"The ships do not interest me, only that dry dock. Lock weapons and fire! That ship’s secrets must be destroyed, or all life will face extinction."
The ship shuddered as the remaining forward batteries opened fire. As with all Byotai heavy capital ships, it was equipped with large numbers of heavy mass drivers. These electromagnetic weapons hurled dense projectiles at high-hypersonic speeds of twenty-five thousand kilometres per second. Almost immediately the target area erupted with white flashes.
"Interceptors!" said the tactical officer.
"Keep firing!"
The mass drivers continued their barrage, while the defensive weapons around the orbital shipyards returned fire. The automated systems targeted the approaching projectiles, and then blasted them with their own short-range high-velocity interceptor guns. The flashes continued as many of the shells were torn apart. Some made it through, and Captain Korvast nodded with satisfaction as multiple gantries split away, exposing the incomplete hull to his guns. The engines pulsed with power, giving their last full measure of thrust.
"Captain, the other ships are powering up their weapons. Should we..."
"Negative. Power the rear armour and keep firing. It has to be destroyed!"
"But, Sir!"
The Captain reached his side and pulled out a Seax thermal bolt weapon, a standard weapon used in the Imperial Military, and deadly at close range. He flicked off the safety and half-depressed the trigger. The chamber already contained a single bolt, charged and burning hot, ready to fire.
"Carry out my orders."
As he said the words, he lifted the barrel and pointed it towards the head of the tactical officer. Ensign Tarn spotted what was happening and called out.
"Captain, you cannot..."
Captain Korvast twisted to the left and fired. The pistol spat once and narrowly missed the young officer, embedding in the front of an already crippled forward display unit. The white-hot bolt remained embedded in the structure; hissing and spitting like a piece of meat on a burning hot pan.
"I won’t say it again. Now boost the engines. All ahead full, take me into that dry dock!"
"Sir!"
The ship shuddered as the first barrage of gunfire slammed into the tough warship. Eight ships opened fire, using a mixture cannon rounds and missiles. Any other vessel would have been ripped apart, but not this one. The few remaining chunks of motorised armour moved into place, protecting the new gaps just as extra shells struck home. They lasted a full seven seconds before multiple breaches opened up in the wing sections and engines.
"Taking damage, massive aft breaches. Reactors are leaking, the ship is dying, Sir!"
Korvast showed no emotion, simply locking his eyes directly ahead. As the gantries and plates pulled away, he had the perfect view of the massive vessel under repair. Most of the hull appeared complete, though large sections of the superstructure were barely started, and entire sections showed damage from centuries of neglect. It was a derelict. As they moved closer, he noticed the next part of the station was exposed to the elements and covered in machines. He might have ignored it had it not been for the strange pulsing colours coming from its centre. At first glance it looked like a ship had crashing into the station, but then he could see it was actually a large addition to the station.
Something new, and even larger.
With the work going on around it there was little to see, but of the parts that jutted out, it was easy to spot the unpainted and bare material leaving it look unfinished. The Captain ran his eyes along the length of the thing and then groaned with despair. It made the derelict look modest in comparison, and must have been bigger than any battleship he knew of. There were multiple communication dishes and other components, but what caught his eye more than anything else was a massive series of barrels that pushed out like a gun system. Each one was huge and big enough to swallow up an entire bomber. There were dozens of them that then vanished into the construction site.
What is that thing?
So big was this object that it jutted out from the station like a knife blade. Nearly two hundred metres from its tip was a sphere that pulsed and flashed brighter and brighter. It glowed with pent up energy at its centre, and with every passing second, the light grew brighter still. At first he thought it might be a lighting effect from the distant star, but then as his own ship sailed past a trio of tall antenna spires, he saw the centre of the construction.
The strange looking object reminded him of a large eye, or even the centre of the distortion in space-time created by a Rift.
A Rift generator weapon, perhaps? It must be destroyed.
Captain Korvast opened his mouth to speak but was drowned out by a bewildering barrage, as they moved closer to the orbital facility. Hundreds and hundreds of turrets opened fire, with so many shells hitting the crippled warship as though she was being hammered with hailstones on a stormy night. Explosions ripped through the bow and forward hull, sending great reverberations through the vessel.
This is it. The end.
He knew it was over, but as they made it to within twenty kilometres of the shipyard, he smiled. He'd been unable to stop this new and terrible enemy from destroying his beloved Imperium, but at least he could die knowing he'd destroyed their new, dreadful weapon before it could be completed and used. He was so close now he could see the machines moving about its surface, and even the guns attached to the station. It was more than just a shipyard, but a veritable fortress capable of taking on an entire star fleet by itself.
How could these animals have taken control of it so quickly? We were betrayed, all of us, by greed, and by lust.
They were the only reasons he could imagine for the Empire's dramatic collapse. He could have understood military defeat against impossible odds, but the Byotai Empire's greatest defeats came from attacks from within. Captain after captain had turned against their ancestors, leaving the region weak and ripe for the taking. It was not a world he could ever have imagined, or would ever have wanted to live in.
"Captain!"
