The Gyst - Chapter 8

 

Senior Fleet Director (3rd Level) Gergat was none too happy being in the spotlight, especially since his immediate superior, Keyket, elected to commit suicide. If he faced the wrath of the Politburo for the failed assault against the Kingdom Gergat thought he would’ve followed Keyket’s example. Now commanding both the warp point fortifications and remnants of the 1st Guard Fleet the front-line admiral was expected by the Politburo to ‘hold the line’ while the rest of the fleet was worked up from mothballs.

Gergat would’ve been happier had he more ships and buoys. It seemed the Central Control Staff (CCS) was running scared, squirreling away resources that could’ve been better used at the Anvil/Pantry warp point. The ‘braid and bars’ (reference to the CCS’ luxurious use of decoration and honors to all but obscure their uniform tunics) could only spare eighteen escorts, one whole flotilla, in the days immediately after the defeat. Small ships, even escorts, were better than no ships at all was what Gergat told himself while reviewing the forces at his disposal. Immediately around the warp point sat six beam bases divided into three groups of two. Six hundred laser buoys, one hundred of which were active at any one time, ringed the warp point as well. Further out at 3 LS and equidistant were three groups of missile bases with two bases per group. Six light cruisers, fifteen destroyers, eighteen escorts and two buoy killers comprised the mobile defense force, currently located 1.5 LS ‘south’ of the warp point.

Knowledge that the Fendalens had some sort of missile-carrying attack craft, along with their other technological advantages, caused Gergat to have sleepless nights. It was also established that the huge bugs had some sort of warp-capable small craft. Twice in the past two weeks the beam bases detected and destroyed the hard-to-detect intruders. Deep down Gergat knew that some of those probing craft went undetected. With the knowledge they possessed on the defenses, along with their firepower, he wondered what the Fendalens were waiting for. Had he the known Fendalen forces at his disposal for an assault he would’ve done one after everything quieted down following Keyket’s fiasco. Waiting only served Gergat’s defensive interest. At the minimum the Senior Fleet Director was told by the CCS that he could expect as many as 36 Urbanites as well as 300 more buoys by the end of month. In two months time the last six bases for the Anvil/Pantry warp point, having been in a state of reassembly above Anvil B-2 since before first contact, would be finished and in position.

Realistically there was nothing more that could be done. The CCS wouldn’t allow the redeployment of the bases keeping watch over Anvil’s third warp point. Gergat was sorely tempted to move those bases anyway and take his punishment as long as it meant defeating the expected Fendalen assault. He couldn’t even if he wanted, for the two tugs in the system were at Anvil B-2. Larkey, President of the People’s Congress of the Anvil system, make it clear that those tugs won’t be going anywhere, and he was Gergat’s superior in any event. With argument useless and tools denied Gergat and his forces drilled and waited for the inevitable.

 


Admiral (3rd Barb) Ayypha, senior admiral in charge of Task Force KB-41 (comprising TGs 411, 412 and 414) looked at the assemblage of his subordinate admirals, all fifth barb graded and veterans of the Bhohim War. The dark blue skinned Corrsyd was in command of TG 411 and second in command of the task force. Fekedja, unusual in being light grey in color, commanded TG 412 which was comprised of nothing smaller than a battlecruiser. Bright orange Lyrvek of TG 414 had additional carriers and mostly light units. It was two of Lyrvek’s carriers that were of special interest to Ayypha.

“I can understand going on the offensive immediately, Admiral,” said Lyrvek from his seat at the conference table. “It’s the plan you’ve sent to us while en-route that’s giving me concern.”

“Agreed,” Fekedja said in support. “While the long range sensors on the survey ship didn’t detect any mines around the warp point it doesn’t follow that the Vendians don’t have mine technology. Perhaps, for some reason best known only to them, they have a thick minefield at the half light-second mark instead of the usual quarter. Or, in the past few weeks, they could’ve brought up a stock of mines and have now added an additional level of protection.”

Ayypha shook his head. “I grant you that the Vendians might have developed mines, given their use of improved ECM and advanced gun/missile launchers, using our own technical development as a measuring stick. However, I firmly believe that had they developed mines they would’ve deployed them. Given their demonstrated belligerence they couldn’t have fail to add them to their warp point defense.” He saw doubt manifest in his subordinates’ waving antennae and went about to dispel it. “Two days ago I had our latest pinnace probe enter a section of the buoy patterns. They returned with proof positive that there were no mines within a quarter light-second of the warp point. Had there been any the Vendians wouldn’t have failed to ring the warp point with them. Putting mines out at half light-second makes no sense unless it was a back-up to a main mine ring. Moreover, the close-in platforms were still in their positions. Why deny the protection of mines for your platforms while giving the enemy a three-quarters of a light-second clear zone to maneuver in once those platforms were gone? No, we’ll move in the next few hours to secure the warp point. If we don’t then we’ll just allowing them more time to bolster their defenses with more ships and laser buoys.”

“I must remind the Admiral,” Lyrvek stated levelly, “of the risk that the enemy mobile forces may have shifted positions since the last pinnace probe. If they’ve moved within range of the planned route of my two assault carriers then a strong possibility exists that they could be destroyed before launching their flightgroups.”

Ayypha gave his subordinate a stern look. “That is an imponderable and must be taken as an acceptable risk. Without your fighters to destroy the close-in platforms Fekedja could very well lose all of his battleships and battlecruisers slated for the first four waves. I am perfectly willing to expend a further four waves of our heavy ships if that is what it takes to topple the defenses. We will secure this warp point and in turn take the Anvil system away from the Venda. Our King expects no less of us.”

Lyrvek bowed in consent. Ayypha had made up his mind and the discussion was clearly over.  “As the King wills. My carriers stand ready.”

“As well as my ships,” Fekedja added.

The Admiral didn’t need to look at Corrsyd for he not only supported the plan but also helped in drawing it up. “Very well. This fleet will enter Anvil as scheduled in six hours. Battle stations will be called fifteen minutes before the first wave goes in.”


 

The pilot ready room on the carrier Strider was full. Hensyk, Strider’s Strike Wing CO, was sitting in his saddle-like chair, watching a feed being sent by the ship’s bridge. Prince Sajel, one of Hensyk’s pilots, was next to him. Both looked on in interest as the icons representing the two Herd class carriers took their positions at the front of the first assault wave. Hensyk had to comment. “Now those are carriers,” he said enthusiastically. “Unlike our hanger barns, those ships could take a pounding.”

“I grant you that they’re good for the role they’re designed for,” Sajel admitted. “However, their speed and turn radius doesn’t match that of a true carrier. They also won’t be able to carry out missions that require sustained speed when necessary. It’ll be up to our carriers to escort the survey cruisers once we take Anvil.”

“We’ll get our share of action, Old Man,” Hensyk said, using Sajel’s call sign as a polite jab. “If I were leading the midget-Isset I’ll try to delay our survey effort as much as possible. Good thing TG-414 brought along those new-fangled missiles and laser packs. We’ll be able to conduct multiple long-range strikes as well as stay in battle longer. Given the number of escorts they used in the assault we’re bound to rack up a fair number of kills in upcoming battles. There’ll be more ships coming too. A complete task group of the 1st Knights Brigade no less, including some of the new dreadnoughts. It’ll take some time since they’re coming at the same cruising speed as a battleship. Call it three months.”

“The support ships will arrive faster,” Sajel amended, “complete with huge stocks of those new missiles and packs. You may have been told by the Captain about the additional ships but I knew before he did. Even before Admiral Ayypha. My great uncle Wonset will be here in six weeks.”

Hensyk’s antennae lifted in surprize. “The Archduke is coming here? Good news, thought not to be unexpected. Zorak will puzzle out these Venda in no time and make them give up their secrets.”

“Zorak? Is that supposed to be a nickname for my great uncle?” Sajel sounded incredulous. In Fendalen mythology Zorak was a demon that interfered in the affairs of gods and mortals. He also delighted in inflicting cruel practical jokes and served as a bogeyman used to keep children in line. Referring to someone as Zorak was not paying a compliment.

Hensyk offered his explanation quickly. “It’s something that I’ve heard the old salts use among themselves. They referred to your great uncle as Zorak for the way he dealt with bad officers and those found guilty under the military code of standards. Ah,” he motioned to the screen as much as to inform as well as distract Sajel from further inquires, “the Vash and Stampede have activated their engine tuners.”

“So they have. They’ll be entering the warp point presently.” Sajel decided to accept Hensyk’s explanation, for now. Only twice before did he hear the name Zorak associated with his great uncle Wonset. For both it was said with a mix of respect and fear. At an appropriate time Sajel was going to ask Wonset about the nickname attributed to him.

 


It was forty-five minutes before the next scheduled relocation of the mobile units when the Fendalens appeared. Aboard his command platform Gergat, who was already at his command post to oversee the move, barked out orders literally. The first two ships were big, easily 30% more massive than a battleship and as fast as a cruiser. Both of them were heading directly to the northern missile platform with the first turning to starboard at the 1.5 LS mark. Of the remaining ships of the first wave three were battleship-sized and the last was in-between a cruiser and a battleship. Those four ships were facing southwest, which placed a pair of beam platforms directly in their blind spot.

As with all assaults the attacker got off the first shot. One battleship fired externally mounted sprint missiles which were just as devastating as the warheads used on those large missiles employed by the Fendalens. With powerful lasers attending the damage inflicted on the platform was enough to bring down its shields and rend the armor useless. As atmosphere vented from the platform a sister exacted revenge, causing one intruder battleship to vent air as well. A riposte by the wounded leviathan stripped the armor of another platform as well as two of its weapons.

Only one missile platform in the northern group became active, firing both sprint mode and externally launched standard missiles at the Vash. Just enough damage was scored to bring down the Vash’s shields. The other missile platforms as well as those ships that became active targeted two of the battleships at the warp point. Only one was completely destroyed. With a programmed engagement range of 1.5 LS the 100 active buoys in the northwest group just have five targets to engage. Another battleship exploded from the point-blank laser hits, but the third took seventeen without leaking so much as a gallon of air. The lone Explosion BC didn’t live up to its name, though its armor, half as strong as that on the sole Buckler, was gone along with everything forward of its first multiplex targeting station. Thanks to their range both the Vash and the Stampede suffered only minor armor damage. The Stampede turned to follow the Vash, keeping its distance from the northern platforms at 1.5 LS range.

The second wave was composed of four battleships and two large cruisers but Gergat wasn’t watching those with much detail. He paled as he witnessed the two big ships launch a horde of what had to be small attack craft. 24 of the fleet little vehicles drove directly to the northern missile platforms while the rest headed for the beam platforms. Before the second buoy park could fire the Venda lost two beam platforms with another practically dead and one with heavy internal damage. Three Fendalen battleships of the second wave were gone with further damage to the Explosion. But then came the fighters. The four squadrons tasked on the two northern platforms fired as instructed: each platform was attacked by one squadron firing its full load of 12 FRAMs and 6 fighter lasers with another just firing 6 FRAMs. Both were obliterated, dashing the hopes of the carrier-based marines to conduct boarding actions against crippled hulks.

Gergat was shocked by the firepower he saw. Even when the second buoy park fired, crippling the two Incendiaries, damaging the remaining second wave BB, and finishing the Explosion, he was rightfully scared. He had to assume the other twelve squadrons had the same load-out, and that meant they could easily destroy all the other platforms. Watching with deep dread he saw that eight of the squadrons, seeing that their beam platform targets were gone, shot up buoy park #1 in passing, taking out fifteen automated weapons. As for the remaining four squadrons, bearing down on the last two intact beam platforms, it appeared the short-range missiles were most effective at point-blank range for they only used their lasers. Even so those two lost over half their armor.

