Books One to Three Omnibus (Armada Wars)

by R. Curtis Venture

“Very good, Captain. I’ll send the orders.”

  “Tell Shard Caden he can transfer his team to the Night’s Shadow.”

  COMOP tapped at a holo. “The lander is on its way.”

  “And that’s probably the last we’ll see of them,” said Thande.

  “Captain,” said COMOP. “The Viskr capital ship has sent us some kind of map. It looks like a diagram of the enemy positions as they appeared ten hours ago.”

  “Can you get the battle map to digest it?”

  “I can try.”

  “Do so. See if it has any suggestions regarding likely movements.”

  “Working. So far I’m seeing a large number of dreadships in the atmosphere. They’re dropping splinters, just like they did at Meccrace.”

  “Any count on their sentries?”

  “Very few. Just as predicted there’s almost nothing going on in orbit. The Viskr have retreated, and the Shaeld Hratha have been left to their own devices.”

  “Well that’s one good thing,” said Thande. “With a little luck, they won’t want to break off to deal with us.”

  “Viskr ships are manoeuvring,” said Tactical. “Forming up around our task force. Looks like they expect to weather the storm for us.”

  “I’m receiving instructions,” said COMOP. “Navigational directives. Sending them to Helm now.”

  “Received,” said Helm. “Working up an approach pattern.”

  “COMOP,” said Thande. “Try to make sure the Viskr commanders understand: we will not engage the dreadships unless we absolutely have to.”

  “I’m sending the message every way I know how, Captain.”

  Thande waited while COMOP tapped away at a holo, hoping that the Viskr would understand the directions. Although Caecald had assured Caden that the Viskr commanders at Riishi would follow the lead of the Imperial task force, she was far too experienced to simply assume that everything would go to plan. It was often difficult enough getting everyone to read from the same page when they spoke a common language.

  “They appear to understand, Captain,” said COMOP. “The capital ship will be shadowing our carriers; everything else will be providing cover for our rift platforms.”

  “Good. That actually sounds ideal.”

  “Message from Shadow: our lander has hit their plate, and they’re ready to move.”

  “Signal the rest of the task force,” said Thande, “then give our Viskr allies the go.”

  COMOP sent the messages.

  “Helm, stand by to enter the system.”

  “Aye Ma’am. Standing by.”

  “All commands acknowledge your go, Captain.”

  “Open a wormhole, Helm.”

  Thande could almost sense the power building in her ship’s gravity needle generator, the regular thrum of the command deck adopting a warbling quality, as if the circuits themselves were vibrating in unison with the barely contained collimator coils. She watched the space dead ahead of the ship, waiting for the moment to arrive.

  And there it was. A crackling expanse of burning black, a disc no matter from which angle one viewed it, a spreading blot on the heart of the red nebula which spanned the view of the entire system.

  “Stealth Probes?”

  “Launching,” said Tactical.

  They waited while the two tiny probes entered the wormhole, visible on the battle map only by their encoded transmission markers.

  “Nothing local to the wormhole exit,” said Tactical. “I’m seeing some minor activity in the system interior, but it’s spread out.”

  “Helm. Take us to Riishi.”

  “Aye Captain. Ahead full.”

  Thande gripped the arm rests of her command chair, feeling the tug of their transition through the event horizon, closing off her mind to the nauseating feelings it induced. She waited for an eternity, the howl of nothingness screaming around her, before the ship dropped out again a second later.

  “Jump complete.”

  Riishi.

  The home planet of the Viskr species loomed ahead of them, filling a quarter of the forward view. It turned slowly on its axis, streaks of clouds wandering high above continents which would not have looked amiss on some of the many worlds of home. A storm system gathered cloud bands to it near the southern pole, twisting them towards its maw.

  “Tactical. Report.”

  “Gathering data… much as expected so far. Dreadships still in the atmosphere. The odd sentry dotted around in extreme orbits, a few of them clustering with Viskr ships. They aren’t fighting each other; I’ll flag those ones as hostile.”

