Imperium: Coda: Book Three in the Imperium Trilogy

by Paul M Calvert

  With the task force already decelerating, combat was only fifteen minutes away so her squadron, along with all the others, headed for their cockpit pods in the large fighter control room. They clambered in, the pods sealing themselves and activating the neural linkages between the pilots and their fighters. These had already been launched and were shadowing the carriers, currently controlled by its AI. Harris spent a few seconds luxuriating in the feeling of well-being coming from the interface, then focused on the task at hand. Together, her squadron accelerated away from the carrier at fifty-G, their course plotted to pass just outside of the space yard’s defensive range, at which point they would fire their missiles before turning around and make another pass.

  To Harris and the other pilots, it felt as if they were actually flying in the fighters themselves rather than from the relative safety of the carrier. Artificial gravity generators beneath the pods mimicked the acceleration and turning moves, giving them the impression of movement. In her forward vision, Harris got her first good look at the shipyard, noting it followed a standard Imperial Navy pattern; two large rings of docking stations and manufacturing complexes, connected to a central axle by spokes which doubled as living quarters for the civilian contractors working on building and maintaining ships for the Navy. Once part of the Imperial family, they were now held by the misguided rebels. As her fighter approached, the shipyard began looming large in her vision, and her AI began counting down the time to release its first salvo of missiles. At the appointed time, hundreds launched themselves at the target, coordinating their attack, trying to avoid the counter-measures being launched by the defenders. Although the fighters were too far away to be affected themselves, point defences created a virtual shield of destruction around the shipyard, making it unlikely many of the missiles would get through to impact on its shields.

  The attacking fighters zipped past the shipyard in an instant, leaving behind them blooms of released energy as a few missiles made it through the defensive fire and exploded on the shipyard’s shields. The fighters turned to starboard and began the long circle back to make another pass. Harris couldn’t yet see any trace of rebel fighters coming out to meet them, but she knew it might take a few minutes for them to scramble, so there was still time for their plan to work. A few seconds later and she felt a virtual nudge from her fighter’s sensors, telling her it had detected something. Focusing in and expanding their power, the sensor blip resolved itself into multiple individual traces, signalling the shipyard had taken the bait and released several waves of their own fighters. Along with the other fighters around her, Harris gave instructions for her own squadron to decelerate hard, reducing their speed so they wouldn’t speed past the defenders in a flash.

  As they closed the distance, missiles were fired by both sides, some homing in on each other while others hung back, looking for whatever targets of opportunity might present themselves. Harris and the other pilots released their drone swarms, small but powerful clouds of non-explosive missiles which used their kinetic energy to disable their more powerful and larger cousins or fatally disable any enemy fighters they could reach. At closing speeds in excess of several miles per second, it wouldn’t take many impacts to destroy a target. The two sides continued to close until they were only a few hundred miles apart, their relative speeds now evenly matched to allow for dogfighting.

  Harris’s two wingmen, Carlos and Brian Baker, a recent addition to her squadron and not long out of training, covered her rear as she identified her first target. Streams of accelerated cannon fire spat out from the front of her fighter, missing its intended target as it jigged out of the way at the last moment, but catching the following rebel fighter squarely on its nose. For a second nothing happened, then one or more of its total conversion engines detonated, vapourising everything nearby.

  The two sides played out their deadly ballet, weaving intricate patterns as each tried to get the advantage. With no need to allow for the effects of aerodynamics or gravity on the pilots, safe in their cockpit pods on the carriers, the fighters were thrown about and stressed to the very limit of their design capabilities by the furious dogfighting. Already a quarter of her squadron was gone, but the superior abilities of her new fighters were resulting in a telling three to one loss rate in their favour.

  Further afield, the capital ships of the task force had closed with the shipyard and began firing, pencils of furious energies flashing instantly between the two sides, for the moment splashing impotently off each other's screens as the beams clung stubbornly, looking for a way through to the structures beneath. With the last of the rebel fighters now finally destroyed, the remaining squadrons moved towards the rear of the task force and away from the titanic energies being expended. Along with the other fighter pilots, Harris received the all clear to leave their cockpit pods and turn them over to the AI who would manage their pick them up. However, like many of the other pilots, instead of leaving her pod, Harris decided to remain linked to the fighter's sensors to take advantage of the neural link and see the battle unfold in greater detail.

  Inexorably, but oh so slowly, the destructive energies of the task force’s attack was getting closer to obliterating the shipyard’s remaining shields. Only moments before, one of the outer defensive shields had collapsed in a blinding flash. The second, inner screen was flashing black at several key points, in stark contrast to the bright violet of those areas it was still holding. Return fire from the shipyard had diminished, its AI and commanders reserving all available energy to reinforce the failing screens.

