A Pale Dawn

by Chris Kennedy

  “Good hit,” Flipper said.

  “Clean kill,” Abby verified, interpreting the data.

  “All ships, fire,” Alexis ordered.

  While the Crown-class cruisers lacked Pegasus’ 40-terawatt death ray, they did possess their own sting. The design, created by the genius of Taiki Sato, was inspired by the Egleesius-class. They even looked a little like miniature ones, right down to a smaller version of the Egleesius’ spinal mount. Their particle cannons were only one terawatt, but that was a weapon usually only found as bay weapons on battlecruisers and battleships. The Crown-class commanders were also masters of the Hussars tactic of combined selective fire.

  The first salvo of three one-terawatt particle beams from Sir Barton, Omaha, and Affirmed all hit the same KL-class battlecruiser. They didn’t succeed in hitting the same shields, though two of the shots did and that one went down. The Sword-class frigate Goujian put her one-terawatt spinal-mounted laser directly through the downed shield, gouging into armor and tearing a 20-meter-deep, 100-meter-long crease in the battlecruiser’s side.

  At the battleship, the second half-sized wave of missiles from the enemy ships streaked past the still-coasting drones and into the battleship’s threat box. The Byczyna’s defensive lasers lanced into the missile formation, taking out even more of them than the last time. Less than 100 missiles hit the battleship’s shields, weakening but not depleting them.

  Controlling their drones from the three carriers, the enemy operators scanned the battleship for weaknesses as the attack progressed. They knew the original impact site was the weakest, and as they brought the drones back online, they began to maneuver them in that direction. With their tiny fusion torches burning once again, the drones could be targeted. The same lasers Byczyna had used against the missiles clawed at the hundreds of enemy drones. These were much more nimble targets, though, and few were destroyed. The drones began to pound at the already weakened shields with their integral one-gigawatt lasers. The shields weakened further.

  “Captain,” Abby said, “Byczyna is about to lose her forward quadrant shield.”

  “How many drones are left?” Paka asked.

  “Over 250,” the SitCon replied.

  “We can’t wait any longer,” Alexis said. “Drone control, do it.”

  The enemy fleet, missing its command ship and struggling to fight off the powerful incoming attacks while dishing out their own, failed to notice that three of the Hussars’ frigates were giving strange readings. Despite being frigate sized, their power signatures were closer to a battlecruiser. The TacCom on one of the KL-class battlecruisers realized something was wrong when his one-terawatt particle beams appeared to pass right through one of the anomalous frigates. He was about to tell his captain when all hell broke loose.

  The three “frigates” suddenly accelerated at 50 Gs, then 75…100…200 Gs! Sensor techs and TacComs all over the enemy fleet yelled in alarm. Firing solutions were redirected, and missiles launched to intercept the “frigates” which would be in their midst in only seconds. But the three frigates then…fell apart. They broke up into 145 drones which had been carefully flying in formation to appear like a frigate. A frigate with way too much power. The particle beam which passed through them had destroyed five of their number.

  The Winged Hussars drones were notorious for their abilities. Many commanders who’d faced them commented they did things no other drones could do. It helped that they were controlled by an AI named Ghost.

  The drones shot into the enemy formation at incredible speed—into and through the formation. Like the enemy drones, these had a mission. The commanders of the enemy carriers, nestled at the back of the fleet and carefully screened by escort frigates, and with the bulk of the other ships between them and the enemy, barely had time to realize they were fucked.

  Half the Winged Hussars drones were outfitted with missiles this time. They darted through the screening escort frigates—which managed to take out six more—and unleashed their missiles. Of the 72 ship killers launched, 59 hit their targets; the first carrier was hit sixteen times, the second nineteen, and the last one an unfortunate twenty-four times, its defensive fire failing to kill a single missile.

  The third carrier was torn apart by several of the Hussars custom, nuclear, sub-critical munitions called Squash Bombs. The first and second carriers’ shields were wrecked and their hulls damaged. The other 67 drones were equipped with a 50-megawatt, high-pulse-rate laser. They darted in on the crippled carriers and carved them up like a Christmas turkey as they passed by. The entire drone attack lasted three seconds.