  “Anything of note, COMOP?”

  “Not seeing anything I recognise as a distress call,” said COMOP. “There’s virtually nothing at all, in fact. No chatter from the dreadships that I can hear.”

  “Seeing lots of ship debris ahead, Captain,” said Tactical. “Sending to helm. That might cause issues if we need to make any tactical jumps.”

  “Data received,” said Helm. “Damn. That’s a lot of metal.”

  “Is it a problem, Helm?”

  “Just working the numbers now, Captain. I’m seeing fragments from ships and stations; some of them are quite large. If we have to knock any of them away with C-MADS we’re going to light up the enemy sensors.”

  “Can we get through safely?”

  “I think so, yes. I have a profile now. Suggest we share it with the other ships.”

  “COMOP, send them the route. Then recommend minimal comms traffic.”

  “Yes Ma’am.”

  “I’ve got no active threats between us and the insertion window,” said Tactical. “Recommend a go while we have the opportunity.”

  “Excellent. COMOP, inform Night’s Shadow they are clear to start their approach.”

  • • •

  This was very much a first for Eilentes.

  She sat at the controls of the lander and simply waited. Around her, filling her view no matter where she looked, the familiar yet foreign flight deck of the Night’s Shadow betrayed nothing at all of what was happening outside the ship.

  Another quick check of the gravity reads: nothing new yet. Once those numbers started to spin, she would know they were making their descent.

  She listened to the noise from the comm, the sounds of Bullseye Company preparing themselves for the ground in the main compartment. There were boasts, there was bravado, there were new nicknames being thrown around. Occasionally, an anecdote chronicling the stupidity of some mind-bogglingly inadvisable act or comment sent them all into a frenzy of whooping laughter and friendly insults.

  There. The gravity well.

  She watched the numbers climb, and without needing to see it with her own eyes she knew that the Shadow was approaching Riishi. The planet’s gravity well was starting to exert a noticeable effect on the carrier.

  The change in the numbers accelerated, and the lander picked up a vibration from the flight deck: atmosphere.

  “We’re on our way down,” she said over the comm. “Be ready for anything. We may have to come out fighting.”

  A jolt — was that a hit, or turbulence?

  There were no explosions, no warning klaxons or flickering lights. It must have been a transition between layers of the atmosphere.

  Her muscles tingled and fizzed; the ship’s gravity plating switching off, bowing out in deference to the strengthening field of the planet.

  The whole carrier rumbled now, and Eilentes could feel the forces transmitted through the deck plates and into the lander’s frame. Despite all the hydraulic support between the flight deck and the lander, all the insulation of the armoured hull, all the absorbent materials of the pilot’s seat, the thunder shook her bones.

  There was a sense of her guts rising inside her, then of them falling back into place. She knew from that sensation that they had slowed their descent rapidly. The flight deck went quiet, the vibrations stopped.

  The Night’s Shadow had levelled off rapidly and slowed almost to a complete stop. She cou
ld just tell.

  Nothing moved on the flight deck, and it was a moment before she realised what was going on. The Pale Horse was about to be dropped.

  She heard the cables and support gantries releasing, even through the many intervening bulkheads. The Horse landed below them with a crash which could have woken the dead.

  Ahead of her, the huge inner doors of the flight deck began to roll open. The outer doors separated, a widening shaft of light sliced through the deck.

  “We’re up,” she shouted.

  She waited while the other landers lifted from the flight deck and moved in pairs towards the opening. Caden had been very specific: Eilentes must not depart for the objective until she was sure the Tankers had a safe exit route to fall back on.

  Their own lander joined the back of the queue, edged forwards, and left the flight deck.

  “Return landers are all on the ground,” she said. “Skinprinting looks good — I can hardly see them now.”

  She tapped at the sensor holo, then the comm.

  “Landers, Eilentes. Your energy signatures are still too bright. Take all your non-essentials offline for now.”

