“So we will not command the fleets?” Thayara asked.
Two of the machines made that odd noise, and it sounded suspiciously like complaining, perhaps even laughter.
“No, we will never relinquish the fleet. We retain control of the ships. You will control the soldiers that we give you and offer advice to them when requested.”
Spartan nodded.
“Very well.”
The three walked out through the mist. As they passed through, Spartan looked back. He wasn’t entirely sure but felt certain that as they made it halfway, every single body inside flickered and then vanished, leaving nothing but an empty hall or training arena.
That’s not weird, not weird at all.
He looked back and moved on after the machines.
So, they will give me soldiers but no ships. So I can fight and die for them, but I will be unable to choose where. How can I help them in this victory if they hold me back like this?
He sighed and recalled several of the great battles in his life. He'd often been able to control the smaller thing, but there was always somebody else above him, a superior that had overall control of a battle or campaign. He'd watched so many die because of somebody else's great idea.
Just like old times.
One-Zero-One spoke in almost hushed tones.
"Spartan. Every victory you achieve with us will bring you a step closer to your own enlightenment. The warrior that brings us final victory will be offered a place alongside our greatest people."
He carried on, but a voice continued to nag at him. It was distant and felt like an old memory. There was more to it though; it seemed to be speaking directly to him in a voice he'd almost forgotten.
"Every creature has a home, Spartan, a nest, a ship, or safe place. Remember the plan, Spartan."
He stopped and looked back; convinced the sound was coming from behind him. There were the other machines, but nothing from their body language suggested it was one of them.
"Where is the weakness?" continued the voice.
Spartan turned back around and continued to walk ahead. One-Zero-One noticed his confusion and called out to him.
"Spartan, what is wrong?"
Spartan moved one foot in front of the other, maintaining the pace even though his mind was on something completely different. The voice was still there, like a pain in the base of his skull and throbbing. He tried to avoid it, tried to not listen, but the words followed him wherever he went.
"Where can they be made to suffer? Find it, Spartan, find the weakness."
CHAPTER EIGHT
Space-based fighter combat shares very little with that of atmospheric combat. Maneuvers that seem second nature when spiraling through the air prove impossible in a vacuum. Scissors and Immelmann turns are replaced by long-range sensor combat and advanced strafing techniques. These movements are critical when used against capital ships but also allow a fighter to take full advantage of its arsenal, no matter the craft’s heading. The first time a pilot spins on the spot and fires on his pursuer is usually the first stage of understanding to new-generation pilots.
Fighter Combat for Beginners
ANS Warlord, 1 Day from Micaya
The mighty warship had been decelerating for days now. The great bulk of the ship had been spun about and her engines firing as though she was accelerating off to another destination. In one of the many peculiarities of space travel, only half of the trip was spent accelerating toward the target. In the past, when ships hadn't carried enough fuel for long burns, the middle phase would consist simply of drifting. The vessels of the last few centuries had changed that with efficient engines and power systems. These new breeds of ships had allowed large warships to travel between planets while continually under power. It was a costly way to travel, but the fastest known way to move ships from A to B without using a local Spacebridge.
At this distance, the assembled fleet of ships waiting around the Helion world looked nothing more than grains of sand. Admiral Anderson looked at them with interest via the tactical display, counting up the squadrons one by one in his head. The numbers were pleasantly surprising, especially the timely arrival of forces from the Khreenk and the Byotai. Even more surprising to him was the small group of fifteen Klithi heavy traveler ships. He’d seen reports on these highly advanced vessels but never been this close to them before. The data alongside the formation showed they had some form of surface shielding, as well as substantial numbers of defensive weapons known as ‘territorial blockers’.
I'd like to have seen them in action, thought Anderson. The last time they went up against Biomechs they destroyed the lot, for the loss of not a single ship.
Admiral Anderson and his staff were not the only ones looking at the disposition of the ships. Alongside him were Admiral Lewis and the Byotai commander, General Makos. The two of them commanded the two largest contingents of ships currently waiting at Micaya. General Makos was a large figure, much larger than any human about the flagship. His reptilian form and thick body armor betrayed a general lack of interest in war and battle for these people. Admiral Anderson looked at the figure and shook his head a few centimeters.
The Byotai are tough for sure, but they have no interest in a long war. Who would have known this from the way they look?
The creature spoke, and it took until he reached the third word before the translators on his armor kicked in.
"Admiral, every hour our numbers grow. Are you sure you want to keep back our forces? Homeworld is busy with the Anicinàbe, but they have still furnished me with fifty-two ships, the pride of the fleet."
He opened his mouth and said nothing for five or six seconds. It was a bizarre movement, and Captain Louise Decker was forced to lean in to explain in his ear.
"According to our files, the Byotai do this when they have absorbed too much heat. They can use their suit coolers, but it is considered rude in the company of others."
Admiral Anderson smiled. He recalled owning several small desert dwelling lizards as a child. One image in particular rushed back of the small animal sitting on a rock with its mouth wide open.
