Captain Sardenon blinked as the next beam barrage began. The plasma lances dug into the hull around the Lucifer’s main and secondary power cores. Unlike the Barker, where the destruction of the ship had become paramount to their survival, Captain Sardenon wanted capture this cycle. If the Var-Fowne could hack those fusion cores free, then there was no way to successfully scuttle the Lucifer, not entirely.
And there it was, the first indications that it had worked. A beam, splashing on the surface of the ship dug deep and half the turrets on that side went silent. The beam had apparently cut a main power trunk. While it could be rerouted, the beam had begun to move and slice through the hull. Each metra it sliced and ripped through more power and control lines. Even their brief study of the Barker’s remains revealed to them that the armor of the power cores was thicker than the areas around them. Better to rip its heart out than attempt to drive a stake through it.
Around them, flashes of light marked the detonations of ordnance, and in brighter cases, the destruction of ships across the battlezone. The captain kept his feral grin at bay. He knew that every Geffer out there had to give just a moment's hesitation when their eyes passed by the hulk of the Barker’s bridge tower behind him. It had to strike a blow to the moral of all of them to see what little remained of the Galactic Federation’s once-proud flagship. He’d already noted numerous pilots fly erratically on their attack runs when the bridge came into view. The longer the battle lasted, the more convinced he became that it had also caused many ships to retreat.
He turned as a cruiser fell back. The saucer-hulled Georgia Class had numerous holes in its hull, but from the defensive fire it continued to lay down it was still able to fight. Then in a blink, it slipstreamed away, running back to the rest of their fleet, or to the nearest ‘safe’ jump point. He cared not which. Soon, Dralin would belong to the Confederation again. “The Big Bad Wolf has indeed blown your houses down,” he said to himself.
The Sia chuckled beside him. A few of the others joined in, covering their mouths. He knew the rumors about he and Sia. And if he weren’t her commanding officer he might have been tempted to make them true.
“Sir,” Officer Slaik called with a note of elation. Before the Captain could say anything, he continued. “Sir, we’re reading massive power loss all across the Lucifer. The last volley must have taken out the main power connections.”
The Captain studied the holographic displays around him. The Var-Fowne had only managed to cut two neat gashes to either side of the twin power cores. The imagery from the Trib’Kibal however was far more telling. With six heavy beams at their disposal, compared to the Wolfsbane’s two, they’d gutted the ship from above. They’d torn a massive chunk out of the hull before proceeding to shred the power mains.
The crater they’d dug looked like a massive open-pit mine in front of the hangar complex. At the bottom sat the top of both power cores, neat holes from which plasma burst forth atop each. The flat conical section they’d dug out floated above the ship as it drifted away, propelled by the plasma venting from the cores.
“The Lucifer is launching life pods and escape shuttles,” Sia reported. “They’re abandoning ship. Shall we launch SAR to bring them in?”
The Captain gazed up at the SIS wall as an escape module rocketed past. “Send out teams to secure the bridge escape shuttles. Let the others run. What’s the status of the remaining Federation forces?”
“Most are retreating. Some are moving to rescue the pods. Shall we lay in a pursuit course?”
“Negative. Send the rest of the battlegroup out and inform Captain Crees that I need to meet with him to discuss the rest of the clean-up operation as soon as things quiet down here.”
UCSB Date: 1006.029
Monstero Nach 003, Jump Point 3, Dralin System
Blazer dropped in behind the Corvus interceptor as it made a dash towards the bomber he’d been assigned to escort. Fixated as they were on their target, Blazer doubted that the crew of the patched-up fighter even knew he was there. He unleashed a hail of plaser bolts into the fighter, but only from his left cannon. The overheat alarm for the right was blaring at him. The warning signal for the left just blinked at him incessantly. He couldn’t worry about that for now. The rounds pierced the shields and armor of the sleek interceptor’s left engine nacelle. Plasma burst free of the housing, ripping away even more armor, and kicked the craft spinning into the void.
