“You’re looking at it.”
“I beg your pardon, sir?”
“The majority of the queen’s forces have been committed to the engagement in the Thetican System.”
“I beg your forgiveness, My Lord, but that is absurd! Thetican System has not even declared for her. Those cowards have oscillated between neutrality and direct support for Caerwyn Martel and his unlawful Assembly! We, however, are her most loyal system and, dare I say it, her most important system.” The commodore had undoubtedly been placed personally in charge of the system’s defense by the local magistrate, and it seemed the man had pinned all of his hope on rescue by the queen’s fleet. Now he looked beside himself, a man without any idea of what to do. Sir Reginald did not fault him.
“Ophiuchus, like all star systems that have declared for Her Majesty, is invaluable, which is why she has sent me and this great force to defend you at all costs. You may be pleased to note our orders are to hold position in this system until the threat has dissipated; retreat is not authorized.”
“That is some small comfort, but I cannot help questioning the logic behind Her Highness’s strategy, if you please forgive my impudence, My Lord.”
“With me, you are free to speak your mind.”
“The queen has sent you to our rescue, yet she commits herself and her primary fleet to the defense of a system which doesn’t even recognize her as their queen…”
“That is true. And because of it, I am authorized by her to apologize she could not come here personally, nor send a greater force, in your time of deepest need.”
“Apologies may mend fences, Sir Knight, but they do not win battles.”
“I understand and agree,” said Sir Reginald. “But you must understand the queen cannot allow her realm to be invaded by aliens.”
“A threat from outside the home is a serious danger,” admitted the commodore. “But a threat from inside the home…that is an imminent danger.”
“The truth of that assertion notwithstanding, we have our orders, each of us, and must now look to the execution of our duties, a fact I am certain an accomplished military man such as yourself can appreciate.”
“Yes, Sir Reginald,” said the commodore. He did not look happy, but offered a salute.
“Now, please give me a report of the latest intelligence, so I might best deploy my starships for your defense.”
“First we’ll feel the wind, then the hurricane,” said the commodore darkly. “The enemy vanguard is about thirty minutes ahead of the main host. We count one-hundred and fifty warships in the vanguard alone, including at least sixty battleships. As for the main fleet, well, that’s the hurricane. We estimate a force in the order of five hundred warships, not counting a fleet of supply ships, including countless troop transports for planetary invasion.”
Sir Reginald felt a deathly chill. If these numbers were accurate, then Caerwyn had done a lot more rebuilding of his forces than everyone had believed. Sir Reginald knew Caerwyn had been rushing to finish whatever starships he had under construction, and that he’d pressed much of his merchant marine into service by outfitting their vessels with guns and crews, but still…a combined force of five-hundred and fifty warships bearing down on them? Such a large number was hard to believe, especially following the tremendous losses Caerwyn had suffered in the Battle of Apollo.
The commodore must have noticed the grim, blank expression on Sir Reginald’s face because he said, “You do not look pleased to hear it, My Lord.”
“Are you sure there exists such a force?” asked Sir Reginald, his mind still reeling at the numbers. How could he have so many ready for battle, especially after sustaining such losses during the Battle of Apollo? Sir Reginald could only imagine how much greater those numbers would be had the Apollo Yards survived.
“There is very little doubt of it, sir. And now you understand my indignation. With a plea to forgive the impropriety of my words, I must ask the question no one else seems to be asking. When Ophiuchus falls into enemy hands, as we both know it will, from where does the queen expect to harvest the resources she will need to rebuild her fleet? Surely, after engagement against the Rotham, she will need more minerals and metals and other resources. If not from here, then where?”
Sir Reginald had no answer for the commodore, and, truthfully, though it had been a hard choice for the queen to make, he was not sure she’d made the right one.
“If they take this system,” said Sir Reginald, unable to think of anything more reassuring to say. “They must do it over my own corpse. Because I will not allow these worlds to fall!”