The sound of shouting filled the burning bridge, but all eyes now turned to the forward view where the glowing sphere grew brighter and brighter, looking more like a star by the second. Tracer fire now lashed back and forth, and the attack cruiser began to split apart. Captain Korvast's eyes widened in horror as the sphere flashed, and then discharged terrible energies from the station. The bridge disintegrated instantly, and then the ship was gone, leaving little trace but broken metal and burning ammunition in its wake.
CHAPTER ONE
Karnak, Byotai Territories
One month later
27 December 2472
The four Lancer Class light cruisers were derelicts. Great hunks of metal and spare parts were now all that remained of the great Star Empire fleet of the 10th Quadrant. Ten days earlier they'd been part of the great Star Empire blockade, but no more. The Interstellar Assault Brigade had broken through to bring about a rebel victory on the surface. Just one week later the combined forces of two Byotai Generals then routed what was left of their fleet.
With their power systems no longer active, they drifted in high-orbit over Karnak, to all intents dead in space. The threat they offered was that of space debris in the primary shipping lanes, and the future their inevitable breaking up for salvage. In the past, these were the lightning fast raiders of the old warring clans, and more recently acting as the eyes and ears of the Star Empire reborn. Star light glinted off the metallic surface, yet for anybody that cared to look, there was life.
The four hulls were icy cold and as dead as the increasing amount of rocks and debris orbiting the planet. Scores of ships, both military and civilian had befallen the same fate, and like them would fall into the planet's atmosphere and burn up on the way down. This was the inevitable fate of any object trapped in a decaying orbit over the war-torn world of Karnak. It was the most densely populated of the six intact planets in the system, and scene of more than a yearlong ground war that ha
d just ended in a surprise victory for the Byotai rebels.
If anybody had been monitoring these three wrecks, they might have detected the glimmer of energy burning inside their powerplants. It was a slow process, but with each passing minute, more and more subsystems activated. This was a slow, careful process, hurrying any one part could shatter the cold parts of the vessel, or cause fires that would draw unwanted attention. This was little different to nature when a creature emerged from its slumber following hibernation. Even so, this process still took over a short period of just seventeen minutes. Once ready, the ships activated their main engines in sequence and increased the orbital trajectory second by second. Soon they reached escape velocity, and with a final boost, accelerated for the centre of the blockade.
It was a bizarre reality of interstellar combat that dead spacecraft, or those drifting with all systems off-line, could prove impossible to track and identify. Their powerplants were now live and bristling with energy, and their engines burning hot. These were no ordinary ships, but Lancer Class light cruisers, some of the fastest and most agile in the Star Empire's arsenal. Like so many of the ships press-ganged into service by the new Empire, they bore few symbols. It might just as easily have been a Spires or Red Scars clans ship had it not been for the single logo along the flanks of the hull.
A single Byotai frigate was all that stood between the light cruisers and their course to freedom. Few of the reptilian ships remained, the majority of the fleet scattered and either captured or destroyed. This particular example was the Imperial Frigate Spiteful, an old ship that defected to the rebels at the start of the war. This was probably the reason it was still operational, as every loyal ship's captain had answered the call to war, and vanished in the maelstrom of combat.
Without hesitation, the captains of the four ships activated their weapons batteries, and deployed significant numbers of warhead batteries. Unlike most ships, these were designed to unleash volleys of missiles directly at their targets, often at incredibly long ranges. As the launcher systems activated, the front launch plates rotated to open the tubes, displaying the warheads like a row of razor sharp teeth. There was no warning or offer of surrender, just the bright white flash as the hypersonic missiles blasted from the ships.
Each launched a barrage of four missiles, with every single warhead visually locked onto the ship. Some weapons used heat seeking technology, but these missiles were the infamous SQ-700 anti-ship cruise missiles. They used a combination active-radar homing system combined with an astronomical star tracking navigation package. At ten metres long, they were big weapons, carrying a seven hundred and fifty kilogram warhead capable of destroying heavy fighters, bombers, and small cutters with a single hit.
Each light cruiser carried four automated missile batteries on board, and between them they sent a veritable swarm of stealthy missiles to their target. The four ships were just two thousand kilometres from the Imperial ship when a routine, but severely delayed sensor sweep, picked them up. By then it was already too late. The ship activated its articulated armour and opened its gun ports, but it needed another thirty seconds to be combat ready. Fatigue and battle damage slowed the responses of the ship and its crew, and the price of this failure would prove its destruction. A single automated turret awoke from its slumber, and then tracked the two nearest missiles. With the speed and precision possible through the use of robotics, it opened fire. One burst ripped apart two missiles, but there was no time for a third. Thrusters fired as the Captain tried to manoeuver away, but it was not enough.
Fourteen surviving missiles struck along the aft hull before detonating against the armour. The warheads were not powerful enough to completely destroy a large frigate, but they could blast a large hole in the hull, and trigger a number of fires and breaches. Eight of the missiles struck along the underside of the small ship where it was more lightly armoured, and each weapon punched a deep hole through the plating. Atmosphere breached the craft, sending it spinning while further explosions rippled along her flanks. In less than ten seconds she was already a shattered ruin, wracked by miniscule explosions from bow to stern.