  Several hundred high tech drones, which had been moments from penetrating Byczyna’s shields, suddenly went into safe mode when their control signals cut off. SitCons on the beleaguered KL-class enemy battlecruisers tried vainly to regain control of the operator-less drones and save the attack against the battleship, but they’d never practiced that contingency. By the time the proper codes were entered, and computer processes dedicated to reactivating the drones, Byczyna had swept the drones from the black. Coasting powerless, they proved ridiculously easy targets.

  “Drone control, well done,” Alexis said as her CIC command crew cheered. “Clear our targeting solution.”

  “Moving drones clear,” Ghost answered.

  “All ships, commence missile barrage. Byczyna, you are cleared to engage, as well.”

  “The Izlians aren’t going to be happy,” Paka said. “Looks like those loaner carriers turned into keepers.”

  A 50-terawatt particle beam from Byczyna turned one of the enemy KL-class battlecruisers into a rapidly dissipating ball of fire. At the same time, it started launching 100 missiles every ten seconds. Pegasus and the rest of the Hussars fleet also began launching missiles.

  Our turn, Alexis thought. The two fleets met in fire and death.

  * * *

  One Kilometer West of Manaus, Main Continent, Chislaa

  “Thank heaven you’re finally here,” a man was saying as Sansar walked up to where he was speaking with two of her troopers. “Them lizards are everywhere!” The man had obviously had better days—or weeks—as his clothes were ripped, his skin was scratched, and he was doing his best to chug an entire quart of water between sentences.

  “Calm down,” Sansar said. “We got here as fast as we could.” She turned to Corporal Eric Chase who’d brought the man to where they were planning their assault on the city. “Where did you find him?”

  “He was in the tree line,” Chase replied. “We didn’t get close enough for anyone in the city to see us; he came running to us when he heard us coming.”

  Sansar turned back to the man. “Are these lizards about five and a half feet tall, with wide, flattened heads? Look a little like a dinosaur?”

  “Yes! That’s them! They’re everywhere!”

  “What do you mean by that? Can you give us details of where you saw them?”

  “Well, they came in and landed at the starport after dropping some sort of rock just outside the city to show they could. Once the lizards hit the ground, they fanned out, seemingly everywhere, killing anyone that even looked like they were going to stand up to them! My wife was in the garden and stood up with a rake and one of them blasted her! Put a laser bolt right through her chest in front of my kids!”

  “Okay, I need you to give me any sort of details that you can,” Sansar said. “Troop concentrations, defenses, anything like that. We know they brought down some big antiaircraft systems that they set up at the starport, which is why we didn’t land there. Did you see any defenses around the outside of the city?”

  “I know they have some,” the man said. “After I ran away to the jungle, I got scared. I mean, being out here’s scary—there’s giant bugs out here!—so I tried to go back to the city, but they shot at me. So, I’ve been stuck here in this limbo—afraid to go further into the jungle, but unable to go back into the city.”

  “Big bugs? We haven’t seen any bugs out here.”

&nb
sp; “Yeah, there are some really big ones! At least three feet tall, they are. And they’ll swarm on you, if you aren’t careful. That’s the most dangerous thing on the planet. Well, second, now that them lizards are here.”

  “What do you think, Mun?” Sansar asked. “Do you suppose that’s what’s following us?”

  “Could be, ma’am. Hard to tell. If they were insects, though, that would make them harder to see on IR. Just like the damn MinSha.”

  “What do the bugs look like?” Sansar asked the man.

  “They look like big damn praying mantises,” he replied. “Three feet tall, like I told you.”

  “So, like a MinSha?” Sansar asked.

  “I don’t know what a damn MinSha is, but if it looks like a praying mantis, then yeah.”

  “Do you suppose they brought some MinSha to track us and let them know we’re coming?” Mun asked.

  “That’s what I’m worried about, but if they’re only three feet tall, that’s not a MinSha.”