  Eilentes nodded to herself when the landers faded to mere blurs in her sensor view. She could barely tell them apart from the surroundings, and she was looking right at them.

  “Skinprinting,” she said. She punched the control.

  She move around in the cockpit while the hull reconfigured its camouflage, taking in the sights of what it was she was actually mimicking.

  The city was in a desperate state, that was her first impression. Tall, gently curving, wedge-shaped buildings had once stood proudly, but now it was obvious they had been abandoned. A few of them had windows missing, smoke drifted from those apertures which gaped open. Some of the buildings had chunks of masonry blown away or entire sides which had collapsed to the ground.

  The air hung thick with dust and veils of drifting smoke. The sun was already heading for the horizon, and low cloud cover towards their objective reflected the dull red-orange of widespread fires.

  Even through the thick canopy she could hear occasional explosions, the rattle of gunfire, and — far in the distance — she thought she heard The Falling.

  She rotated the lander, nosing towards the trail left by the Pale Horse. The massive tank had cut a swathe of destruction of its own, knocking down everything in its path and leaving behind it a wide channel through the city outskirts. The ground over which Eilentes’ lander skimmed was desolate, a roadway made entirely of broken things.

  This is going to be really quick, she thought. The Horse is carving straight to the objective.

  Viskr gunships thundered overhead, appearing before Eilentes had any warning. There was no time to stop moving the lander. The gunships crossed her field of view, their forward guns firing at some target she could not see. Two soared across the way and disappeared out of sight beyond the building line, the third doubled back.

  She watched it pivot on its axis, tilt back and down into the new roadway, and move closer as if to inspect the lander.

  Eilentes touched the comm holo, gave the gunship a quick, hopeful burst.

  The gunship backed off, tilting its nose up, and swung back into position to follow its companions.

  “Caden,” she said over the comm. “Thank Caecald for those IFF signals.”

  He replied privately, over her link.

  “Try to avoid the need to broadcast it. You send that signal to any forces which aren’t what they seem, they’ll open fire on us anyway.”

  “Gotcha.”

  A shadow moved over the pathway ahead of her, and she craned her neck to look out of the top half of the canopy. Above them, the carrier lifted into the airspace above the city.

  “Night’s Shadow is moving out. They’re climbing.”

  She saw the skies fill with white streaks and puffs of black; surface batteries taking pot shots at the huge ship, pointlessly trying to get ordnance past its ventral C-MADS turrets.

  “Caden, I thought the intel said the civilian population isn’t yet being targeted? I’m seeing anti-air from the ground, and quite a bit of combat.”

  “I’m guessing they used Thralls to soften up the cities, before the dreadships came down,” said Caden. “Much like they did with the Eighth Fleet at Meccrace Prime. This isn’t yet an occupation so much as it is deliberate chaos.”

  “Sounds about right.”

  “I think we should assume the virus is present here as well. If the Viskr defences have crumbled this badly, the Shaeld must have had plenty of opportunities to deploy it here.”

  “I’ll make sure the Tankers know to use full kit.”

  “Thanks.” Caden closed the channel.

  “Pale Horse from Ground One,” Eilentes said. “New directive. Rasa virus is likely present on the surface. Any expeditions outside your craft will require full environmental protection.”

  “Acknowledged, Ground One. We’re coming up on the city centre. Where do you want us?”

  “Stand by,” said Eilentes.

  She tapped up the map of the city which Caecald had provided, and focused on the cabinet building and its surrounding governmental facilities. The land around them appeared to be a landscaped park, a circular ring creating an island: a city within a city.

  A buffer zone between the leaders and their people, she thought.

  “Head west from your current location. Circle back north, and stop after about two klicks. You should have buildings on your left and parkland on your right.”

  “Yeah, we’re coming up on the parkland now. Looks like a tropical wonderland. Changing course.”