A third wave of Fendalens entered Anvil. Composed of three BBs and three BCs it joined the Buckler, its armor all but gone having survived two volleys of laser buoys. The survivors of the second wave moved away from the warp point at best speed, heading southwest towards the third missile platform group. Gergat released his completely active datagroups to close on the warp point. As with the first two waves his goal was to destroy as many ships as possible so his buoys would have fewer targets to expend themselves upon. Due to previous damage one of the two fully armed beam platforms was hulked by just one fighter squadron. Its partner retaliated, savaging a new BB with its force beams and firing all of its external missiles at second wave BC, its blind spot still facing the platform. Shields down, the ship lost its remaining x-ray laser emitter, making it totally weaponless. The Buckler had turned 180° in preparation to leave. With recharged primary beams it fired at a missile platform which happened to be the one Gergat was on. Two of the beams hit, making two missile launchers unusable thanks to holes in their main power feed trunks.

The still-armed south beam platform was destroyed by a newcomer, but it was avenged by those Vendian ships that moved to point-blank range. Beams and sprint missiles from those ships at the 1.5 LS holding position destroyed one second-wave BC. For their trouble four Heroic DDs were blasted. When the third buoy park fired there were just seven Fendalen ships in range. The Buckler survived by the skin of its teeth, barely having enough motive power to transit the warp point as the fourth wave entered. As for the second-wave BB it still had its weapons but could only move at 40% of its top speed. Both surviving third-wave BBs lost their armor and some internal systems. Only one of the two third-wave BCs still had weapons, but regardless all the previous waves moves away at best speed. Gergat sent more complete datagroups against the newcomers, but with the fighters upon him he ordered 200 of the remaining buoys to be activated. It was doubtful that his or the other buoy control platform would survive in the next thirty seconds.

While the squadrons that took down the northeast beam bases moved on the ships still at the 1.5 LS holding area the fighters from the north came in and attacked the three Firearm CLs that had moved to the warp point. Whatever damage they sustained was added by the close assault missiles of the three Explosion BCs of the fourth wave. Only one Firearm escaped with heavy damage, only to be finished by the second wave BB. The two Selflessness buoy killers never reached battle stations and were promptly destroyed by two squadrons that still had their FRAMs. All the remaining missile platforms were destroyed, killing Gergat in the process. Three Urbanite ESs were evicted just before the buoys fired, bringing Vendian mobile losses to 3 CLs, 4 DDs (w/3 damaged), 5 ESs (w/1 immobile), and two CAs.

The second wave BB was still in the programmed firing radius of the 200 buoys when they went off. However, there were nine ships in range this time, though each would roughly get 22 for their trouble. A third-wave BC and fourth-wave BB were destroyed with the seven remaining receiving significant to critical damage. Admiral Fekedja, commanding from the surviving fourth-wave BB, ordered the fighters to engage the Vendian ships. It was looking like the Vendians were going to destroy his ship when he got a reprieve. As the fifth wave entered the fray the senior surviving VSN officer, noticing that they were cruisers-sized ships, ordered the fleet to engage them instead of finishing off the crippled battleships. With his firepower dwindling and running not an option due to the speed of the fighters he opted to destroying as many of the cruisers as possible. Three Pyromancers were destroyed outright with another losing its shields and some armor. In return only one combat capable Firearm, 8 Heroic DDs and 7 Urbanites were available as the sixth wave joined their brethren. The sixty or so buoys left remained inert for they hadn’t been programmed in time before Gergat’s base was destroyed. All they were good for was serving as targets for the three Explosions.

With fire control and datalink recovered the three surviving Pyromancers locked onto three Heroic destroyers. All of them were wrecked to such an extent that their individual firepower equaled that of an Urbanite. Add the lasers of the fighters the Vendians dwindled to just one DD and two ESs. They had taken down one CL and crippled a CA. It was a slugging match in which no-one tried to maneuver to gain a blind spot advantage. Even the ships off the warp point had come to a stop and pivoted to bring their weapons to bear. Three and a half minutes into the battle it was finally over. With the seventh wave to bear witness the last three VSN ships with weapons were gone, but not before the inflicting further damage on the fourth Pyromancer. It would be four months before the ship was fit for combat again.

What remained of the enemy consisted of one immobilized CL and another barely able to make headway. A pair of DDs mirrored their larger brethren. Fekedja ordered these ships as well as three toothless beam platforms to surrender, hoping that his translated voice (complete with yelps) was convincing. Three ships complied, but the mobile DD and the platforms exploded so abruptly that no lifepods were detected leaving them. Only on the mobile CL was the computer core intact but not through a lack of trying on the crew’s part to destroy it. It would be some time before the data was fully accessible so the order went out to the survey squadron and its escorts to start scouring Anvil for additional warp points.

Fekedja regarded the repeater screen in Morningstar’s auxiliary bridge (which also served as his impromptu CIC) with trepidation. His losses were 8 BBs, 5 BC, one BC(MS), 3 CAs and one CL. 5 BBs, 3 BC(MS) and one CA were damaged to greater or lesser extent but mostly greater. Vendian mobile losses equaled only 62% to what Fekedja suffered, but with the inclusion of the twelve undersized type-4 platforms the ‘midget-Isset’ losses were 42% greater. Casualties alone were expected to over 5,800 with the Vendians having lost rough 9,900 with 510 taken prisoner.

The one major conclusion the admiral arrived at after hours of study was that he needed one more Herd class carrier. A third carrier would’ve survived the concerted attention of buoys and fully active beam and even missile platforms long enough to launch its strikegroup. With further work Fekedja calculated that, with 24 squadrons equipped as they were in the original assault, would’ve handled both platforms and mobile forces with far, far fewer Fendalen losses. In a flash he realized that had a third Herd been available Ayypha would’ve conducted the assault in the same way. A newfound respect for the strikefighter took root in Fekedja’s mind.

With Task Force KB-41 in Anvil Admiral Ayypha, along with deploying the survey squadron, sent a cruiser/carrier force to inspect the planets of Anvil B’s component. The Vendian space station orbiting the first moon of Anvil B-2 was destroyed as well as the two tugs that attempted to flee to the outer reaches of the system. It would be another month before the first brigades of the Armored Knight Corps arrived and assume occupation duties on Anvil B’s airless worlds, moons, and asteroids.
          It settled into a waiting game as captured records were decoded and translated and the survey ships did the work. Repair ships toiled on their broken charges back in Pantry. Everyone was now convinced of the power of the strikefighter. Very soon the little vehicles would prove their worth as defenders of the fleet.



Chapter 8.25
It was one week after the fall of the Anvil/Pantry warp point defenses. At the Government Complex on Venda Prime key members of the Politburo and the VSN Central Control Staff were holding an emergency meeting. From the perspective of the naval officers involved it was more of a forum for the Politburo members to vent their collective spleens. The worst offender was Premier Alart. With vest lapels covered in medals Alart launched into an active diatribe that made those medals jump. Snarling so that his muzzle bared bright white canines Alart removed one of his shoes and pounded the table surface before him. “For allowing the big bugs entry into Anvil you have jeopardized the lives of every Vendian, Admiral! In all rights you should be among those that have died defending the great socialist society that is Venda!”

    Chief of Naval Forces Jarjat watched as Alart made a spectacle of himself. As the head of the Vendian Space Navy Jarjat’s uniform tunic was awash with braid and medals. He scratched the side of his muzzle for relief as much as amusement. Alart’s histrionics was being done more in fear than rage. In reality it was Jarjat that had more power, albeit behind the scenes, than Alart. He also was relatively immune to reprisal thanks to a hefty amount of blackmail material. At that moment he pulled up one tidbit that best suited his purpose. “For all the barking you’re doing you could’ve scared the bugs away, Alart. Your blood pressure would be lower had you not interfered with my orders. Orders, my dear Premier, which told Gergat to move all platforms in Anvil to the Anvil/Pantry warp point. Even with their small attack craft the Fendalens would’ve bled themselves dry against the might of 30 platforms.”

    “Excuses! Gergat should’ve moved in his ships faster!” Alart looked like he wanted to throw his shoe. “The platforms guarding the other warp point had to stay where they were in case another alien race attacked!” Practically all the other Politburo shifted uncomfortably in their chairs and unconsciously turned their muzzles away. Those that hadn’t regretted selecting Alart as their Premier now had seen enough to convince them. For a man that had such power and influence to become Premier, Alart was oblivious to the subtle power wielded by Jarjat. Had there been no war then it wasn’t inconceivable that in a few years Jarjat himself would’ve been Premier.
    Harhan, a senior Politburo member, took the opportunity to change the subject as Alart took in air and tried to compose himself. “Jarjat, tell us what you’ve learned and what you’re doing in light of the Fendalen incursion.”

    “We have learned plenty, distinguished comrade,” Jarjat said magnanimously. “In large numbers Fendalen small attack craft can devastate a fleet. Upon my order yesterday twelve of our Heroic class DDs will be converted into assault shuttle carriers. They will provide a measure of protection for our fleet until our capable researchers come up with a better counter-system, which in this case means small attack craft of our own. Until then we will build more shuttle carriers that can be converted later on to take small attack craft.

    “I have also authorized a schedule of refits that will improve the capabilities for our active fleet as well as those ships coming out of mothball storage. 20% of all mobile offensive units will be in the slips in rotation. The six platforms in storage will be assembled and updated; only then will the platforms guarding the home warp point be refitted at a rate of four per month. Nine new larger platforms have been authorized and their construction will commence shortly, funding for which has all come from the emergency allowance of the State Budget Bureau.

    “In regards to the technology we observed there are a few that we can emulate now. The heavy missile, external sprint missile and composite armor can be developed in an accelerated manner but the cost will be considerable, more than quadrupling the R&D budget for this month. I deem the first two systems to be very worthy of development as they can redress part of the imbalance we have against our enemy. However, I have been informed that if composite armor is developed with our current technology it will cost ten times as much to mount on the same level of protection as our current armor. For that reason the researchers are advocating developing an improved armor that will give our ships twice as much protection per ton allocated and cost only double that over current armor. I advocate that this alternate armor technology be developed.

    “As for the warheads, which our scientists have determined to be anti-matter, the cost is practically prohibitive, almost the whole of the monthly budget. Then there are the various large caliber beam weapons, the Fendalen small attack craft themselves, and the appropriately named mines. After funding the technologies I’ve mentioned the ones for the next monthly budget should be the small attack craft and mines.”
    “Given the current state of affairs the plan you presented is rational, Jarjat” Harhan said before Alart could get a word in edge-wise. “With the demonstrative power of small attack craft and mines it wouldn’t be productive to spend emergency funding on shipboard beam weapons that can only serve on the offensive.”

    Alart slammed his shoe on the table. “Offensive! When do we go on the offensive, Admiral? Our people in Anvil are being oppressed by greedy monarchal forces as we speak! The fleet might as well be nothing but a gilded pile of dung for all the good it’s doing now! ”
    A line had been crossed when Alart made that remark. Jarjat looked at the Premier levelly and made an authoritative growl of challenge before speaking. “It was with the blood and steel of the Fleet that enabled the glorious socialist society we all enjoy possible two hundred years ago. Only the Fleet can save the Socialist Republic, not pointless insults. Once the reserves are fully mobilized and modernized we will take the fight to the enemy. In four months we will have a fleet that will blot out the Fendalen menace from the Anvil system. Until then I have sent all of our flotillas of Urbanites to Anvil upon learning of the loss of the Anvil/Pantry platforms . They will harass the Fendalens and tie down their ships. But in order to succeed we will need an assault force that will break the defenses that the big bugs will inevitably place on their side of the warp point once they find it.”

    Alart slammed the table top again with his shoe. “With their mines alone the big bugs can smash three dozen battleships! Your so-called blotting out the menace will instead blot out our fleet!”

    If Vendians could smile then Jarjat would’ve done so. Instead he made a set of yips that admonished Alart to listen. “There is a way we can deal with those mines without losing that many battleships. Distinguished members of the Politburo, since our assault into Pantry was repulsed me and my staff came up with a way to conduct a new assault that will work. However, it will involve the potential loss of personnel that can equal the crews of six battleships.” He looked into the eyes of those seated before him. Only Alart showed a negative reaction.  That, or the fact his eyelids were in the throws of a spasm induced by rage. “You will have the full details of the plan presently, along with my recommendations for R&D and new construction priorities above and beyond those already made under the emergency allowance. A response by the end of the week will be most appreciated not only by me but the whole of the Socialist Republic.”
    Again Harhan spoke before Alart let loose with a torrent of abusive verbiage. “Senior Control Director Jarjat, we will give your recommendations the consideration as due to a person of your position.” Harhan winked, showing that he knew if the core recommendations weren’t approved then Jarjat would follow through on his blackmail, tarring Alart as well as everyone present with the same brush. “As we all have pressing duties requiring our attention this meeting is adjourned.”