Blazer watched the dark gray craft’s death throes. One of the Geffers’ newer line of fighters, the Corvus, like the Phantom-4 it had been meant to replace, used a set of wide-spaced engines mounted midway out on its wings. That was where the similarities ended. Instead of the bulbous twin engines on each wing, it featured one, larger, and sleeker engine on each. Heavy thrusters covered the hull, giving it maneuverability on par with the Splicer-5000. In the process it gave up the heavy mass-driver that had kept the Phantom in service. The sleek two-seater had obviously been evolved from the stumpier craft, but it still took a skilled crew to survive battle in it
Not that they were much better off. Blazer looked around his cockpit for a moment. Alerts and warnings lit up his screens. Half of his SIS panels lay silent. Others were marred by occasional bursts of static. He even had a missile stuck in its launcher. Decles of continual battle had taken their toll on all of the ships. Despite the best efforts of the maintenance crews, getting just one more mission out of a craft had become the standard.
Blazer looked ahead. The way was clear for their bomber to the last Galactic Federation heavy in the system, a tri-hulled Atlant battlecruiser limping its way to the jump point. He resisted the urge to look back at the Wolfsbane. Instead, he focussed on the bastard that had dealt the latest blow against his home. Since the arrival of the Wolfsbane, and her battlegroup, the Confederation’s holding action had turned to routing the Galactic Federation out of the system. The loss of the Lucifer, the last heavy carrier in the system, had broken their backs. The Wolfsbane dragging the decapitated bridge of the Barker everywhere had broken their spirits.
The Galactic Federation had been on the run ever since, but that hadn’t meant they’d failed to strike back. That Atlant, the last command ship in the system, had laid a trap for the Wolfsbane. The trap exploited the damage the ship had already taken. Playing dead, they lured the Wolfsbane in close through to the debris field of a destroyed Corsicaa frigate. Only the ship wasn’t entirely dead. A lone heavy beam still held a tenuous grasp on the beam core of its dome. When the Wolfsbane drew near, it struck.
The beam had been wild, out of control without a ship to back it. It roared around the volume, spraying plasma every which way, but not before it gutted what remained of the Wolfsbane’s dropship hangar and ripped the back off the Number 6 Hangar. It seemed even the Geffers agreed that his home hangar had taken enough punishment this campaign. The blast sheared away the rear doors and the flight control overlook before it flipped onto the dropship hangar. Over a hundred marines and two dozen of the ship’s crew had been there. Now, they were gone, reduced to their component molecules by the beam and the detonations of three dropships waiting on the deck.
The Wolfsbane returned the favor as best it could, destroying first the beam cannon, and then tearing the Atlant to pieces. Even now Blazer watched air stream from a dozen locations, great plumes of fire erupting every few pulses from a new plaser hit. Over half of its engines were dark, the rest just sputtering in a vain attempt to escape. It was almost painful to watch its turrets grind along in an attempt to engage the attackers. On the starboard saucer, nothing but darkness, the last bomber strike ripping the hangar on that hull wide open.
Blazer broke off as the bomber released its ordnance and turned for home. Three torpedoes raced ahead and drove into the remaining engines. The explosion that followed dazzled Blazer’s eyes for a moment, the adaptive optics in his helmet and canopy having failed the cycle before. A chain reaction of explosions ripped through the ship. Casements burst open into space expelling crew
and cargo as escape pods rocketed free. The Atlant was finally dead.
Looking up, Blazer realized that had always been the intent. The massive ship broke apart behind him, and ahead, the rest of the Galactic Federation fleet raced into the jump point. The Atlant was there to buy them the time they’d need to escape.
“All Galactic Federation Ships, this is Daro Sardenon, Captain of the UCSBS-Wolfsbane,” the Captain announced over multiple clear channels. “Surrender now and you will be treated fairly. Signal your intent by dropping shields and dumping all ordnance and weapon plasma into space. Any hostile action will be met with appropriate action. Again, surrender now and you’ll be treated fairly to include the possibility of being sent home.”
“What do you think of that Arion?” Blazer asked.