  “If you see any opposing forces worth worrying about, try to create as much noise as you can,” she said. “We’re going to need as much cover as we can get.”

  “Understood. Noise is what we’re good at, Ground One.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Just so you know, we’ve seen those splinters close to our route.”

  “Thanks for the heads up,” said Eilentes. “Avoid them if you see any more; they’re usually defended by a small army.”

  “Wilco. Pale Horse out.”

  Eilentes saw the track ahead of her start to curve, fringed on one side by the boundary of the parkland. She saw immediately what the Tanker had meant; it was some kind of botanical park, the trees and plants alien to her but clearly tropical in nature.

  Oh, we’re going up and over that, she thought.

  The track continued to bend to her left, the buildings at the edge of it mashed beyond recognition and tumbling back on themselves. The Pale Horse had dug its many giant tracks into the ground during its turn, churning up the foundations of crushed buildings and what little road surface there was. Soil and clay had been bared to the air beneath her.

  She ignored the bend and lifted the lander over the far edge of the Pale Horse’s furrow, then continued to rise to clear the sculpted rainforest ahead of them. Half a kilometre away, poking out from the lush canopy below, she saw five ornate spires reaching into the sky.

  Crusty central.

  • • •

  “Captain,” said Tactical. “I have a dreadship inbound.”

  “Show me,” said Thande.

  Tactical modified the battle map for her, re-centring it on a dreadship in an extreme orbit around Riishi. The ship was moving slowly, not displaying any signs that it was bearing down on anything in particular, but its data track showed the distance between them was decreasing steadily.

  “Is it on intercept?”

  “Projecting course,” said Tactical. “I don’t believe so, no. From the look of it, it will continue to orbit the planet if it stays true to that route. But it’s going to get very, very close to us.”

  “Visual range?”

  “Oh, yes. Well within visual range.”

  “Then we have a problem. Distant blips on their sensors are one thing; that ship is going to get a direct view of our entire task force.”

  �
��Do you want me to alert our other commands?” COMOP said.

  “Yes. Single message: tell them to do nothing about it unless instructed. And make sure the Viskr can’t possibly misread you.”

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “We have enough rift platforms to reduce it to slag before it even responds,” the XO said.

  “If we have to, we have to,” said Thande. “But I’d rather not start something we can’t finish. Not if we can avoid it.”

  “Yes Captain.”

  Thande watched the dreadship glide monolithically through space, and the rapidly diminishing figure next to it. This one ship could upset everything the task force had come here to achieve.

  “Is Night’s Shadow back with us yet?”

  “They’re en route,” said Tactical. “Minutes to go. They’ll reach us before the dreadship gets to its closest point.”

  “Good. We don’t want them caught in the open on their own.”

  “Captain,” said COMOP.

  She heard the note of alarm straight away.

  “What’s gone wrong now?”

  “One of our Viskr escorts is breaking away. It looks like they’ve started making a parabolic approach to the dreadship.”

  “What? Contact the Viskr capital ship immediately. Try to get an explanation.”

  “It looks like a battle cruiser frame,” said Tactical. “Older type, well-armoured though. If this data is correct they’re going to pass by the dreadship just outside effective weapons range.”

  “They’re trying to draw it?” The XO asked.

  “Looks that way.”

  “Viskr flagship is not responding,” said COMOP.

  “Never mind,” Thande said. “It seems Tactical has guessed their intentions.”

  They watched the Viskr cruiser make its approach, curving out from the task force then back towards the dreadship. Even going to what was probably certain death, Thande could afford a measure of appreciation for the Viskr aboard that ship. They had tried to mask their point of origin; tried to hide the presence of the task force.

  “They’re opening up on the dreadship,” said Tactical.

  Thande moved the view of the battle map to encompass both ships. The cruiser was still on its approach, well outside effective range, but giving the dreadship everything it had regardless. Rail guns, auto-cannon, missiles, drones, flash lasers — the Viskr crew were not taking the risk that they might be ignored.