    “Wait, that’s for me to decide!” Alart barked. Looking and finding forced respect and even resentment from his fellows Alart decided that he had berated his uniform nemesis long enough… for now. He long ago recognized that Jarjat considered him to be a fool and obnoxious. What the officer didn’t know was that he had his own tricks to play on him if and when they became necessary. Stopping the eyelid spasms that he started deliberately Alart pounded the table top one last time. “This meeting is adjourned.” Putting his shoe back on Alart watched as Jarjat left the room, known that one day very soon he would finally put him in his place – at the end of a swinging rope.

 


The survey squadron was making slow, plodding progress on a course that took it around the red giant component of the Anvil system at a range of 90 light-minutes. Several squadrons were at the distant red dwarf component, keeping watch over Vendian hostile environment colonies and outposts until AKC troops arrived to garrison them. The rest of Task Force KB-41 was holding at the Anvil/Pantry warp point, waiting for reinforcements as much as news about Anvil’s other warp points. With the Pantry side defenses being augmented by bases (albeit under construction) the Task Force would move as soon as the route further into Vendian space could be confirmed.

    Under the command of Commodore Gerhy, Baron of the Cinnamon River district on Silverware, the survey squadron was composed of three Compass CA(Sry)s, two Type 1 and four Type 2 survey escorts. Covering them was the 1st and 2nd Carrier Divisions, each composed of one Colt CVL and two Yearling CVSs. Three Calvary Archers, three Cavaliers, six Spars and two Eagle Eyes completed the protection. The ships could keep the range if they encountered any Vendian as fast as they were, and with twenty squadrons of fighters could atomize any destroyer or escort flotilla that tried to come close.
    With no word on the analysis of the captured Vendian data core, which would’ve made the survey unnecessary, the prospect of spending up to four months in boredom looked real. It all changed on day twelve when one of the Eagle Eye scouts, positioned six light minutes ahead of the main body, practically ran into a group of motionless VSN ships. At that moment the Vendians, which had been monitoring the approaching frigate the whole time, when to combat stations and detuned their engines long enough to get within force beam range. The ship didn’t have a chance, and even its defiant light missile salvos failed to score permanent damage on its one target.

    Given the range the Vendians had the survey squadron on their long-range scanners for some time. The commanding officer of the flotillas, Chief Squadron Commander (1st Grade) Mensat, decided that since his ships, 85 Urbanite and 5 Pioneer escorts, were discovered that it would be worth chasing down the 27 detected Royal Navy ships, even though their exact types weren’t immediately known. It would take just under six hours to get the Royal ships in range of Mensat’s guns going at maximum speed.

    Commodore Gerhy turned his command away from the oncoming flotillas so that he had six hours with which to run towards help. There was no immediately help to be had, for the closest friendly ships would be one light-minute out of range when the escorts reached him. Gerhy wished that all of his fighters were 1st generation, but as it was the 2nd Carrier Division just had prototype fighters. Loaded with stand-off missiles these fighters could only start engaging the enemy when they were 1.25 light-minutes behind them. Only at this range could they expect to return the carriers at full speed just before running out of life support.
    The 1st Carrier Division, with 1st generation fighters, could engage the enemy at greater ranges. For this running battle they could go as far as three light-minutes before having to turn around and catch up with their carriers. After an hour wracking his brain as well as the brains of his staff and strike wing commanders decided to start the engagement once the Vendians reached the three light-minute mark with his ten squadrons of 1st generation fighters. The first wave would arrived back at the carriers and rearmed with more missiles. Their second attack would be done by themselves again because even at the anticipated reduced range the prototype fighters would have run out of life support one minute shy of their carriers. These early fighters had to stay on a tight time-on-target schedule that would place them in missile range 570 seconds after launch. In fact their carriers would have to slow down by 17% for one minute just so they could be recovered in the nick of time.

    Adding to Gerhy’s distress was the speed difference. Unloaded, a prototype fighter was only 1/8th faster than an escort going at maximum speed. That meant when they were recovered, armed, and sent out for the second time the flotillas would’ve closed to within 16.5 light-seconds of the squadron. As for the 1st generation fighters, with their greater speed, they would’ve completed their third strike in the interim.

    With the time it took to rearm a fighter there would’ve been none for a third attack by the strike wings of the 2nd Carrier Division. The Urbanites would’ve been in force beam range for ninety seconds when the fighters did launch. Speeding up the carriers with detuning would’ve only prolonged the inevitable. Seeing what a fighter could do, loaded with anti-matter attack missiles, the Vendian commander would be smart by detuning his engines long enough to get in weapons range. So Gerhy planned not to send them out independently for their second strike. Instead he was going to send all 120 fighters in an attack that would hit the enemy once they’ve reach a range of 3.5 light-seconds from his ships.

    t was going to be a fight to the finish. With losses incurred in the drive towards his ships Gerhy knew his Vendian opposite wouldn’t turn away. If he did, then it would be a prolonged slaughter. Armed with just one laser pack each all 60 1st generation fighters could catch up and stay with the Urbanites. Using detuning would keep the range open but eventually engine burnt-out would lead to casualties.

    Mensat’s plan was what Gerhy thought it would be. Escorts, in the VSN, were as expendable as bullets. To make the most of their sacrifice the main targets for the Urbanites were enemy carriers. With those destroyed the fighters would have no place to land and recharge, killing them just as dead if one shot at them with point defense. Mensat was both relieved and worried upon seeing 60 fighters approaching his flotillas: relieved that their presence confirmed the existence of carriers in the enemy formation, worried at the prospect of losing up to thirty escorts if they carried those damnable heavy short-attack missiles.

    There was some silver lining in the dark cloud of this reality. In order for these Fendalens to get those potential thirty kills they would have to come at point blank range. With some judicious maneuvering all five flotillas could cover each other with point defense batteries. So in this strike and each subsequent one the big bugs would lose some fighters. Hopefully enough of them would be destroyed so that the Urbanites would exist long enough to carry out their task in killing carriers. As for identifying them it would be easy enough. With the need to hold, launch, and service fighters the motherships would have very little in the way of shipboard armament. Those ships not firing at the Urbanites would be, by definition, the carriers and targeted first.

    Mensat watched as the fighters came to within 1.25 light-seconds of his flotillas. About to give the order for them to change vectors so as to cover each other’s blind spots the sensor officer on the bridge of his command escort barked out a warning. “Enemy small craft have launched stand-off missiles! Ten escorts have been targeted!”

    On one portion of the multi-display screen on the bridge Mensat watched the results of the unanticipated missile volleys. One escort was so lightly damaged that its shields would be fully restored in a matter of minutes. Two have suffered internal damage without loss of speed. Four more did suffer engine loss, making them just as fast as the ships they were pursuing. Three were totally destroyed. With the slowed Urbanites ordered to follow as best they could the Fendalens had effectively reduced Mensat’s force by almost 8%. Watching the fighters speed away the Vendian calculated a minimum of two more such strikes, possibly three, before he had the enemy ships to rights.

 


“Fine work, people,” Hensyk, aka Hardtack, said over the strike frequency.  “We’ll put the hurt on them again soon enough.” Running the show from the backseat of his command fighter Hardtack was happy to see that none of his pilots were loss. That was a condition he wanted to maintain for the next two strikes.

    “Gambler to Hardtack,” one of the pilots from another squadron said over the frequency, “why didn’t we close the range just a little bit more back there? We could’ve generated a better firing solution and possibly knock out or disabled one or two more ships.”

    “For the optimum firing solution,” Hardtack replied for all to hear, “we would’ve been at the edge of those escorts’ point defense systems. I don’t want to lose pilots this early in the game. When they do come close enough to our mobile barns to see their exhaust pipes we’ll be too busy shoving anti-matter into their muzzles to take notice. I’ll pay for the first beers for whoever’s left afterwards.”

    The frequency was filled with an assemblage of unenthused acknowledgements. With the numbers they faced the pilots faced the prospect that some of them wouldn’t be around in the rec room tonight.

 


On the second strike Mensat had his ships slowed by 1/8th so that they could employ ECM via engine modulation. This didn’t work for the fighters’ fire control computers, being unsophisticated and near-sighted, weren’t readily fooled. No escorts were destroyed this time but four more lost one or more engine rooms. Unable to keep up, these damaged ships stopped and waited for their previously slowed counterparts to catch up and then follow behind the main body.

    Mensat decided to forego with ECM when the third strike approached. Slowing down only served to give the enemy just a little bit more time to rearm his fighters. This strike he noticed was composed of fighters that were radiating a slightly smaller energy signature. They also fired smaller salvos and two squadrons ganged upon one ship each. With such attention three escorts were destroyed and two more rendered into motionless hulks.

    The formation was down to 68 Urbanites and 4 Pioneers as the fourth strike appeared and belched their foul loads. Only one ship was loss, but five more, including two Pioneers, were slowed by damage. With 71% of his force still in the game Mensat believed with reasonable hope that he could just succeed after all.

    Commodore Gerhy was about to crush that hope. He was quite satisfied with destroying or slowing 29% of the enemy force. Modifying his plan, Gerhy was going to have his fifth strike stay ahead of the Vendians as they enter missile range of his Calvary Archers. If the escorts de-tuned their engines to close the range faster then the fighters will turn and deliver their ordnance with greatly reduced risk. De-tuning greatly affected point defense when used offensively against fighters. With mandibles slightly raised in a Fendalen smile Gerhy watched as the Vendians entered definite resolution range for their long range scanners. The ships kept to a zigzag course, keeping the Vendians in the arc of fire as the closed the gap by one-half of a light-second every thirty seconds.

    The three Calvary Archers open fired, tackling a previously damaged escort with nuke-armed SBMs. With that much attention the little ship only took out two of the seven missiles, turning into a debris cloud that its fellows had to pass through on their relentless trek to the Royal ships. In turn the other six escorts that had some internal damage but kept full engines were targeted. When the order was given to switch to anti-matter armed capital missiles the range had dropped to 7.5 LS. Three escorts were destroyed with three more slowed to squadron speed or less. Also at this range the three BCs divided their fire between two ESs at a time so as to increase the number of kills and cripples.

    At 4.5 LS range all units armed with regular missile launchers began to fire. Their missiles were armed with anti-matter as well. Externally mounted capital missiles were also used, adding their nuclear death to the growing forest of fireballs behind the squadron. Even the carriers fired their external missiles, taking out one escort between them. Out of 62 Urbanites the number lost or damage increased to 25.

    With the shaving of another half light-second Mensat saw his numbers dwindle by four more. Then the moment he dreaded finally happened when the fighters, which had been keeping station 3.25 LS ahead of his flotillas, changed course 180° and drove directly towards him. Remarkably he kept his voice calm as he ordered his ships to open fire on a light cruiser-sized ship that had been flagged as an apparent carrier. With no ECCM to offset the enemies’ superior ECM the fire of his ships’ force beams and external missiles were badly affected. Only with their numbers did their score enough hits to bring down the shields of one Yearling class carrier and ruin two-thirds of its armor.

    For all the trouble Mensat went through just to reach this point he yelled at the utter futility of it all. The fighters, each armed with two laser packs, had gutted his flotillas. Only eight Urbanites remained untouched after the Royal ships finished where the fighters left off.  In the next weapons cycle he yet might live long enough to see his few ships fire for the last time. He ordered his ship as well as the other Pioneer to open fire on the fighters with point defense and launch the assault shuttles. Perhaps a few Fendalens would die in this attack after all.

 

 

Sajel marveled at the destruction wrought by the massed fire of the strike force. As second-in-command of Hensyk’s squadron Sajel’s crowded data plot had a direct feed from the Strider’s CIC. In thirty more seconds the last fully functional Vendian ships would be destroyed. Afterwards it was just a matter of policing the cripples that were trailing the main formation.