"I understand."
She stepped back and watched quietly as the rest of the senior commanders spoke. They discussed numbers and vessel configurations, and very soon there was a disagreement between T'Kron, the aged looking T'Kari commander and General Makos. They spoke in a mixture of their own tongues, and it quickly became heated. Admiral Lewis tried to intercede, and the General pushed him away.
"Enough!" Admiral Anderson snapped.
Both of the aliens turned to look at him.
"I don't care who has the most ships or who has lost the most. History means nothing right now. This fight with the Biomechs is just one of war now, not politics, science, or the stories of old. If we survive this one, we can all argue about the details later. We can expect the combined efforts of their space forces within one day. We have to be ready for whatever they throw at us."
Admiral Lewis was quickly losing his patience with them. It was part of his character that had changed in the last months as the situation out here had deteriorated. He'd lost weight in that time, too, and his face seemed much grayer than before. His usual good humor had also vanished, instead replaced by bitterness at having the bulk of his forces pulled from the line that was barely concealed. He looked to Admiral Anderson and finally decided to say what he'd wanted to say for hours.
"Admiral, I've had to move out all my combat vessels from Helios Prime for this. General Rivers could finish that fight in a month, but only with my help. Now he's stuck fighting a long, attritional war with an entrenched enemy."
"I know this, Admiral. General Rivers sends me full details of the campaign daily. The Biomechs are regrouping around the defense installation and digging in. He has orders to contain them, but not to assault."
He looked to General Makos and then to the others.
"If they come through that Rift, as I suspect they will, well, we will have fought
for nothing. These ground battles are not to win territory. They are not even about controlling the Rifts as I originally suspected."
The General nodded quickly.
"My assessment as well. Look at our dispositions."
He pointed his large left hand at the tactical display. There were taskforces and armies spread throughout the Helios System. There were obvious and significant numbers at specific points.
"First, they hit Eos and then moved onto full-scale invasions on Helios Prime and Spascia, and now the enemy forces have arrived at Libuscha."
"Yes," interrupted Anderson, "but they have begun the exact same process at Spascia. Their ships began an immediate assault on the planet against entrenched positions."
He moved his hands and imagery of the planet appeared.
"Colonel Horst Brünner has had plenty of time to prepare. With the intelligence gleamed from our fighting at Eos, Prime, and Spascia we have a good idea as to their procedures. He kept the 4th Heavy Battalion and the primary Helion forces hidden in bunkers, and left turrets and SAAR robots on the perimeter."
General Makos grinned as he listened.
"I saw the videostreams. His defense has been very...interesting."
"Quite," replied Anderson with a raised eyebrow.
"It isn't ideal. But after they landed, Colonel Brünner has been fighting a hit and run battle, leaving robots to fight the static battles. By using distance and timing, he has managed to outmaneuver them after their initial landings. The four cities are in ruins, but this battle of agility is playing to our strengths. He is trading territory for time, and so far it is working."
"But what about their air cover? He can't keep running about in convoys of Bulldogs and dropping in marines via Maulers, if they are hit from the air."
"That's just it, Admiral. They have pulled all their attack vessels and sent them here, to Micaya."
He took in a long breath as though that was what he needed to continue speaking. Each of them waited for him to carry on. The ship still smelled a little of oil and fresh paint, a strange mixture at the best of times. It was a reminder of quite how new this massive vessel was. Another even more important reminder was the single shattered computer display on the right wall. It had malfunctioned during the last engagement at the Black Rift, and no replacement had been found. So it sat there, broken and useless. After what seemed like an eternity, Admiral Anderson finally pointed to all the formations of ships.
"We have a vast armada, the greatest in history, I suspect. If we survive this, you will be able to pass this story on to your grandchildren. It was the day that people from a hundred worlds joined together to fight a common enemy."
Both of the aliens looked at each other but said nothing more.
"There are one hundred and sixty-three Alliance ships. This includes many of our newest Crusader, Conqueror, and Liberty class vessels that we've pulled from other assignments. Three of every four ships we have are out here today. That is the level of our commitment to victory."
He pointed to the icons on the right that showed the stars of Alpha and Proxima Centauri.
"We have our own problems at home, right now. Most of that is because our forces are spread thin. Even so, anything that happens on the home front pales to insignificance to what will happen if the machines win."
He turned and nodded to Makos.
"The Byotai have provided fifty-two of their best warships and most experienced officers, a major commitment, especially when you have internal problems with your neighbors. Like us, you have been forced between your own self-interest and the long-term. I am pleased to see your commanders have joined with us to end this, today."
He pointed to the smaller groups of ships.
"With the destruction of most of the Helion forces at the Black Rift and Helios Prime, they have been left weakened. In the last three days, they launched continuous waves of ships against those Biomech ships still over Helios Prime, against my express wishes. The last flagship, the Starlance, she was destroyed eight hours ago."