  On the Bridge of INS Glorious, Captain Cooke watched the battle’s progress with mixed feelings. She knew this part of the fight was almost over, but the second, harder part was yet to come. Three thousand Imperial Marines were locked into their G-cages on board thirty boarding craft, watching the battle with a mixture of apprehensive and anticipation, eager for their part in the fight to begin. The Infiltrator Programmes they would use to countermand the false information being fed to the rebel Marines were contained within several dozen smart-metal servitors. Once inside, they would be escorted to key locations where the IP’s would merge with the ship’s systems and take over. Of the thirty boarding craft, only three would be used to insert the IP’s; the remainder being a diversion to draw attention away from the real mission.

  As the defensive shield finally began to fail in multiple places, Imperial fire was throttled back a little in anticipation, not wanting the destructive beams to burn through and destroy too much of the shipyard’s fabric before they could be shut off. Captain Cooke watched the reports passing through her mind from the Weapon Masters and Science stations, both in agreement the shields would fail within moments.

  Suddenly, it happened, a final blazing flash and the last remaining shield collapsed, exposing the shipyard to the full fury of the beams which bore deep into its armoured fabric before switching off. No longer constrained by power concerns, the defenders redoubled their attack even though they knew it was a futile gesture. In response, Cooke ordered the rebel point defences and weapon mounts destroyed. Thick beams spat out, burning deep into the unprotected hulls, searching out the enemy’s weapons to silence them one by one. Automated point defences suffered the same fate until none remained to hinder the approaching fleet of boarding craft already launched from the two carriers and approaching at speed to ram through into their designated landing points.

  As they approached, the boarding craft split into three groups, each with a designated target in mind. With detailed plans available for the shipyard’s systems from before the rebellion, the Marines knew exactly where to go and what to do. So far, the defenders had ignored all offers of surrender and Cooke could imagine what preparations were now going on inside the shipyard, as from recent personal experience she knew exactly how they were feeling.

  “Move the task force to a safe distance,” she ordered Helm, not wanting to tempt the defenders to self-destruct in the hope of taking several capital ships with them. T
his was another reason why she had ordered the Marines not to advance beyond their strategic objective, for she hoped the defenders would only seek to trigger the self-destruct once the attackers were closing in on the Bridge. Captain Cooke remembered all too well the sickening feeling in the belly that the prospect of imminent defeat brought; the desperation and frustration which drove men and women to make the ultimate sacrifice.

  The holographic display on the Bridge changed focus, zooming in to focus on the three boarding groups. One had closed with the shipyard, and the shuttles were threading their way between massive pylons and scaffolding equipment, heading towards the lightly armoured construction centre. The second was heading for the nearest set of docking rings which contained a substantial data nexus. The final group was taking advantage of several areas of burn through into the interior which occurred when the last shield collapsed. Fortuitously, these areas afforded easier access to the interior than the original targets and the Marines were not slow in taking advantage of this piece of good fortune. A small number of point defence weapons had managed to escape destruction and opened fire on the shuttles, but these were easily countered by their own defences.

  Inside the shuttles, the Marines were quiet, each one lost in the thought of what was going to happen next, a few casting nervous eyes at their nearest colleague. The Sergeants were ever-vigilant, checking the readouts of the men and women under their charge, looking for any signs of weakness. For a few of the newer, less experienced recruits, a few quiet words of reassurance transmitted over a private channel from their more experienced leader was all they needed.

  The first shuttle to reach its ramming point was one which had been threading its way through the pylons. In a silent explosion of air and damaged metal composite, the shuttle forced its way deep into the interior of the construction centre, its armoured prow digging deep into the hull. Job done, the solid smart-metal prow flowed towards the back of the shuttle, then fanned out from the rear to seal the jagged entrance hole behind it, preserving the atmosphere for anyone outside who was unarmoured. The shuttle walls vanished and heavily armoured Marines poured out from both sides, some quickly taking up a defensive position while others fanned out to neutralise any opposition. Last to leave were two servitors, heavily armoured to provide an extra degree of protection, so they could successfully carry out their primary mission.

  Marine Captain Auryx quickly checked out his helmet sensors, now being fed with data from all his troops, rapidly building up a detailed picture of the surroundings. He overlaid this onto the original schematics provided before embarking, noting a few minor changes not present on the map. Access to the data nexus wasn’t far, less than fifty yards from their current location, but already Auryx could see a build-up of rebel reinforcements heading towards their position.

  Disappointed they wouldn’t be able to reach their objective before having to engage, he stifled a curse and sent instructions to his four Sergeants to immediately began moving out. Mobile shield emitters would provide a degree of protection against weapon fire and the shipyards own intruder defences, some of which had opened fire immediately the first Marines entered the adjoining corridor.

  Auryx could hear the loud cracks of returning flechette fire and quickly checked if anyone had been hurt in this initial exchange. One Marine had been caught unawares and had lost an arm, but her suit had sealed off the damage while another Marine pulled her comrade out of danger. Resisting the temptation to move forward and take point, Auryx stayed with the hulking servitors as his cohort fought their way down the corridors and towards their target, a pattern being repeated in the other two locations as the Marines grimly went ahead with their mission.Their advance through the passageways began slowing, the Marines finding themselves increasingly facing their opposite numbers as reinforcements were being quickly brought to bear against Auryx’s unit. Fortunately, his cohort had been reinforced by another who’d missed their original insertion point.