As the crew tried to regain control, the formation of four Star Empire light cruisers raced on by. Other vessels activated from their slumber, and soon there were a total of eleven ships, including one heavily damaged Byotai fleet carrier. Some may already have been disabled, but more likely they were in hiding to avoid destruction at the hands of General Makos and his fleet. Two still bore massive holes in their hulls from impacts taken a week earlier in battle with the IAB taskforce that had broken their blockade. Their engines grew ever hotter as their captains used every ounce of power to continue accelerating towards their destination, the Serpentis Rift and beyond to the infamous space junction known as the Fiorr Veej System, or Four Rifts in English. If they could make it to Fiorr Veej, they could assist their comrades in the inevitable invasion of the Human-led Alliance.
* * *
Imperial Battleship 'Furiosa'
On approach to Karnak, 10th Quadrant
27 December 2472
Nate was physically and mentally exhausted, as was every single member of Furiosa's crew. They'd been in action almost continually, and after a bloody battle in this system were now safe. They'd arrived a matter of three days earlier, and the ship was still in a terrible state. The encounter with Star Empire loyalists had been a brutal one, leaving the ship riddled with holes and damage from bow to stern. Any other ship might have been abandoned after such a fierce battle, but not this one, as one of three known Legion Class battleships remaining.
Nate closed his eyes again and tried to shake some of the terrible images from his mind. The dogfighting he could live with, he'd seen enough of that already in simulation. It was the event close up that tugged at his heart and played with his mind. He'd seen people shot, and watched friends and foes cut down beside him. It was something he'd never trained for or expected to see, and it was overwhelming. Now he rested, safe in the knowledge that the fleet commanded by the renegade Byotai General Makos controlled the entire system. They were due to arrive at Karnak, where they'd help take on volunteers to continue the fight against the Star Empire. Once complete, they would set sail for a rendezvous with the Alliance fleet. Because of that, Nate expected to see no action until they met with the other ships. For now they would concentrate on their mission, as well as helping to ferry food and medical supplies to the starving civilians and militias far below on the surface.
Nate's eyes were closed when the klaxon began its call. All four active pilots sat in their chairs on the deck, like fighter pilots of old waiting for the call to arms. Nate's limbs ached, and he'd been in the middle of some exotic daydream when he snapped wide awake. His eyes opened wide, and he scanned left and right before rising from his seat. As per standard procedure, he wore his battered looking Naval issue PDS uniform. The only thing missing was his helmet, but that waited for him atop the ladder and at the side of the waiting cockpit.
What's happening?
The sound called the crew and pilots of the Byotai flagship to battle, and though he'd now heard it dozens of times, it was always a frightening sound. Sometimes it marked the start of yet another drill, other times it was for real. It could be a race to defend the ship against incoming missiles, or simply a standard combat air patrol. Each time was different and reminded Nate of the sheer danger he and his friends now faced. An alien voice sounded through the ship, and Nate tried to understand what the words were.
"Nate!"
He looked to his right and found Flying Officer Valdis Ferreus looking right back at him. Nate still found it hard to take the Byotai pilots of the Ironclads as seriously as the Human equivalent. Where his people wore conservative uniforms, these Byotai wore exotic clothing, with metallic plates and many gaps that showed off almost completely naked flesh. It looked both decadent and alluring, and Nate found that to be quite a distraction.
She is something else.
"It's th
e Captain. There are ships coming our way. Hurry."
Valdis was a little older than him, though he was never quite sure by how much. Her combat flight suit was of a dull grey, yet adorned with all manner of embellishments that served as a reminder the Ironclads were not just an elite Byotai squadron, they were one of the few that bore the moniker Royal.
"I'm on the way."
A pair of Alliance marines moved past, each giving him an inquisitive glance. There were a handful of them aboard the ship. After all, this was still a sovereign vessel of what remained of the Byotai Empire. This was because Nate and his friends were not military; in fact they were not even pilots. The average age for pilots in the Alliance was very late twenties and up into the fifties. Yet here they were, with an average age of nineteen, and on the front-line. Each of them was a student from the Alliance run academies, but none had spent a day of service with any of the military arms.
"Sir," said the nearest marine, "Looks like trouble out there."
Nate was already moving to his fighter, and as always ran his eyes down the flank of the craft, checking for any signs of wear or fatigue. In the simulations, failure was just a reason to try again. But Nate had now learnt that equipment failure or mistakes could mean death, and he'd experienced that first hand already.
Trouble, what trouble?
The vessel shuddered slightly as the massive engines activated. Without a direct view outside, it wasn't clear what was happening, but Nate had a good idea of what must be going on. They'd been coasting to Karnak for the last six hours, so this could mean something had changed. They were not due for a course or velocity change for several more hours. He'd run enough simulation to known when a ship was aligning itself for a critical, high speed launch. That was where he had the advantage over most pilots, because unlike them, he'd already trained on this scenario more than a hundred times, and he was damned good at it. Nate was a teenage student, something that should have precluded him from anything close to military action. Yet here he was, as one of the four pilots waiting for orders to launch from the battleship.
Star Crusader: Battle Fleet Victorious Page 2