“Standard procedure,” he replied as Blazer formed back up with the Feral Bomber, its hull scorched and covered with patches, much like his own. “Anything that can’t make hyperspace will surrender.”
“Monstero Nach Lead, Wolfsbane control.”
Blazer waited for Tadeh Qudas to respond.
“I repeat, Monstero Nach Lead, Wolfsbane Control.”
“B!”
“Croy!” Blazer stammered. Tadeh Qudas currently lay in a medically-induced coma that Marda felt she’d had no choice but to induce. The Telshin Warrior wanted nothing more than to charge off into battle, not caring if it would spell his certain death. That left Trevis in command, but the big Tomeris wasn’t flying this rotation. “Monstero Nach Lead here, go ahead Control.”
“Your squadron is cleared for immediate retrieval. Good work out there. The Archen and Var-Fowne are cycling out fighters to relieve you and handle the clean-up effort.”
Blazer breathed a massive sigh of relief. He hadn’t gotten a good duwn’s rest since before the battle with the Barker, despite mandatory rest breaks and drug-induced sleep. He felt ready to collapse. “Copy that Control.” He switched links. “Monstero Nach, this is Lead, bring it all home.”
Dropship Hangar Exterior, UCSBS-Wolfsbane
It pained Captain Sardenon to see the damage to his ship. He stood just beside the hole the last attack had dug into the dropship hangar and looked within. The whole bay was a mess, support columns twisted at unnatural angles, plasma burns warping the bulkheads and the debris of so many damaged and destroyed ships just floating about. “How bad is it?” he asked the Damage Control Officer on the scene, a marine by the markings of his uniform. He likely knew the marines who’d lost their lives here only hects earlier.
“Not much we can do for the structural damage outside of dock, sir. Give us a few cycles though and we can give you hyperspace shields. We’d be sooner sir, but my boys are running on empty and then some.”
“I understand. Make sure we won’t decompress the whole ship, then you and your men get some rest,” he replied. The words felt hollow.
He began the slow, magnetically gripped march up the hull to the nearest viable airlock. As he did so, he looked to the Number 6 fighter hangar. Craft had just begun to land back there, the emergency atmosphere shield giving the aft end a faint glow. Most of the remaining craft had been transferred to other flight bays: he hated how few had returned to the roost.
His link buzzed as he neared the hatch back into the ship. “Captain, private link from Captain Crees.”
“Copy that, patch him in, full holo.”
Captain Crees’ hologram appeared before him, projected by Captain Sardenon’s suit. His lack of space suit out here made his Lodran countenance that much more pronounced. “Good, you’re in a suit Daro. I won’t have to stare at that ugly face.”
“Wish you would have returned the favor old friend. What’s your status?”
“We’re holding together, but just barely.”
Captain Sardenon nodded, soberly. The Trib’Kibal had taken a hit from a Razer cannon in the aft mid-ships. It had stripped away the inner and outer hulls of their Number 3 Hangar, a good chunk of their bomber deck, and numerous decks around them. They’d lost dozens of crews in the blast, that they knew of, and their power grid had been in serious turmoil ever since. Only the intervention of their remaining escorts had saved them getting blown out of space. “Can you make hyperspace?”
“My engineers tell me another decle, maybe a tridec. What’s the word on the clean-up?”
“Captain Leval reported that they’ve gathered in all the Geffer lifeboats and all the fighters that haven’t run to ground.”
“They’ll be dredging them up for tridecs, if not longer.”
“Agreed,” Captain Sardenon replied, his shoulders floating limp. “I’ve just gotten the first reports on losses here. We’ve lost over half our fighter wing, and we’ve recovered a third of the crews, not counting the damage to the ship.”
“Down two of three ships, but we’ve recovered better than half the crew so far,” he commented, all four of his eyes heavy, his teeth hidden in a show of grief. “Daro, I haven’t seen fighting this intense outside of Gorvian space. Sheol, even the Gorvians didn’t beat us up this bad.”
“I know old friend. First memorial services are next cycle. I need to let my people rest.”
