The Gyst - Chapter 9

Chapter 9.25

Chapter 9.50

Chapter 9.75

The arrival of additional reinforcements, not to mention the King, was welcomed by the crews of Task Force KB-41. With the war against the Venda entering its seventh month many felt the concluding battle was on hand. King Kysjyt brought with him new ships, which included several examples of a new minesweeper class that was larger than a dreadnought. There was also a convoy of transports, holding over 1,700,000 troops. As momentous an occasion by having the King present it was who he brought with him that generated even greater news.
      Chief Magistrate Peso, leader of the Bhohim Enclave, traveled to the Anvil system in Kysjyt’s company, bringing a task force and troops of his own. With a treaty of partnership between the Enclave and the Kingdom no effort was wasted on Peso’s part to show his commitment to the alliance. His ships were orientated for the assault role, thick with armor and capital beam weapons. Even those officers that still harbored ill-feelings towards the Bhohim had to admit that their chances for success had increased by an order of magnitude.
      A reception was held aboard Kysjyt’s flagship, the City class dreadnought Iron Gate. The two rulers were attended by various senior RN and SSF officers as well as Archduke Wonset and Prince Sajel. Also in attendance was Princess Yantyl. Fourth child of the King, Yantyl had been on hand when the partnership treaty was signed in the Enclave system of Inheritance. She also held an active commission in the Armored Knight Corps at the rank of field major. Among the transports was her command, a battalion of combat engineers. Along with a cadre of SSF officers she listened with rapt attention to her younger brother as he described his strike fighter combats. More than one Bhohim in the group slapped their foreheads for not carrying through their AFSC concept to the next level: the prototype strike fighter.
      With the reception over Kysjyt held a meeting with his admirals in Iron Gate’s wardroom. Archduke Wonset sat at his right side. Also in attendance was Admiral Dinar, commander of the SSF task force. Naturally the topic was the impending assault on Venda. It was agreed that the first eight assault waves would be comprised wholly or in part of SSF units. The two Roi class DN(V)s, each loaded with 60 AFSCs, would tear up buoys and any patrolling assault shuttles with ease. Dinar was in turn impressed by the capabilities of the first generation strike fighter and anti-matter warheads. He waited as Kysjyt set the stage for revelation of a technology that the RN hadn’t even come close to developing.
      “Admiral Ayypha,” the King said like a teacher calling upon a student to answer a question, “were you successful in gauging the defenses of Venda in the past six weeks?”
      Ayypha, commander of KB-41, looked a bit troubled for his back antennae drooped. “No, your Majesty. In the past six weeks we’ve tried three pinnace probes. None have returned. I’m afraid it will either take a mass transit of all our remaining pinnaces to get a good read on the defenses or sending in a probing force of minesweepers.”
      Kysjyt rubbed the side of his crown with his ring finger. “I see. It will take a major probe to gauge our enemies’ strength. Twenty pinnaces would fail to get an accurate account due to their limited scanner range, not to mention the close attention of the platforms. The records from the cruiser you’ve captured in the failed Vendian assault indicated at least ten platforms ringing the warp point at one-quarter of a light-second distance. It will take a mass of minesweepers and Bucklers to get a true reading, especially if the Vendians had finally developed and deployed mines.”
      “As long as we get one drone back it will be worth it,” said Admiral Fekedja, commander of TG 412. “Even without mines, those close-in platforms and buoy parks will press our true assault harshly. The SSF’s heavy energy beams and AFSCs will help cut them down but it will take time.”
      “It always comes down to time. Either you have too much of it or not enough.” Kysjyt smiled, putting his admirals at ease. “I’m fully aware that, based on your initial data, Ayypha, that you felt you could’ve crushed the Vendian defenses six weeks ago. In all likelihood it would’ve been a victory, but the losses would’ve been heavy. Undoubtedly they’ve made good their reprieve and reinforced their position. As much as I want to end the war as soon as possible it just wouldn’t do having our fleet crippled in the processes. When I call upon the enemy to surrender it will be done from a position of strength. Doing so from a wrecked command deck of a cruiser would only fill them with false courage and a sense of unwarranted accomplishment.
      “The probe will in the most part be destroyed, but their effort will be justified. Our new Bhohim friends,” Kysjyt indicated to Dinar, sitting on the left side of the table, “have a weapon system that will not only revolutionize warp assaults but also reduce our casualties when the true assault moves in. Admiral Dinar, please explain.”
      Dinar’s shade of yellow was darker than the average Bhohim, indicating that he was well-aged to match his seniority in the SSF. His antennae flicked up to full height as he spoke. “In the post-war period the Space Security Force was engaged in discovering new methods and technologies to conduct more successful and less costly warp assaults. First among these were capital energy weapons, followed by a dedicated carrier for our advanced attack craft. Last year our scientists successfully completed a project by which enemy bases and ships can be bombarded by warp-capable missile pods.” The RN officers sat up straighter in their chairs, especially Fekedja since his battleships and battlecruisers would be involved in the main attack.
      “In fleet exercises,” Dinar continued, “our missile pod attacks were most successful when the number and type of enemy ships and bases are known beforehand. Losses incurred through interpenetration, though at a much lower level than that of ships, and how fast the enemy reaches battle stations are additional factors to consider. If all the pods fire at the same time datalink point defense won’t be much of an issue. Either the enemy will let their units defend themselves individually as best they could or sacrifice two to better insure the survival of one.”
      “How many missiles does each of these warp-capable pods carry?” Fekedja asked curiously.
      “Three missiles equivalent to your long-range bombardment type,” Dinar said proudly. “The pods themselves are only good for one firing, and the number required to be truly effective is expensive. In terms of lives saved for the attacker, however, it is a worthwhile investment.”
      Ayypha was intrigued. “Fascinating. How many pods did you bring?”
      “2,000 pods. That’s an expenditure greater than sixteen of your Phalanx class battleships.” Dinar allowed that fact to sink in for a moment. “Taking out the enemy bases and automated weapon control ships will go a long way in reducing our overall losses. It’s far easier to replace pods than building and manning sixteen battleships, don’t you agree?”
      “You can’t buy blood that’s already spilt,” Ayypha answered with an ancient Fendalen saying. “Your achievement is worthy of praise. Combined, your ships and our strike fighters the Vendians will melt away like snowflakes in a furnace. Our staffs should meet so that co-ordination between our forces is maximized.”
      “My thought exactly, Admiral,” Dinar said approvingly.
      Kysjyt looked at Ayypha directly, antennae facing forward in a sign of intense attention. He also pointed the Diamond Scepter at him. “Admiral, my uncle has informed me that the ships for the probe assault can be readied in as little as ten minutes. Is that correct?”
      “Yes, your Majesty,” Ayypha said truthfully.
      “Admiral, I have come to a new decision in regards to the assault, especially in the light of the captured data. As you know, when the war started, I ordered all the Flares in mothball storage to be reactivated and modernized. With that done, I ordered them to come here. I felt that they would be needed again, especially when it was learned that the Vendians just had one system left to their name. That was the one of the main reasons why your assault was delayed. In light of the facts, it was a fortuitous decision; otherwise we would’ve been waiting another three months. We can only imagine how much worse those unsmiling, bombastic fools would’ve made their home defenses.” The diamond on the scepter glinted so that a spot of light shone right between Ayypha’s eyes. For the admiral it might as well have been a laser beam. “I want the probe attack to commence at 0800 tomorrow morning. On my authority the Flares are to be used to make a mass transit into Venda and to mass transit right back out. Their tactical scanners will get a good read of the environs even in that short a period. Both your and Dinar’s staffs will then be able to come up with the best plan for the main attack based on the observed data.” Kysjyt finished in even a more assertive tone. “I want to be in the Vendian home system by this time next week.”
      “Your will fulfilled, my Majesty,” Ayypha replied stoically.


After the meeting Kysjyt went to his quarters with Wonset in tow. It was easily the most opulent cabin in the whole fleet save that of Peso’s on the Emerald Box. On hand was a pitcher of iced sweet tea which Wonset sipped a whole cup. “Bringing more ships and those new sweepers was enough to make the men happy,” the aged royal said. “This missile pod weapon system is the bolt from the blue we’ve been looking for. I’m ashamed to say that it should have been us that thought of it first.”
      “I’ll have to agree to that sentiment,” Kysjyt said, placing his scepter back into its padded travel case. “Our naval tradition is changing in the light of the strike fighter. We haven’t gone far enough or gained the inspiration to conceive of such a technology. For the Bhohim it was an investment perspective that inspired them.”
      Wonset placed his hand on the scepter case. “Speaking of inspiring, Nephew, you should be more careful on how you wield the scepter. In accordance to monarchal tradition, when the scepter is leveled at someone whatever the Monarch says at that point is considered an unbreakable verbal royal order. In not-so-ancient times if the recipient fails to complete the order he could be executed.”
      “Now you tell me, Uncle. No wonder Ayypha looked a little pale. I had no intention to make him feel like that.” Kysjyt took a sip of tea from his cup. “I was inspired by the images of past kings when they pointed their scepters at their generals and subordinate royalty. As a historical moment, I wanted my order to have an appropriate impact. Besides, Ayypha should be feeling relieved. I’m the one who ordered the use of the Flares.”
      “Are you going to make that general knowledge, Nephew? I agree that this probe will, on balance, lead to the saving of lives in the main attack. We must acknowledge, however, that this will entail the loss of the great majority of Flare crews, number over 11,000. That’s ten battleships worth. Ayypha will get criticism regardless of the outcome.”
      Kysjyt downed the rest of his tea. “Uncle, you know well enough that won’t happen. Before the probe tomorrow I will address the task force. My subjects will know that it was me who gave the order. I’ll accept whatever ill-feelings and criticisms that come from their hearts even as their minds tell them it was the only way, albeit an imperfect one. Until the day comes where such probes become an anachronism I will continue to authorize them. No-one else should be required to shoulder the burden of such a responsibility.”
      “That’s noble of you, Nephew. You’ve taken my lessons to heart, for which your father would’ve been proud.” In the cabin was one of the few examples of original furniture that came with the refugees of the Civil War, an ornate chair that came from the palace on Fendala. Wonset sat down on the royal chair wearily. “I think after this war you won’t need my services as they are now. Your prestige is such that you don’t need my reputation to act as a bodyguard. Your sons and daughters can represent you well enough now without having this old curmudgeon around to make people be on their best behavior.”
      “Uncle, you’re anything but a curmudgeon. An obstinate, stubborn mister-no-fun perhaps but never a curmudgeon.” Kysjyt laughing made Wonset laugh as well, for the last time his nephew referred to him like that was when he grounded the rascal for cutting up his aunt’s drapes to make a tent. “Actually, Uncle, I do have a new job for you after this war. With your skills you’re a natural, and your reputation would be enough for some to remain on your good side.”
      “Oh, so you want me to become the majordomo? The current one isn’t doing enough to keep those willful young maids in line,” Kysjyt said with histrionic deviousness.
      “I hadn’t thought of that, but I promise I won’t tell Auntie. No, Wonset, I want you to become the head of the Crown Office of Special Investigations. Not that you’ve been its shadow manager since its inception, but I want you to run it in an official capacity.”
      Wonset knew his nephew was being serious. He hardly ever called him by his first name, even in private. “I could’ve been running COSI for years if you so ordered it, Nephew. Why now?”
      “I’ve brought another surprise with me, and it’s not another weapon system. One of my aides, the cultural attaché Sythal, made some revealing remarks in a private party after the treaty signing ceremony. Though he may have been drunk, he openly called for the day that the monarchy was but a memory like what the Bhohim War had become. One of your able protégés inspected his private journals that night. No doubt at all that he’s a Foundation follower.”
      “Oh, those malcontents,” Wonset said knowingly. The Foundation, a group that sought to eventually replace the monarchy with a government that was more responsive to the people, was suppressed back in the early days of the Kingdom. “It seems that they’ve decided to become active again. If they managed to get one of their own into the foreign affairs ministry then it’s certain they have more elsewhere.”
      “Exactly. The current head of COSI, not to mention the senior managers, had failed to flag Sythal. If one go through the net then it’s not impossible for others to have done so. With you in charge COSI will be given a house cleaning. Additionally it’ll put the Foundation on notice that they’re under more scrutiny.”
      Wonset thought for a moment, then nodded. “I’ll do it, Nephew. I’ve been longing to get back to a steady line of work. Being a jack-of-all-trades royal can be tiring.”
      “I expected you to say something like that, Uncle. I bet you can’t wait to use your ‘magic murder bag’ on Sythal to twist out more secrets.” Kysjyt grinned as Wonset flushed with embarrassment, his antennae drooping. “Sajel told me everything in his most recent letter. You used that Zorak persona you earned in the Civil War to keep me in line as a kid, even the magic murder bag prop. That was all a show for Auntie Wykken’s benefit. When she wasn’t around you gave out cookies from that bag.”
      “You got me there, Kysjyt. I have found that my alter-ego has currency among our personnel, so I decided to capitalize it. Just don’t let anyone else know that I played the bogyman just to make you clean up your room. I’ll lose credibility otherwise.”
      “Your secret is safe with me, Uncle,” Kysjyt said smugly.

