orders, sir."
Greyveld nodded at his second-in-commands brief update.
"You have read the details of our mission, correct?"
Loufborrow shrugged, the kind of informal gesture the brief crew on both ships were used to.
"It appears that we're back in the big leagues," Loufborrow responded halfheartedly.
"Yes, we are," Greyveld sighed.
Both men knew full well what awaited them in the Wake system. After hitting the ground running at Alpha Corvi II and Harvest respectively, Greyveld and Loufborrow crossed paths at the battle of Biko and were subsequently assigned to Task Force Pantea, a raiding squadron. Loss of the flagship Max Stormes resulted in Greyveld taking command and a few weeks later he was embroiled in a strange 3-way fight involving two rival Covenant fleets over the isolated world of Netherop. After that, he'd nearly lost his ship during the smackdown outside the Origami Asteroid field, a battle that seemed increasingly quaint as the years went on.
In the intermittent 5 years, it hadn't escaped his notice that every time he was pulled away from doing ONI's dirty work to defend a planet, the odds of losing a ship rose dramatically. Cibola, another Pantea veteran, had been destroyed during an ambush on Covenant ships over Chi Ceti IV in November 2527, and Mesa Verde was lost at Beta Pictoris in March 2530. That left Loufborrow and the rest of Chaco's crew as some of the few surviving veterans of the Netherop operation, aside from the cruiser Persian Gate and the Spartans of Blue Team.
Recalling the details of his latest assignment, Greyveld decided that this was unavoidable. Two months after the final battle of Harvest and the disappointing victory over Arcadia, a new Covenant fleet had burst onto the scene, thrusting into human space from an insertion point somewhere near Gacrux. Over the course of 2531, this fleet had struck at the colonies of Rangiora, Huanguang, Casemate, Ashenge, and were probably the reason contact had been lost with the Colony of Skrody in December. The only reason they hadn't overrun more worlds was because of how disturbingly thorough they were in glassing every inhabited world they found, a meager consolation for the undermanned 6th fleet that should've confronted them earlier. As a result, only about 4 dozen UNSC ships from local defense fleets had been destroyed…in exchange for just 3 Covenant ships.
Now it appeared that the 6th fleet had finally gathered enough ships to risk confronting this roving Covenant force over Vodin.
Just to review, Greyveld brought up a map of UNSC space divided into 4 FLEETCOM sectors and interposed on a rough 2D plane, with the center of the galaxy representing the "North" and the outer edges to the "South". Based on this arrangement, the Covenant were currently advancing "South" from the 23 Librae system against Admiral Mawikizi's fleet in Sector 2 and "North" from Eridanus II in Sector 4. Neither front was pointed directly at Earth, but they were definitely getting closer. This latest advance was the last thing the Navy needed. Right now it was limited to one fleet, but if the Covenant chose to shift focus in their wake, they could very well cut off Harvest and even reach the Inner Colonies.
That was why, despite his misgivings, Greyveld ordered his task force to enter slipspace without hesitation. He had his mission, and he was going to carry it out.
–
1738 hours February 9th, 2532
UNSC Kayenta, DDL-391
Outskirts of the Wake system
Task Force Caesium exited slipspace well away from their destination, a result of both Greyveld's caution and the imprecise nature of UNSC Slipspace drives. The latter factor also meant the ten destroyers were now scattered across thousands of kilometers and would need time to regroup.
As the minutes went by, Greyveld pulled up the ONI factbook about Vodin to refresh his memory.
The planet was first colonized in 2455. Contrary to CAA plans for it to become a breadbasket planet, the ruling families began spending a pretty penny trying to diversify the economy and jump-start an industrialization program in the 2480s, apparently out of a desire to join the Inner Colony "upper crust". When the Insurrection kicked off, the local elites wisely threw their hats in with the UNSC and managed to draw in various outside investors while other colonies were wracked by rebellions. The Covenant threat only accelerated the planet's industrialization, while the ruling families managed to coax the UNSC Army into stationing large numbers of ground troops and anti-ship weapons there. All in all, it was a good enough place to draw the line.
ONI also had an up to date TO for the local Navy defense fleet. Greyveld was impressed-at 33 ships, it would be the largest opposing force this particular Covenant fleet had faced so far. The lone "Honeycomb-frame" Halcyon would be a welcome addition to Duško's cruiser squadron, and those Vulcan-class cruisers were no slouches when employed properly.
Assuming they'd survived.