    “Heads up, people!” Hensyk cum Hardtack said. “They’re firing point defense and two of those cans launched four assault shuttles. Strikewing 1, finish the beam-armed ships! Strikewing 2, engage the shuttles!”

    It was beyond overkill to send sixty fighters against four assault shuttles, but having gone this far without loss it just won’t do to lose a pilot now. Fate had other plans. A really sharp tactical officer on Mensat’s ship noticed a distinct pattern of signals being sent from one fighter out of every six. After four waves he had nailed down the particulars and assigned designators to suspected ‘command’ fighters in each squadron of 1st generation fighters. The four assault shuttle pilots had those designators, and when it came time they selected one and fired. Only two got hits, and both fighters exploded before the pilots had time to eject.
    A part of Sajel’s conscious mind heard the orders over the frequency to return to the carriers so that the relief pilots could take over and hunt down the stragglers. He didn’t hear himself acknowledge the order. What was filling his ears for the rest of the day was abrupt static that replaced Hensyk’s voice over command channel.

 


All the Urbanites were gone. The targeted Yearling had lost its armor but suffered no internal damage. As for the two Pioneers they were fired upon by the three Compass survey ships. Using standard nukes and capital energy beams both of the little ships were gutted and then boarded. Mensat didn’t survive but his tactical officer did, and the computers on his ship were secured. It was found that at least 144 other Urbanites and Pioneers had transited from another well-guarded system into Anvil. Included in that information was the location of Anvil’s second and third warp points. This was the news everyone in KB-41 wanted to hear. Gerhy was just as thankful that he didn’t have to face all of those escorts at once.

    Gerhy passed the information to Admiral Ayypha via courier drone and set course for Anvil’s second warp point. The captured data indicated that there were eighteen platforms guarding the warp point as well as six hundred buoys. Just before leaving what few Vendian survivors that could be cared for were taken aboard the frigates. Gerhy also waited until his fighters had finished picking off the Urbanite and Pioneers stragglers as well as the three Calvary Archers BCs and nine Infantry DDs that had responded to his initial call for help to join him. Destroying the platforms was going to be a turkey shoot with the technology and weapons at Gerhy’s disposal. It will, nonetheless, give practical training to his crews. They’ll need it once the Fleet was set to invade what obviously was an important system on the other side of Anvil’s third warp point.



Chapter 8.50

The shuttle landed uneventfully in the battleship’s boat bay. Once the handling cradle moved it to the loading platform a squad of the ship’s marines formed up on the hatch. Making a line on either side the marines came to attention and presented arms as the hatch opened. Out stepped a senior member of the Gyst royal family. His armbands and shin guards, gold in color and trimmed with platinum, glinted in the light. Before him, at the end of the marine honor guard, was a single senior naval officer.

    “Archduke Wonset,” said Admiral Ayypha, bowing until his head and thorax were level with his abdomen. “Welcome aboard the Lord Brandy. Was your trip uneventful?”

    “It was, Admiral.” Wonset walked up to Ayypha and motioned him to rise. “The same can’t be said of your carrier crews. Has there been further news about those escort flotillas?”

    “There has, my Lord. Two flotillas have been destroyed as they attempted to intercept the troop convoy to the Anvil B component. That leaves six flotillas unaccounted for plus whatever ships the Vendians sent in before warp point three was picketed.”

    “Troublesome pests those escorts, but nothing that our fighter squadrons can’t handle. Admiral, let’s repair to your wardroom. I’m eager to hear your comprehensive report.”

 

 

A tea drinker since the establishment of Royal Ascendant Wonset finished his third cup at the end of Ayypha’s one-hour report. The Admiral had saved what he considered to be the best news for last, which lent to Wonset’s livid reaction. “These Venda must be doing their thinking with their balls! What presumptuous fools they are! Going to war with only two systems to their name! With what they know now they should be suing for peace.”

    Ayypha as glad he saved news about the Vendian astrographic and population data for last. He had a fairly strong suspicion on how Wonset was going to react.  “Yes, my Lord. For reasons best known only to them the Vendians hadn’t explored beyond warp points one and two. Had they done so, they would’ve found three habitable worlds to colonize.”

    Wonset poured another cup of tea and took a sip. “Had they shown even a modicum of curiosity about warp points they could’ve been a major empire by now,” he said with disdain. “They still had one warp point in Anvil with which to explore, something they should’ve done after we encountered them. Now they’re really going to regret not making a non-aggression treaty with us.”

    “True as that is, my Lord, you must admit that the Vendians possess a formidable industrial base, despite the difference in technological sophistication.”

    “We can’t overlook that, Ayypha.” Wonset took another sip of tea. “With their homeworld wealth alone they can build large numbers of battleships or an ungodly number of escorts if we allow them. We will need an assault force that’ll leave us in undisputed control of the Vendian system once we do attack. Additional task groups from the other Knights Brigades will be ordered to come here, along with more carriers.”

    Ayypha’s antennae twitched in thought. “Hopefully that won’t take too long, my Lord. They may have developed minefield technology in the interim, so a repeat of our assault into Anvil would be impossible. Plus I can’t help but think that they’ll spend whatever it’ll take to get fighters of their own, now that they’ve seen clearly what they could do.”

    Wonset took another sip of tea. “I think we can count on them to use assault shuttles in mass numbers. Perhaps they’ll build shuttle bases for their homeworld warp point. The Bhohim built shuttle bases to counter our use of assault shuttles to clear buoys in the closing months of the Bhohim War.” He swirled the contents of his teacup with a stir stick, watching his induced whirlpool for a moment. “I’ll be visiting various ships in the task force during the next several days to congratulate the crews on their performance. After the award ceremony on the Main Plate I will go to the Strider.”

    “Very good, my Lord,” Ayypha said. Main Plate was the Buckler class battleship that barely survived the assault into Anvil. It was currently being repaired next to the Anvil/Pantry warp point. Going to her meant a trek across the system lasting four days. The Strider, the carrier on which Prince Sajel was stationed, was with her sister carriers hunting down the Urbanite flotillas. “Before you go to your cabin and prepare for dinner would you like a visit to the CIC to see the disposition of the task force near the Anvil/Venda warp point?”

    “Certainly. Lead on, Admiral.”

    The CIC on the battleship was at non-combat staffing levels, meaning there was just six ratings and an officer on hand when Wonset and Ayypha arrived. Active and pulsing occasionally with updates was the holoimager. It was centered on the icon representing the Anvil/Venda warp point. Sitting from three to eight light-seconds away were various components of Task Force KB-41, sans Carrier Division 1 and a few cruiser/destroyer squadrons.

    At the three light-second mark were the laser and standard missile-armed combatants, such as the Phalanx BBs, Incendiary BCs, and Infantry DDs. Further out at five LS were the heavy missile Lords and Calvary Archers.  The carriers and their escorts sat at seven LS.

    Holding the eight LS mark were two Minstrels and two Stone Masters. Their job was to tend after the six hundred patterns of mines, 420 laser buoys, 120 energy beam and 60 primary beam buoys that surrounded the warp point. Last and certainly not least were the twelve squadrons of fighters flying a combat space patrol half a light-second from the warp point.

    Any assault the Vendians cared to mount, after taking their drubbing from mines, buoys and the fighters, would face a concentrated rain of x-ray lasers and anti-matter ordnance. It would be like sticking one’s face in a furnace. “I take it you hope the Vendians send what they consider an adequate force to retake Anvil, despite their technological disadvantage,” Wonset said after studying the task force disposition. “After destroying it you want to conduct an assault of your own.”

    “Yes, my Lord. Unless they mount a mass transit our own losses will be light to moderate. Those additional task groups will come in handy.” Ayypha was looking forward to having squadrons of the new City, Awl and Retinue class ships.

    “Very good, Admiral. Where is the 1st Carrier Division at this time?”

    Having anticipated that question Ayypha adjusted the scale of the hologram. Blinking at the edge of the projection was an icon representing the aforementioned carriers. “It’s 96 light-minutes beyond the warp point, my Lord. Along with a cruiser division the carriers are deploying scanner buoys to enhance the surveillance net. I happen to believe, as well as Commodore Gerhy, that the six remaining escort flotillas are operating in pairs. A single flotilla isn’t much of a threat while all of them operating together would deny them the maximum dispersion of our forces. With additional scanner and com buoys the escorts will be forced to move so far beyond the warp points as to become useless, consuming whatever supplies they brought along and eventually breaking down.”

    “A bit risky, with such a small force to hunt them down,” Wonset said. “I’m assuming that you don’t want to scare them off with anything larger.”
    “That is correct, my Lord. I believe these flotillas are operating in complete ignorance of one another’s activities. They won’t know of the fighters’ true capabilities.” Ayypha was concerned that he would be taken to task for placing Prince Sajel in such relative danger. To die in an assault or stand-up fleet battle was one thing; using 3,000 naval personnel to entice the enemy to reveal themselves was something else. He had to admit that if Sajel wasn’t in the 1st Carrier Division, and something did went wrong, he could still expect to get his antennae chewed on by Wonset. An involuntary glance at Wonset’s mangled rear antennae made Ayypha shutter involuntarily.

    Wonset touched his rear pair of antennae out what seemed like habit. “Very well, Ayypha. I’ve seen enough for now. Send an officer to my quarters to escort me to the mess when dinner is ready.”

    “As you will, my Lord.”

 


Squadron Commander Cascal watched the sensor plot with satisfaction. His two flotillas of Urbanites had been motionless for two months, watching and waiting for the enemy to draw near. Patience had rewarded him with a target that appeared just right for his capabilities. Six light-minutes away were seven Fendalen ships, approaching on a course that will take them within 18 light-seconds of his flotillas. Having watched the Fendalens when they were just one target at 72 light-minutes Cascal saw by their cruising speed that they couldn't be bigger than cruisers. Even if they were armed with those heavy warheads his Urbanites would still swarm them, taking losses but winning the battle.

    Cascal knew the only way that any of his personnel would see the light of home again would be for a successful breakout of the fleet back into Anvil. As explained by Senior Squadron Commander Mensat one sure way to make that happen was to draw as many enemy ships away from guarding the Anvil/Venda warp point into prolong searches for the Urbanites. After finishing this squadron Cascal planned to take his ships further out and towards the Anvil B component. Then the ships will go quite again, waiting for the next opportunity to attack.

     A new sensor contact caught Cascal's eye. From the energy signature it appeared to be a small craft or several small craft moving in close formation. Since there was no way the enemy could've known of his location beforehand Cascal dismissed the idea that it was squadrons of small attack craft. Even though not much was known about them one thing was certain. Their life support capabilities had to be very limited in comparison to that of a shuttle or even a cutter. It made no sense to launch large groups with no enemies in sight unless it was part of a combat drill. By the time Cascal would know for sure four hours would've gone by. Deciding not to worry over things he couldn't control the squadron commander went on break, returning to the bridge 30 minutes before the anticipated combat.

    What the Vendians wouldn't know for almost four hours was that the approaching Fendalen squadron contained the 1st Carrier Division and the 14th Cruiser Division. These divisions were comprised of, in addition to the Eagle Eye scout, one Colt and two Yearling carriers and three Cavalier light cruisers. What Cascal thought was one small craft were actually five fighters, flying five LS apart and forming an arc 20 LS ahead of the ships. Inexorably the range fell. When the distance dropped to 25 LS between the flotillas and the Fendalen ships the fighter on the far port side of the arc detected Cascal's ships. He knew he been had when the Fendalen ships turned around and accelerated to maximum speed. He ordered his ships to activate their engines and to use detuning in a bid to close the gap. It would take fifteen minutes to reach weapons range.

    Nine fighter squadrons took off five minutes after detection but instead of closing on the enemy they kept formation with the carriers. There was simply not enough time and distance to conduct a second strike since the escorts would be well within firing range as the fighters were being rearmed. So the squadrons waited, watching as the returning vanguard fighters landed, arm, and then launch to join their brethren. When that happened the range was 4.75 LS, the Fendalen ships turning 60 degrees to starboard, brining their weapons to bear. The Cavaliers fired two volleys of fifteen anti-matter armed standard missiles and three externally mounted capital missiles each. Two Urbanites were destroyed.