---

Though each day for the past six weeks made the defenders a little bit stronger the feeling of doom was also growing. No-one was aware of this more than Senior Fleet Director (3rd grade) Larlan. Of all the officers in his grade he was the most junior. His current assignment as commander of the warp point defenses was clearly rated for a 2nd grade SFD. He had a distinct impression, as well as actual knowledge, that his superiors were running scared. If they felt confident about the defense realities then it would be one of them in charge. As it was, they were in their own way admitting defeat, preferring to let a junior take the blame if the Fendalen assault should succeed.
      It was Larlan's conviction that the defenses would hold against the big bugs. Whereas two months ago he had just 21 platforms there were now 29. Currently four platforms were undergoing refit at the home world space station and six of the newer, larger types were nearing completion. Once all have been updated Larlan would have 39 platforms, and if the engineers keep their promise the 1800 buoys would be joined by hundreds of mine patterns and a few mine warfare control ships in one month.
      All of his armed mobile units were orbiting the warp point at 1.25 light-second range at a speed of 0.033c. Again the passage of time saw Larlan's numbers increase. Fifteen battleships, 24 heavy and 18 light cruisers, 21 destroyers, 6 survey frigates, 72 escorts and 30 explorers moved like sedate sharks, waiting for their chance to attack. Just like the platforms, this force was a mix of pre-war configuration, first refit, second refit, and new construction. Equipping the external racks of most of those ships were close assault missiles, expensively reversed-engineered from data gathered in previous battles against the Fendalens. Those units with the second refit, as well as those currently under refit or being constructed, were armed with the new plasma gun armament. Slower in the rearming cycle, the plasma gun nonetheless offered more destructive power than a comparable number of sprint-mode missile launchers and even outperformed the force beam in total damage output at its maximum range of 1.25 LS. The final weapon developed, and just deployed on the external racks of the missile platforms, was the capital missile. Work was still in progress on the internal launcher technology, but for now Larlan was happy that his missile platforms had a one-time punch that couldn't be ignored.
      Guarding against the fighter threat were the only six Selflessness buoy killer ships currently in the fleet and twelve Burden assault shuttle carriers. Just last month, however, a far better counter to enemy fighters was finally put in service. Three of the new platforms had enough hanger space for sixty each of the much-anticipated anti-fighter small craft. Based on an assault shuttle chassis, and slimmed down to the point where point defense would find them just as difficult to target as the accursed fighters, the AFSC would deliver a much needed boost in fleet security.
      Division Commander Dodox was in overall command of the assault shuttles and AFSCs. Like Larlan, Dodox was the most junior officer of his rank. Not because he was young, but because of his outspokenness held him back in the promotion list. When the AFSC project needed an officer to lead the squadrons no-one immediately stepped forward. In the VSN one does not volunteer: only after being selected by their seniors did junior officers apply themselves to their jobs. Not Dodox, and when he did it he had an ally in the Peoples Press Bureau (read Bureau of Propaganda) on hand when he reported for duty. He trained with his pilots and studied the reports on observed Fendalen fighter doctrine as well as ancient fighter combat texts on how to best employ his new craft. With his face in the public’s eye there was no way the higher-ups could dismiss him, so they made him a media hero but only in the context with the rest of his men. If by some miracle the defenses should hold Dodox would get his promotion to Squadron Director and then reassigned to a dead-end job until he got the hint to retire. The one thing that the Senior Fleet Directors hate the most is a smartass.
      Before the AFSC bases went on-line Dodox commanded the shuttle groups of the 12 Burden shuttle carriers. The one thing he instituted right away was a combat area patrol around the warp point. Initially this was just 144 assault shuttles on a rotating deployment of 36 at any one time. In this way he was able to give his trainees actual flight time instead of having them use simulators. Even so they were still painfully green. The 180 AFSC had only become available three weeks ago. Dodox had 45 of them accompany the CAP assault shuttles. A few more months, or even one combat, would smooth the rough edges and make them truly effective.
      To raise morale and inspire his pilots, Dodox came up with a nickname for the 1st Space Defense Division (comprising the 101st, 102nd, and 103rd Small Attack Craft Regiments and the 202nd and 203rd Assault Shuttle Regiments). He called the division the Dox Huns, combining the root of his name, which meant warrior, and that of an ancient tribe noted for its savagery. There was even a mascot, painted on the nose of each craft. It was a cartoon depiction of a modern-day pilot carrying an equally cartoony expired Fendalen in his mouth by the neck. The propaganda value of the new craft and their pilots was such that Premiere Alart himself was to be on hand in two days time to see a mock engagement involving units of the 1st SDD.
      Larlan was about to see Dodox on his platform regarding the impending Premiere review when the alarms went off. Still on-board his command post, a missile platform that mounted a buoy controller, Larlan made for the bridge at a run, and when he reached it he went right for the repeater station showing the status of the buoy parks. He gave the main plot a brief look, then felt wanting to disbelieve. “Confirm number of enemy ships!” he barked.
      “It was a mass transit, Director,” barked back a senior tech. “There are 318 explorer-sized vessels atop the warp point. Based on the number of interpenetration explosions the wave was composed of 450 vessels.”
      With such a commitment of ships Larlan knew this was an attack. The explorers had to be armed, he told himself, and given their size the weapon of choice had to be plasma guns. From the drones that came back in the last battle the Fendalens proved that they had the weapon so it was likely these tiny ships were equipped with them. Potentially the horde could destroy most of the beam bases. Larlan could only watch as his units scrambled to action stations.
      For all the firepower involved, including 400 laser buoys, only 168 of the 318 explorers were destroyed. Larlan was perplexed that the enemy didn’t even fire one weapon. It made no sense, but then he saw the 150 survivors turn. Before the active bases and ships could fire again the explorers faced their exit vector and escaped as a group. Lacking shields, the explorers were able to be probed by the tactical and long range scanners of the beam bases. Only then Larlan found out that the little ships weren’t armed but instead had tactical scanners of their own. Minutes went by without additional waves of enemy ships.
      “Sir,” Larlan’s tactical officer finally barked, “shall we conduct SAR operations to recover Fendalen survivors?”
      “What? Oh, yes,” the senior officer said absently. “Conduct standard SAR drill procedures. All enemy personnel are to be taken to Venda via shuttle once they have been processed aboard the platforms. Additionally, implement Fleet Plan 1C – all designated ships are to assume assigned positions one quarter of a light second from the warp point. If they attempt another mass transit our platforms will need as much help as they can get.”
      “Yes, Sir.”
      Larlan went to work on composing a report to be transmitted to Alart’s ship as soon as possible. With the threat of another attack it would be wise for the Premiere to return home until after the enemy’s true effort was crushed. The Peoples Press Bureau could then take all the pictures and interviews to their hearts’ content.

---

The combined RN and SSF staff was aboard Admiral Dinar’s flagship, the superdreadnought Silver Cloud, three hours after the return of the Flares. Just under 21% of the 450 survived, all of them damaged to a greater or lesser extent. Of that number 19 were unable to repair their life support and had to be evacuated. Eventually they would be towed to the repair area in orbit over Anvil B-2. Personnel losses (included those that may have escaped in life pods in Venda) numbered 9,114 with 84 injured. For the loss of little over eight battleships worth of crew a solid read of the enemy’s defenses was obtained.
      The staff crunched the numbers, ran scenarios, compared note and argued. At the end of the second day both Ayypha and Dinar were confident on the plan of action they finally agreed upon. Kysjyt and Peso were invited aboard to be briefed by the two senior officers. Held in Silver Cloud’s combat information center, the briefing took on an operatic atmosphere with the reduced lighting and incidental background sounds and comm chatter.
      “As you can see, Magistrate Peso,” Ayypha started, pointing towards the holographic display, “the Vendians had made good of their six week reprieve. Starting with the fixed defenses, there are thirteen beam bases ringing the warp point, of which ten are the same size as the ones we destroyed here in Anvil. The other three are slightly larger, equal in size to our type-4 bases. Sixteen equidistant bases, comprised of four groups of three and two groups of two, are 3 light-seconds out. They’re missile bases, of which six are the same size as our type-4s.”
      Dinar stepped in. “Most fortunate for us, your Highness, there were no mine patterns in the immediate vicinity. Had they any mines, the Vendians would not have failed to deploy them among their beam bases. The number of buoys remained the same at 1800 but 400 of those were expended on the Flares. I doubt that they will deploy more buoys to replenish the ones they’ve used. Had they any more on hand, they would’ve deployed them to begin with.” He adjusted the display so that it focused on a flight of assault shuttles. “They have a CAP of 36 shuttles, which means at least twelve of their thirty-three destroyers are shuttle carriers. In of itself they won’t pose that major a problem for fighters. However,” he changed the display to highlight another group of small craft, “this will be a problem.”
      “My SSF comrades inform me,” Ayypha said respectfully, “that those shuttles are in all likelihood analogues to their own small attack craft. The energy signatures and fire-control sensors are practically a match of those used by the SSF. With that group of 45 it is highly likely one or more of those bases are actually small craft support platforms. For a CAP that size they, at a minimum, will have 180 AFSC.”
      Kysjyt nodded. “No doubt, with this being their home system, those 30 explorers would be used for ramming attacks. Indeed, all their ships would be used for ramming attacks.”
      “They also have a forest of buoy parks to make up for their lack of mines,” Peso added. He took in the graphical display like a thirsty man to water. “Three rings at 0.25, 0.75, and 1.5 light-seconds with a total of 33 parks, each park in each ring holding roughly the same number of buoys. So destruction of the bases and suspected buoy control ships is a top priority.”
      “Absolutely correct, Magistrate,” Ayypha answered. “The staff came up with a deployment plan for the pods that has the best chance of success. The pod groups will deployed in a star pattern as they emerge from the warp point. Once they reach the 2 light-second mark, the pods will orbit the warp point for another fifteen seconds and then commence firing. All the bases and the four suspected buoy control ships will be targeted with enough pods to ensure their destruction or at least render them crippled. Of the 2000 pods only 60 will remain in reserve, to be used in case of urgent need.”
      “With the power of anti-matter close attack missiles,” Dinar added, “the sixteen fighter squadrons of the first wave will take care of the battleships. Our 120 AFSCs will intercept the enemy small craft both to cover the fighters and to prevent them from conducting suicide runs on our ships. Additionally, if a buoy controller remains active they’ll also destroy buoy parks before they’re expended. The second wave fighters, depending if they survive, will destroy any buoy tenders and missile bases, then tackle the heavy and light cruisers, especially those that have plasma gun armaments. Each of these second wave fighters will carry two close attack missiles and a laser pack, which will allow them to stay in the fight longer.”
      Kysjyt’s antennae flexed in agreement. “Excellent. How soon will the pod attack start?”
      “Tomorrow, your Highness, at 0815,” Ayypha said with conviction. “With the VSN Manual as reference, the enemy should be stepping down to normal status after conducting search-and-rescue operations for those pods that may have ejected from the Flares. The manual states a maximum of two days are to be spent on such an endeavor.”
      Peso’s antennae waved. “It will be world-shattering experience for the Venda. They cannot help but worry what other technologies we have waiting in the wings.”
      A chime sounded in the CIC, followed by the hologram display changing its graphics. A hostile scarlet icon appeared at the edge of the projection. With the scale and distance delineated by symbols it was determined the contact was some 72 light-minutes from the warp point. “It appears the background actors are about to make their final curtain call,” Ayypha said richly. “That is the last of the escorts the VSN sent in after losing the defenses over the Anvil/Pantry warp point. With the destruction of their supply and repair ship it’s the likely case they’re making a mad dash home. They will be disposed of with ease, and whatever drones they’ll fire off will be shot down before they can transit out.”
      “Undoubtedly your fighters can do it all alone,” Peso chimed, “but I was wondering if our ships can participate. In particular our light forces, since they won’t be involved in the main attack.”
      Dinar and Ayypha exchanged looks, then nodded consent. “It would be the only chance in hopefully a long time for them to fire their weapons in anger,” Dinar said. “I can task six destroyers and six frigates to finish off what the fighters leave behind.”
      “Very good, Dinar. Make it so.”