With Task Force Caesium reassembled around him, Greyveld knew he was about to find out. They were still a few hours out from Vodin at well over cruising speed when sensors began to pick out the first inklings of weapons fire, made all the more ominous by the fact that it was centered around their destination: the planetary capital of Lucania. The city hosted Vodin's primary space elevator and would be the linchpin of local evacuation plans. Unfortunately, as the gradual influx of sensor data confirmed, reinforcements had arrived too late to help protect the city.
Another hour passed before a clear picture of the fighting emerged on the tactical display: 9 UNSC Navy transponder signals were positioned over the city, one vanishing from the screen as Greyveld watched. On the planet itself, scans could just make out energy readings indicative of a surface-based mass driver. Both the UNSC ships (7 now) and the mass drivers were firing at the same general area, where a fluctuating number of Covenant contacts slowly advanced on the city.
By the time the task force managed to get a clear picture on the number of Covenant ships, the enemy now had a 2-to-1 advantage, and the remaining 6 UNSC ships were starting to break off as the mass drivers stubbornly continued firing to buy them some time. Still, another 2 IFF tags dropped off the display a few minutes later, and a sudden spike in energy readings hinted that the Covenant were venting their frustration on Lucania's ground-based defenses.
Greyveld turned away from the grim scene to answer a burst transmission from the Chaco.
Should we floor it and try to hit them from behind? Loss of shields and other damage is highly likely.
The Captain didn't need to weigh his friend's suggestion for long before he made his decision.
Only if I had twice as many ships. More of them could be lying in wait elsewhere. There's nothing we can do.
He felt little remorse in adding that last sentence. Aside from a lack of numbers, the task force simply had a more specific mission than simply protecting the planet. They were to scout the system, yes, and even engage Covenant forces if the opportunity presented itself, but certainly not in a decisive battle.
Greyveld knew well what the stakes of this war were; if the enemy's proclamations hadn't made their intent clear, the ruined worlds he frequently passed certainly did. However, because he understood the stakes, he also understood that humanity needed to fight smartly, not desperately. The loss of so many Outer Colonies was a tragedy, one that would soon metastasize into a crisis according to ONI projections he'd seen.
But it simply wasn't possible to save everyone.
If there was one upside to the devastation playing out over Lucania, it was that the Covenant ships responsible were conducting themselves with their usual single mindedness. This allowed Task Force Caesium to approach the planet unharmed-and make contact with what remained of the defenders.
A few hours later, Captain Greyveld was saluting the tired Rear Admiral staring dejectedly back at him from the primary holodisplay. Despite looking exhausted, the older man smoothly returned the salute.
"At ease, Captain," Rear Admiral Borstnar sighed, before his visage was lost in a brief surge of static. Greyveld wasn't shocked by the disruption, given the state of the Admiral's ship. The Halcyon-class cruiser sported a 200-meter gash in its starboard side, in addition to several smaller holes all over its hull. Accompanying the ship were 2 intact Diligence-class destroyers, Don't Tread On Me and De Špikić. The only other surviving ship from the defence fleet was a battered Vulcan-class cruiser that looked even more disheveled than the Halcyon.
Equally noteworthy was the assortment of civilian ships waiting a safe distance behind the warships. It seemed that rather than bug out of the system altogether when their main evacuation site was under threat, many ships had merely fled to the other side of the planet in the hopes of resuming the evacuation elsewhere-under heavy guard, that is.
"Sir, we caught sight of the battle over Lucania before we arrived in orbit. What exactly happened back there?"
The Rear Admiral looked off into the distance.
"We sprang our only trap, that's what happened. The Covenant brought in reinforcements on the 1st and sent a few of their ships to attack us a day later, but we had those mass drivers waiting for them."
The Kayenta soon received a data packet containing combat records from all the surviving ships. Greyveld took a break from the discussion to look it over, recognizing that Borstnar was already growing weary of retelling what had just occurred.
As the Rear Admiral had said, the Covenant sent part of their reinforcements and the scout force that had first discovered the planet against the remaining 24 ships of the defense fleet on the 2nd. When that failed, the enemy had waited another week for more reinforcements to arrive before charging the weakened defense fleet again. Not counting past battles, the defense fleet and the mass drivers had destroyed 9 Covenant ships, including 2 of the big CPV destroyers. But they had still lost 20 more ships, and the Vulcan-class cruiser Æthelstan had nearly become the 21st when it attempted to trade broadsides with an SDV corvette to cover the retreat of the other 3 survivors.
That done, Greyveld turned back to the Rear Admiral.