    The fighters turned and rushed the escorts like starved dogs chasing rabbits. The range had dropped to 4 LS between the ships but the fighters were at three-quarters of a light-second. Had the Urbanites stopped detuning thirty seconds earlier they could've used their point defense against the fighters, a thought that occurred to Cascal after the fact. Even if they did that it would've meant the destruction of at least three escorts thanks to the destructive power of anti-matter armed standard missiles and the carriers’ external ordnance. But first came the ten squadrons of fighters, each armed with twelve laser packs and six stand-off missiles.

    Of the ten escorts hit two were destroyed with four reduced in speed. The other four sustained some laser damage and at least one downed shield. As expected the Cavaliers brought down two more and the carriers’ external load of capital missiles and the Eagle Eye found by chance Cascal’s command ship. The Vendian commander died before he could witness his undamaged ships disengaged their detuning and targeting a Yearling class carrier 3.5 LS away. Force beams and external missiles stripped the ship of its shields. For that damage twelve more Urbanites were blotted out by anti-matter and fighter lasers.

    Luck favored the Venda as their current lead squadron got its fire control solution before the Cavaliers did. The four slowed and damaged Urbanites stopped detuning, putting them at 3.75 LS range while the rest were at an even 3 LS. After the fighters and Cavaliers it was only those four ships and the remaining Pioneer that survived the slaughter for an additional 30 seconds. Both assault shuttles launched by the Pioneer were shot down at no loss for the fighters. The Vendians did breach the armor of the carrier, destroying the main cargo hold. A thin trail of atmosphere coming from the ship filled Vendian eyes before they were darkened forever.

    Little time was spent on picking up Vendian life-pods since there wasn’t much room to accommodate them on the ships. Most of the effort was spent on picking up the pods that came from the Pioneer escort. Recognized as a command ship, it was to reason the best source of information would come from surviving bridge and flotilla command staff personnel. Six hours later the Fendalen ships set course for the Anvil/Pantry warp point and proceeded at normal cruising speed. Another threat to the Royal Navy had been neutralized.

 


"Talk about luck!" exclaimed Nutjob, one of the pilots of the 1003rd squadron aboard the carrier Strider. The rec room of the carrier was filled with pilots and ship's crew alike, toasting to their good fortune. "If there had been another flotilla we could've lost the Smudge Coat for sure."  The carrier in question was the same one that had its armor wrecked over six weeks ago when it was part of the survey squadron looking for Anvil's other warp points. Only two weeks passed since the Smudge Coat returned from the repair area next to the Anvil/Pantry warp point. Now the ship was going to be attached to the side of a repair ship for three weeks before her damage was put right.

    Sajel, known by the call sign Old Man, raised his glass to proclaim a toast. "Here's to the Smudge Coat for getting another holiday, courtesy of our accommodating hosts" After the acknowledgement and downing of drink he continued. "Even without an extra flotilla, if the midget-Isset had datalink point defense it would've been the cruiser crews toasting to our memory. Now there's just 72 escorts left."

    "Thank the gods for small favors, Old Man." Nutjob grabbed a fresh drink and sat next to his squadron commander. “With all these buoys were putting out those midget-Isset won’t be able to break wind without us knowing it.”

    Sajel nodded. “The fact that they’re not launching courier drones means the Vendians in the home system have no idea about stand-off fighter missiles, or even the utter lack of losses they’ve inflicted on us.” He chided himself internally for his choice of words. The loss of Hensyk, the first commander of the 1003rd, and three other pilots were significant enough, especially to those who knew them.

    Commodore Gerhy, who had chosen the Strider to be his current command ship, entered the rec room. The only indicator of his title of baron was a pink diamond mounted on small red disk he wore on his shoulders. He used the room’s PA system to address the crowd. “A fine job done on your part, everyone,” he said enthusiastically. “The Admiral sends his congratulations as well. For smiting the snouts of our enemy we’ve been granted a short reprieve in our Vendian hunting. We’ll be accompanying the Smudge Coat all the way to the repair area and remain there as she’s being patched up.” He waited a moment while the crowd cheered for their unexpected good fortune. “I’ve been informed that that Archduke Wonset himself will be there shortly after we arrive. He has some awards that need to be dispensed, and he’s been told that this ship is a good place to give them away.” This bit of news made the crowd cheer louder and longer.

    Nutjob was clearly pleased. “Wow! What an honor to be in the presence of such a historical figure! Your great uncle must have some far-out stories to tell about the Civil War and Isset Insurrection. Hey! You think he’ll be seeing any of our prisoners?”

    “I don’t see the reason why, Nutjob,” Sajel said. To an outside observer his line was delivered like a straight man in a comedy routine. “We’ve got interrogators for that. My great uncle wouldn’t concern himself questioning a lowly bridge rating or engineer.”

    “Well, Old Man, I have it on good authority that the Archduke is particularly skilled in making people talk. Perhaps he’ll use some of his Zorak tricks to make those Vendians tell their secrets.”

    Hearing the name Zorak made Sajel remember that he needed to ask his great uncle why that particular term was attributed to him. Nutjob probably heard it from the now deceased Hensyk, and if Nutjob knew, then it’s a sure bet everyone else did and they made sure Sajel wasn’t in earshot when it was spoken. Even if it was a backhanded compliment referring to Wonset as a demon was still slurring his good name in Sajel’s opinion. “If Wonset is going to do anything, Nutjob,” he said in an off-the-cuff manner, “he’ll probably give the prisoners some meat bones to chew on and some squeaky toys to play with.”

    “As long as they’re exploding squeaky toys, Old Man. That’ll be staying in character.”

 


With an expansive view port behind him, displaying construction slips filled with ships in various stages of work-up, Premier Alart was putting the finishing touch on his speech. “The blood, sweat, and tears you’ve poured into work,” he said to the assembly of shipyard workers, press, and naval personnel, “will ensure our victory over the bugs! Strive to build more, to build faster! Once Anvil is free we will go on, ridding the universe of those monarchal maniacs! Long live the Socialist Republic! Long live Venda!”

    The crowd cheered as Alart raised his arms in adulation. After glad-handing several workers he walked off the platform and down a side hallway. He ended up in the senior manager’s office, finding his guest waiting. It was Chief of Naval Forces Jarjat, standing by a viewport. “Glad to see you make it,” Alart said, motioning to Jarjat to sit on a chair in front of the manager’s desk.

    “It’s always a pleasure to meet with the Premier,” Jarjat replied formally. “Your speech was uplifting and inspiring.”

    “Enough of the pleasantries. I bring you good news.” Alart sat behind the desk. The manager’s chair was comfortable and expensive. As well it should be; Alart gave the chair to the manager as a gift. “The Politburo has agreed to your funding requests. Supplying the ships you’ll need for the counter-offensive will not be a problem.”

    “I am pleased to hear that, Premier.” Jarjat was certain that his recommendations would be acted on.

    Alart leaned forward. “Have you given any thought on who will lead the fleet in the attack?”

    “I have two or three possible candidates among my senior fleet directors,” Jarjat offered. “My decision will come soon.”

    “I’ll save you the trouble. There’s one perfect officer for the counter-offensive.” Alart made a bark of authority, looking directly into Jarjat’s eyes. “You.”

    “If that what passes for humor at private Politburo parties these days then I’m glad I’m not invited. Why should I lead the fleet?” Jarjat’s mind was racing, wondering what Alart had up his sleeve. There was one thing that could possibility incriminate him, but Jarjat spent most of life insuring that no-one found out.

    “Because if you don’t, you’ll be spending the last few months of your life in a cell, then be executed for causing the deaths of six ratings.” Alart didn’t expect and didn’t see a reaction in Jarjat’s eyes, so he continued. “You were a green officer, just six months out of the academy. You did an inept repair to a cargo lifter, causing it to crash shortly after take-off. Being a bright boy and quick on the mark you forged the repair report, blaming another for your error. You knew back then that having that kind of incident on your record would not be good for your promotion prospects. Quite possibility you would’ve never reached high rank at all. Later, when the investigation appeared to be closing in, you blackmailed the lead investigator.”

    With a yip of confidence Alart finished his story. “So, for the last four decades you’ve hone your blackmail art with a cadre of spies. I know that because some of them work for me. When you became CNF one of my spies found and copied your personal diary. Even back then it seemed your conscious was absent. With that knowledge I contacted the lead investigator of the case, rusticating in retirement, and used blackmail of my own to obtain the evidence he had hidden that confirmed your role in the accident.” Alart looked and found doubt in Jarjat’s eyes. He growled authority. “Now, if I go and expose this to the press confidence in the Navy will plummet when it’s needed the most. Plus I know your senior admirals will help bring you down so as to gain your spot. My role in all this is concealed, so don’t even think about dragging me down with you. You’ll just embarrass yourself. I suppose you have no regrets and would do it all over again, but that’s neither here or there.”

    Jarjat barked submission. Alart was one who would burn down the whole house just to smoke out one rat. “What do you propose?”

    “You will lead the fleet to victory and become a hero of the people,” Alart said warmly. “With each battle won you’ll add that much more luster to your record, becoming the greatest military leader in history. If you die, well, at least there’ll be a bust and portrait of you in the People’s Museum and Naval Academy Annex. Your crime will be hidden and none will be the wiser. Refuse, then Venda will face a messy court-martial and the subsequent drop in moral when it’s most important.”

    “I see.” Jarjat rubbed his snout. He could accept the offer and lead the fleet, knowing better than most that the prospect of winning, let alone surviving, was low. Refuse, then death was assured. The judge advocate generals of the VSN would have no choice but to execute him for his crime to save the pride of the Navy. “Can I have some time to think about this?”

    Alart barked authority. “No you may not. The offer expires almost immediately, and you can’t say no.” He pressed a button on the desk. In through the office door spewed a flood of reporters and cameramen. Alart stood and motioned to Jarjat to join him by the viewport. With no reluctance the naval man stood next to the politician, committed to an action that he had no control over.

    “People of Venda! Glorious news!” Alart said magnanimously. “CNF Jarjat had volunteered his services to lead the Anvil reclamation battle, a battle that will occur in less than four months time. As Premier I can see no greater honor for a man that has made a distinguished career in the service of the people!”

    “I will strive to restore Anvil to the People’s Republic and liberate all of space from the Fendalen monarchal forces.” Jarjat was surprised to hear himself say what he just said. It was the part of him that accepted the slim chance of life over that of certain death. Then he consoled himself with the knowledge that the Fendalens would win anyway. Their technological lead was too great to overcome in such a short amount of time. With only one more assault to perform the Fendalens could enter at any time they feel like it. So if he had to die, perhaps it was best that it was in battle than being hanged.

    Alart slapped Jarjat on the back. “Yes, yes! With such spirit our People’s Republic will become victorious as it is destined to become.”

 


Unlike the reception on the Lord Brandy and Main Plate Archduke Wonset, on his request, just had one officer to greet him on the Strider. It was Commodore Gerhy, and together they went to the portside hanger bay where a review stand had been raised. A portion of the crew was present with the rest watching or listening via the ship’s internal communications. He kept his speech short, praising the crew for their proficiency in dispatching the enemy. A naval commendation and the King’s Thanks were given to the crew. The Silver Sword was awarded the deceased Hensyk for his performance as much as his advocacy of the strikefighter project.

    Afterwards there was a buffet dinner in the main mess hall. Wonset spent time at each table, listening to and sharing stories and insights about the current war. Battle-harden pilots were following Wonset’s words like children waiting for the next sentence of a favorite story. Sajel was there as well, and at times he sat with his great uncle and encouraged those that wanted to ask questions but were intimidated by Wonset’s presence.