“Going to be a long line of empty coffins.” Both of them remained silent for a long moment. Captain Sardenon didn’t want to walk back inside. He knew that the Admiral’s steward waited just on the other side of the airlock. Though he couldn’t grasp why. “Admiral Rhywen sent me their preliminary report on the impact of the offensive here,” it seemed that even Captain Crees wanted to extend the conversation, rather than get on with the tasks that awaited him.
“And?” Captain Sardenon asked, the Trib’Kibal’s Admiral surveying the damage herself.
“Silicasteel production will be down for at least five tridecs while the refineries get rebuilt. The Geffers decided to blow up anything they couldn’t keep on the way out. And the Geffers appear to have made off with better than half the stockpile.”
Daro bit back a curse. Had they been assigned here, instead of chasing down the Barker, maybe they could have mitigated the losses. But then, the Barker would still be out there. “They’ll need it just to cover their losses here.”
“Good point,” Crees replied with a slight smile and raising of his side eyes. “By my count, that’s three Barker class carriers, with full space wings here.”
“Plus, the Barker itself and that Phantom in Drobile,” Captain Sardenon added, his chest inflating with pride.
“Not to mention all the cruisers, destroyers, frigates, light carriers and support ships we trashed. And they left all that here for us to salvage.”
“Drobile’s governor is already projecting a massive jump in export earnings from all the debris the Inferno left when we killed it.”
“That and the fact that their trade lanes will be harassment free.”
Captain Sardenon turned to look at what remained of the Atlant in the distance, every light and window dark. “How long until the Forensic Analysis teams arrive?”
“A few cycles at best. I imagine yours is still tied up wherever you killed the Barker.”
“Wish we could be gone before then, Ropum.”
“Me too Daro. Me too.”
UCSB Date: 1006.035
PQ-677, UCSBS-Wolfsbane, Dralin System
To Marda, Alieha was the most beautiful woman in space as she crept back into the common area, drinks in either hand. In spite of the time since the battle to retake Dralin, they were all still exhausted. They’d been on alert status for over a decle, and it was showing. Alieha gave one of the mugs to Marda as she lounged beside Blazer, then took up a position on the back of the couch behind Arion.
“Do we not get any?” Chris asked as Gavit massaged her shoulders, fingering the wedding knot across the back of her hand.
“You haven’t finished your last round,” Alieha replied rubbing one hand across Arion’s head. Alieha looked down to her own wedding knot, as Arion fingered his. Neither couple seemed used to them yet. “You k
now. I will have to take this off around certain clients. Advertising that I’m married might weaken my negotiations with them.”
“Just show them my holo,” Arion replied. “And tell them that if they make any inappropriate actions that I’ll rip them in half.”
“You’ll all adjust,” Blazer replied, rolling one of Chrisvian’s toy cars back to him. It filled Marda’s heart with joy to see that, to see the man she loved playing so happily and carefree with their son, despite his fatigue.
“Anyways,” Alieha went on. “Why are we all hanging out here? There have been celebrations across the ship since I got back. Sheol, Zithe practically carried Sidlee off when she deboarded.” She took a sip of her drink. “I mean, when did we all turn into three old married couples?”
Blazer looked up and kissed Marda’s hand then looked to Alieha, holding up his hand to show his wedding knot and tapped it. Though they’d only had them five annura, they no longer shone as well as those on the other couples. “We’re the only old married couple here. And I would much rather play with my son and enjoy a duwn of quiet with my wife than keep Rudjick from puking all over a senior officer. Speaking of which, how’s Tadeh Qudas?”
Marda felt all eyes fall upon her. She took a gulp of her own mug and set it aside. “I’ve repaired all the damage I could, thanks to Que Dee, but he’ll be in recovery for a while. Medical nanos aren’t programmed for Telshins, and I don’t trust Que Dee’s to do the job properly without me.”
“Makes sense,” Gavit replied, digging an elbow into Chris’ shoulder. “Woman you have the toughest shoulders in the galaxy. You know that right?”
“Keep complaining and we’ll go full Chamalad traditional and I’ll brand you instead of letting you wear a knot.”
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