"What's the status of the Covenant fleet?"
Borstnar stopped drinking from a hip flask to answer the question.
"They landed troops in the city of Uatilo a few days ago. We're not getting reports of glassing outside Lucania. Means they're probably wary of our reinforcements…you are just the first wave of reinforcements, right?"
"Yes sir. Vice Admiral Duško's battlegroup should be well on their way by now. Until then, we can stand watch with your ships."
Borstnar grew pensive. "Duško? Well, it'll be nice to have a fellow native defending the colony. I believe he was a Senior when I entered Reach Naval Academy…"
Greyveld said nothing as the Rear Admiral seized on the opportunity to change the subject.
—
0244 hours, February 14th, 2532
UNSC Kayenta, DDL-391
In orbit over Karawankgrad, Vodin, Wake system
Captain Greyveld kept his relief hidden when Battlegroup Yankee finally settled in over the colony. In what had become the 5 slowest days of his life, Task force Caesium and what remained of the Vodin defence fleet could do nothing but stay on high alert for any encroaching Covenant ships.
The Covenant, meanwhile, were content to do nothing but continue reducing Lucania to ash. Although Rear Admiral Borstnar had suspended evacuation efforts on February 2nd, Greyveld knew full well that a week wasn't nearly enough time to clear out a city, especially one crowded with evacuees. So be it, the Captain reminded himself, all they could now was prepare to deliver a reprisal.
The more he examined Battlegroup Yankee, the more Greyveld decided that revenge was looking feasible indeed. All 5 carriers from the rendezvous point lay sequestered within a crowd of escorts, the largest of which were 5 Marathon-class cruisers. Several of those cruisers harkened back to ships that had fallen earlier in the war: Troy and Constantinople at Harvest, Starman at Xi Bootis A, and the Zanetti, named after the captain of the Nairamdal, the first Valiant-class cruiser lost in the war. The rest of the screen contained a mix of destroyers classes. There were a half-dozen of the new Paladin-class, which were essentially oversized versions of Kayenta and her sisters. Greyveld never took the Paladin seriously; a "Big Halberd" design went against the essence of a class as compact as the Halberd in the first place. It would never catch on. There were also 10 Chimera-class destroyers, the predecessor to the Halberd that had a far more unremarkable hull profile. It looked more like the last 6 destroyers in the battlegroup: former CMA Hillsborough-class heavy destroyers. Despite being over 30 years old and carrying outdated secondary weapons, surviving ships were still sought after purely because they had a high-caliber MAC gun.
Battlegroup Yankee also had 20 Charon-class frigates packed to the gills with marines much like the Marathons, which would be used to support local Army units in their counterattacks. A few of the frigates would also be held in reserve, joining a mix of Gladius, Lancer, and Osa-class corvettes tasked with escorting evacuation ships. Behind the fleet, a mix of civilian ships that had stayed in the system and auxiliary ships that had joined battlegroup Yankee were resuming evacuation efforts over Karawankgrad, aided by a large cluster of Skyhooks that brought civilians into orbit faster.
Lastly, there were the battered and obsolete remnants of the defense fleet, which were being held in reverse with the corvettes while last-minute repairs were being applied.
And as for Task force Caesium?
It was time to go hunting.
—
0250 hours, February 21st, 2532
Covenant Battlecruiser Introspection for the warrior
Over Lucania ruins, Vodin, Wake system
Bolyas 'Jeqkogoee held still and attempted to maintain his composure when Fleetmaster 'Pau'uranee's visage finally appeared on the holodisplay after several minutes spent hailing him via the Battlenet. The Fleetmaster's slouched stance was wholly nonchalant, though Bolyas debated whether that was relieving or concerning.
"Good day to you, Bolyas, what stunning successes have I missed?"
'Jeqkogoee inhaled sharply and reviewed his "plan of attack" for this transmission. Already well acquainted with his superior's mercurial temperament, he doubted the young fleetmaster would handle a true setback calmly.
"Fleetmaster, I must first politely request that additional escort ships be dispatched to the system to replace Su-akaee's scouting force."
Bolyas could at least say that this shortage was expected. He hadn't let Su-akaee and his remaining 7 escort ships off the hook for fumbling the first phase of this campaign and placed them at the spearhead of his attacks on the human fleet, just as Pau'uranee had suggested. Su-akaee himself and one light frigate yet lived, but the rest of his squadron was gone…as were two Sinaris destroyers, another frigate, and a heavy corvette.