    When the last of the crew rotated into the hall Wonset made a discreet exit. His walking brought him to the pilot quarters. Only the squadron commander had his own relatively private cabin with the rest using four-bunk cubicles sharing a common corridor. With his security clearance Wonset was able to walk right in, finding Sajel working at his terminal. The prince had left dinner earlier, claiming the commander’s eternal task of paperwork needing his attention. He offered his great uncle the only other chair in the cabin. “I think you’ve given them enough to write home about,” Sajel said in jest. “Being in the presence of the Archduke is as close as one can get to a legendary hero.”

    “I’m the one who’s honored,” admitted Wonset. “I appreciate to no end just how effective our fighters are, but I cannot see myself ever becoming a fighter pilot. I’m too calculating and cautious. A pilot has to have a love of flying as well as tempting fate, not to mention courage. We’ve been fortunate so far that pilot losses have been so low. That won’t last forever.”

    Sajel’s antennae drooped. “Yeah. Only three fighters and five pilots. We’ve had twice that number in peacetime accidents.”

     “A sad occasion, my nephew. From what I read you became the squadron’s second-in-command when the previous pilot became drunk one too many times. Hensyk wanted to promote you earlier but was afraid it would smack as favoritism in the eyes of his superiors.” Wonset took some pleasure in seeing the surprised look on his great nephew’s face. “I’ve read everything. Hensyk thought highly of your skills and your fellow pilots consider you one of their own instead of some royal in a flight suit. While the press reports glowingly about your exploits both father and mother express concern. It could have been your fighter that was destroyed, being in such proximity to Hensyk. Had that happened, then the main point of my arrival would have been, instead of presenting awards, delivering a eulogy at your funeral.”

    “I gave a eulogy as my first act as squadron commander,” Sajel offered. “There’s bound to be more later on.”

    “You’ll never get use to it, Sajel, but neither must you let yourself become paralyzed by doubt and loathing. Far better men than me have die so that I could continue to live and serve the true royal that is your father. Becoming a pile of emotional baggage only serves to get more people killed.” It sounded like Wonset said those words for his benefit as much as for Sajel’s.

    Before he could change his mind Sajel asked the question. “Uncle, I’ve been hearing of late that you’ve been called Zorak. That’s a moniker that one doesn’t use lightly.”

    “Ah, so you know my other name,” Wonset said like a spy that had been made. Then he turned serious. “Throughout your childhood you only heard the generalized stories of my exploits during the Civil War. Safe, uncomplicated tales fit for the whole family. Whatever gossip you may have heard is true for the most part. Let me start where the name really originated.

    “As you know from your history classes the Isset Insurrection started six months into the Civil War. I was on Royal Arch at the time, leading the fight against a band of soldiers loyal to that pretender Lugan. Then the Isset turned and began killing. Where it wasn’t practical to use nukes the Isset slaughtered Fendalens in hand-to-hand combat. I caught a regiment leader and proceeded to interrogate him.

    “No, it can’t be called interrogation. ‘Battlefield expedience’ is a term used to describe torture in official reports.” Wonset’s rear antennae twitched in response to memories best left alone. “I’d be lying if I didn’t say I acted out of vengeance, killing those that had killed the young, defenseless, and whole nursery of eggs. Every battlefield interrogation of an Isset I performed ended the same way, with them screaming until they died from the pain or blood loss. The Isset feared me, calling me Zorak the Demon for the way I used traps and ambushes to get high-level prisoners for the interrogations. Later I found myself using the same methods on Lugan’s men, though for the most part I maimed them. It was still bad, bad enough that I had a dull ring in my ears from all the screaming. Finally it came to a point where my reputation alone was enough for men to talk.” He looked at Sajel, seeing that his great nephew’s mandibles had slackened from hearing these revelations. “I still hurt them before releasing them. Have no doubt that there are those back in the Pretender Kingdom that still carry the scars of my work, wishing only to live to see the day that I’m executed.

    “The usurpers got me, as you know, and had me as their prisoner for a year. Even so they feared me, believing that I could leave my cell at any time and kill them all in their sleep. They’ve inflicted tortures on me when I refused to renounce my title as Regent and for not divulging secrets. When I was rescued I was in no position to take revenge on my torturers. Those that were killed by my rescuers have, no doubt, been attributed to me by the usurpers. My reputation as a pitiless killer has been made in Lugan’s pretender kingdom. In our history, I’m a ruthless bastard that had to do things no-one should do in an impossible situation.”

    Sajel tugged on his right front antenna in a sign of comprehension. “Strange, I’ve always noticed a difference on how people act around you. Like the crew in the mess hall, those born after the exodus have come to see you as a favorite uncle. Those that participated in the exodus, and some senior officers, always treat you with respect and act so formal that it’s awkward.”

    “Oh, that,” Wonset replied in a more relaxed manner. “There were occasions in the Civil War where Lugan’s assassins disguised themselves as loyal personnel in an attempt to get to your father. In every case they screwed up in a subtle or gross manner, leading to their immediate deaths. Those knowledgeable old Fendalens are afraid to spill tea in my presence less I come over and give them a good throttling.”

    The front pair of antennae on Sajel’s head perked up in memory. “That explains why Baron Undabhit acted the way he did on my fifth birthday after dropping my present in front of me.”

    Wonset couldn’t help but laugh recalling the scene. “Undabhit wanted to send his wife in his place, but she was sick that day. He was so nervous to be in my presence that when he accidentally dropped the gift he believed that I would interpret that as part of an assassination attempt. The result was that he lost control of his bowels. Your great aunt Wykken was so upset. It took weeks of patient work to remove the smell from the only piece of authentic palace carpet that came with the exodus fleet. To save Undabhit’s pride and reputation I made it known that he had come down with the same illness as his wife.”

    Sajel looked thoughtful for a moment, clearly preparing to say something profound. “If I become King, I’ll will not make my reputation by the use of violence and intimidate those with the threat of violence. However, I will keep my word when I give it. When that word requires violence to back it up, I will not hesitate to do so.”

    “A prudent and wise course of action, Sajel,” Wonset said approvingly. “It’s better to have people respect and follow you for keeping your word than threaten them if they don’t do what you want. It’s just a matter of knowing what’s worthy of your word.” He looked at his wristcomp. “Oh, it’s late. Time for me to turn in. But only after I do something your mother made me promise to do.” With that Wonset got up and removed the decorative light fixture on Sajel’s desk. He unscrewed the base, and out came a slender tube with a cap at one end. Before the prince could object Wonset undid the cap and took a whiff. “What an odor. I recognize it. Genuine engine room rot-gut.”

    “I didn’t know it was there.” The prince sounded unconvincing.

    “Your mother the Queen saw a photo of you and your squadronmates taken after the first battle. She was concerned that you’ll turn into a raging alcoholic by the time this war is over.” Wonset stuffed the tube into a pouch on the backside of his front left leg. “As for knowing the tube was there in the first place… well, you can tell your buddies that I used my Zorak powers to divine its location.”

    Wonset left the cabin but immediately came back to poke his head inside, winking an eye conspiratorially. “We’ll share this rot-gut together with the captain and Baron Gerhy once we break into the Vendian home system. Keep it quite or else the Queen and Great Aunt Wykken will have us both in the Isset House.”

    “I promise, Uncle Wonset,” Sajel said in a playfully sheepish manner.



Chapter 8.75 

Chief of Naval Forces Jarjat gave the calendar display a final, hard look. On this day five months ago the war against the monarchal Fendalens started. The opening battle was a failure for the VSN due mainly to the disparity of technology involved. Since then some progress had been made to redress the imbalance, but the Fendalens pressed their advantage and seized the Anvil system, Venda’s only extra-solar possession.
     Since then the VSN had been busy reactivating and refitting the bulk of its fleet. New ships, especially escorts, had been built in the interim. Jarjat had wanted to wait two more weeks, thereby gaining three more battleships fresh from refit, not to mention a handful of smaller ships. However the Politburo was holding him to his word that his attack would occur today. Even with the extra ships Jarjat wasn’t all that sure of success. Secretly, he was betting this assault would hasten the defeat of Venda.
     Composed of 75% of the active warship roster, the assault fleet would’ve been a formidable force had the enemy been not so advanced. In coming up with the assault plan Jarjat came to the conclusion that a mass transit was the only way. Aside from the battleships, which would transit normally, the fleet was expected to take 30% losses from interpenetration, which was about the same percentage the Urbanites experienced in the first battle of the war. The 150 Guard Battalions, the ships Jarjat made the Politburo agree to build for this battle, had two roles. First was to diffuse the fire of laser buoys, sparing the larger ships as much damage as possible. The second role was to the assist the larger ships in clearing a section of the expected Fendalen minefield.
     Not for the last time Jarjat wished the battleship he selected as his command ship had a proper CIC. He had to make do with auxiliary control, using the station normally occupied by the executive officer. There was no holoimager as was found on the main bridge, but the flat panel screen at the front of the compartment was large enough for Jarjat’s purpose. He combed the grey fur under his chin as he reviewed the force disposition, each screen icon blinking yellow as he scrolled through them.
     The first wave was composed of 27 beam and 27 missile CAs, 30 CLs, 54 DDs, 12 DDs converted into shuttle carriers, 90 ESs, 12 CA buoy killers-turn-minesweepers, 150 EXs and 4 BBs. Each of the subsequent four waves contained 5 BBs each. Excluding the 4 BBs, from the 402 ships in the simultaneous transit 121 were expected to interpenetrate and be destroyed. As for the heading of the first wave it was completely arbitrary since the fixed defenses were believed to be the same strength all around the warp point. Plus there was no guarantee that he enemy ships were going to be in the same spot had a probing force gone in to look. Marching through those minefields first would be all the cruisers, destroyers and the Guard Battalions (those that survived the initial buoy attack, naturally). Only when the minefield section was sufficiently reduced would the ESs be allowed to move away from the warp point. Their targets were the enemy carriers. Assault shuttles from those surviving Burden DDVs would do their best to protect the fleet from Fendalen fighters.
     With nothing more to do Jarjat barked out final orders to his staff and donned his pressure suit helmet. Well, Premier Alart, he thought as he checked the helmet seals, in a few minutes you’ll either be awarding me medals or verbally pissing on my grave. The bulk of the fleet had been stationed 16 light-seconds away from the warp point, engines inactive, giving the Fendalens an incomplete picture of Venda’s defenses. Eight minutes later the squadrons and flotillas had achieved their positions in the formation. Jarjat barked approval. “The fleet will proceed according to the transit schedule,” he announced like a tidal wave about to break an ocean liner.