“I am grateful for your aid, and I deeply admire your personal commitment to us in our hour of need,” said the commodore, “But please, should you and your men be made to realize should you hold the line here with us, then you and they will die here, with us. There is no hope for victory.”
Sir Reginald knew this was true. And it was with a heavy heart that he reaffirmed his commitment to remain, along with his ships. “We shall stand with our brothers in defense of Ophiuchus,” he said. A twinge of sorrow tinted his words, but there was no hint of regret. It was the greatest honor to lay down one’s life for one’s country and queen. He knew it, his men knew it, and now all that was left for them was to accept that honor and make the enemy pay dearly for every inch they gained.
“I am grateful to hear it,” said the commodore. His words were sincere, but his tone dour. Sir Reginald could tell there was still a great deal of fight left in the man; he wasn’t about to fall over easily, but he was also a man who had accepted the inevitability of his fate. I suppose now so am I, thought Sir Reginald.
“Now onto the matter of tactics,” said Sir Reginald. “If I deploy my forces in the outer region, I might be able to ambush and destroy the enemy’s vanguard before the main host arrives. Then, if my squadron is as expedient as I know them to be, we can race back to the safety of the platforms and defend against the main host together, shoulder to shoulder.”
“That would be a good plan, except we believe the early arrival of the enemy vanguard to be a feint to force us into committing to such a strategy,” said the commander. “They would like nothing more than to keep our forces apart and eviscerate your squadron from afar while my defense ships and platforms can do nothing but watch and await our turn on the executioner’s block.”
After some thought, Sir Reginald agreed. His initial plan was too risky and the likelihood the enemy force would regroup and attack as a singular unit was high. They would inflict the most damage and receive the fewest casualties if they arrived in rigid formation, cooperatively focusing their targets.
But what would work best for them would also work best for Sir Reginald and the local defense force.
“In that case, I think it is best for me to move my squadron deep inside the system and then hold against the enemy while in close formation with your platforms. We can coordinate fire against priority targets.”
“Yes. And we can eliminate the risk of them pulling us apart and taking us at the flanks, so long as your captains have the discipline to hold formation.”
“That, I can assure you, they do.” Sir Reginald knew his starship crews would remain true and loyal. He thought this partly because he’d led many of them in battle before, but also because he had faith in their devotion to duty and in the quality of their military discipline.
“Good, because when the line starts to crumble and the ships start lighting up, falling like a line of blocks collapsing one after another, it can be mighty tempting for a captain to try and save his vessel and route from the battle.”
“Tempting it may be for some,” Sir Reginald admitted. “But they are cowards. And, I assure you, Commodore, there are no cowards here.”
“Glad to hear it. Together, we shall make them bleed.”
“More than that,” said Sir Reginald, with a passionate fire in his voice. “We will cut the bastards down at every corner; we'll make them pay through the nose for ev
ery scrap of purchase they take from us. Whatever they would have, it shall cost them dearly.”
“Hear, hear!”
With that, he gave his ships their orders, and together they took their places inside the defensive formation he and the commodore had agreed upon. Then all of them, starships, platforms, starfighters, and everyone else, waited, standing shoulder to shoulder on full battle alert, vigilantly watching the stars and all the emptiness, knowing that this one, precious, quiet moment, this calm before the storm, would be their last.
Chapter 24
Raidan and ten soldiers arrived at the Bridge. He expected to find it heavily fortified, but when they reached it and stormed through the door, weapons held high, ready for a fierce fight, they found it deserted. Not a man or woman to be seen. The Bridge crew itself was even absent. It just looked like the command center of a massive ghost ship with consoles still active, seats still warm, but not a soul to be found.
“Fan out,” said Raidan. “And be cautious.” Can it really be as easy as this? he wondered.
His soldiers divided out, each heading to check on different stations, eyes keen for anything suspicious. “There could be anything up here,” said Raidan. “Beware of booby-traps, fixed explosives, enemy ambush, anything.”