Chapter 9.25
Chief Squadron Commander (3rd Grade) Xexer was unhappy that his mission had ended in failure. For over six months his two flotillas of escorts had been waiting silently and patiently in the outer reaches of the Anvil-A component. The mission was to make the Fendalens send out search groups, thinning out their forces that would otherwise be used to assault Venda. Destroying those search groups was secondary and only allowed if they were small enough. So far the pale light of the red giant feebly reflecting off the ships was the only constant next to the tedium of waiting. Several times the long range scanners on Xexer’s ship picked up distant contacts, but each time those contacts failed to close in. For all he knew those contacts could’ve been just a solitary scout or an entire fleet.
     Then the flotillas ran critically short of supplies. Willing to reveal his location so as to get resupplied as well attract attention and entice the Fendalens to attack, Xexer took his ships towards the spot where a freighter and repair ship had been waiting silently for almost six months. A sensor contact appeared just as the flotillas entered extreme long range scanner range of the support ships. It was then that a distress message was picked up. The support ships were sending a coded omni-directional broadcast, informing Xexer that they were under attack.
     An enemy scout literally stumbled upon the two ships and the trailing squadron was upon them in no time. Some new information was gained in this attack, such as the new force beam weapon used by the three cruisers involved. With a reach of at least seven light-seconds the enemy could’ve stayed out of range of the feeble counter-fire. A prolonged torture session was avoided as the nine frigates accompanying the cruisers moved in and obliterated the duo.
     With supplies gone the only thing left was to dash to the Anvil/Venda warp point. There was no illusion that any of the ships would make it out. As for the flotillas’ 36 drones, a slim chance existed that at least one will get through if set at maximum speed. So the goal was to get as close to the warp point as a group before launching the drones. The big bugs weren’t about to let that happen.
     36 light-minutes from the warp point Xexer’s sensors had long since noted the presence of a drive field at the warp point. No doubt that the enemy has invested the area with defenses and ships. Then a new contact appeared and closed on his flotillas. At 12 light-minutes the contact evolved to 26. Tempted as he was, Xexer held his drones back. He wanted to see what these ships actually were so that information could be passed on. Closer in at 6 light-minutes a contact consistent with that of a small craft appeared. If they turned out to be fighters Xexer was going to wait to see the results of their attack. He knew that those devilish craft carried weapons that could crush his ships at will.
      The one disadvantage with being motionless and distant for six months was that Xexer had no idea that the Fendalens had a new fighter weapon. Had he been in range of Mensat, Cascal, Benbet and Keltet’s commands he would’ve heard their coded omni-directional messages. Looking at the small main sensor plot aboard his Pioneer Xexer noted that in three minutes he’ll know if the contact was either a single cutter or a swarm of fighters.
      20 fighter squadrons were indeed closing on Xexer’s 34 Urbanites and 2 Pioneers. One of the squadrons was the 1003rd, normally commanded by Prince Sajel. For this attack Sajel gave the honor to his wingman and second-in-command, a pilot by the callsign Nutjob. The Prince had full confidence in Nutjob’s abilities as well as those of everyone else in the strikewing. After the war Nutjob was assured to get a squadron command of his own, so Sajel gave him this opportunity to put a ‘green check’ on his record to cinch the deal. Moreover it wasn’t possible for this mission for Sajel to lead, for he had a guest occupying the rear seat instead of himself.
      Lt. Commander Talent, second in command of the 1st AFSC Wing stationed on the Roi, was comfortable despite the fact the cockpit wasn’t an exact fit for her Bhohim physiology. Two weeks before the King’s arrival Sajel had his fighter modified so that it could accommodate a Bhohim. This required removing almost all the equipment from the rear cockpit and installing a reclined seat. As far as how safe it was Nutjob, being the wiseacre, suggested that Jarjat, the captured Vendian admiral, be used to test it. After all, he argued, Jarjat was a biped just like a Bhohim. There was no way Wonset was going to approve such a test, much less Ayypha, so Sajel had Strider’s engineers and chief medical officer construct a Bhohim-style mannequin to occupy the seat. After a battery of tests, which included having the fighter perform extreme maneuvers, the seat and attending life-support adaptations was declared fit for use.
      “Old Man,” Talent said, using Sajel’s callsign as he requested earlier, “how soon to the release point?”
     Sajel spoke Bhohim, though it was accented in a way that sounded like a saw cutting into sheet metal. “Two minutes. With our loads we’ll be cutting their force almost in half.”
     On her part Talent’s accented Fendalen sounded like dice being rolled. “Would the results been greater if all the squadrons were first generation?”
     “Yes, they would,” Sajel acknowledged. “However, the pilots of the 1st and 2nd Carrier Divisions have the most combat experience in the task force. We can use our stand-off missiles better than anyone else. Otherwise it would take a strike completely composed of first-generation fighters and a mixed load of stand-off and close attack missiles.” He stopped for a moment to acknowledge a command from Nutjob. “The speed of the escorts doesn’t help matters. Each fighter would’ve carried two stand-off and one close-attack missile so enough speed was gained to chase them down. It’s a certainty that some fighters would be lost going that route.”
     “Even with reduced numbers one or more of our ships will be significantly damaged,” Talent said back. “This is a side-show for the consumption of our superiors. They want to see each other toys in action to pass the time.”
     “That’s a rather frank observation, Talent,” said in a playful tone that managed to get through his accent. “I hope you’ll be just as frank when you return and push for the immediate development of strike fighters for the SSF.”
     “You know I will, Old Man.”
     At a range of 1.25 LS the 20 squadrons unleashed their loads. Talent only felt a slight shake as the fighter’s trio of missiles leapt from their launch rails. Both Nutjob and Sajel were pleased that their squadron claimed one of the seven Urbanites utterly destroyed. Five more lost their point defense and an engine room each with two more barely able to crawl. One held on by just its force beam mount. More complete kills would’ve been scored but ten of the squadrons were prototype fighters, only able to carry two-thirds the load of their more advanced brethren.
     Xexer was irked that 42% of his force was either gone or damaged with no loss to the enemy. He ordered those ships unable to keep up to immediately launch their drones and to proceed as best they could to the warp point. One concession he made was having the crew on the immobilized Urbanite picked up by a squadronmate that was unable to keep up with the full-speed survivors. He also reformed datalinks among his broken ship divisions.
     A portion of the approaching enemy broke off and turned around. The appearance of six destroyers and six frigates gave Xexer not even a small sense of pleasure. Accompanying those ships were 10 more squadrons of fighters. Also, the twelve ships had drive field frequencies different from that of Fendalens, meaning that these newcomers had to be allies of the big bugs. Otherwise they would’ve been destroyed by the fighters first. Xexer decided then and there to have his remaining ships launch their drones at maximum speed though it was becoming clear that none of them had a hope of breaking out. If the enemy only sent out light units to engage him, then his heavy units at the warp point would easily swat down the drones.
     Going to maximum engine modulation Xexer allowed the fighters to close on his position. It was here he learned that a fighter’s fire-control system was less readily fooled by ship ECM. Only two of the ten targeted ships were destroyed, but the rest were damaged with only one not slowed. The other Pioneer and one Urbanite were only able reach 37% of their top speeds. Otherwise every Urbanite still had their weapon, which counted the most. Xexer slowed his ships to 0.1c to maintain the formation. Just one minute after the fighters attacked the aliens opened up with their external heavy missiles at a range of 4.5 LS. Two previously damaged Urbanites were wiped out with a third becoming a floating force beam battery.
     With Xexer looking on the twelve ships performed a circle maneuver, upon the completion of which they open fired with their beam armament at a range of 2.75 LS. Three previously damaged Urbanites were wiped out. While the return fire was degraded by enemy ECM (which couldn’t be countered) the selected destroyer lost its shields and a third of its armor. Another complete circle was completed, reducing the range to 1.25 LS, but having slowed slightly the enemy ships augmented their ECM further. They were now just as difficult to hit as they were half a minute earlier. Still some beams managed to hit the previous target, breaching the armor and wrecking a hold and crew quarters.
     Five more Urbanites were destroyed, taken out by plasma gun bolts. All the energy beams did was to electrify the debris, making for a short-lived lightning display. Xexer ordered his seven remaining ships to full speed and to ram an enemy ship each. The circling stopped, the aliens moved ahead of the charging seven so that when the energy beams fired again it was at a range of 0.75 light-seconds. Of the six Urbanites left three were made into motionless hulks while a fourth still had its force beam. Again the selected destroyer was hit, its speed reduced to 0.033c. Designating that ship for himself Xexer had his Pioneer go for it like a heat-seeking missile. He also had the two assault shuttles launched to add to the carnage. He was determined to take that ship down with him.
     The crew of the Bhohim destroyer Brass Knuckles 073 braced itself for the assault. With its capital energy beam it was able to gut Xexer’s ship, leaving it just its cargo hold and shuttle bay intact. That still left the two assault shuttles. Both missed on their initial attempt, but they retained their nerve as well as the speed to attempt it again. Point defense on the 073 succeeded in knocking them both down. In defiance the Urbanites only managed two more hits, further damaging the 073 and taking 80% of the shields of another destroyer before becoming shorted-out shells themselves. The 073 was able to restore full life support as well as two of its engines. As it limped towards a rendezvous with a repair ship its squadronmates conducted boarding actions on the Vendian hulks. With no engines or warheads they were unable to scuttle, plus the marines on those hulks couldn’t compete with the advanced personal weapons employed by the SSF marines. Xexer himself was captured though wounded. He eventually was placed in the same brig as Jarjat, only then learning how badly the war was going against the Peoples Republic.
     As for the other seven Urbanites damaged earlier they were taken out by another wave of fighters. This only served to give more experience to those pilots involved, even though it was like shooting fish in a barrel. For the loss of 129 SSF personnel (both 073 crew and boarding party marines) over 1,000 Vendians were made prisoner that day. Little in the way of data was collected from one of the hulks since the two flotillas were out of the way for so long. What was gleaned from the databank was that another repair and supply ship pair was in the Anvil system, assigned to a location some 400 light-minutes from the red dwarf companion. A single division of Bhohim frigates, along with one tug and a scout, was sent to take care of them. This would turn out to be the last space combat action in the Vendian War.

---

The time had come. While the Fendalens and Bhohim watched the missile pods being deployed it was a return to the status quo in Venda. Adhering to Larlan’s orders the fleet, save for the assault shuttle carriers, was now orbiting the warp point among the beam bases at sedate speed of 0.016c. Further out at one light-second distance, cruising at 0.067c, were the CAP assault shuttles and AFSCs. Leading the current CAP was Division Commander Dodox. After looking at his repeater screens in his craft’s back cockpit for the past two hours Dodox handed command over to his adjutant. He took off his helmet and opened a packet of water, sipping from the straw with intent.
     Before the war Dodox was a survey specialist. In fact he was part of the original Anvil survey. Alone among his fellow officers, he advocated further exploration so as to give the Peoples Republic more depth. His advocacy was rejected for the Politburo had to be sure the Anvil colonies had the proper loyalty to the Peoples Republic. Of course, the Politburo couldn’t publicly give that as a reason, so instead they announced that further exploration was put on hold until the colonies were fully developed and the defense infrastructure was in place.
     When the Fendalens appeared it was vindication on Dodox’s part. A growing body of junior officers came to believe that had exploration continued then the encounter with the big bugs would’ve occurred farther from home. When asked for his opinion during the first contact talks Dodox gave it in such a way that said ‘I told you so’, earning the ire of the senior fleet directors. Sent back to the home world before the first battle, Dodox was given a new assignment in the engineering branch, waste reclamation division. It would’ve been a career-ender, but fate intervened.
     Dodox had no high aspirations after the war. He knew that his attitude and AFSC propaganda coup ruffled too much fur, and his future in the VSN was a limited one. What was important was that those officers that supported him, privately for now, shared his opinions. If Venda and the VSN survive this war those officers, eventually, would reach positions of power and influence. A much expanded Peoples Republic could still be had, and perhaps then it would be strong enough to withstand all attacks upon it.
     Half an hour later Dodox finished his water and dispensed with the empty packet in a storage bin. He resumed command of the CAP and placed his helmet back on. Reflecting on the Fendalen probe three days ago, he, like Larlan, reasoned that the big bugs were going to make their assault any time now. What he couldn’t understand was why they were waiting. Using so many explorers for a probe must surely mean their main fleet was equally large. Perhaps they found the defenses still too strong for their tastes and were still building up. That was fine with Dodox and his Dox Huns. Every day they delay meant he could make his pilot that little less green. He was about to make a motivation broadcast to his CAP pilots when the transit alarm blared through his helmet speakers.


“That’s that,” Peso said as the last of the missile pods entered the warp point. “What a worthy investment. Those bases and four ships easily cost more than the pods we’re using.”
     “I agree, Magistrate.” Dinar looked justifiably smug. He turned the displayed hologram image from a close-up of the warp point to that of the deployed fleet. “Let’s hope they stick to the manual one last time. In four days their fleet will become a memory.”
     “As long as our contribution doesn’t equal theirs, Dinar. Will that last-minute change work?”
     Dinar’s antennae twitched acknowledgment. “I believe it whole-heartedly, your Eminence. The pods designated for the buoy control ships will continue on their course instead of orbiting the warp point with the rest. We calculated that enough of the pods will survive to launch their loads. Additionally, with them being closer to their targets the chances for positive lock-ons have increased appreciably, even if they do manage to generate some ECM. Subsequently, for each buoy control ship 60 pods have been allocated. Our pod reserve is now 320.”
     “Very good, Dinar. Your Magistrate is pleased.”


“Barking Hell! What are those things?” exclaimed one of Dodox’s pilots over the command channel. The sudden eruption of 1,940 assault shuttle-sized objects brought many sensor techs as well as pilots on the verge of panic. The number of interpenetration explosions was impressive in its own right, but that still left 1,650 contacts. From that mass six separate groups moved away from the warp point, each on a bearing of 60° difference from their neighbors.
     “They must be warp-capable fighters!” yelled another pilot, who then yipped in fear.
     Dodox growled into his mic. “Quiet and listen! Any more yipping and I’ll have the hides responsible! All patrol squadrons to engage the closest enemy units! Regiment commanders, acknowledge!”
     The replies came quick. Even though they were green 8 of the 15 AFSC squadrons got their charges to full active status as well as 15 of the 36 assault shuttles. Due to their positions, not one platform or ship was able to open fire on the ‘warp fighters’ as they were being referred to by VSN officers, even Larlan.
     Four of the groups divided, the new ones kept to a heading that would take them to each of the buoy control ships. Taking direct command of his squadron of three (which was the limit of datalink for AFSC), Dodox vectored in on a group of intruders that entered a circling orbit two light-seconds distant from the warp point. He barked triumph as two intruders blew up, then howled bewilderment as his plot went crazy with nearly 4,950 missile traces.
     Larlan’s own platform was one of several that reached action stations. He had just enough time to order 100 laser buoys to be primed when he saw for himself the multitude of missile storms falling upon his platforms and his buoy tenders. He howled fear and contempt as point defense knock down only a pittance of the missiles coming towards him. Even with both EDMs deployed 45 of the gruesome weapons still held firm. For his last action in this universe Larlan spoke into an active com line that linked him to Fleet Director Gorgon. He barely gave the verbal order that transferred command of the fleet to Gorgon when the command platform was destroyed along with every other platform guarding the warp point.
     Dodox was in shock as was every other Vendian that had direct knowledge of what had happened. In a matter of minutes even crewmembers working in the deepest bowls of the ships knew. The better half of the defenses was gone. Worse yet, none of the four tenders survived and only 100 laser buoys were activated. Only the fact that two AFSC platforms that became active in the first minute crash-launched their broods prevented it from being a complete disaster.
     Gorgon broke onto the command frequency, barking new orders. All 144 assault shuttles from the Burdens were used to conduct SAR operations for what few life pods were ejected from the platforms. Once that was accomplished they were sent home, stopping off at a miniscule space station further in-system to recharge their life support systems. As for the AFSCs 144 of them were now based on the Burdens, one on each of the battleships, and the last six replacing the shuttles on six of the light cruisers.
     The fleet went back to a previous formation, circling the warp point as a group at a range of 1.25 light-seconds. Now just 42 AFSC were on the CAP, keeping a nervous watch over their equally nervous comrades. Once again they were left wondering when the definitive attack would come and what new technological terrors awaited them.