  Together, the combined cohorts were able to overcome the defending Marines, slowly moving forward until they reached the heavily armoured room that marked their objective. One of the servitors moved forward and stood next to the door, extending its massive arm to touch it. It issued coded instructions to the smart-metal, seeking to override the fail-safes built into the code holding the atoms together in their artificial matrix. As expected, the codes had all been changed since the rebellion, so the servitor tried another tack. Unable to override the original coding instructions that controlled what forms the smart-metal would take, the servitor began adding new instructions that contained additional patterns, one of which was a door.

  Auryx had been briefed on what the servitor would attempt next, but as he was unable to do anything to help speed matters up, he decided to ignore what it was doing and focus on the fighting going on all around. Their defensive mobile shields were already a dull orange in colour with the occasional patch of yellow starting to flare whenever one was hit by a high-energy beam. Auryx knew it was only a matter of time before the shields would fail, forcing them to retreat to the shuttle, but he was determined not to give any ground until his mission had been accomplished, even if it meant they would all die trying. All around, the shipyard’s intruder defences continued to pour fire onto their positions until rendered inactive by the combined return fire of his Marines.

  The servitor sent him a message to confirm it had been successful, then gave new instructions for a door to form in the smart-metal wall through which it stepped, heading towards the nexus. Captain Auryx followed behind and was disappointed to see the nexus was an unimposing simple black cube, some two yards on each side, set into a raised dais in the centre of the room. The surface was featureless, although when Auryx looked away he thought he could see tiny flashes of light on the otherwise black surface, which immediately disappeared when he looked back at it. To the right sat a control panel and it was to this the servitor made its way. It touched a hand onto the recognition pad through which it would communicate with the shipyard’s AI and inserted the Infiltrator Programmes, a task of only a few seconds.

  Captain Auryx watched impatiently, counting off the seconds in his head until the servitor confirmed the IP had been successfully uploaded and was beginning to spread through the system. Frustratingly, no-one knew how long this was going to take so all Captain Auryx could now do was hope his Marines could hold off the counter-attack until the IP had done its work.

  After what seemed an eternity to Auryx, the servitor disengaged from the nexus and reported its work was done, then began morphing into a battle formation, multiple weapon systems forming all over its armoured body. The report came as an anti-climax to the Captain. He hadn’t known what to expect, but a part of him had hoped the rebel Marines might have slowed their attack once the IP had begun sending them new information. A large explosion a dozen yards away shook him out of that illusion, and reports coming in from his Sergeants confirmed the enemy was making a concerted attack on their defensive line, forcing them back towards the nexus.

  Ordering the battle servitor to follow him, Captain Auryx headed for the front line, determined to do his part.

  Crouching behind the protection provided by the mobile shields, Captain Auryx surveyed the reports coming in via the Cohort’s local Net, built up from data provided by all the battle suits. Their position wasn’t good. Rebel reinforcements had been flooding into the area, and it was only a matter of time before their mobile shield emitters were degraded to a point where they would catastrophically fail. To avoid that, they would have to retreat to a more defensible point, one that would provide protection from the rebel’s fire. Auryx had noted several on his way here and was about to give out instructions when he noted the intensity of incoming fire begin to slacken off, then, to everyone’s surprise, cease completely.

  His suit reported an incoming message from the Rebel commander. Barely breathing, Auryx accepted the call, hoping the IP had done its job and this wasn’t just a request for him to su
rrender.

  On INS Britannia, Adam and Admiral Frith watched how the battle for the shipyard was progressing. So far, losses were less than originally planned for, even though the fighting was every bit as bitter and desperate as they had anticipated, unsurprising as they were effectively fighting Marines trained by the same people as their own. They both relaxed a little on receiving confirmation the first IP had been successfully delivered and they could now both turn their attention back to what was happening with the Jump Station and in the rest of the solar system.

  Despite their new beam weapons and the superior capabilities of the fleet, the Jump Station’s shields continued to hold firm. The transfer of ships to and from the front line continued, the attackers requiring rotation every few minutes to let them recover from the terrible energies being unleashed against them by the Station. No ships had been lost although once or twice it had been close run when an unforeseen power drop in one of the cruisers had threatened to open up a hole in the defensive shields and provide the Station’s ravening energies with a way through.

  The rebel fleet was now only a day away from them, equal in size to their own. Frith and Adam were faced with stark choices; they could stay here and continue to wear down the Station’s shields in the hope of breaking them before reinforcements arrived or engage the enemy fleet far enough away so they were not caught between the two. Leaving now meant the Jump Station would have time to recover and the whole desperate business would have to be begun again, but with probably fewer ships after engaging the rebel fleet. Even if victories against the fleet and Jump Station were possible, how could they then retake the planet with a reduced fleet?