As for himself, he stayed more to the rear of his men, wanting to keep his eyes on the entire Bridge. He watched his people begin to clear console after console and station after station, thus far still finding nothing.
“This is damn peculiar,” said Raidan. He wondered if this confirmed his earlier expectation, that Mira had abandoned the Bridge for now in order to secure Main Engineering and rally her forces in the lower decks where she might be better organized and able to overpower the Harbinger’s officers, soldiers, and crew who supported Raidan. That battle likely was being fought even now.
If so, there was little Raidan could do about it. He felt a pang of regret for not sending more men with Tristan, who, no doubt, had run smack into the teeth of Mira and whatever trap she'd lain. Of course, if anyone could handle it, it would be Tristan himself. He was fury embodied, with a capacity for slaughter rivaled by very few, though he managed to keep it in check with tremendous discipline.
“Nothing here,” sir, said Major Berk, the highest ranking soldier in the squad Raidan had brought with him. Major Berk was also the second highest ranking soldier among all the marine detachments on the Harbinger. During the mutiny at Praxis, and ever since, he’d proven himself deeply loyal to Raidan.
“Then we’d better take full advantage,” said Raidan. “Two of you, seal off the Bridge. The rest of you take those stations. We need to assert control of this ship. Get a message to the lower decks, let them know we’re in charge, and help them organize before it’s too late.”
“Aye, sir,” his men took up posts at several of the Harbinger’s terminals. Meanwhile, Raidan hung back, surveying the Bridge, pistol at the ready, waiting, expecting something. Anything.
“The Bridge is sealed off, sir,” reported one of the soldiers, a PFC.
“Good; that should stop anyone else from coming,” said Raidan. Then again, if people were already here in hiding somewhere, it would make it very difficult for Tristan to reinforce Raidan, although the way things were looking, odds were Raidan would need to reinforce Tristan and not the other way around.
“Comms; see if you can get in touch with Main Engineering. If Tristan was successful, he should have control of it by now,” ordered Raidan.
“Aye, sir.” Then, a moment later, “I’m connected to Main Engineering. The—”
A shot split the air, taking the man in the forehead. He dropped like a stone, unable to finish his sentence. Immediately, Raidan scrambled for cover, ordering his men to do the same.
Shit, someone is here, he thought. They seemed to come from everywhere, at least twenty of them, an overwhelming force against his ten. They came from the CO’s office, around the corridor, they popped up from hiding places under various desks on the lower echelon of the Bridge. One even appeared from under the desk on the highest platform with a scoped rifle and was swiftly picking off Raidan’s men, who struggled to find cover and return fire. They were trying to size up their enemies and determine their positions, meanwhile finding themselves in trouble because they were taking fire from all sides.
Raidan raised his pistol and took aim at the sniper. He fired off two quick shots, the second of which took the man in the head. He doubled over and fell from the platform, crashing onto the deck.
The gunshots had given away Raidan’s position, though. He bent down into cover, hiding behind a desk as bullets slapped into the metal desk and whizzed past him. He knew he had to move or he was a goner, but to where?
The fighting intensified and he could hear bodies thudding to the ground in between spurts of automatic small arms fire.
So Mira had been ready for him after all, here as well as everywhere else, ready to snipe him, bomb him, and finally ready to ambush him. And all Raidan had done was to try to persuade the crew and soldiers to take his side, apparently without any kind of major success. He hoped he’d had better luck with the soldiers and crewmen in the lower decks, but that did him precious little good here and now.
He waited for a lull in the fire coming his way, then crawled out and moved behind another station to a better position of cover. In the chaos, he saw several soldiers on the ground, men and women from both sides. It looked like Raidan’s people, who'd finally gotten into a decent defensive foothold, had taken the brunt of the casualties, and it was only a matter of time before they were cut down.
“We have to unseal the Bridge,” said Raidan to Major Berk, who was in cover nearby, occasionally popping up and unloading his carbine at enemy targets, only to drop back into cover and slap in a new magazine, even if he hadn’t fired his dry.