---

“So,” Kysjyt said teasingly, “is this what passes for royal accommodations these days?”
     “To meet my nominal requirements,” Sajel tossed back with equal playfulness, “it will require the whole of the pilot quarters.”
     Both the King and prince had just come from the flight deck of the Strider. After addressing the assembly of pilots from the 1st and 2nd Carrier Divisions the duo went to Sajel’s quarters-cum-office. The area had a used feeling and was not particularly well-kept, with locker doors opened and personal effects strewn on the bed. Both men sat by the desk, which was free of clutter save for a flat panel and a lamp. “So, what is it that you want to tell me?” asked Sajel.
     “You may have already given it some thought,” Kysjyt said with the conviction of a conclusion, “but I’ve come to offer you the position of viceroy of Venda.”
     “I figured as much, but aren’t you being presumptuous, Father? I have to survive first. My part in tomorrow’s attack places me and my pilots in the greater likelihood that we won’t survive.”
     Kysjyt sighed. “It’s a risk that cannot be shirked, my son. I agree with my admirals that the experienced 1st Carrier Division pilots will be more useful in the second wave than in the first. With laser packs giving your fighters staying power, destroying the more nimble and noisome small ships will help the assault force more than having a one-time punch of just close attack missiles.”
     “That’s assuming we’ll survive the attentions of activated ships, Father. I hope those superdreadnoughts draw their attention.”
     “They will, Son, but it’s also true that for every ship that shoots at you is one less that is firing on our ships.” Kysjyt looked lost in thought for a moment. “You’ve been taught and trained your whole life, and the crucible of combat has forged and refined you. More so than Hysyth and your older siblings you’ve faced death far more directly and often. Being a viceroy may not be as hazardous to your mortality, but it will put your character to the test for far longer.”
     Sajel knew the implications. Being a successful viceroy will put him on the short list of succession. Hysyth had done a good job being viceroy of the Bhohim world of Gold as well as Wycles on Horde. Then again, the inhabitants of those worlds were eager to get back to business and offered little resistance. Venda promised to be a far harder world to rule. He looked his father in the eye, antennae flexed up with intent. “I’ll do it. I can only promise to do my best.”
     “I expect nothing less, Son. Let’s have a toast to commemorate the occasion.” Kysjyt produced a slender metal tube and two small shot glasses from a leg pouch. After downing the drinks Sajel watched as his father unscrewed the base of the lamp and placed the slender tube into the hollowed-out center. “Uncle Wonset didn’t tell me about the lamp because I already knew,” the King said richly. “All the lamps in the squadron commander’s quarters of all of my carriers came from me as a gift. It was Wonset who made sure that they had hollow cores, leaving it up to those fellows that had the imagination to put it to the use it was clearly meant for.”
     “Has mother every told you that you’re incorrigible?”
     “Often, but I only heard that when it suited me, Son.”


Chapter 9.50
Every single window of the Politburo Building shone brightly at the midnight hour. For the public this was a sign that their government was working on finding a way to stave off defeat. In reality it was a lie. Their bold plan of aggrandizement via war had backfired, pushing them up against the wall. Behind the walls in the building’s interior the bureaucratic leaders had broken down into factions. Some advocated even more effort be placed into military production, while others sought to lay the blame on their rivals. Even the Navy splintered, each little clique alternating from blaming each other or the bureaucrats. A constant in all this paralyzing chaos was the drinking. Tongues liberated by liquor no longer held back long-held hatreds and grudges. Fighting even took place in the halls. Even without guns hideous wounds were still inflicted by muzzles filled with sharp teeth.
     Premier Alart had his share of drinking, but had mastery over his faculties. He had the senior Politburo members as well as those from the Navy and Army meet in his expansive office. The smell of liquor was noticeable, and quite a few of the assembled looked disheveled. “The situation in this building is appalling,” Alart spat out, looking down his muzzle at the unkempt members of his audience. “You all act like we’ve been defeated. I’m telling you now that as long as we draw breath there will be no defeat. As of now, all of you will stop the drinking and act as professionals. Your subordinates have been following your previous shameful behavior. When you set the higher standard they’ll follow.”
     A VSN officer barked. “We’ve been following your example from the start, Alart! We started a war with an imperfect understanding about our enemy. We’ve paid for your ambition with the continued slaughter of our fleet. You and your Politburo pup-mates are to be held accountable for choosing war!” Some of the other officers yipped in agreement.
     “That’s the liquor talking, Yanyet,” Alart said imperiously, “so I’ll forgive it this one time. You’ve forgotten that it was the Navy that pushed for war as well as my own Politburo. They were compelled to smash the king-loving bugs, being representative of all things anathema to our Peoples Republic. After losing the first two battles in the face of Fendalen technical superiority your own Jarjat himself said ‘it is better to lose ships than one’s self-respect and dignity’.”
     “Dignity has nothing to do with this war,” snarled Yanyet. “You want to surpass the first Premiere, Valvan. Whereas he conquered the world in the name of Peoples Socialism, you want to conquer space. The only thing you conquered is the space between your ears!”
     Alart pointed a damning finger at Yanyet. “Such insolence! Guards!” With that command a squad of soldiers entered from an adjoining room. They looked appropriately menacing in their black and gray field dress, making even men several times their senior lean back in apprehension. “Senior Fleet Director Yanyet is to be placed under arrest for insubordination!” Alart barked. “He is to be held in a detention cell until such time his trial is scheduled and convened. Any further acts of insubordination in this building will be treated in the same way, regardless of rank or position.
     “In two hours I will address the people. All of you,” he snarled as he swept his hand over his audience, “will be with me. So get sober and clean up. If you insist on being fools then you’ll share the cell with Yanyet.” He barked dominance, getting a gaggle of submissive yelps in return.
     The room cleared, leaving only Alart and his chief assistant. “Bavban,” Alart said, “I do believe it’s prudent to put the National Redoubt on stand-by. The enemy will launch their third and final attack soon. Preservation of our leadership is paramount for the land battles to come.”
      “Yes, Premiere,” said the studious stooge. “It will be done.”

---

Fleet Director Gorgon, unlike the deceased Senior Fleet Director (3rd grade) Larlan, was old for his rank. He had hit an unspoken glass wall in the VSN as he had no sponsor in the higher echelons to augment his promotion prospects. That situation changed yesterday when word came of his promotion to Senior Fleet Director, 3rd grade. It was no surprise to Gorgon. As much a propaganda move as pride-saving, the VSN leadership decided that for the final battle the fleet should be lead by an appropriately-ranked officer.
     Gorgon endured the pomp of the promotion ceremony on the command deck of his battleship, the Forest of Hammers. After the senior non-com pinned the rank tabs to his shoulder boards Gorgon made the required, but brief, announcement to the fleet. Speaking the platitudes about well-placed confidence and resolve in the face of the enemy Gorgon then spent the night with his chief of staff downing the last of the ship’s commissioning wine. The shock of the remote missile attack had seriously drained the supply of liquor in the fleet. It was the hope of all involved that the battle takes place before the crews resort to fighting among themselves to relieve the tension. Morale ebbed low after the destruction of the platforms. Until the promised mines were delivered and new buoy controllers constructed the crews of the fleet considered each passing day as a whole year in the wilderness.
     It was just as the last drop of wine disappeared down Gorgon’s throat that the transit alarm sounded for the third time. As Gorgon ran for the bridge his second-in-command acted on the contingency orders. Mesmerized by the sight of first two ships, each almost twice the tonnage of a battleship, the subordinate designated them as the priority targets. The fleet was still circling the warp point, counter-clockwise, at a distance of 1.25 light-seconds at a speed of 0.033c. Being on a relative bearing of 300° and facing ‘south’, the fleet was greeted by the starboard flanks of the newcomers, facing on a bearing of 240°. Four more ships arrived, each one a dreadnought, and it was one of these that fired first. Antimatter and nuclear fireballs clawed at one battleship, leaving it half-wrecked while another, receiving the attention of the two SDs, barely had an engine room left.
     Thanks to low morale not as many ships as expected became active in those opening seconds. Still the enemy lost both of their SDs and one DN was stripped of its passive defenses and two of its engines. The one hundred laser buoys activated from the previous battle had fired before the two big ships succumbed to their wounds. With no controllers available all that the remaining 1300 could do was provide window dressing for the unfolding battle.
     Just 18 of the 42 AFSC on the combat area patrol became active, including Dodox’s squadron. The Division Commander howled joyfully as he was joined by 38 more craft as they were crash-launched from their motherships. He eyed his command plot eagerly, for he knew that one or more of the enemy dreadnoughts had to be fighter carriers like the ones used to conquer the Anvil system. To his credit upon seeing the launch of 96 fighters and 120 AFSC he didn’t consider himself currently outnumbered 4-to-1 – he saw it as a target-rich environment. “All right, you sons of bitches,” Dodox yelled into his microphone, “listen up! We’re going after the ones with the brighter energy signatures! Those are the fighters, loaded down with those cursed attack missiles! Every squadron we kill will save one of our ships! Dox Huns! Follow my targeting priorities! Acknowledge by yelling like you have a pair!” The cacophony of howls that filled Dodox’s ears was like a symphony to the battle-hungry man. With total disregard to the Bhohim AFSCs that covered their Fendalen friends the 1st Space Defense Division (a.k.a. the Dox Huns) went after their prey like so many pack dogs against a rabbit.
     Gorgon couldn’t count on Dodox swatting down enough of those blasted fighters to make a difference. He had the two Selflessness cruisers that became active take independent movement. At full speed the duo moved away from the plodding fleet and made a turn, ending half a light-second away on a bearing of 0°. The Fendalen fighters had entered the blind spots of their targets, but were in the arc of fire of the buoy killers-turned-anti-fighter platforms. Gorgon felt sweat rolling down his face as a squadron targeted the Forest of Hammers with fire-control scanners. The second wave was entering at the same time. Composed of four more SDs and two DNs Gorgon resisted the temptation to remove all weapon restrictions from his ships. With a critical lack of close assault missiles the cruisers and smaller ships were not allowed to fire those weapons until complete datagroups were active. He did allow the Guard Battalion explorers to ram the enemy ships as soon as they were able to; but again morale played a role for only three of the lithe ships got the gumption to close on the warp point.
     While one Selflessness knocked out two fighters the other blew away an entire squadron, the very ones that happened to target the Forest of Hammers. Before Gorgon could exhale in relief one of the transit addled SDs targeted his ship and let loose with a barrage of CAMs, plasma bolts, capital force and energy beams. Shield collapsed and over half of the armor was rendered into scrap. The energy beams shorted and burned out internal systems, including one-third of the weapons. Wounded as it was the ship fired back, and for its trouble was hit by CAMs from one of the DNs. Now empty of their loads, the remaining first-wave fighters peeled away at high speed. The Dox Huns stayed with the fleet, mixing it up with their Bhohim adversaries for the time being until more fighters appeared.
     The webbing of the command chair kept Gorgon secured but his ribs felt sore. He regarded the casualty figures with concern. Four of his battleships were gone and the remaining 11 were either heavily or severely damaged with the emphasis on severely. One CA was wiped out with another retaining half of its force beams. Sixty-four AFSCs were shot down or destroyed in their battleship hangers, including some that had crash-launched several seconds earlier. Dodox was down to 48 active craft, and his Dox Huns had managed only 13 fighter kills. On the flip side another SD was destroyed with a second reeling from major damage. The remaining two SDs moved away from the warp point and closed on the fleet. Gorgon knew that with the reduced range those monsters won’t last long. It was the two new DNs that gave him the chills as they launched 96 fighters. Luckily two more Selflessness CAs got their active fire control on-line, following their previous squadronmates so as to keep their blind spots away from the enemy.
     Back at the warp point two of the first wave DNs, thanks to their engine tuners, were able to complete their turns and transit back out. Fresh apprehension filled Gorgon as he saw three more SDs transit in, followed by three BCs. He changed his mind and allowed all of his ships to use their CAMs whether they were in complete datalink squadrons or not. Three Guard Battalions targeted the damaged SD while ten more focused on the advancing duo, five to a ship. Determined yet green, only one of the first three held true to course, only to be obliterated by two capital force beams. As for the others just three managed to keep their nerve to zero in on Emerald Box, only to get shorted out by capital energy beams. With speed low and Gorgon’s insistence to keep fleet integrity the Emerald Box and Silver Cloud were able to get a quarter of a light-second away.
     Two Five Cycle Plans unloaded on the Emerald Box. The big ship took the hits in stride and then with Silver Cloud took out three cruisers, one of which was made into a shorted-out wreck. Gorgon knew how that particular battle was going to end so he focused on the new fighters. He hoped that this new strike would be handled more harshly than the last one. But then, he couldn’t have known the proficiency of the squadrons of the 1st Carrier Division.