  “How long have these bugs been following you?” Sansar asked. “Were they here before the HecSha—I mean, the lizards—got here?”

  “Yes, ma’am; they were here before. Didn’t you hear me say they were indigenous? They are. They were here when they set up the colony. I heard they had to kill lots of them when we got here. They don’t come around the city often, because we kill the ones that do.”

  “Contact!” Corporal Akram Enkh transmitted. “I’ve got a group of HecSha moving through the jungle. Looks to be at least three of them.”

  “Have they seen you?” Sansar asked.

  “No,” Enkh replied. “Believe it or not, they were making more noise than Private Enkh and I were, and we were able to get into cover. It’s weird, ma’am; it’s almost like they were trying to be seen and heard. I don’t—oh, shit, there’s a second group of them that just popped up on my system. I can’t see them, but I’ve got IR signals. Looks like the first group are some kind of beaters, and the second group are catchers or shooters or something. They aren’t moving; they just appear to be waiting.”

  “Can you tell what they’re trying to drive? Are they trying to drive you from cover?”

  “No, ma’am. They’re coming from the wrong direction to see us—wait! There’s a third group coming, and there’s a big bunch of—you aren’t going to believe this—it looks like a herd of baby MinSha. The damn things are only like a meter tall, or maybe just a little under that.”

  “I do believe that,” Sansar said. “We just—”

  “Ma’am, sorry to interrupt, but there’s now a fourth group of the lizards, and they’re coming from the other direction. They’re definitely going to see us,” Enkh reported. “There are at least twenty of them, total, and probably closer to twenty-five, between the four groups. If they keep coming, they’re going to see us. There’s nowhere to run!”

  * * *

  Drop Ship Phoenix One, EMS Bucephalus, Approaching Talus

  EMS Bucephalus shuddered, the dropship rocking in its cradle as the space battle for Talus’ orbitals raged. Chatter on the battle frequency was playing in his mind over his pinplants as he ran through his CASPer’s checklist.

  “Shield 3 is down,” Bucephalus’ TacCom called. “Compensating overlaps.”

  “Rotating facing,” the helmsman called.

  “Biter’s shields are down, they’ve lost power.”

  “Drone Group One has engaged enemy escorts.”

  “Roger that.” Jim recognized Captain Jormungd, commanding the squadron from Phaeton. “Orders to Hippogriff, fire on facing shields of that battleship in three…two…one…”

  Jim pulled up the fleet net and watched, trying to understand what he was seeing. Jormungd’s Egleesius-class battle cruiser unleashed its 40-terawatt particle accelerator as Hippogriff also unleashed its pair of one-terawatt spinal mounts. All the weapons hit the alien battleship’s shields with a brilliant discharge. The shield on that facing went down, and the beams lanced into the ship. The images were digital recreations from radar and thermal instruments, so Jim wasn’t sure how much damage the ship took. The battleship was huge. His hands made fists, wishing he was in his Raknar as he remembered the battle at Karma.

  “All drone groups, go!” Jormungd ordered. Hundreds of the Hussars drones flashed at the battleship and through the disabled shields. Laser fire from the battleship turned dozens into debris, but not enough to matter.

  “Five of the enemy escorts are down,” SitCom reported. “Drone Group One is spent.”

  “Gallant Fox, we have moderate damage, one torch is out.”

  “Daisy, mayday, mayday, fusion containment is—” there was a blast of static, and a ship disappeared from the status display.

  “Shit,” Jim said. He immediately remembered the terrible battle above Chimsa. They’d arrived in-system aboard Traveler in the middle of a huge space battle. A lone merc cruiser in the middle of the mayhem. It was a strikingly familiar situation.

  “Watch that battlecruiser!”

  “Got it!” An enemy ship flashed out.

  “Lubieszów, we’ve got these other battlecruisers. Their battleship is out of position for us.”

  “Hippogriff was just hit by a particle beam from the battleship!”

  “Hippogriff, report,” Captain Jormungd called.

  “It’s bad,” the static-filled response came.

  “Captain Corder, what’s your situation?”