The fleetmaster spread his mandibles slightly, then closed them, tilting his head curiously all the while.
"That won't be possible, unfortunately, not until our own scouts return."
Bolyas' eyes widened, but he quickly stifled his surprise before he could embarrass himself.
"A bold move to continue scouring human space while my own subfleet is besieging one of their planets," he proclaimed. This was not the first time he had to turn bad news into praise for the officer responsible. If Pau'uranee sensed his displeasure through the holodisplay, he didn't show it.
"There is no better time to resume the advance, friend. How many ships have the humans lost since the start of the war? 3000? They have mustered every available warship in this sector to oppose you, no doubt. I suppose that is the real reason you've contacted me."
Bolyas stepped back in surprise, but not at his Commander's perceptiveness. He had no idea where the Fleetmaster had arrived at 3000 eliminated human ships. Certainly, it was common to encounter and destroy human fleets that outnumbered their own, but 'Jeqkogoee's own Dn'end legion hadn't smote nearly enough ships to reach even a comfortable fraction of 3000 total, not even counting human merchant ships. And if the humans were so short on warships, how had they assembled a fleet large enough to retake Harvest and destroy the Shield World of Trove?
"Fear not. I may only have a few Zanars to spare, but I can provide many frigates and destroyers, war freighters brimming with troops, whatever you need to keep the humans occupied, tell me and I will provide it."
Bolyas didn't hesitate to outline his needs: a Daxoi carrier or two so he could match the humans own carrier component, a few more troop transports, and more Sinaris destroyers, both for the frontlines and to stand watch behind his fleet against an increasingly troublesome enemy raiding force. So far they had only destroyed a gaggle of Rothen fireships that Pau'uranee had sent of his own accord, but the mere presence of such a squadron was one more sign that the humans were hoping to fight a protracted campaign for this world.
The willingness of his superior to accept all of his requests did little to soothe Jeqkogoee's mind. Unlike what Rula now claimed, the shipmaster hardly felt like his first campaign was going according to plan. Before human reinforcements had arrived, losses could be tallied at a dozen of his ships and 29 human ships. Now, after several days of skirmishes, he had lost 8 more ships in exchange for destroying 15 of the enemy, not counting the 8 Rothens that were ambushed by the enemy raiders.
This was a disappointing turn of events. Following years of battles, the Ministry of Resolution had settled on a 1-to-3 loss ratio as the bare minimum of acceptability when engaging the humans in space. If he couldn't clear 1-to-2, his career and the fate of this campaign would be in doubt.
On the ground, his troops were caught in a stalemate as their human opponents finally emerged to fight now that they had friendly ships watching over them. Several generals regularly pestered Bolyas with requests for reinforcements, oftentimes adding up to twice the number of legions currently deployed.
So mediocre was the overall outlook that he considered going for the obvious solution: this situation had arisen because 'Pau'uranee had chosen to divide his fleet, so why not request that he reunite it over Vodin? The combined strength of the Fleet of Transcendental Chastisement could easily smite their human counterpart, and the idea made his hearts tremble in anticipation.
But he rejected the fantasy immediately. Pau'uranee had assigned him command over this operation because he trusted him. For all his superior's faults, there were many benefits to being in the good graces of a Fleetmaster, especially one from the Ministry of Fervent Intercession. In asking for the Fleetmaster's aid, he would be sacrificing future prospects for glory and ascent up the ranks, perhaps forever. Pau'uranee wouldn't mete out any punishment, but his judgement would be felt: no promotions, no transfers to superior ships, and certainly no chances to command a force of his own.
So be it. This victory, no matter how hollow, would have to be his and his alone.
The point of Walking The Path wasn't that it was something trivial, after all.
–
2203 hours, March 1st, 2532
UNSC Kayenta, DDL-391
Edge of orbit, Vodin, Wake system
Captain Greyveld eyed the ceremonial wristwatch he'd received after graduating from the old Annapolis Naval Academy to check the time. In the low light of the bridge, he could just make out where the two silver hands were pointed.
2 minutes out.
He was well used to performing the archaic ritual instead of keying the digital chronometer on his command chair. Not even the slightest spark of electricity could flow through any system apart from life support while his ship was "running silent", no matter how mundane.
Right now, his task force was drifting on a carefully calculated route towards the Covenant's foothold on the planet, well outside of any potential aid. If the enemy caught a whiff of their presence too early, that would mean aborting the mission, or worse.