Sajel brought his squadrons onto their heavy cruiser targets. With their crews still scrambling to battle stations the ECM that would otherwise mess with targeting was non-existent. Antimatter explosions and lasers splintered and burnt the ship selected for Sajel’s squadron and was quickly followed by others. The strike pulled away from the fleet, followed by the defending AFSCs which were in turn being pursued by the Bhohim craft. A total of 21 fighters were shot down by point defense from the Selflessness CAs and small craft while the Venda just had 39 AFSC left after the exchange of mass-accelerated pellets of tungsten.
     A look at the master panel in the command cockpit told Sajel the story. Just one previously damaged BB was polished off, but the Venda had lost 14 CAs so far and 3 CLs. Even with his squadrons help the growing number of active ships was telling. Both the Emerald Box and Silver Cloud were gone with the remaining two effectively dead, and one of their AFSC carriers was destroyed. The assault carrier Winter Range was turning as fast as it could to reach its escape vector, but the loss of two engines badly affected its turning radius. Nine Guard Battalions chose that ship as their ramming target. Only two succeed, but with the target aspect and turning involved it what passed for trading paint, the ships scrapping past each other. Their aim would’ve been better had it not been for the emerging fourth wave, 3 DNs and 3 BCs. As for the surviving Roi it was able to make it out


Dodox wanted to keep on killing fighters, seeing that they had some sort of laser weapon capable of damaging ships. Now that they pulled away just far enough his green pilots had only a very slim chance to engage them. So instead he ordered his surviving squadrons to engage the enemy’s small armed craft. Howls and yips filled his speakers as his pilots either killed or were killed in appropriately named dogfights. He had no time to watch the ship battle unfold, but if he had the sight would be impressive. The three SDs from the third wave were designed as minesweepers employed a good-sized battery of capital missile launchers with which to fire mine-clearance charges. Heavily armored, the Sappers took what hits the Venda threw at them and replied powerfully. Two Firearms got 13 and 14 anti-matter armed capital missiles each. One was crushed like an empty shell while the other barely had motive power.
     Gorgon had his fleet come to a subjective bearing of 240° from the warp point and start a turn to port. The fourth-wave BCs were destroyed along with more damage done to one Sapper and to the Winter Range. Appraising the situation, Gorgon sent all of his active Urbanites to sit atop the warp point. Like the SDs before them the three beam-armed DNs moved on his fleet. He felt that his active cruisers and destroyers would be enough to finish them, and the sheer number of Urbanites would take care of the fifth wave.
     Once again the Guard Battalions performed their one-note song of ramming. Six went after the Winter Range while five each went for the fourth-wave DNs. Two hit Winter Range head-on, obliterating themselves as well as their victim. As for the other fifteen they hadn’t counted on the speed and ECM of the Gold Standards. None of them managed to ram, so they sought out new targets. The last Herd DN(V) made transit, so the little rammers had to wait for the sixth wave to appear.
     They fought as best they could, but the Dox Huns couldn’t overcome the disparity in numbers. Dodox witnessed for every kill claimed by his pilots three were cut down in turn. As his own pilot placed his craft in a wild series of gyrations to both get a shot and avoiding being shot in turn Dodox issued his last orders. The last Burden finally launched its brood and with that he ordered all twelve ships to conduct ramming attacks as soon as practical. He also had the six Selflessness CAs, which were under his command, to go after the fighters regardless of the cost.
     A solid impact shook Dodox’s craft severely and it began to tumble. He hit the emergency eject switch, hoping that it worked for both himself and the pilot. At the very least Dodox’s portion of the cockpit broke free of the craft and spent all of its fuel to stop its vomit-inducing spinning. Unconscious, Dodox would later be picked up after the battle and then learn that only 10 Bhohim AFSCs were brought down by his pilots.


Back on the Forest of Hammers Gorgon kept wishing at least one buoy control module had survived the missile bombardment. The enemy didn’t appear to be running out of big ships, and even just one hundred buoys going off every thirty seconds would’ve made a difference. It took everything in him to keep his composure as the three fourth-wave DNs casually obliterated three Selflessness CAs, two Heroics, and the battleship Victory March. He made a decision on impulse. “Have the Urbanites focus on the fifth-wave dreadnoughts,” he snarled at his fleet tactical officer. That unfortunate yelped submission and then went to implement the order.
     The new arrivals didn’t focused their addled weapons on the Urbanites, which would’ve been futile and wasteful, but on the three remaining Selflessness CAs. It was Dodox’s order that brought them within reach of the three Gold Standards and three Awls. Having done so, they had to speed up and thus depriving themselves of most of their ECM potential. Adding to the anti-fighter ships’ downfall was the complete use of their point defense against Sajel’s strikewing. The three Sappers took advantage of this, bashing one would-be ant killer with antimatter fists and polishing off yet another limping battleship with leftovers. For their devotion and being rendered into weaponless wrecks only one fighter was bagged by the Selflessness trio.
     For the last twelve Dox Huns they had better success than the ships. Four more fighters were knocked down before being utterly swarmed by the remaining 110 Bhohim AFSC. On the Urbanites Sajel had his pilots focus on those with force beams since they had a faster arming cycle than the ones with plasma guns. He ordered complete kills since on an Urbanite the force beam was the most protected instillation on the ship. Those plasma armed Urbanites that were in the recharging cycle used their point defense to swat two more fighters, but that was a poor counter-claim for the loss of seven of their number plus one that had its engines slagged by laser fire.
     At the moment there were just seven combat-capable Fendalen and Bhohim ships present – three Sappers, three Awls, and one Gold Standard. Another GS and an Exclusive from the second wave hung on by one operable engine room each. Gorgon had the empty Burdens charge the incoming sixth wave, comprised of three Primes and three Incendiaries. Each of the Bhohim battleships was the focus of four of those destroyers-turn-carriers. This wave was on a facing of 180°, thus depriving the suicidal tin-cans the chance of a devastating head on attack. As for the Guard Battalions Gorgon ordered those to gather in one group so that their ram attempts were better coordinated, thus making them sit out this round. He had his undamaged Heroic DDs go after the sprinting Awls and the Sappers while what was left of the fleet went to the warp point at its cruising speed of 0.033c.
     The Primes saw the destroyers coming, expecting the attacks thanks to courier drones warnings about the Guard Battalions from previous waves. For the first Prime only one Burden kept up with the maneuvers but was destroyed by the ship’s CAMs and four of the five plasma bolts fired. As for the second it evaded its quartet like a rabbit out-maneuvering a fox. The third couldn’t dodge its fourth DD bent on immolation, and point-blank fire didn’t wreck it enough for it to miss. Burden 09 slammed into the starboard bow of Overdraft, knocking out its shields and nearly 1/3 of its armor.
     Sajel and his fighters broke off from the Urbanites to go after the Heroics. The close attention and point defense of the approaching VSN fleet, not to mention the recharging plasma Urbanites, would’ve wiped out the strikewing in short order. With their intent so clear on trashing the Awls and Sappers the destroyers couldn’t do a thing now that the fighters were in their blind spots. As for the Bhohim AFSCs, with no more enemy craft to shoot at, they broke up into two groups and proceeded to remove the inert laser buoys starting at the ring at the 1.5 LS mark. Three Heroics were rendered into shorted-out hulks by the Awls while two more were lazed into expanding clouds of scrap metal. Sajel could only be reminded of fireflies back home on Royal Ascendant, watching his squadrons dive and rise as they got as close as 50km before firing their weapons. The men aboard those destroyers had to favor being made useless by the Awls instead of being stung to death by fighters.
     The battle had now reached the tipping point. Despite having taken care of the last fifth-wave Gold Standard, the three Primes, one Awl and Incendiary the enemy had effectively established a beachhead. Gorgon was down to three armed and damaged battleships (though two only had two force beams each), two damaged CA(F)s, eight CA(R)s (one of which hadn’t even fired so far), nine CLs, eleven DDs, six FGs, 27 Urbanite(F), 30 Urbanite(Pg), and four Pioneers. The ten Burden DD(V)s and 23 Guard Battalions kept to the ramming theme, going after the seventh wave’s Primes like attack dogs.
     In this chaos the attacks were remarkably coordinated. Three Burdens and eight GBs sought out the first seventh-wave Prime like a magnet. Just two GBs hit the Prime’s starboard bow, bursting like seed pods on the bigger ship’s drive field and collapsing 70% of its shields. Prime #2 was singled out by three and eight respectively. CAMs and energy beams greeted the one Burden set on a terminal course, making it exploded like a firework. Two GBs slammed into its side, also bringing down the majority of the shields. As for #3, it had four and seven. Finishing the trifecta, two GBs were going to hit, but unlike #1 the third Prime fired its CAMs at one of its assailants. Silhouetted by the fireball, the other GB hit #3, but only brought down 35% of its shields.


The Heroics and Awls both reached the Sappers at the same time and at point-blank range. A pair of DDs fired on one Awl, brining down its shields and two-thirds of its armor. Return fire destroyed four Heroics, a sight that made Gorgon’s fur crawl with anxiety. With ships being destroyed faster than they can kill it was looking the battle would be over in the next six minutes. He started to rake the side of his muzzle with his truncated claws in a nervous fit. The tactical officer disturbed Gorgon’s increasing dismal thinking, making him snap his jaws. “What is it now?” he growled harshly.
     “Sir,” the officer said quickly, “those two laser battlecruisers have moved away from the warp point and are now about to enter the fleet’s blind spot, range 0.75 light seconds. Should we task the heavy cruisers to deal with them?”
     “Negative!” Gorgon combed his muzzle so harshly that his claws drew blood. “Keep attacking the big ships of each incoming wave for now. I’ll tell you when to shift gears.”
     “Affirmative, Sir.”
     What the officer failed to mention was that the Sappers were in the fleet’s blind spot as well. Two Firearm CLs exploded like a tree hit by lightning. Sajel’s fighters took out three more DDs, leaving just three to face off against the last Awl. Only one BC survived the seventh wave, but its armor was intact and it followed the two Incendiaries, putting it squarely behind the fleet.
     The GBs gathered on the far side of the warp point, orientating themselves as so that they could attack from the port side of the ninth wave, leaving it up the nine Burdens to attack wave eight. Three each went after the fresh BBs, all of them Phalanxes. On the first the sole nimble attacker was blasted by CAMs and x-ray lasers. For the second all three held true. Point-blank fire destroyed all the engines of one DD just short of target but the other two hit, doing enough damage to collapse shields and scour armor. Both of the rammers lacked the speed to pull away and re-orientate themselves for another attack run. It would take two more minutes before they could attempt to ram again. Number three was lucky as all three missed.
     In turn the three Phalanxes were destroyed as well as one of the Privilege BCs. Another BC was heavily damaged but retained most of its armament thanks to its heavy passive defenses. Over the Sappers the last three Heroics died under the energy beams of the remaining Awl and the lasers of the fighters. “Good shooting, people,” Sajel said over the strikewing frequency. “We’re going to take station just behind the Incendiaries and fire long-range shots at the force beam-armed Urbanites. They have no armor, so they’ll be quicker to kill.”
     “That’s no fun, Old Man,” Nutjob replied, his tone comical. “We should be getting the ones with the plasma guns. Even with armor, remember that the tougher the kill, the greater the satisfaction.”
     “Then in a minute you’ll have the greatest satisfaction in your life so far,” Sajel quipped. “Squadrons, form up on me. Like before I want complete kills. Acknowledge.”
     As the deplete squadrons complied and the Awl turned and closed on the warp point the ram attacks continued. Wave nine had three Phalanxes and three Pyromancers. Six GBs went after each of the BBs. Five succeeded, but being so small were only able to bring down shields for their efforts. Two Burdens each went after two BBs while the fifth went for the damaged Privilege. They all missed, and no weapons were fired in self-defense.
     Being crack shots helped, but the distance was still difficult for the pilots to overcome. Just two Urbanite(F)s were lazed to oblivion. Out of Sajel’s squadron only Nutjob scored a hit. His victory cry was cut off when the hostile sensor alarm sounded off. The one heavily damaged Selflessness that still had point defense had chosen Nutjob’s fighter at random. No other VSN ship used their point defense in fear that the Sappers would target them without hesitation. Nutjob reflexively jinxed his fighter to break the lock-on, performing as many rapid course changes as he could endure. It was not to be, for one in a stream of tungsten interceptor rounds fired by the cruiser impacted Nutjob’s fighter in the engine. A status tag on one of Sajel’s secondary plots turned red and then grayed out. Sajel could only mutter a curse under his breath. Vengeance would come against that ship very soon.


