by Yakov Merkin
This wouldn’t be quite the same as engaging in fighter combat, but it would be as close as they could come with capital ships. It was just as well that he’d chosen to stay with the small, quick Swift Strike all these years. It was perfectly suited for this type of task.
“Most of the task force reports ready, and the Garash and the Rokham are in position. Have yet to receive confirmation of readiness from the Talvostans.”
“We’re not waiting for them. Give the order to engage.” Omnipresent willing, the task force making its move without the support of the larger Talvostan fleet would be yet another unexpected move that would give them some additional edge.
“Accelerate to attack speed, and divert all available power to shields. This is going to be a bumpy ride.”
“Do we have a target, Admiral?”
Felivas quickly sought out a damaged Revittan cruiser near the edge of their advancing formation. “That one, off to our port side.”
The Swift Strike swiftly altered course, and charged straight for the wounded ship. “Open fire as soon as we are in range.”
As they closed in, the Swift Strike started to take some fire.
“Shields holding!”
“Helm,” Felivas ordered, “coordinate with the Garash and Rokham; there’s no need for easily mappable flight patterns.”
The pilot, Lieutenant-Commander Irai Erest, smiled. “Got it, sir.” He opened a shipwide channel. “I would advise everyone secure themselves.”
Moments later, they came within range of their target and fired, along with their squadmates. Shields on the damaged ship flickered, them vanished as the cannon and torpedo fire struck home. By the time the three ships passed their target by, Felivas could see from the rear display that it had been mortally wounded.
“Good work! Now, have we gotten their attention?”
“Well, the attention of a few ships, anyway.”
Felivas could see, on both the visual and tactical display, that the enemy had largely given up the pursuit of the Legion Navy under the harrying of the small groups of ships, and Revittan warships seemed to be engaged in their own private battles.
“Bring us about, and find us another target. And keep us moving, unpredictable. If this Sai’var is as clever as we’ve been led to believe, he’ll figure out a counter to this soon, and I mean to be gone well before that.”
“Aye sir!”
“Inform me the moment the Legion Navy has completed its evacuation,” Felivas added as the Swift Strike swooped in, escorts staying close, and eliminated another pair of damaged enemy ships, drawing several others after them.
“Can you get us below that battlecruiser?” Felivas asked Erest.
“I’d love to try, Admiral,” he replied.
Felivas opened a channel to their escorts. “Captains, keep the formation more loose, and once we reach the stern of the battlecruiser, unload as much as you can.”
“Acknowledged, Admiral,” came the reply as the Swift Strike shuddered under some more hits, then moved beneath the much larger ship. There was no guarantee they’d have enough firepower to cripple or destroy this ship, but if they did, it would most certainly draw the enemy’s attention.
Felivas’s hands tightened on the arms of his chair as they closed with their target.
“Fire!” he shouted as soon as they had reached the right point.
Explosions buffeted their small squadron as their shots struck home, and through the rear display Felivas saw the battleruiser’s shields flare brightly, though they appeared to be holding. Then, a squadron of five Talvostan ships, slower than his own, but still quite agile for their size, appeared just over the battlecruiser and fired. This time, the shields gave out, and explosions wracked the big ship.
“Let’s see if our friends want to follow us again, shall we?” Felivas asked, and they continued after their next target.
They weaved in and out of the enemy fleet, fast enough that they avoided taking many direct hits, and, if the display was any indication, the battle had devolved into the most chaotic that Felivas had ever seen—for the moment, at least.
“Admiral, the Garash reports that it is taking damage,” the captain said.
“Tell them to get clear and jump out,” Felivas replied. “We won’t be staying much longer.”
Despite the chaos, and the small battles being waged everywhere, he was starting to see some concealed order in the Revittan movements. “In fact, the time to go is now. Send word to the rest of the fleet; fighters will need to jump out on their own, there isn’t time to recall them all. They are to break off all current engagements and form up with us as we move to get clear; the enemy is trying to tighten a noose around our necks. Now!”
The Swift Strike lurched as it was pulled into a very abrupt course change, then sped to move clear of the planet’s gravity well even while Revittan warships started to move to bar their path.
“Focus fire forward!” Felivas commanded as he rose from his seat, despite the shaking from multiple hits.
“Shields at forty percent!”
“We’ll be alright, just be ready to jump,” Felivas said, keeping his eyes away from the tactical display and on the main viewscreen as the acrid smell of overloaded circuits vied for his attention. He did not need to be able to clearly see every time they lost a ship. As they neared the jump point, however, something else caught his eye. The enemy flagship was dead ahead, separated from its usual escorts. Almost like it, or, rather, the enemy commander, was daring him to make an attempt to attack it.
No. It was most certainly a trap, one that he was not going to fall for.
“Ready to jump,” came the announcement as the shields dropped below twenty percent.
“Then do it! Vashkh!” Now! Felivas commanded, and once the familiar stretched starlines appeared before him, he let himself relax. Somewhat.