Now a slight rustling filled the bridge-others among the crew had similar methods of telling the time and were silently spreading this news to the rest. Nobody said a word, though, that would come when their attack began in earnest. Some might call their behavior theatrical given the impossibility of the Covenant picking up what they were saying, but Greyveld just called it disciplined. This was a destroyer, not a high school. After 6 years of war, the crew knew well when to gossip among themselves and when to remain silent.
Since the start of the campaign, ONI Prowlers spying on the Covenant fleet had managed to pinpoint the interval between when each convoy of reinforcements arrived, as well as confirming that the main Covenant fleet was located over Skrody, utterly obsessed with their excessive glassing of the colony even now.
After a short break from raiding, Greyveld was ordered into harm's way again, and for good reason. In the two weeks since Battlegroup Yankee had arrived, the Covenant invasion fleet had remained elusive, deploying only their disposable CPV destroyers with escorts to keep the space above the frontline contested and destroying several Charon-class frigates in the process. On the ground, their forces had advanced from Uatilo to take the city of Gospa Sveta, but were now pausing to dig in while battles raged in orbit above them. Local Army forces and their Marine reinforcements were holding off on launching a large-scale counteroffensive until the situation in space was resolved, and Greyveld doubted they would be happy when it did.
The Captain watched the minute hand of his watch slide comfortably into position below the roman numeral "I". It was time to begin their mission in earnest.
"Bring the passive sensors online and warm up the MAC."
"Yes sir," the Operations and Weapons officers replied in unison.
The primary tactical display hummed to life and revealed the ship's location: drifting gingerly towards the "low" half of the night side of Vodin in a loose group that was already beginning to tighten up. Having gotten their bearings once again, the squadron slowly began to tilt upwards while inertia carried them along, using their maneuvering thrusters to maintain a gradual pace.
Finally, several new energy readings burst to life on the display further towards the equator.
"Slipspace ruptures detected, 10 total," a sensor operator announced.
"Give us a little boost up to them," Greyveld ordered, and the ship shuddered beneath him as the fusion engines powered up for a few seconds.
In the meantime, the Captain studied their prey. Of the signals, 6 bore similar 1000-meter profiles, indicating that they were Covenant war-freighters. The seventh ship, which lay surrounded by the others, was a 2800-meter long titan shaped like a dried prune. This was a "Carrack", a rare class first spotted over Zhoist during Operation Silent Storm. The other three contacts were the convoy's escorts, a trio of DAS cutters.
Greyveld eyed the whole arrangement with a warm excitement rising in his mind. While the various Covenant ships that trickled into the system behind the main force often carried plenty of ground troops, this was the first proper troop convoy to arrive-clear evidence that a major offensive was about to begin.
The enemy reassembled their formation almost lazily before drifting upwards to join the invasion fleet, seemingly unaware of the uninvited guests that lay below them.
"Give me a calm burn towards those ships. Arm one Shiva and order the rest of the task force to do the same, then prepare to fire on my order."
Kayenta accelerated once again, leading the task force upwards towards their targets. Firing solutions began to appear and intertwine all across the enemy convoy: one nuke for each freighter, two for the carrack. Each destroyer also selected its own target for their MAC guns.
One of the cutters began to drift out of formation until it was below the transports.
"Fire."
The Covenant escorts dove down just as the task force let fly 10 Shiva nukes. Warning lights cast the bridge in a haunting red.
"Deal with those escorts."
Three ships-Kayenta herself, Roussen, and Lionfish-all opened fire early at the incoming DAS escorts. Lacking plasma torpedoes as it did, the small DAS could still be extremely dangerous if it was allowed to get close enough to fire its 8 plasma beam cannons.
Kayenta's shot hit head on, breaking the shields without issue and almost bisecting her target. Lionfish also scored a hit, snapping off the escort's portside frame and causing it to spin away bleeding violet flames. Roussen missed, but the enemy skipper still broke off from the charge.
Meanwhile, the Shivas found their mark.
10 Nukes darted past the skirmish and towards the enemy transports without issue, each one detonating on or near its target. 3 war freighters lost their shields and collapsed in on themselves before their dying explosions outshined the Shivas' nuclear warhead. 2 more were reduced to blackened husks. Another lost its shields but managed to pull away despite much of its hull being charred black.
Two Shivas hit the Carrack simultaneously, obscuring it beneath twin suns. But the barge didn't vanish from Greyveld's display, and sensors revealed that it was unharmed, if shorn of its shields.