Gorgon noted that with the appearance of heavy cruisers in the ninth wave it appeared the enemy assault was beginning to taper off. This was all well and good since now it appeared the Fendalens were eliminating his Urbanites with utmost haste. He ordered the fleet to change its facing by 60° to starboard so that its broadsides could be brought against those ships 0.75 light-seconds from the warp point. Another little detail he saw on the main plot was that this wave was on a relative bearing of 0°. It didn’t rate as important to Gorgon so long as he smashed the battleships. Each one of those he could destroy was one less that could threaten the homeworld orbital works. For the fourth time all the battleships were destroyed as was one of the CAs. Gorgon was regaining confidence, composure, and a little bit of hope. He even thought that he had broken even in terms of personnel loss.
     Blood drained away from Gorgon’s face as another mass transit of missile pods appeared in place of ships. 272 of the infernal devices emerged amid the clouds of debris from where 48 of their kind interpenetrated and exploded. On a relative bearing of 60°, the missile pods moved away at a speed of 0.117c. He eventually heard the calls from his operations and tactical officers, asking for new orders. Looking at the plot, the addled Gorgon noted that his rammers had basically changed places, perplexed that there were no ships to be rammed. The rest of the fleet stayed where it was, not even turning so as to engage those fighters that had now entered the blind spot. It was a result of fear and terror, for the battle was now going to end much sooner.
     Resigned to their fate, the VSN crews still had enough nerve to fire their weapons. The last Bhohim BCs from the seventh and eight waves were destroyed. What remained of the armed portion of the VSN fleet, besides the rammers and escorts, was pitiful: two battleships, six CA(R)s, five FGs, and the one Selflessness that claimed Nutjob’s fighter. Gorgon ordered his 34 remaining Urbanites and Pioneers to go to maximum engine modulation and pursue the Fendalen BCs. Now at max speed, those BCs easily opened the distance. It was to be the Urbanites last act of defiance.
      The pods had turned near the end of the first minute and belched their loads. Only the law of probability and engine modulation aided the Vendians for only two of the thirty-four escorts barely survived – one Urbanite with just its force beam and a Pioneer. Without drivefields both ships fell to a single sprint-mode missile each. Three of the thirteen GBs were e-hulked, one heavily damaged Burden destroyed by long-range fighter laser fire, and one Peoples Reach fell to a volley of antimatter armed capital missiles. Return fire just breached the passive defenses of the Awl and further damaged the armor of one Pyromancer.
     Gorgon ordered all of his armed ships to charge after the Fendalens, regardless of speed. He also ordered the remaining Burdens to go after the Sappers and the GBs to ram any new ships that made transit. No sooner had he said that the tenth wave of ships entered. Each ship, a Halberd class CL, arrived on different vectors and moved away from the warp point at best speed. The GBs tried to ram the second ship but failed. While those mobile blocks of armor turned around to face the warp point again the agony that afflicted the VSN fleet was about to end.
     Three of the five remaining Social Science survey frigates, two of which had already fired 55% of their missiles, were targeted by the two Incendiary BCs. One frigate was destroyed while the other two barely held on to their launchers. The fail safes of the detonation chamber on one Incendiariy activated, but at this point in the battle it was irrelevant.
     As for the Burdens they had theirs lifted. Between the Sappers, one Halberd, and the fighters they wiped out the five mobile Burdens, leaving the two without engines still on the warp point. Vendian fire had concentrated on the Awl and one Halberd, doing significant internal damage to the former and busting shields and armor on the latter.


Having been ignored for so long the shields on the Forest of Hammers had been fully resorted. While cursing himself for sending the Burdens to the wrong targets Gorgon looked dejectedly at his master plot. Just his battleship, three cruisers, two immobilized but point-defense armed Burdens, ten Guard Battalions, and two frigates remained. Slow speed hampered the GBs, for two of the Halberds had maneuvered right in front of them, bringing their spinal force beams to bear. Along with help from the Sappers five of the rammers were destroyed. The frigates and two of the cruisers were destroyed or immobilized. Only one fighter was shot down before the offending crippled CA was smothered in antimatter fireballs. That kill only occurred because Sajel brought his strikewing against the Forest of Hammers. Lasers chewed through the remaining armor and what was left of the interior. A pair of lasers hit the capacitor for a force beam, causing a cascade of explosions that turned the ship into a massive firework display.
     Gorgon didn’t live to see the end of the five last GBs. With ECM and nimbleness the pair of Halberds denied the GBs the chance to ram. With their destruction the battle had finally ended seven minutes after it started. The Bhohim AFSCs were still destroying the numerous and inert laser buoy parks. With one mothership destroyed 50 of the craft were eventually abandoned but not before their expensive, custom-made seats were removed. For the enemy cripples that had moved off during the battle they were given the chance to surrender. To a ship they self-destructed, leaving the marines of Fendalen and Bhohim ships to board those hulks burned-out by energy beams or lacked engines and warheads. In this manner two BBs, one CA(F), two CA(R)s, and four DDs were secured. Those GBs that were e-hulked were destroyed rather than boarded, the reasoning being that such determined crews would put up too much resistance to marine boarders.
     As for the Halberds they were dispatched to investigate six ship-sized sensor contacts 30 light-seconds out. They turned out to be two tugs and the only pair of troopships and personnel transports of the VSN. Stationed to provide logistical support for SAR operations, replacement crews, and holding space for captured enemy personnel, the ships only carried EDMs on their external racks and offensive armament was pitiful. Based on destroyer hulls the tugs ran away from the CLs easily enough but were soon caught by fresh squadrons of laser-armed first generation fighters of the 1st Carrier Assault Division. As for the four auxiliaries they self-destructed instead of surrendering, sending out their small craft to commit suicide attacks on the cruisers since in no-way could they outrun fighters without burning out their engines in the process. Only pitiful shield damage was done to one Halberd.
     Back at the warp point the remainder of the Fendalen/Bhohim combined task force assembled. With auxiliaries in place to conduct SAR operations and a task group left behind to guard the area the victorious armada headed directly towards Venda Prime. The armor-damaged assault carriers were kept as well as the damaged Sapper and Pyromancer. Only the Awl was sent back into Anvil to be tended by a repair ship. There were no other damaged ships for the Venda sought for complete kills even if it meant passing up a chance to damage a more significant target.
     King Kysjyt and Magistrate Peso gave heartfelt praise for the fallen crews and encouraged their army troops to crush the Vendian Peoples Army as decisively as their respective navies had done against the VSN. Moving at the cruising speed of the dreadnoughts the task force will almost take a week to reach Venda Prime. At no time did the planetary government reply to Kysjyt’s demand for surrender. Instead the Peoples Bureau of Media broadcasted an unending stream of propaganda and heroic videos. The situation would’ve been comical had it not been for programs instructing civilians how to construction anti-personnel traps and improvised weapons. AKC commanders factored such information into their ground deployment plans. If the Venda were half as determined as their political masters claimed them to be then the ground war was going to be very long, involved, and messy.

---

With viewership approaching 95% of the population Alart's address ranked as the greatest event of his Premiership. He looked at the broadcast camera in his office with a managed intensity worthy of a great actor. "Comrade Citizens, I speak to you tonight with heaviness in my heart. Our brave spacers, charged with the defense of our great republic, have fallen in battle. In six days time our enemies will be in weapons range of our world, and will undoubtedly call upon us to surrender. As sworn protector of the Revolution I will not give this planet to the Fendalens." Alart leaned towards the camera like it was a person just on the other side of his desk. "I call upon you, comrade citizens, to fight and resist the invaders so that the Revolution will not perish from this world. It took great sacrifices to establish the paradise that is the Peoples Republic. More sacrifices are required to keep it. The days ahead will be regarded by history as our greatest. With exemplary action that will become reality. Praise the Party!"


Alart turned the monitor off and leaned back in his seat. What the whole world believed to be him was actually his double, a secret security operative that had been trained and altered to appear as the Premiere. The real Alart was already in the National Redoubt (NR), a bunker complex located underneath a mountain. When the time comes for key Politburo, military, and bureaucratic personnel to go to the NR the double will accompany them. Alart had a double in case of assassination attempts, something that has happened to a few Premieres in the two hundred twenty years of the Peoples Republic existence. If the double should be killed it would give Alart and the Party the cold-blooded excuse to crack down on those elements that were either less-than-enthusiastic about the war to those that expressed the treasonous idea of peacefully relations with the big bugs.
     With a snigger Alart opened a jar of beef jerky that sat on his even more opulent NR desk. He scarffed down several strips, savoring the taste despite the fact of the effect said jerky had on his stomach. He called upon his personal assistant to fetch some antacid and official papers. Much work needed to be done this night.


Total Vendian losses (includes bases destroyed by missile pods and the six auxiliaries) - 11,672,800 tons. 103,330 personnel killed, wounded, rescued and captured.

Total Fendalen/Bhohim losses (included EX mass transit probe) - 8,302,000 tons. 44,134 personnel killed and wounded.


Chapter 9.75
The RN personnel transport Ivory Barge had a very extensive medical department. Wounded survivors of the battle were stabilized and treated on this and other transports before being sent home if their injuries prevented them from returning to duty. For one of the handful of rescued pilots his injuries weren’t that severe. He would still miss out on the destruction of the Venda orbital works but he had the pleasure of his squadronmates coming to visit him every day.
     First among the well-wishers was Prince Sajel. He found his pilot in the lounge, sitting on a chair and sipping a sweet tea. Both of his rear legs, broken in the process of ejecting from his fighter, were in rigid casts. “You’ve made yourself at home,” Sajel observed. “Free food, sleeping in late, and the nurses to tend to your every whim.”
     Nutjob wiggled his antennae in amusement. “I am a bone-fide war hero, Old Man. We were in an environment that’s not conducive to our survival. That hit in the engine also damaged my escape capsule’s emergency inertial dampening generator. Had it been any weaker, then I would’ve been all mush on the inside.”
     “You’ll be mush if you keep eating soft hospital food,” Sajel admonished. “Now that I’ve seen you’re in the best of care I got something to tell you. Since there wasn’t enough time to reconfigure my fighter’s rear cockpit I had to use yours for the battle. Remember that?”
     “Yes, I do recall,” Nutjob said normally. “Hope you didn’t mind that I lived out of my fighter.”
     “The empty bags and the smell of chips I could tolerate. It was what you had painted on the side of your fighter.”
     “So, everyone had personal markings, including yours,” Nutjob said plainly, wondering where Sajel was leading.
     “Well, I didn’t really notice it until after the battle and after my photo was taken as I was being extracted from the cockpit.” Sajel produced a hardcopy photo and showed it to Nutjob. “As the designated Viceroy of Venda, you can image how well this will play to my subjects once they find out, and they will find out once a solider forgets and leaves behind a copy in some foxhole.”
     The photo depicted a cartoonish interpretation of Zorak chasing after a Vendian spacer. The olive-colored boogeyman, complete with red vest, had a spoon in each hand, reaching out like he’s trying to take a scoop out of his prey. Above the figures were the words ‘Dems Good Eatin’ and below ‘Why Spoons? Because It’ll Hurt More’. Nutjob looked a little apprehensive. “I had told you about my illustration, Old Man.”
     “I believe you did, Nutjob, but you obviously didn’t tell me all of it.” Sajel lifted his head. “Now the Venda will believe that our race in general and I in particular are ravenous meat-eaters that use spoons to maximize the pain of our victims.”
     “You could stop the picture from being published,” Nutjob said helpfully.
     Sajel waved his finger. “Too late for that: it’s already been transmitted to the whole of the task force. I can’t very well chase after that particular fish, and punishment, however minor, is out of the question. What I can do is give you the fame that you seek with a hefty dose of humility.” The prince whistled, ushering in a crowd of pilots from the 1003rd squadron, media camera operators, and one Princess Yantyl. Adorned with royal trappings and shaded an exotic red-brown Yantyl moved to the right side of the recuperating pilot, basking in the attention of the cameras like one would outdoors for sunshine. Nutjob looked distinctly uncomfortable, surrounded by well-wishing but boisterous squadronmates and having the acknowledged most beautiful princess in the Kingdom just a few feet away. The young pilot had to remind himself that as pleasing as Yantyl was to the eye, she was the same age as his mother.
     The first to speak was Sajel, moving to Nutjob’s left side. “As appointed Viceroy of Venda, I am no longer able to fulfill my duties as commander of the 1003rd squadron,” he said in an uplifting manner for the cameras’ benefit. “Based upon substantial and credible recommendations from his superiors and squadronmates the promotion of Ensign Dyvyn Pocynpe to Deck Lieutenant, junior grade, has been approved by higher office. Pocynpe has also been selected to be the new commander of the 1003rd fighter squadron. Both promotions are effective immediately.”
     Happy as he was to be promoted Nutjob had to endure the grins and chuckles of his friends. His given name Pocynpe meant ‘buttercup’, and it didn’t help matters that Yantyl giggled in such a cute, innocent way, nor was his ordeal over. One of Yantyl’s aides produced a box from which the princess drew out a lovely bronze and purple medal. She held it in her hand, letting the highly polished bronze’s luster to be enjoyed by all. “For conspicuous bravery in battle and inflicting substantial harm upon the enemies of the Kingdom,” the princess said with presence, “Dyvyn Pocynpe is awarded the Distinguished Service Medal. May his achievements in the service to the King be an inspiration for others.”
     Nutjob would’ve been just as happy having the princess drape the medal (which felt like a load of bricks) on his neck but she completed his embarrassment by kissing him on top of his head. Sajel was the first to shake his hand. “Congratulations, Pocynpe. I don’t envy you in the slightest. You’re going to face a far more difficult challenge than I ever will.”
     “How’s that, Sajel? You’re about to rule a planet of ill-tempered communist fleabags.” It was to his credit that Nutjob came up with a quip while blushing from all the attention.
     “A comparably easier task than trying to find a mate that will measure up to your elevated standards. Finding one that kisses like a princess will be like finding a needle in a haystack.” Sajel rubbed Nutjob’s medal with a napkin made of royal silk, playfully trying to make it shine even greater. “You’ll have to go through several haystacks before all is said and done.”
     Nutjob would’ve replied but the sight and smell of food being rolled in, not to mention tall glasses of beverages, the kind denied to him while recovering from his injuries, made his retort an orphan in his throat. He forgot about his embarrassment and joined his friends in a round of revelry that rivaled that found in the rec room back on the Strider. Sajel and Yantyl discreetly left the lounge, their task complete, for they had to attend to the pressing matter of the invasion of Venda.