Task Force KB-41, having kept watch over the Anvil/Venda warp point for the better part of four months, changed its relative bearing to the warp point frequenty. From a minimum of six hours to as long as two days the task force moved clockwise around the invisible flaw in space. This was done just in case the Vendians had developed pinnace technology of their own. After all they had several opportunities to scan Fendalen pinnaces when they probed the initial Anvil defenses, not to mention the probes done to keep tabs on the Vendian home system defenses. Right now the ships were on the subjective ‘southeast’ side of the warp point.
     Alarms blared as the first VSN battleship emerged just before the mid-day meal. In the Lord Cannon’s CIC Admiral Corrsyd, commanding the task force during the current duty rotation, watched as pre-arranged orders were sent automatically. Until relieved by Admiral Ayypha it was Corrsyd and his staff that would be running the battle. From all appearances it appeared to be a regular assault, but then the other shoe dropped after the third battleship made transit.
     “Tactical, confirm the number of ships,” Corrsyd said urgently. The enemy had made a mass transit; judging by the number of interpenetration explosions there had to be hundreds of ships.
     With antennae shaking the Lt. Commander at the tactical station still spoke with a clear voice. “Sir, that transit was composed of at least 400 ships, of which 122 interpenetrated. 59% of the remainder are either escorts or explorers. The rest comprise of  48 CAs, 20 CLs, 46 DDs, and 4 BBs. All enemy ships are facing Mine Park #5.”
      “Five CAP squadrons have targeted the BBs and one CA,” said the officer controlling the twelve squadrons on combat area patrol around the warp point. The task group’s other 64 squadrons, once they launched, were under the control of Admiral Lyrvek’s strike wing commander.
     The closest Fendalen ships, the beam and standard-missile combatants, were three light-seconds from the warp point. Despite the distance, transit-addled weapons and ECM the Vendians still had their numbers. The Phalanx class BB Armguard was destroyed and her sister ship, Blackguard, lost 60% of her shields. Only one automated weapons ship reached action stations in the first few seconds. It activated one hundred laser buoys which in turn lacerated the larger enemy ships present, doing minimal damage due to the shear number of ships involved. Armguard was avenged with the destruction of one BB, 2 beam CAs, 2 missile CAs, and 6 DDs. 3 BBs were either heavily or severely damaged, 2 beam CA and 2 missile CAs were mortally damaged or immobilized, and one CL had very light energy beam damage. The detonation chamber fail-safes on one of Corrsyd’s Incendiaries activated. Tarpitch reported it would be at least four minutes before her chamber was reset and ready to fire again.
     As for the minefield the automated weapons ship could only reprogram one section of it at a time. The controller on duty made the call and selected Mine Park #4 to a more aggressive engagement parameter. On the face of it, and as Corrsyd later wrote in his report, it was the better choice. By turning and going through MP #4 the Vendians would’ve been able to engage the task force ships that much quicker. However the Senior Fleet Director in charge of the first wave was dead and his subordinate carried on with the operational orders. Whatever minefield section the fleet was facing when it made transit would be the one to be breached.
     Just five battleships entered in the second wave, but Corrsyd only saw that happen on a secondary repeater screen. He watched as 3 BBs, all the CAs, CLs, DDs and EX vessels enter MP #5. Even at their normal engagement parameter all one hundred mine patterns did some damage. Not making it to the other side of MP #5 was the three first wave BBs, exploding after a few paltry hits. One beam CA, already heavily damaged, was dispatched halfway through while the remaining CAs just suffered shield damage. The CLs and DDs experienced significant internal damage. Just 53 mine patterns plus change were left in MP #5. The EXs stayed behind, doing a deadly dance to attract the mines and further thin out their numbers. Clearly the Vendians were expecting mines and had done right by running so many ships together so as to reduce the number of overall attacks. Corrsyd was glad that had the enemy waited just a bit longer, and had the cruisers mounted targeting scanners and tractor beams, they could’ve completely cleared MP #5. He did notice that the ships turned 60° to port, indicating their intention to engage his ships closer.
     Three carriers spat out 21 squadrons, though it would be another two minutes before they were in attack position. Corrsyd needed them sooner for he saw ten of the VSN destroyers launch 120 assault shuttles. In turn those assault shuttles targeted the CAP squadrons that hadn’t fired yet. Only two of the seven remaining CAP squadrons became active and attacked the battleships. As one the ten shuttle destroyers completed their 180° turns and transited out as a group (by some miracle none interpenetrated on the other side).
     With their movement the break-out force was now 3.5 LS away from the nearest Fendalen ships. Now free of transit effects their weapons had much more impact. Corrsyd cringed as the Blackguard and three destroyers were pummeled to death by so many forces beams. The battleship Spear had lost 60% of its passive defense, and the assault shuttles shot down all seven fighter squadrons atop the warp point. For that loss the fleet and fighters were able to wreck two of the new BBs, destroy 3 CAs and 6 CLs with two more CAs with internal damage.
     No other buoy tender reached action stations so it was up the sole active one. Another hundred buoys detonated and spewed their nuclear-pumped lasers into their foes. Only one crawling CL and CA were done in, but MP #5 was brought up to maximum engagement parameters. Watching as the Vendians beyond the minefields turn yet again, facing his formation directly, Corrsyd made a critical decision. He talked into a comm line that connected him to all the ship division commanders. “All active frontline datagroups will advance at fleet speed towards the enemy. Follow targeting priorities as directed by my tactical officer.”
     The range had dropped to 2.25 light-seconds. As the third wave battleships entered the minesweepers turned and re-entered MP #5. All the EXs had by this time been destroyed. It was a slaughter, the modern equivalent of running herd animals across a meadow covered in landmines, but it worked, leaving just 26 patterns. While the assault shuttles took a detour to savage a buoy park the big ships trade more substantial beam volleys. 29 more squadrons were launched from activated carriers.
     Apparently whoever was in command of the ‘midget-Isset’ was still raring to clear MP #5, sending in 59 Urbanites and 3 Pioneers with maximum possible engine modulation engaged. Of that number one was rendered engineless and left adrift in the minefield while the rest made it across but two of them coasted without a drive field. Nine more patterns were cleared out, though.
     One squadron of Five Cycle Plan CAs had phenomenal luck, hitting the Spear with all fifteen force beams. One Phalanx and another Incendiary shared Tarpitch’s bad luck, fail safes shutting down their detonation chambers for three minutes. After the Spear fell it was followed by the Tarpitch and three Infantry DDs. Another Incendiary was badly mauled. What was thrown back was two Chairperson BBs finished off with 8 more with little or no passive defenses left thanks to the capital missile ships. Eight CAs, ten CLs, and six CA(MS) were gone.
      Meanwhile the 120 assault shuttles had shot up 48 of the 70 buoys in Buoy Park #4. Though another buoy tender had become active only 80 buoys, armed with cut-down energy beams, received targeting parameters and open fired. Set to a range of a quarter of a light second, only the eight Chairperson BBs on the warp point were targeted. Great electrical discharges danced along the hulls while internal systems were burned out due to overloads.
     Corrsyd noticed that Admiral Ayypha had joined the command net. “Admiral, will you be assuming command of the task force?” he said respectfully.
     “That is a negative, Corrsyd,” replied the Admiral. “You’re already doing what I would’ve done. Carry on.”
     “Aye, Aye, Sir,” replied the grateful subordinate. He looked at a repeater plot. The five remaining squadrons from the CAP had reached the carriers as the last 14 took off. The 21 squadrons that launched previously had cut their speed in half and employed erratic maneuvering. With this they became much harder targets for the assault shuttles which had closed the gap and were now at point blank range. For being almost unable to hit anything the shuttles were reduced to 16 in number and bagged only one fighter, though each squadron had to fire 1/3 of their fRAMs in the process.
     Those task force elements that had moved earlier were now 0.75 LS from the Vendian CAs and DDs (the three remaining CLs and two CAs were unable to move) and 1.0 LS from the warp point. More recently activated datagroups were 1.75 LS from the warp point. Corrsyd’s forward ships had turned to port, facing directly at the mobile enemy. First to fire were the three active Awls. Capital energy beams inflicted grievous hurt on three second-wave BBs and plasma guns immobilized one DD and destroyed another. One of the remaining shuttles was shot down by the Awls’ capital point defense for it was in the optimum engagement envelope. A trio of beam CAs fired on Accelerant, revealing that they still had close assault missiles on their external racks. She almost broke in half in the exchange.
     Two Five Cycle Plans were destroyed along with one made into a wreck by a trio of Incendiaries. CNF Jarjat, arriving in a fourth wave battleship, witnessed his fleet being devastated. He didn’t even flinch as his ship was half-wrecked by anti-matter sprint mode missiles fired by a Cavalier squadron. Even though five of the enemy BCs have been destroyed in his presence Jarjat was just relieved that it was about to be over. Three BBs, 17 CAs, 3 CLs, and 13 DDs were blown apart without the help of rampaging fighter squadrons. A mere seven e-buoys fired, adding salt to the wounds of the Chairpersons still on the warp point.
     A brainstorm occurred in Jarjat’s resigned mind. He ordered the Urbanites, Pioneers and the worst-off BBs into the depleted mine patch. The intention was to swamp the mines so that the two Pioneers could escape with the recordings they made of the battle. Perhaps something could be salvaged from this unmitigated disaster after all. It was fatalistic hope but in this instance it actually worked. As the fifth and final wave of BBs entered the Urbanites did their deadly dance in MP #5. It was their sheer number that allowed one Pioneer to escape unscathed through the warp point.
     Between the fighters and beam weapons at knife-fighting range only 2 BBs and 5 CAs remained three minutes after the battle started. All were dead in space thanks to the Awls’ energy beams. Marine boarding parties were dispatched to secure the hulks. The handful of VSN assault shuttles were swarmed by the third wave of fighters and died in a forest of anti-matter fireballs. Only one Pioneer and 10 Burdens escaped. Overall RN losses were 3 BBs, 6 BCs, 1 CL, 9 DD, 43 fighters and 5,820 personnel. One CL was badly damaged, 97 patterns of mines expended and 251 buoys were used and/or destroyed.
     In post-battle tabulation it was revealed that the VSN lost 65,007 dead. 34,393 managed to use escape pods but only 23,387 were picked up because RN survivors had priority and transport space was limited.
     It was the opinion in the fleet that the VSN had shot its bolt and the best time to assault Venda was now. Yet, despite reassurances that forces would be on hand to do that none had arrived. Admiral Ayypha kept that in mind as he compiled the definitive report for the King.


Moments after the prisoner disembarked in the Strider’s shuttle bay word spread as fast as lightning. A high-ranking Vendian officer, an admiral at least, was being held in the ship’s brig. The word spread just as quickly when it was learned that Archduke Wonset himself was coming aboard to see the prisoner. All of the Strider’s off-duty pilots, after affixing shuttle kill symbols to their fighters, lined up in the hallway outside the brig. Only the Old Man (Prince Sajel) and Nutjob were allowed inside for some reason. They looked through the bars, regarding the despondent-looking Vendian with curiosity.
     Nutjob looked at the prisoner and consulted his datapad several times before finding what he was looking for. “Ah, Old Man, this is rich! If I’m reading this right, and those symbols on his suit are correct, then we have the top man of the Vendian Navy himself!”
     “The Chief of Naval Forces?” Sajel said incredulously. “For him to command a fleet in battle he must have a supreme ego or his boss the Premier forced him to do it.”
     Nutjob’s antennae twiddled with delight. “But think of the secrets he must have. He’ll have to be broken first, though. I wonder how messy it’ll get in there…”
     “Why should it get messy?” Nutjob recognized the voice as that of Archduke Wonset. The royal had entered the brig while Nutjob was talking. The pilot turned and bowed respectfully along with the guards. Unlike his previous visit to the carrier, Wonset was wearing his royal accoutrements. Even the prisoner took notice, sitting up straight on his bunk. He knew the big bug with the shiny metal arm and leg plates was somehow important. Wonset walked up to he bars, measuring up the Vendian. “This will be a pleasant occasion as long as our guest is willing to co-operate,” Wonset said in a measured manner.
     Nutjob had to say his peace, being excited that he was about to witness the fabled Zorak in action. “If he’s the head of their navy, my Lord, he won’t crack without a lot of effort. Or he could kill himself by means of a hollow-out tooth filled with poison.”
     “Oh, that just won’t do.” Wonset gave a conspiratorial nod to Sajel. He turned to the senior petty officer in charge of the brig. “Have all personal items been removed from the prisoner?”
     “Yes, my Lord,” said the petty officer. “What appears to be medicine is being checked by our doctor against the Vendian database. The prisoner refuses to say what the medicine is for.”
     “Hmm. If our prisoner did have poison on him he would’ve used it by now. I will interrogate him presently.” Wonset looked at an expectant Nutjob. “Young man, I have left a pouch under the seat in my cutter. Would you kindly fetch it for me?”
     That request made Nutjob’s day. “Yes, my Lord. I’d be honored to help.”
     “Uncle,” Sajel said after Nutjob left the brig, “you’re not actually going to torture this officer, are you? That’s what Nutjob is going to say out there while fetching your pouch. What we need to know will be found in the databases of the ships we’ve boarded after the battle. You’re just feeding the rumor mill and giving fresh life to your Zorak persona in the minds of the men.”
     Wonset noticed how the prisoner was watching him. He reproduced a harsh bark, startling the prisoner. “I decided it’s about time I take control of my Zorak character. With Nutjob as a witness he’ll be able spread the news far better than any official transcript. You have my word I won’t visit harm on our involuntary guest as long as he’s co-operative. Now, I want you to leave and shoo away those gawkers. For Nutjob to tell a convincing tale only he can be in there with me.” He saw the uncertain look on Sajel’s face. “By not having you in here it will lend credibility to his story, and your reputation will be spared in case something goes wrong.”
     Sajel nodded and smiled. “All right, Uncle. What challenge could one defeated communist admiral give to a man who made five Pulurtan officers talk after threatening them with a paperclip? Well, that what Nutjob said, after listening to an old NCO back at flight school.”
     “Oh, I think I won’t need the paperclip for this,” Wonset said. After a few minutes Nutjob returned with the pouch. Sajel excused himself, saying something to the effect of getting the ‘goldbricks’ outside to get some work done. Wonset felt the pouch, checking the weight to see if anything was missing. He nodded to the petty officer to have the cell door opened.
     “I needed my special tools for this job, Nutjob. He’s Jarjat, Chief of Naval Forces for the Vendian Space Navy. Paperclips and ceramic mugs won’t do on someone so tough.” He held up the pouch at eye level so that the now wide-eyed pilot and Jarjat could see, keeping his words at a level worthy of a straight man in a comedy routine. “I never go anywhere without my magic murder bag.”