It did not feel good, retreating yet again, but this time, Omnipresent willing, they would be able to make something positive come of it.
CHAPTER 23
“Center column, advance forward,” Darkclaw ordered, eyes locked on the Sarcendar’s tactical display.
The battle for one of the Revittan Empire’s largest shipyard facilities was going well thus far, a welcome change from the recent devastating losses, but Darkclaw would not, could not, let himself get complacent.
He dispatched orders to several bomber squadrons to attempt to bypass a weaker section of the enemy defensive formation to attack the static defenses that were, in truth, the bigger obstacle for the moment, then repositioned several Snevan dreadnoughts and their support ships to the wings of their attack formation, so as to better prevent any attempt by the enemy to make an opening and start causing trouble inside the Alliance battle lines.
“Focus fire on the battlecuisers off our port side,” he ordered. “I mean for us to draw the entirety of their attention.”
“Understood, High Executor.”
The Sarcendar advanced with the bulk of the fleet as the enemy, harried by both the fighters in their back line and other incoming fire, began to lose cohesion. It was not a collapse as they had seen before they received their new commander, but it was a collapse nonetheless.
“Focus fire on the ships at the following coordinates,” Darkclaw ordered as he input the location. “It is time to end this.”
“High Executor!” The sensors operator shouted mere moments after they started forward. “Picking up numerous enemy signatures entering the system. They are going to flank us.”
“All craft on the formation wings, be alert; enemy ships inbound,” Darkclaw broadcast. Turning the rest of the fleet around would not help at this point. He could only hope that his preparations would be enough.
“Enemy forces exiting hyperspace.”
“On screen.”
The visual came up just in time for Darkclaw to see two large Revittan task forces drop into realspace and begin firing on the fleet. Moments later, however, several objects came out of hyperspace th
at were not stopping and firing, but instead hurtled toward the tight formation of primarily Legion Navy vessels.
There was no time for Darkclaw to even start to send a warning. The improvised projectiles, civilian freighters, directly collided with Alliance ships, then exploded violently. The explosions were blinding, and according to the tactical display, numerous ships were completely annihilated and many more damaged in the blasts, which were immediately followed by Revittan ships pouring into the breaches in the Alliance lines.
“Formation wings, tighten up, close the breaches,” he ordered, dispatching the Snevans and most of the Talvostans at his disposal to try and stabilize the situation.
After several minutes of fierce fighting, they managed to succeed, trapping many Revittan ships inside the Alliance formation, while preventing others from further disrupting it.
This would be only a temporary solution, however; the enemy still had a clear numerical advantage at many points, and if Darkclaw called off his attack in order to help, the enemy forces he was currently pushing back would be given time to regroup and flank him.
“Send a wide band transmission,” he ordered; “to any Alliance forces within range, that we need reinforcements immediately.”
The next few minutes would be crucial. If reinforcements would be able to make it there in a timely manner, he was confident they could hold off the enemy and achieve their objective. If not, he would have a very small window with which to conduct a withdrawal before his fleet was smashed upon the very installations he had come to destroy.
“High Executor,” came the reply mere moments later, “incoming message from Admiral Kharitzon. He is inbound with, to use his words, a battered but still moving fleet. Estimates are that they will arrive in-system within half an hour.”
“Now we know just how long we must hold. Send word to the rest of the fleet; defend at all cost, and gradually fall back toward the planet. Let the enemy think they are winning.”
Of course, the fact that Felivas was inbound meant that the fleet he had been stationed with had been forced to retreat. That Felivas was in command also meant that the Legion Navy vice admiral had either been killed or otherwise incapacitated, which spoke of heavy casualties. It had been clear from the start that this war was a bad thing, but with every new development, it became more and more of a disaster.
“Status of the enemy defenses.”
“Sixty percent still operational. Enemy fleet advancing toward us, fighters inbound.”
“Recall our fighters to engage them, and find a firing vector that lets us target the shipyards. So long as we can weather the incoming fire, they remain our priority.”
In addition to general worries about the war, Darkclaw knew that the longer it went on, and especially as casualties mounted, the mainstream Alliance would more quickly lose morale and seek an end to the war, even if it put them at a postwar disadvantage. He would have to confer with his closer allies as to how to work to maintain Alliance cohesion going forward. Darkclaw shook his head. Honestly, he could understand those concerns, and if it could be determined that a peace treaty could be made that would ensure that the Revittan Empire would not encroach on Alliance space, he would probably support it, both for the sake of preserving the peace he had already fought so hard for, and to limit the loss of life. Nayasar probably wouldn’t trust anything brokered by the Alliance, however, and more of his close allies might well side with her on that. The last thing he wanted was conflict with her, but she was too prone to letting her still-smoldering hatred of the Alliance drive her thoughts and actions.
“High Executor, the rear lines are starting to buckle,” came the warning a few minutes later.
Darkclaw looked at the tactical display. Most of the shipyards had been destroyed, and the remnants of the enemy force that had been defending them had completely abandoned any hope at saving the rest, instead full-on attacking.