---

There were no platforms in orbit over Venda, just the space station kept company by a trio of tugs, a half dozen freighters and 300 assault shuttles. With no capital missile launchers to engage the task force it was like a live-fire exercise. All the Fendalen first generation fighters were armed with a gun and a pair of laser packs while the prototype fighters had a gun and laser pack each. With the 60 surviving Bhohim AFSCs the would-be shuttle rammers were shot down for minimal loss while the ships were blasted before they got anywhere near the task force.
     No-one on the planet was responding to the repeated hails from the Iron Gate, the King’s ship. Kysjyt and Wonset were in the ward room, mulling over information gathered from the captured VSN heavy cruiser Red Dawn. “Having gone through their list of governing scriptures, the ‘ruling mandate’, and their legal code three times I’ve come to the same conclusion,” Kysjyt said with disgust.
     “What is that, Nephew?” Wonset said, lifting his gaze from a pad containing historical Vendian text.
     “The whole planet is run by a group of thugs. Social idealism was just a smokescreen for state-sponsored sadism and terror. Here are a few examples.” Kysjyt scrolled down the pad he was reading from. “Capital punishment for children as young as ten, restrictions to employment if one’s ancestors were imprisoned for ‘anti-revolutionary’ activities and issued judgments where there is never a plea for innocence, but for several degrees of guilt.”
     “Sounds dreadful,” Wonset replied. “Not even the Communist Kingdom from our history was so repressive.”
     “With enough time I suspect something similar would have evolved, Uncle. The Communist Kingdom lasted only 40 years, brought down by one of our ancestors,” Kysjyt said proudly. “This Peoples Republic has existed for over 200 years. Whatever form of protest against the government that still exists must be minor and performed subconsciously, and perhaps whatever protest that does exist is an invention of the government,” he used the word disparagingly, “and used as a public excuse to punish people out of petty spite and hate.” He scrolled through his pad for a moment. “The driving principle of the governing laws is that the people serve the state and punishment is given out for failure to provide said service. Being late for work as much as five minutes, five minutes, twice in one week is enough to get once sentenced to a ‘remedial work center’ for a month.”
     Wonset shook his head. “No wonder their industry is so productive, Nephew. The people arrive early in fear of being imprisoned, and either way the state gets more work done. Even taking into account their level of technology they’re using too much manual labor for tasks that can be handled faster and more efficiently by machines. From what our prisoners tell us and with supporting photographic evidence their farming and resource extraction, such as mining and forestry, uses an awful lot of people.
     “I’ve also read their history, and it’s an exercise of spiteful, small-minded people. In the numerous wars that lead to the establishment of the Peoples Republic captured soldiers of the Peoples Army were treated as traitors and imprisoned for decades when ‘rescued’. Even troops that fought their way out of encircled positions were treated as poison, sent out on assault missions until they died or were horribly injured.”
     “What do you conclude from all this, Uncle?”
     “We can expect, Nephew, that the enemy leadership is willing to inflict casualties on their own civilians if it serves their needs. Half of their army, this Patriotic Guard as they call it, can be labeled as armed police, tasked to punish even the slightest amount of hesitancy shown by the other half. The use of tac nukes cannot be ruled out, and examples of their use are noted in the histories, especially on cities that have been under siege or occupied by enemy forces.”
     Kysjyt turned off his pad and tossed it on the ward room table. “From the evidence it appears they don’t possess the kinetic bombardment system. We will use it in the ground campaign to the utmost to reduce our casualties. However, priority will be given to destruction of enemy units that are engaged in ‘punishment’ against the civil population and units of their own armed forces. Priority will also be given to the location and neutralization of this National Redoubt of theirs. Uncle, do you believe what Jarjat had told you about the Redoubt?”
     Wonset tugged on one of his mangled rear antennae. “I believe as far as he is greedy and self-serving, which is to say very much. He also wants to live, and if his information plays out he will get the asylum he seeks. Otherwise he will experience first-hand Vendian justice as practiced by Alart and his cronies.”
     “Speaking of cronies, dear Uncle, it’s time we met with our army commanders and convey our priorities in the campaign. I want the landings to commence in two days.”
     “Good, Nephew. Yantyl and Sajel are with the commanders on the Lord Brandy. I’ll notify them of our arrival.”

---

In regards to Sajel’s concern about Nutjob’s cartoon he had nothing to worry. The propaganda organs of the state had for months depicted Fendalens in the most unflattering light. Taking the big bug motif to the extreme, the poster artists drew monstrous Fendalens attacking the works of the people. Huge, bold words urged to people to give what little money the state allowed them to keep for war bonds. When the existence of the Bhohim became know they were incorporated in the posters as well. Resembling a type of insect that was the bane of all farm workers, the Bhohim were depicted as crop destroyers and food hoarders. Again, the people were told of the patriotic value of sharing what little they had with everyone else. But like all wars, a black market sprang up and almost entirely ran by the state managers in charge of the donated food. It was this group that generated the greatest hatred in the people with only Alart coming out on top.
     Included in this propaganda drive was the urging of the civilians to take an active role in the war. Much play was made on the digging of trench lines, bunkers, rolling out jam-proof land lines, and stringing out barbed wire. However, as for actively fighting the enemy troops no provision was made by the government. Even in this time of greatest peril, for a civilian to have any firearm, even a single-shot breech loading hunting rifle that could penetrate Fendalen body armor, was a capital offense. This lead to several incidents early in the war where civilians armed with sharpen sticks, sledgehammers, and even shovels were mowed down in droves.*
     The disintegration of the Vendian Peoples Army started with indecent haste. Under an umbrella of aerospace fighters and assault shuttles the first troops of the AKC and the Bhohim Security Army were landed on Venda. When a VPA mobile artillery squad refused to fire tac nuke shells (which would’ve been shot down by point defense teams in the landing area) since a sizeable civil population was right next to the AKC brigade in question the squad was fired upon by distant Field Enforcement Action Detachment (FEAD) firebase. Needless to say said firebase was obliterated by an orbital kinetic launcher even before the first anti-vehicular shells landed.
     Battles initially were centered on highly mobile armored vehicles and mounted infantry. Whenever a significant point of resistance was encountered, even if it was machine gun squad, a singular kinetic strike was called. This had a chilling effect on the VPA, making them give up their field artillery and even most of their mortars. Counter battery radar and shell defense became useless as the AKC only had to fire two or three moderate salvos of shells to make the tracking radars light up, thus exposing their transmitters, not to mention their guns, to a kinetic strike.
     The VPA officers began to notice a pattern to the kinetic strikes in that FEAD elements were attacked more often and with more effort than VPA units, especially when said units were under fire by FEADs for retreating. Unspoken but thought by all, the VPA, which hated the Patriotic Guard (source of the FEADs), implemented a tactic that called for retreat upon encountering the enemy. In turn this forced the FEADs to reveal themselves and invited kinetic strikes upon their heads. Once that was accomplished the VPA turned around and conducted an ‘honest’ attack, knowing that they won’t be threatened by some hyperactive FEAD officer with an itchy trigger finger.
     Even without squads that killed on the slightest suspicion of cowardness and lack of vigor the fighting was still intense. The technical difference may have been significant but that didn’t prevent acts that bordered on the suicidal. With artillery and mortars mostly denied the VPA simply had its troops carry man-portable rocket launchers in numbers and use them at point-blank range. Vehicle losses were heavy until the field engineers stepped in.
     Princess Yantyl, Field Major in command of the 9th Combat Engineering Battalion, took note that most of the point-blank rocket attacks took place with the firer being within 30 meters of the target. Any closer and they would be detected by the life scanners on the vehicles. However, the depleted uranium used in the rocket warheads could be detected for Fendalen sensors were far more advanced than those used by the VPA. Silent, stealthy autonomous drones used for the deployment of anti-personnel mines had their sensors fine-tuned to pick up the rocket warheads. When a rocket was detected the drone circled the area and dropped its mines.
     Practically transparent, wafer-thin and shaped like winged seed pods, the mines had a lifespan of two weeks, at which point they bio-degraded. However, due to advanced Fendalen chemistry, those little mines packed a wallop as the would-be tank killers found out the hard way. With the location of the rocketeers known Fendalen troops simply avoided them, leaving them in a quandary on whether to stay, hoping their comrades would come and clear away the mines, or risk moving away on their own. As it turned out, the helicopter mines were the most effective anti-personnel weapon in the war. With the explosive power to blow off a foot VPA troops, especially the rocketeers, became excessively concerned about their surroundings. In several recorded instances rocketeers simply refused to move and died from starvation and exposure. Those that bolted, assuming they didn’t step on a mine, were sniped by scout teams, for Fendalens were noted for staying absolutely still for days at a time.
     Yantyl was with one of her companies on the outskirts of a Vendian city codenamed Barkerville. A command post for the 5th Corps Commander was under construction. Pits for the point-defense installations were complete as well as other defenses, such as pop-up machine cannons and mine dispensers. Command and communication equipment was on hand and functioning, including datalinks to other command posts. Going down into the plasticrete structure and into the main room Yantyl brought up a map of the city on the flat table display. At a population of 800,000 Barkerville (the Vendian name being Valvan City) looked like it was built all at the same time. It appeared that the whole population was housed in massive, dull colored apartment complexes and the streets were too wide for simple traffic, especially since mass transit was the rule as private cars were all but unknown on Venda.
     Fighting had evolve to the point where the VPA, having given up on organizing anything larger than a regiment due to the attention of kinetic strikes, had taken to the cities. As for the civilians, despite the exhortations of the state to fight, some fled where practical or otherwise hunkered down in shelters. Some civilians even offered to help the Occupation Administration, providing basic needs in captured cities, such as food distribution and medical care. Snipers and scouts on both sides played a role all out of proportion to their numbers, either pinning down whole enemy squads for hours at a time or else calling down artillery and mortar fire on any concentration of force.
     One new weapon the combat engineers came up with was an adaptation of the standard sonic riot grenade. Thanks to months of study on captured Vendian spacers a specific audio frequency was discovered to cause abdominal pain. It didn’t matter that the Vendians couldn’t hear the sound, but the vibrations said sound made in the internal organs was real enough. So equipped the AKC and SA were able to flush out the enemy and incur fewer losses in the process.
     Barkerville was on the verge of being declared secured. Once it was Yantyl planned to enter the city and secure several examples of Vendian flowers and their seeds for her garden complex back on Royal Ascendant. It was likely the fighting would end within days as those VPA troops that could leave did, mostly on foot. Patriotic Guard troops, living up to their reputation as thuggish backstabbers, often pulled out first and killed selected knots of VPA survivors so as to force the others to stay and fight to the bitter end. Such fights were even now being reported to be occurring less and less often. Yantyl could only shake her head at such a waste of effort and material. The only reason why after six weeks of fighting that 40% of the planet was under Fendalen control was that the Vendian armies were too preoccupied watching each other. Had they all been together to start with….
     The floor of the command bunker shook like there was a heavy truck moving nearby. Yantyl knew that there could only be one reason, and her thought was confirmed as the bunker sealed up and went to internal air. A technician activated several screens, displaying the conditions outside the bunker. “Zoom in on the city,” she ordered. Several gasps were heard as it was revealed that a mushroom cloud rose from the city center.
     “Estimated yield is two megatons, ground burst,” said one technician. “We lost contact with most of the command platoons in the city.”
     Yantyl slammed a fist onto the table. “Damn! Use the laser array to contact the Donkey. We need their rescue teams in full radiation protocol. Inform the OA to send all the medical teams they can spare.”
     “Yes, Field Major.”
     With the circular design and population density factored in the casualties in the city were going to be horrific. Of the 800,000 just over 600,000 stayed, and it was doubtful that more than 20,000 were going to live. 4,500 AKC soldiers were in Barkerville, finishing off the last of the VPA die-hards. To explode a nuke in a city that was still populated was beyond the pale, and Yantyl could only think of one person who would order its use. She feared that Barkerville was just the beginning.

---

“People of Venda, I bring you sad news,” Alart said with a heavy heart into the microphone. “Valvan City, built in the honor of and named after the founder of our world-wide socialist paradise, has been destroyed by imperialist Fendalen forces. This desecration will be avenged a thousand-fold! Apply yourselves to the extermination of the Fendalens and their equally-evil Bhohim lackeys! No enemy of the Peoples Republic is to be left alive, and to that end I order that no more prisoners are to be taken and those already in custody to be executed. We will inflict such causalities on our foe that he will give up his conquest and leave our world forever. Our steel will break their iron! Hail the Party!”
     Alart turned off the microphone, disconnected and shoved it back into a drawer in his desk. “Bastards! Not so much as firing a pistol into the air! And in the city dedicated to our world founder!”
     Bavban, the only other person in the room and Alart’s chief aid, acted in one of various roles, this time as the ghost of Alart’s conscious. “Sir, the city was a showcase, planned to the last detail. For all their width and grandeur the streets only served for the yearly armed forces parade. It was nothing more than a collection of boxes filled with bureaucrats that wouldn’t know the dangerous end of a gun.”
     “To hell with them! If they couldn’t fire a gun then they could’ve taken a bullet meant for our troops instead. They were collaborating, and for that I had them destroyed. Any city from now on that fails to resist will be branded as traitorous and dealt the harshest punishment.” Alart opened a jar of jerky and shoved several strips into his mouth.
     “As you decree so shall it be, Premiere.” Bavban made it clear that he had no conscious of his own with his following words. “I believe that there are several other cities that fall within your criteria. Would you like to make your selection now?”
     Alart waved his hand. “Yes, yes. Bring down the screen,” he said as bits of jerky flew from his mouth.
     After a moment the large screen came down from the ceiling, displaying the current situation on a world map. Bavban highlighted some cities for Alart’s consideration. Moments passed, all the while Alart chewed on the jerky in a sloppy and noisy manner. “What’s that around Revolutionary Gate?” he asked.
     Revolutionary Gate was an industrial city of 150,000. Prime industries were military hardware, munitions, and vehicular construction. Bavban read the pertinent data. “Approximately 2,000 enemy troops are on the outskirts. The VPA units assigned to its defense have been heavily mauled by orbital strikes. They have fallen back into the city and are awaiting additional forces.”
     “They had six weeks to prepare defenses, to arm the citizenry (with sticks and shovels of course), and still only a mere 2,000 enemy threatens to conquer the whole city?” Alart said incredulously. “Orbital bombardment or no, the city could easily repulse so small a force.” He got up and walked over to the screen, enlarging the area around the city. “The citizens have failed in their duty, to be ‘encircled’ by so small a force. We are fighting for our world! If they fail to fight and die for their government then they don’t deserve the paradise brought into being by Valvan! Bavban! Order the FEAD commanders to get the citizens to attack now. In twelve hours, if the Fendalens have not been stopped or driven back, then I authorized that the city be destroyed by our secret action teams.”
     “Yes, Premiere.” Bavban turned and left, leaving Alart regarding the other ‘threatened’ cities with eyes he reserved for strips of jerky.