General Makos sighed in irritation.
"The stupid fools. We cannot afford battles like this."
Admiral Lewis appeared to be in agreement with this point.
"True. Casualties are heavy on both sides, but they've lost every single experienced commander because of this. The Starlance rammed a Biomech Cephalon command ship, and both were lost. The Helions are getting desperate, and they are resorting to suicide tactics."
Admiral Anderson walked between them and pointed to Helios Prime.
"Suicide attacks will lead to one conclusion...defeat."
He then turned to T'Kron.
"I understand your own forces have not fared much better, have they?"
T'Kron lowered his head as though he had just been greatly dishonored.
"We have just six ships remaining, and only one with a stable Rift deformer. My people are assisting aboard your own ships, where possible. The T'Kari are not what they were."
Admiral Lewis could see the hurt in his face and wondered quite what point his superior was trying to make.
"But your contributions outweigh your numbers. It was your own ship that finally collapsed the Black Rift, was it not?" said Admiral Lewis.
He pointed at a small group of escorts and focused in on three Liberty destroyers.
"All of these ships are commanded by T'Kari officers, and so far they have accounted for seven Biomech warships, for the loss of none of ours."
Even General Makos seemed intrigued at this. He spoke, and his translator took time to catch his guttural words.
"Perhaps your people work better on board others’ ships?"
T'Kron either ignored or failed to see the insult and merely nodded passively. Admiral Anderson licked his lower lip and then turned away from the display.
"T'Kron. Without you and your ships, this war would have been lost years ago. I have another task for your experienced officers."
He changed the tactical display until a number of vast orbital structures appeared. They each went closer to examine the framework that extended out for kilometers in all directions.
"The Micayan Shipyards," said General Makos in hushed tones.
Admiral Anderson moved his hands and pointed to various parts on the model.
"These shipyards were once home to the Helion Fleet. Now most of the site is derelict, with just forty personnel managing the dismantling of the old ships."
He turned the model to the right and highlighted one section.
"Here we have another hundred and six Helion ships, all waiting their turn to be scrapped. Most of these are over a hundred years old and in a poor state of repair, but they are the last to arrive here."
He turned to face the T'Kari commander.
"T'Kron. I need you to take teams of your own people and mine. Get aboard the shipyard and run triage. You have twenty-four hours to mobilize whatever you can find."
"What about the Helions? Why would they listen to a T'Kari? Assuming I find any usable ships, they will need Helion crews," asked T'Kron.
Anderson smiled at this, but only he and Admiral Lewis seemed to understand what had happened. He looked back at the tactical display and pulled it back to show every inhabited star system from Sol to Taxxu on the other side of the Black Rift.
"Have you not heard? In the last six hours, the Helion League has collapsed. With no surviving system of government or control, each of the individual colonies will have to fend for themselves. Officials on Eos have already requested formal political, military, and humanitarian assistance from us."
Admiral Anderson paused and glanced at them, trying to gage their reactions. General Makos fidgeted but said nothing.
"We have offered them the full protection that the Alliance has to offer. The Helions have been crippled though, and they want more from us. That is why in a secret session deep underground on Helios Prime, the remaining politicians of Helios have voted to begin integration procedures with the Alliance with a
ny Helion colony that chooses to do so."
Again he paused to let that sink in.
"It will take time, probably years, but if this goes the way I think it will, this will mean a democratic system with colonies and races from Sol to Helios. Each of the Helion worlds will be able to choose to stay as they are, or to join the Alliance family."
He looked back to the tactical display.
"What better way to maintain peace could there be than as one family?"
Admiral Lewis leaned in to to him and spoke quietly.
"What about Terra Nova, Sir? How can we take on new colonies when we have a potential civil war brewing?"
Anderson smiled.
"You underestimate Admiral Churchill. He's already on the way."
* * *
The Bridges, Old Spascia City, Helion Sector
Teresa watched the battle just a short distance in front of them. The machines had dug in around the beleaguered remnants of General Gun and trapped him in an area no larger than four city blocks. The mixture of marines, soldiers, civilians, aliens, and robots had created a zone that even the Biomechs were unable to penetrate. Unfortunately, time was not on their side. While the battle raged, a ceaseless horde of Thegns moved around the trapped marines and on toward the bridges. Teresa's newly arrived troops had managed to hold them back, but now the entire stretch of ground was under attack.
"Colonel, we have movement on your left flank, two squadrons of Eques walkers with substantial Decurion support," said Captain Tycho.
"You should be back here. We need a commander at this position. The situation out there is becoming untenable."
From his position on the other side of the chasm, he was having a much calmer time. He was putting it to good use by using every spare minute to improve the defenses, as well as rigging the bridges for demolition.
"Forget it. You are more than capable of defending the mountain and the bridges, Captain. It is my responsibility to get Gun and the others out of there. We promised them help...I promised them help...and here it comes."
Star Crusades Nexus: Book 09 - The Black Rift Page 14