  “Reactor two was hit,” the captain reported. “Most of my engineering crew was killed. I can’t tell what’s going on down there.”

  “Withdraw,” Jormungd said.

  “Drones on target,” the TacCom said. The battleship lit up with detonations as the drones rained ship-killers against its unshielded hull. Dozens of squash bombs ripped massive gouges from the armor and exposed its insides.

  “Bring us up into position for a shot at that opening,” Jormungd said.

  “We’ve got the angle,” Corder said. “Taking the shot.” Crippled and venting plasma, Hippogriff fired her dual particle accelerator barbettes over and over again. With its shields down and hull ruptured, the particle beams sliced deeply into the battleship’s fuselage. Secondary explosions ripped through the huge ship, and its weapons fell silent.

  “Hippogriff is adrift,” TacCom said.

  “Enemy is trying to break orbit.”

  “Got it,” Jormungd said. “Muster damage control teams for Hippogriff and Biter. Let the enemy disengage, send word to Marmoset, Lobera, and Carnation that the remaining enemy fleet is attempting to retreat. We show one damaged battlecruiser, two cruisers, and an escort frigate coming their way.”

  “Looks like we’ve got a go for our assault,” Captain Su said to Jim.

  “Roger that, we are prepped for launch.” Jim checked the status board showing Talus’ orbitals. “What about the orbital defense platforms?”

  “Lubieszów is continuing her course toward the planet. Captain Fookoolu is going to offer the platform closest to your drop location a chance to surrender. I think the Bakulu are enjoying their new ship.”

  “You sound like you don’t like it much.”

  “I don’t,” Captain Su agreed. “My career has been commanding cruisers. Battleships make me nervous.”

  After watching the two he’d seen here maul other ships, he could understand her feelings. Battleships treated cruisers like Splunk treated pepperonis. She was already nestled in the left leg of his Mk 7 CASPer, ready for action.

  The orbital platforms went from red to yellow. “The stations have surrendered,” Captain Su confirmed. “Colonel Cartwright, you have a green light to drop.”

  “Roger that.” He switched channels. “Cavaliers Actual to Gitmo Actual, over.”

  “Gitmo Actual,” answered the deep voice of Colonel Dan Spence. “Go ahead, Jim.”

  “Ready, Dan?”

  “Oorah!” he said, echoed by over 60 voices.

  Jim grinned. Gitmo’s Own was descended from the United States M
arines, and you could tell by their traditions. This unit, though, didn’t go in for modern marine tactics; they were into orbital HALD drops. They also kept the tradition of honorable, tough-as-fucking-nails fighters.

  “Cavaliers,” Jim called over the fleet open channel. “All up!”

  “Lead the Charge!” his personal company called back. Jim grinned. It might not have the history of an Oorah, but it was still awesome in his book.

  “Coordinates are set,” Captain Su said. “Prepare to launch.”

  “Standing by,” Jim said. On the tactical map in his mind he could see Bucephalus and the Gitmo ship Fallujah skim the outer atmosphere. An animated model of their drop track moved toward their position. Simple, animated lines showed ground fire. Jim tried not to think about the lasers or missiles attempting to kill them. It was the reason the cruiser kept them on board as long as possible, to protect the dropships with its shields. Gs built quickly as the drop position approached.

  “Launch,” Captain Su called.

  Jim felt a jerking shudder as his dropship fell free of Bucephalus at the same time as the other three in his company. Jim rocked in his CASPer as he went from positive Gs to negative with a jolt. “Gah,” he said as the restraining straps bit into him. From the left leg of his suit he heard quiet snoring.

  The flight of four dropships fell away from Bucephalus and spread out into a wide phalanx, dropping radar decoys as they bit into thicker atmosphere. Ionization built up, and he lost the feed from Bucephalus, though he still got data from the dropship showing their vessels and those of Gitmo’s Own. The last part of their flight got them just into the exosphere, at which point the pilot gave them the green light.

  “Drop, drop, drop!” Top Akamai “Buddha” Kalawai’a called over the squadnet, and Jim tripped the release.