“You have to get to your office and barricade yourself there,” said the Major.
“I can’t abandon the fight,” said Raidan, unwilling to be a coward, especially since every gun and man was needed in this engagement. “I need to unseal the Bridge so reinforcements can arrive.”
More gunfire, this time directed their way. Both of them crouched low as many as a dozen bullets whistled by, some missing them by mere inches, with others slamming into the console they were using as cover.
“If you die, then this is all for nothing. Mira will have what she wants,” said Major Berk. Raidan knew he was right. Just as he could end this conflict by displaying Mira’s head on a platter for the whole Organization to see, she could do the same to him.
“If I sprint for the office, I’ll get cut down,” said Raidan.
“I’ll lay down covering fire until you’re safe,” said Major Berk. “We’ll wait until they’re reloading then, on my signal, you run like hell.”
“Okay,” said Raidan. “What about unlocking the Bridge?”
“I’ll take care of unsealing the Bridge,” said Major Berk. “You have one job right now: survive!”
Another storm of automatic fire pounded their position. More shots whistled past or else tore into their cover, penetrating deeper than before. “They’ve switched to armor piercing rounds,” said Major Berk. “We can’t stay here any longer.”
After a few more shots there was a lull. “Go. Now!”
Raidan did as he was bid, sprinting out of cover and toward his office, keeping his head down as he went. Before he rounded the corner, he heard more whistling bullets whizz by and slam into the bulkhead next to him, some ricocheting off. He turned his head to see a man in a naval uniform, one of Mira’s people, unloading on him with a carbine. Raidan pointed his pistol at him, even though he was outgunned and exposed, and fired off a shot. He missed. But the man went down anyway, taking a hit in the side of the head from Major Burke, the bullet gruesomely ripped through the man’s left side of his head and exploded out the right. Raidan had seen ghastlier things, but not many.
He rounded the corner and bolted into his office, pist
ol leveled and ready to attack whoever was in there waiting to ambush him. He knew that, should an ambusher be lying in wait, no doubt kneeling with crosshairs on the door, Raidan was a dead man. Most likely he wouldn’t even have the chance to fire his pistol, but it was a risk he had to take.
As luck would have it, the office had been cleared out and no one remained inside it. He sealed the door, knowing the lock would only stall the enemy. He then moved the cedar desk, which was still flipped over, and pushed it against the door, leaning it on its side. It would do little to stop a sliding door from opening, but at least it was one more obstacle for any invaders to have to deal with.
After that, he knelt down, making himself as small a target as possible, and pointed his pistol at the door, listening as the sounds of fighting started to quiet outside the door. His men were dying, he knew it. And that meant Mira’s people would come for him any second now. Dammit, Tristan; you’d better get here fast, thought Raidan. And he hoped Major Berk had succeeded in unsealing the Bridge in time.
***
“General Order to all squadrons,” said Kalila. She stood at the Tactical command station on the ISS Black Swan, along with Captain Adiger and Sir William Gregory. “Take your positions. The enemy has been spotted. I repeat, the enemy has been spotted. Estimated time of arrival, ten minutes.”
Her forces deployed based on a strategy Captain Adiger and Sir Gregory had devised with some input from Kalila. Although she wanted to command the battle herself and would have happily done so alone, she was also not such a fool to ignore the best advice of her military expert advisors. Upon hearing of their plan, she approved of it. If all went well, they should take the enemy by surprise and ambush them. By the time the Rotham fleet reorganized to counter the multipronged attack, much or most of them would have been destroyed, leaving the rest to withdraw or endure the slaughter. Best of all, the defense plan, provided it worked as intended, should keep Kalila’s casualties to a minimum, leaving her with enough strength to remain a challenge for Caerwyn Martel, even though there was no doubt that by the end of this day his forces would outnumber hers.
The Phoenix Darkness Page 42
