“Those are the Kratian forces!?” the commodore boomed. “That looks like a trail of junk!”
“Sir, I’m trying to draw up as much information as I can,” his adjutant muttered, rapidly scrolling through his electronic pad. “This doesn’t look like anything we’ve seen before. The signal is definitely Kratian.”
“Damnit De Bruges, what do I retain you for?”
The deck of the Demesne heavy cruiser Lorage was very well ordered, with most of the staff diligently working away at their screens, in comparison to the boisterous commander. He wore a reflective black naval uniform, adorned with epaulettes, ruffle-collar and cravat only slightly distracted by his rough and ruddy face. The boy next to him, De Bruges, also in shiny black but without the epaulettes, contrasted with a pretty face but unimposing demeanour. The adjutant adjusted his collar then spoke again:
“Sir, this could be a trap. We should exercise caution.”
“Caution!” the man exploded with a splutter, “and lose our momentum. These convoys didn’t even have any defences, what’s to stop us marching all the way to that Asphodel rock? I want both cruisers to forward thrust!”
“Sir, look.”
De Bruges pointed to the main viewport, which displayed the forward position –– the shuttles scrambled and were now closing in on the indescribable craft at the edge of the space. The five units were already breaking from whatever formation they had, with one speeding off in pursuit of the Demesne fighters.
“Let the light fleet probe the defences before we advance. At the very least?”
The commodore threw out his hand in dismissal, “not another word from you, De Bruges! Advance!”
It was far more dire among the Shtrafbats. Almost as soon as they saw the oncoming wave of attacks, Chione sent her thrusters to max, following one of the shuttlecraft as it veered off. Immediately there was chaos on the line, with each voice’s signal cutting out the other.
“Fridge? What the––“
“Are you fucking slow?”
“Bog, cover me––”
“Not you too!”
Chione grabbed a knob, turning the radio to emergency only. Then she drove further, honing her sights on the shuttle. Voivode took aim, then fired –– unlike the lasers from the comp, the ballistics burst out in silence, though it caused a recoil that slowed her momentum. The shot hit, causing surface damage to the shuttle. The delay allowed it to put critical distance between itself and the mech.
Then Chione’s comm screamed at her.
“Fridge, copy!” Zak’s voice struggled against the static.
“Nngh, I’m here.”
“Nice trick there, asshole. Now let’s try at least a semblance of formation. I want you to orient 180/30. Vil will be your tail.”
Through a grimace, Chione spun Voivode around, taking a new heading and facing right from the main group. The shuttles were still flying around, causing more havoc. Stray bolts clipped the VA1s, and though nothing pierced the outer shells, it sent tremors throughout the skeleton. Chione was bumped forward and back. Her jutting movements were restrained by the iron chains, but the damage to the interior was more pronounced.
At her 11-o’clock, one of the cruisers was moving to intercept. Though its movement lagged significantly behind either mech or shuttle, its sheer size could crush them if they got closer. And then from a nook in its bow came a glowing red light. It flashed as a projectile spun out, hurtling towards the Shtrafbats.
“Look out!”
Whatever formation Zak had planned was thrown to the wind. All five of the machines flew, spun or dodged to get out of the path of the white-hot ball. Even without landing a hit, it burst wide once it got into the vicinity. A great shockwave crashed into Voivode, sending it and Chione flying.
“Nnngahh!”
Something critical had failed, as half the screens surrounding her started to flash red. She tried to fiddle with switches and knobs until it went away, but then her attention was immediately caught ––first by another hit to Voivode’s right arm, and then seeing the culprit flying past her.
“Get back here,” she growled, grabbing her levers and flying forward.
Red was bleeding into her eyes as the screen silently flashed. The steel walls creaking, buckling and ejecting steam, while the wrought chains rattled from the ceiling, those wrapped around her arms sinking into her flesh. Her skin was simmering in the sweltering heat. Sweat beads formed rhythmically from forehead, shoulder and back. With all the callouses on her hands, grabbing the levers again sent a stinging pain through her fingers, but she pressed on. This cockpit was her hell, but it would not beat her.
“Fridge! Where the hell are you?” The voices were garbled with static.
“Heading 180/30, obviously!” Chione spat, “I’m on their guy’s tail.”
“You’re burning up. Reconvene with Bog. That’s an order––”
Chione gripped harder onto the lever handles and pushed them forward, speeding her machine faster into the empty black void. She threw her own weight into the steel, sliding forward over the hard floor and scraping her knees more than they already were. But it gave the machine the needed boost. The enemy was centred on her targeting screen. A small fighter craft, dashing one way and then the next next, flitting about as if it knew exactly the lag and delay of her crosshairs. Nostrils flared, brow pressed, wires of her own damp hair flying about her face, Chione leaned in.
Then she had Voivode aim the weapon and fire, bullets spraying out from the spinning barrel. But the target was skippy, narrowly missing the attack. And the recoil from the gunshots slowed down Chione’s momentum.
“Gah!” Chione yelled.
She smashed the targeting monitor, cutting her hand on cracked glass. She brought Voivode to speed, leaning in. She reached above, taking grip of a heavy metal device affixed above, and pulled it down along its axis. This brought the VA1’s laser arm down, and aimed it at the enemy. Flipping open a box on the side of her handle, Chione’s thumb now hovered over a button. She waited until the fighter was dead centre.
“I’m going to fuck you!” she spat.
She jammed the button. The cone at the end of her machine’s excavator arm erupted in light, though without a sound, as an erratic white-blue beam shot out. It hit. The enemy fighter wasn’t able to dodge in time, and the laser tore clean through his bulkhead, with internal failures cascading into a large but silent explosion. Chione had won.
She breathed it in for a moment, but then beeping filled the chamber. Her cracked monitor came alive and the radar showed a pulsating ring around a central circle — her own— and was now filling the screen with a multitude of other dots. She looked through the porthole again. More fighters, hurtling her way, and behind it, the cruiser.
Then it happened in a flash. Rampage and Beast sped her by, joined by another blue laser fired from a distant The Revenge. All three smashed into the light fleet, immediately blowing apart one shuttle and throwing a second into a collision path with the third. Chione gasped, but shook her head, snapping out of it. She used the moment to flip every switch she could, rerouting power to emergency systems and reversing the critical danger in the core ––even if she was still heavily hit.
But then another VA1 rushed by ––Roxie in her Scarlet. It flew above the entire fray, skipping all the light fleet so it could land right on the hull of the cruiser. Surface cannons couldn’t reach her. Neither could local turrets as Scarlet ran and danced along, firing away and destroying every weapon on the ship in a plume of smoke.
“Bastard’s defenceless!” Roxie declared over comm. “Come get it, girls!”
Back on the Lorage, the Commodore watched agog, mouth hanging wide between the occasional wordless spitting. Even the staff on deck were horrified, as they could do nothing but watch ––watch as five specks carved their sister ship up with bright blue lasers. Though shaken, De Bruges was at least composed, and stepped in to give the obvious command.
“Give the order to all units to retreat. This… this is something new.”
“R-r-r-r…” the Commodore’s head slowly twisted over to face his adjutant, “you want me to return from this travesty!? They’ll have my head!”
“Sir,” De Bruges furrowed his brow, “if you consider another fatal charge, then I will step in and relieve you. There is only one person who can handle a threat like this, and we can’t get her if I don’t survive.”
He looked back at the field of debris and the scorched cruiser ahead. One thought crossed his mind as the ship began to make a turn.
Will miss Gallante choose to take on this fight?