“Status on those reinforcements?”
“Arrival within a few minutes.”
Then they could still risk staying. While the operation was technically already a success, many would see yet another withdrawal in the face of the enemy as a defeat nonetheless. A full victory here could be just what they so desperately needed now.
As was an offensive move.
Darkclaw opened a channel to his forward force. “All ships, assume attack formation Sweep Three and advance. There will be no falling back today.”
Darkclaw steadied himself in front of the tactical display as the Sarcendar closed with and engaged the Revittan fleet. Although it would never truly be his ship, it was a good one, and had served him well. Through the tactical display, he dispatched orders to his own ships, almost effortlessly commanding their maneuvers like he had done during the last war. The Hudecar’s setup was more ideal, and of course it was more of a challenge now that he was fighting alongside allies that were not integrated into that system and would likely not consent to it. But he accepted that while he held a leadership role in this war, he was no longer in complete command. It was less efficient, but still workable.
More ships appeared on the display as Felivas and his reinforcements arrived. From a quick glance at the display screen, Darkclaw could see that many of the ships were heavily damaged, but most still battle-worthy. Fortunately, the enemy was caught off guard, and by the time they reacted the Alliance forces had them all but trapped.
“Inform all ships to be prepared to accept the unconditional surrenders of any Revittan ships that wish to do so. Enemy ships that break free are not to be pursued.” He would not risk falling into a trap by pursuing escaping enemies, and besides, those escaping from a major defeat would only negatively impact overall morale. Anything that could potentially spread and lessen the enemy’s effectiveness could prove invaluable.
“Open a channel to Admiral Kharitzon,” he ordered, and moments later, Felivas’s familiar face appeared on screen.
“Admiral, your timing was impeccable.”
Felivas smiled, though Darkclaw could still tell that he was tired and stressed. “I had a hunch, and, thank the Omnipresent, I was correct. Our own engagement went very poorly; the vice admiral was killed, and the Legion Navy forces in particular took very heavy losses. Darkclaw, I think we’ve been fighting this new enemy commander all wrong, but I fear that it might be a challenge to convince some of our allies to accept my recommendations.”
“This victory will surely help bolster that argument,” Darkclaw replied as he returned the smile. Opinions and allegiances within this Alliance of ours seem to be easily shifted, provided the right arguments are made by the right people.”
Felivas nodded. “A strength and a weakness.”
“Agreed. But let us save that for later. For now, we must finish up here and be gone, before we have yet more enemies to contend with.”
Felivas nodded. “Very true. Speak with you again soon,” he said, then ended the transmission.
“Dispatch fighters to finish off the last of the shipyard facilities,” Darkclaw ordered, “and send word to me when all combat operations here have concluded.” He turned to his ship commander. “The ship is yours.”
The commander saluted, and Darkclaw returned the gesture before departing the command deck for his quarters. He had to take advantage of this time to think. He believed that he understood just what Felivas had implied they should be doing, and there would certainly be a way to both optimize the tactic as well as determine what safeguards should be built in to, at the very least, give them notice and options should the enemy devise a counter-strategy. It was not at all what he would like to be doing, but what he personally wanted for himself did not matter. This was what being a leader meant, and for better or worse, that was his role now. And he would do what had to be done.
CHAPTER 24
Asharra shivered and curled into a ball on the floor of her cell, which had felt far colder over the past several days, even though she was certain the actual temperature hadn’t changed.
She shut her eyes to both try and force herself to sleep and to keep her eyes dry, but all that accomplished was to relive the images burned into her mind during her interrogation by Lord Tavas. It was fortunate, probably, that she couldn’t remember how many rebel secrets had been pulled from her mind, between the drugs, the pain, and his power. Asharra had known many people who were particularly adept at manipulating and moving with the Shift during her life, and he was up there among the most powerful. It was no wonder the Empire’s leadership kept him around despite the fear of those capable of manipulating the Shift that had led them to all-but eliminate the Noalii.
It was pointless to feel any shame or guilt over having failed to conceal everything, but attempting to do so would have been futile. What truly mattered was that the two most important secrets, her true identity and the location of the main rebel base—which only she among the prisoners here knew—were still hers alone.
But for how much longer?
Asharra shivered again at the thought of interrogation, and absently fingered one of the many tears in her prison jumpsuit, whether earned from struggling during a session or just one of the beatings that preceded them. She was probably too weak now to even try and fight them. She tried too hard to hold onto hope, but at what point did it become wasted effort? Odds were she was going to die in this prison, either by formal execution when her identity and past was discovered, or from extreme strain during an interrogation session. Was it time to come to terms with that?
The familiar sounds of heavy footsteps approaching wrenched Asharra from her ruminations, and she huddled back in the corner of her cell. Were they coming for her again, so soon? But they sounded like they were running, almost. Had Tavas somehow learned who she was?
Things got stranger moments later, as she heard muffled shouting, followed by several bursts of weapons fire, then an alarm being sounded, then abruptly silenced.