The other 7 ships in the task force now opened fire with their MACs, albeit on different targets. This time, the remaining escort avoided shots from the destroyers Towaoc and Kebra Nagast, while the ravaged war freighter absorbed six slugs that finished it off. The destroyers Huari and Charles Forbes both fired at the Carrack, striking its ventral armor before the crew could respond to the Shiva attack. All four shots punched deep into the transport. The ship wasn't dead, but Greyveld knew that several thousand grunts and elites had just experienced a terminal bad day.
In fact, the Carrack actually began diving towards the task force, accompanied by the remaining escort.
Most of the destroyers, including Kayenta, were already about-facing by firing their emergency thrusters. The Charles Forbes, meanwhile, turned more gradually, targeting data for over half its Archer missile pods appearing on the display.
"Forbes, fall in with us and get out of there," Greyveld ordered. His fears appeared to be validated; The Forbes was the greenest ship in the task force, well below the high bar of experience Greyveld liked to set for destroyers under his command.
"Sir, I can finish this one off," Captain Thistler protested, and 400 Archer signatures appeared around his ship before it began to invert itself and pull away.
Greyveld would've wanted to point out the obvious: if that Carrack was willing to charge him, it definitely had a few tricks up its sleeve, not to mention the more maneuverable DAS cutter that had completely escaped Thistler's notice.
Instead, he could only watch as energy readings on the big ship's bow spiked, taking the form of a large blue plasma beam that surged forth to close the gap between the Forbes and the Carrack. The beam only winged the Forbes near her aft section, but that was more than enough for the powerful beam to sever the Halberd's portside secondary fusion engines and knock her off-course.
Then the DAS joined in, swerving perilously close to the incoming Archer missiles and knocking down dozens of them with its pulse lasers. The smaller ship pounced, 4 pink plasma beams cutting wild lines across the reeling destroyer like the claws of a tiger. Bleeding molten armor, the Forbes fell wildly away, firing back with her Rampart point-defence guns before they were silenced by blue beams from the cutter's secondary lasers.
The Carrack was passing in front of the DAS to deliver a coup de grace when Greyveld manually shut down the tactical display. Not one of the other 8 ships under his command wavered on their course towards a slingshot maneuver up from Vodin's south pole.
The mission was a success. Several thousand Covenant soldiers would never get the chance to set foot on Vodin, and those that remained would be in anything but fighting shape when they were offloaded.
But the price…
A comm request from Chaco halted his pondering. Since the task force was now out of the combat zone, Greyveld headed to his ready room and accepted the transmission there.
Captain Loufborrow's concerned visage appeared on the display before him.
"I thought I had him pinned," the younger Captain sighed. "Certainly nothing that, well…gung-ho."
"And this was purely a result of his own stupidity," Greyveld added, mostly to himself. By now, he was used to taking losses no matter how uncommon, but this particular loss was avoidable, preventable.
"Or maybe I should've seen this coming. We skulk in the sidelines while they burn this planet down just like all the rest. It could happen to anyone after enough time."
Despite the propaganda value of retaking Harvest, anyone who paid attention would notice that it was far too unique an occurrence to be heartening. For the rest of 2531, the UNSC Navy had scored a few defensive victories, but not a single offensive one anywhere else. Now, it looked like 2532 would proceed the same way.
That grim outlook was also part of the reason a man like Thistler of all people had been assigned to his task force in the first place. Normally, such an inexperienced Captain and ship would be unacceptable, but there weren't enough experienced destroyer skippers to go around. Inevitably, someone with the wrong sort of temperament would slip through the evals and become eligible for a raider force like his. Without a marked improvement in almost every aspect of the Navy's capabilities against the Covenant, the problem was only going to get worse as they pushed towards the Inner Colonies.
"Even you?" asked Loufborrow.
The Captain considered this question. Though he preferred not to think about this, it hadn't escaped his notice that his home planet of Neos Atlantis could easily fall into the path of this particular Covenant advance if they weren't stopped. True, Neos Atlantis was still well behind the frontline, but when had that ever stopped the Covenant? They had already struck at Xi Bootis, and nearly wedged themselves deep within the Inner Colonies when they chased an evacuation convoy from Eridanus II into the Groombridge 1830 system over 40 light years further in. Yes, the battle for the Inner Colonies was coming, and far sooner than the estimates of FLEETCOM planners who seemed to think the Covenant would thoroughly purge the Outer Colonies first seemed to think. If Neos Atlantis was besieged, would he have a chance to stand and be counted?
"Never while I'm in command. Certainly not," he finally answered.