The mood in the Politburo Building was dark. With news of the defeat everyone was sure that Premier Alart would've launched the diatribe of his life then die of a heart attack in front of everyone. Oddly, he was so restrained some thought he was on drugs. With him acting so uncharacteristically calm it was downright frightening.
     "So," Alart said, his voice reverberated in the spacious conference room, "had we known this fact in time our chance of success would've improved by an order of magnitude?"
      "That is correct," said Harhan, a senior Politburo member. "In conjunction with developing our own mine technology ways were explored on how to eliminate minefield patterns. One way was to simply overwhelm them with sheer number of ships. This was the method championed by CFN Jarjat." Harhan watched to see if Jarjat's name provoked any reaction from Alart. Not so much as a dismissive growl came from the Premier, so Harhan continued. "Another way is to use a significant number of well-protected ships equipped with massive point-defense batteries. Finally, and this was only discovered a few weeks ago but not told to us, by use of long range or targeting scanners certain beam weapons and tractor beams could be used to sweep away entire patterns of mines."
     "Why was it that Jarjat was informed and we were not?" Alart didn't need to add the fact that Jarjat saw fit not to inform the Politburo himself. Breaching the minefield would've entailed far fewer casualties had the ships been properly equipped. It seemed Jarjat was so intent on keeping his word that he would rather court defeat than wait.
     Harhan turned to another seated figure at the conference table, growling contempt. "It was the responsibility of the Bureau of Science and Engineering to inform us."
     With everyone now looking at him with righteous accusation Panpar whimpered. "Waiting would've only served the enemy!" he shouted. "Had I made my recommendations the assault would've been pushed back by two months, perhaps three!"
     Instead of yelling or pounding the table with his shoe, as was his wont, Alart merely barked order. "Jarjat will still go down in history," as well into Hell, Alart thought to himself, "as a hero of the people. His failure was that of pride. Your failure, Panpar, was neglect of the highest order." He allowed his voice to fill with a bit of emotion. "If our socialist order falls then it was not due ot Jarjat's defeat, but you!"
     The other Politburo officials yelped approval, moving away so as to leave a clear zone around Panpar. Alart stood up, raking the side of his fur-lined face with his abbreviated claws. "If we still had tails then I would've cut off yours and then beat you with it to an inch of your life! You will be disgraced and banished for the rest of your life to the arctic mining camp of Frostborn." Located in a mountain chain that barely earned the title Frostborn was just one hundred miles shy of Venda's north pole. The mine had one advantage over hell in that at least there was sunshine for half the year. "Also befitting your failure of all Vendians, you will be castrated. You won't be able to pleasure yourself or anyone else since you deprived nearly one hundred thousand of our brave navy personnel of their lives. Guards! Take him away!"
     Two immaculately dressed soldiers dragged Panpar away. Alart waited until the sound of Panpar's shoes scrapping along the floor could no longer be heard. He then turned to his Politburo underlings. "Now that dung heap is gone we better make the most of the mess we're in. Harhan, is it safe to assume our defenses can hold until our fleet is rebuilt?"
     “Yes, Premier. With the refits nearing completion, and the construction of new slips taking up the slack, we will have a new, much more capable fleet in six months. Along with the anticipated perfection of mines in two months, plus more buoy weapons, we can hold even against a mass attack if the enemy is willing to try and die.”
     “Good, good, my dear Harhan. With the new small craft being built next month to counter Fendalen fighters we have a chance. Since any new offensive is going to depend on a core of heavy ships we should increase the number of battleships and heavy cruisers under constructions. We need a balanced trade-off between essential R&D efforts and construction.” Alart sat back down in his chair. “Have your staffs work all night. I want viable budgets for us to debate about this time tomorrow.”
     “Yes, Premier,” said the assemblage of Politburo members.


After the stewards cleared the Lord Brandy’s ward room the admirals brought out their datapads. Ayypha, Corrsyd, Fekedja, and Lyrvek were going to give succinct reports to Archduke Wonset. In turn he was going to tell what he learned in his conversion (it couldn’t by any stretch of the imagination, save Nutjob’s surreal telling, be considered an interrogation) with Jarjat.
     “With the military data retrieved from one of the heavy cruisers,” Fekedja started, “we know that the VNS still possesses a formidable defense. In addition to 21 type-4 bases there’s 1,800 buoys protecting the warp point. As of five days ago, according to the sensor logs of the aforementioned CA, there are 9 BBs, 18 CAs, 12 CLs, 18 DDs, and 54 ESs sitting some ten light-seconds away from the Venda/Anvil warp point. No doubt they’ve closed the range considerably in order to support the beam bases. There are at least three CAs within 8 light-seconds of the warp point. Most likely they are buoy tenders. With so many buoys there’s bound to be more tenders we don’t know about.”
     Lyrvek picked it up from there. “As we’ve seen the VSN utilized dedicated assault shuttle carriers to offer a counter to our fighters. It’s likely that some of the bases and destroyers in Venda are shuttle platforms. After twice seeing our CAP in action it’s fair to say that they have a similar one in place. It’ll be very limited, only able to attack fighters directly. They could also ram our ships if they become desperate enough.”
     “Then there’s the method of their attack,” Corrsyd chimed in. “They’re still feeling their way to proper anti-mine tactics. What saved us from incurring further casualties was the lack of proper minesweepers. The ones they had were too few in number. Also lacking in long-range and targeting scanners, they couldn’t use their force beams in wide-angle mode. If they had thought of that just months ago, well, I’d say it would’ve been our junior officers giving the reports in our stead.”
     Ayypha didn’t need his datapad for his contribution. “The VSN threw their best shot at us and failed. Had they mounted a probing attack to gauge our defenses then they could’ve saved the bulk of their fleet. I’m glad that they followed through on their aggressive stance and attacked. Otherwise it would’ve been us mounting a mass transit attack, since only that kind of attack could we hope to win against 36 battleships and large numbers of smaller vessels, not to mention the fixed defenses.”
     Wonset felted his mangled rear antennae, making the admirals a little worried. He had been in more space combats than all of them combined, but this upcoming invasion of Venda would be the biggest operation for the Royal Navy to date. The implications for losses would weigh heavily on anyone, especially for one that sent many fine ships and crews to their deaths. “I’ve talked with this Jarjat character. Reading between the lines I’ve learned that the Politburo, the Vendian ruling body, is quite aggressive. Now that they have an enemy worthy of the wrath of the state, they won’t quite until they’re incapable of fighting. Jarjat is as ambitious as they come, and with the way he referred to the leader, Premier Alart, it was clear that he wanted his position. A considerate admiral would’ve probed first. Jarjat came in blind and treated his ships and men like bullets. He said so himself. His only regret was that he didn’t include all his battleships in the mass transit so that he could’ve killed more of our ships. With some prodding he added that in six months time the fleet would be strong enough again to assail our defenses.”
     “He freely gave this information?” Ayypha asked. “Is he so self-assured that he considers this defeat as a speedbump for his navy?”
     Wonset nodded agreement. “With their heavy industrialization there is no doubt in his words. Jarjat needed very little coaxing to talk. He’s as greedy for food as he is for power. In fact he has diabetes, needing to take medication to control it. I’ve arranged to have his medication returned contingent on his continued co-operation. He’ll need it, after eating all the cookies I gave him.”
     Corrsyd looked perplexed. “Cookies? My Lord, you made him talk by bribing him with cookies?”
     Wonset was almost insufferably pleased. “That I did, Admiral. Appealing to and providing for one’s base desire is far more effective than torture. In a previously captured database I discovered Jarjat’s naval academy entry. Our captured foe, as a first year cadet, was made to eat all the cookies he received from his mother in one sitting. Instead of making him sick, he developed such a fondness of cookies that he became the cookie-speed-eater in their academy. He would rather keep the vice of cookie eating and endure diabetes than give it up.”
     “As true and amusing as that is, my Lord,” Ayypha said, “there’s the matter of getting into Venda. Had the task groups you’ve mentioned arrived as promised we could’ve been making toasts to the King on the other side of the warp point.”
     “Yes, about that, Admiral. I was expecting them too, but the King had overridden the orders. Our expected task groups are lined up between here and Bhohim space.”
     “Bhohim space?” Fekedja leaned forward on his saddle-like seat. “Has there been trouble?”
     “Far from it, Admiral,” Wonset said regally. “The Bhohim Enclave has stated its desire to become partners with our Kingdom earlier this year. Our King honored that request and, as of last month, the Bhohim have been our allies.” He saw the reactions of his admirals. This was the first time they heard this news. Indeed they were the first ones in the whole task force, aside from Wonset, that knew. He raised a forestalling hand to explain further. “Nine years may seem a short amount of time to convert a foe to a friend, but the Bhohim are sincere in their desire to have an enduring relationship with our Kingdom. I can vouch for that desire, for I was part of the negotiating team before I was sent here to the front. They have found that they can have more wealth by being our allies than as potentially antagonistic neighbors.”
     Ayypha hit the table with the palm of his hand. “That still doesn’t explain the reasoning behind why the ships I need are elsewhere. If anything their absence has prolonged the war, and by inference increase the number of deaths we’ll have to endure.”
     Wonset had been expecting that question from Ayypha. “As for the task groups they’ve been stationed on the route from here to Bhohim space as a display of strength. When the SSF task force travels down that route they will see just how powerful our navy has become in the interim. They will be suitably impressed, and thankful that they haven’t had to face it like the Vendians are now.”
     “Task force, my Lord?” Lyrvek questioned. “Why would we need a Bhohim task force to finish a one-system, albeit still dangerous, foe?”
     “I would agree, Lyrvek, but when the Enclave heard about the Vendians from the King they immediately offered a task force to assist us. You see, communism is anathema to the oligarchs of Bhohim. They will spare no effort to see what they consider a threat to their way of life. The ships and technology of the SSF will more than redress the needs for our assault.”
     Fekedja was still dealing with the implications. Now with Bhohim ships to supplement his own the prospect of winning without stifling losses was possible. “This should be interesting, my Lord. Our King is wise and shrewd in the ways of negotiation and politics. He deserves to be praised.”
     With his antennae fully extended (the front pair, at least) Wonset stood up. “You will have that chance, friend. King Kysjyt will be here in five weeks, along with Chief Magistrate Peso, to personally oversee the conquest of the Peoples Socialist Republic of Venda.” All the admirals felt honor and pride that their king would soon be with them. Everyone would become inspired and perform that much more for the sake of Kysjyt. “Now, I propose that we toast to the beneficence that is my nephew.”
     “We have no wine or even tea to make a toast,” said Corrsyd. “It’ll take a few minutes to have the stewards fetch the appropriate materials.”
     “Then we improvise, Admiral.” Wonset still had on his person his now fleet-famous ‘magic murder bag.’ He drew out a container that, according to a pilot by the call sign of Nutjob, was filled with ‘confession cookies’, handing one each to the admirals. Raising his cookie up like it was venerated object, Wonset waited until everyone else had done so and then spoke strongly. “Hail King Kysjyt! The one true monarch of all Fendalens!”
     “Hail King Kysjyt! The one true monarch of all Fendalens!” sounded the chorus of admirals.



05/11/07
updated 05/30/07

 

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