---

For all of his bluster and rhetoric Alart should’ve been a better student of Valvan. The citizens, despite what the various secret police organs believed, knew what was going on. With the knowledge that this supposed ‘evil enemy’ could wipe them out at any time they choose it was the lack of the very acts they expect that made them wonder. They wondered, why after six weeks, the enemy was now using nuclear weapons while the VPA and the Patriotic Guard (PG) have admitted to several failed attempts to use similar weapons on the enemy. Indeed, the only ones who suffered were the very people the services claimed to be protecting when several nuclear missiles detonated prematurely so as to avoid being shot down. Of course, these detonations occurred over population centers and inflicted terrible losses.
     Then there was the observed FEAD activity against retreating VPA troops and civilians. One of the stories that made the rounds was when a medical convoy, spared by the Fendalens from other columns composed of actual combat soldiers, was stopped by a FEAD strongpoint. When the convoy commander refused to turn around and have his wounded fight ‘to the last’ he was shot along with his charges. In another incident a group of civilians was similarly executed for failure to resist the enemy.
     Even the most patriotic citizen could no longer reconcile what their government was saying and what it was actually doing. The institutionalized tools of fear and terror were ratcheted up to an insane level. Work hours where increased and those that where even late just once were thrown into work battalions, laboring to build field defenses around the major cities of the planet. Everything became compulsory, leaving practically no time to rest nor to tend to family needs. The children, left to living at their schools as no-one was left at home to care for them, became inadvertent prisoners to their parents good behavior. It was a poisonous environment in which no-one was immune.
     Add to this mix Alart’s words, the very words he used to address the citizens after the destruction of Valvan City. A city he ordered destroyed for not destroying itself to his satisfaction. He should have been more specific when he ordered the execution of the ‘enemies of the Peoples Republic’. Did that meant the man who accidentally spilt some flour in a bakery, then whisked away by the police and shot for destruction of property, was an enemy? Was the woman who killed herself out of grief, throwing herself in front a train and thereby halting service for an hour, a saboteur and having her family arrested and executed for her suicide an enemy? Or was the child who attempted to stop a PG thug from having his way with his mother an enemy, shot on the spot for making a ruckus that would attract attention?
      In another universe, in the sick universe that lived in Alart and the Politburo’s head, such true incidents would’ve been spun into making the victims as enemies. There wasn’t going to be time in which to obscure the truth, not in this or in any other universe. A camera team from the state media was broadcasting live in Revolutionary Gate. In a supreme example of propaganda the so-called reporter was describing a scene in which the citizens were preparing positions at the city’s edge from which they and the brave VPA were to send the enemy packing. Speaking like he was smiling (since Vendians muzzles couldn’t smile) the report pointed to a group of children crossing the street, carrying shovels, buckets, and sacks.
     The cameraman saw it first, the PG personnel carrier coming down the road, the commander sitting up through his hatch. Also sitting up was the driver, his goggles on his helmet so he could feel more air move across his face. So, really, there was no excuse for what happened next. It was like the children were invisible, or worse, the commander and driver just didn’t care – they had been ordered to ‘mind’ a particular section of the defenses manned by the VPA. As they saw it the children were the ones who needed to get out of the way, not for the vehicle to stop and wait for the children to clear.
     Knowing he could be imprisoned for filming the event, and ignoring the reporter to turn away when he realized what was about to happen, the cameraman witnesses the deaths of six children. He held back the bile in this throat, for as incredible as it was sickening, the vehicle backed up and extinguished the lives of four more. Troops came out of the vehicle, ordered to remove the bodies so that the way was clear. It was then that the civilians attacked, killing with great rage the PG troops. Five times as many civilians died as there were troops, but it was done, and the cameraman was killed by the vehicle commander before being torn apart by the raging crowd.
     This incident would’ve been an isolated one in a sea of isolated events, left to rumor and spin control like the bakery man. However, the master controller in the studio that received and broadcasted the cameraman’s feed didn’t press the switch to terminate it. For a full three minutes the main network of all of Venda broadcasted the horrific scene and the aftermath in high-definition color and sound. Due to the security involved the power to the studio had be shut down to stop the broadcast, for the master controller had locked out the kill switch with a password. Interestingly, had they even cared to ask the interrogators would’ve found out the password was ‘enough’.
     Alart lost it upon hearing the news. He ordered the immediate destruction of Revolutionary Gate, letting his sycophantic cronies come up with a twisted excuse. Next were all the personnel in the broadcast center for failing to kill the transmission sooner. Then he had the families of said personnel rounded up and shot for being related to ‘anti-government activists’. But the damage was done. Too many people saw for themselves what the government cameraman and controller, nameless but remembered forever afterwards, had shown them. PG troops and their FEADs were killed upon discovery by ever-growing armies of vengeful citizens. Given the choice of fighting the Fendalens or the PG, the VPA chose to vanquish the PG regardless of cost. Whole cities didn’t surrender as so much acknowledge that they won’t oppose AKC and SA troops, even if it was just a company of infantry.
     It was an incredible turn of events, one which Kysjyt and the RN assisted as best they could. With their more powerful and sensitive sensors the wholesale nuking of cities by fanatical FEADs was stopped cold. The megaton-range nukes simply didn’t have the shielding to mask their presence and if they did then they would’ve been too heavy to be carried manually. Just two more cities, including Revolutionary Gate, were destroyed in such a manner but the remaining were ravaged by riots as anti-government forces took on the PG, secret police and all other hated organs of a state that placed no value on life.
     Back in the field the AKC and SA elected to defend themselves against anyone who dare challenged them. Other than that, they still combated the increasingly scattered PG formations, right down to squad level. Some PG troops chose suicide by calling attention to themselves for kinetic strikes so that they didn’t have to face the hordes of civilians bent on administering primitive blood justice. So it was that on the eleventh week two brigades, one from the Armored Knights Corps and the other from the Security Army, entered the capital city of Venda, Hammerfist, and planted their flags on the burnt-out ruins of the Politburo Building.
     Building a new government from the chaos was a legionary task. Sajel knew that the one sure way to have the budding political forces listen and obey him was to deliver the head of Alart. Nothing else would do. Fortunately, he knew just how to do that.

---

The bunker on the outskirts of Revolutionary Gate served as the stage. In the center of the planning room was Prince Sajel. Princess Yantyl, wearing the same protective field dress she had the day the city was destroyed, was sitting to Sajel’s right. To the left, off-camera, was Kysjyt, Wonset and Magistrate Peso. In full royal regalia Sajel wielded a staff in one hand and an orb of silver in the other. He looked ready for a portrait. Next to his shiny metalwork his sister’s uniform, spotted by dirt and blood from wounded soldiers and civilians alike, looked out of place. It wasn’t as far as Sajel was concerned. He wanted to show his audience the harsh reality behind his authority, and that he could be as harsh as the circumstances warranted.
      “It’s a good thing we found them as fast as we did,” Sajel said to his sister. “Without Jarjat’s help we would’ve faced years of terror bombings by die-hard Alart loyalists.”
     “So true, brother. When they see what we’re about to do then they better lead quite lives of desperation and never attract attention to themselves.” Yantyl preened her forward pair of antennae. “Jarjat’s ancestor worked in the first team that built the National Redoubt. Had he not written down the co-ordinates of the original tunnel entrance on some forgotten slip of paper left in an equally forgotten notebook then it would’ve taken searching the whole planet.”
     “Well, I won’t be mentioning that in my speech. I doubt Alart’s sick mind could accept such a simple truth. He’ll just concoct something to fit his warped view of the world.” Sajel looked over to his father and great uncle. “Are we ready to broadcast? I’m hungry and I want to get to work. My time is better spent than lecturing to a fool.”
     Kysjyt chuckled. “You’re a bit too young to be having the label ‘Great’ attached to your name, my son. Broadcast circuits are on-line. Forced broadband spectrum transmitters are on-site and surrounding Alart’s little cardboard box. Just say the word.”
     “Great, indeed.” Sajel composed himself, then nodded to the technician.


For one who belittled his subordinates on looking disheveled Alart appeared like he was on a week-long bender. His office was a mess, furniture overturned from fits of rage powered by liquor. There was even blood spattered about from where he fought those that sought to calm him down. He was left alone after a while, only issuing orders over the comm system for counter-attacks that could never be mounted and spouting revenge fantasies upon the whole ‘traitorous’ world.
     It was in a moment of clarity that Sajel’s message blared over the speakers in the office, for the huge screen was fractured from one of Alart’s earlier fits of rage. The Premiere howled in pain, the sound playing merry hell on his detoxifying ears. “This is Sajel, Prince of the Gyst Dynasty and sixth-born of Kysjyt, the one true King of the Fendalens. I speak to you as viceroy, appointed by the king to rule benevolently and righteously over this world.
     “The war on this planet, having lasted for three whole months, is about to come to an end. I hold no illusion that the crimes committed by the past regime will still be addressed for decades to come. I give my word that as long as there is breath in my body I will help bring this world out of its centuries of darkness and into the light.”
     Alart howled laughter, but then whimpered in pain when Sajel spoke again. “The past regime, like the one that lead to the establishment of the Peoples Republic, was one that ruled by force, fear, and terror. Social idealism was a mere veil for power-drunk people. Many of those that had contributed to the terror and perpetuated it have already been dealt with, and the rest will be punished. As for Alart and his cronies, and I use the term rightfully, hiding away in their National Redoubt for years to come, cooking up plots and intrigues with which to trouble the free people of Venda, well, they have another thing coming.
     “The National Redoubt, a construction authorized by Valvan himself, has been kept updated and modernized for the past two hundred years. Out of all the secrets on the planet the Redoubt was perhaps the best kept, but even then it wasn’t enough to hide from the sensors of the Royal Navy. Located in the Heart Spine Mountains, the Redoubt will now get the attention that it tried so hard to avoid.” Sajel nodded to someone off-screen, and a moment later Alart thought he felt the floor quiver.
     What the Premiere didn’t know was that the image of the mountain that housed the Redoubt underneath it was being transmitted to the whole planet. He would’ve seen the mountain’s exterior being pounded by over two thousand kinetic projectiles, fired from orbit. An alarm buzzer grated Alart’s ears, but he ignored it, preferring to listen to the big bug’s ridiculous speech.
     “As you have just witness,” Sajel continued, “the exterior of the Redoubt as well as the surrounding mountains and valleys inbetween have been struck by kinetic projectiles. Any vent exteriors, entrances and emergency exits, and antennae have been destroyed. A fine layer of radioactive material will now be deposited on the surface of the mountain housing the Redoubt so as to force those inside to resort to manufactured and recycled air.
     “Additionally, any attempt to drill out of the Redoubt will be met by a bombardment that will result in the obliteration of the mountain and everything, everything, underneath it. Access to the underground river will be denied, for engineers will divert its flow with explosives and selective cave-ins.
     “So, as you see, any hope on Alart and his cronies’ part to wait out the new government will end in failure. You may have supplies and foodstuff for decades, Alart, but is your sick little mind able to handle that prison you call the Redoubt for decades? I don’t think so. You and your fanatical followers, all 2,000 of them, have been sentenced by royal decree to life imprisonment without parole for crimes committed against the Vendian race. Rest assured, you will never get a reprieve by the new and subsequent governments, for as long your victims live they will see to it that you stay right were you are – in the middle of your own hell.
     “Oh, one last thing,” Sajel said in a matter-of-fact tone that the translation program caught perfectly. “The Redoubt will be for perpetuity a testing and calibration site for the Kingdom’s kinetic bombardment program. If it isn’t the falling rocks that kill you, Alart, then it will be the flatulence from all the jerky you’ve stored away. There aren’t enough charcoal filters to handle the stink you make. Good day to you, Sir.”
     The transmission ended. Had Sajel cared to see Alart, he would’ve known that he indeed smelt as bad as he looked.


Governing and policing Venda proved just as hard as Sajel expected it to be. Even after venting their fury on the old regime the civilians, the product of over 200 years of authoritarian rule, expected life to go back to the way it was – controlled. Even the limited form of self government as practiced by the Kingdom looked like anarchy to the Vendians. Toss in bureaucratic diehards and anarchist extremists into the mix and you had to have a rather large occupation force on hand to quell the subsequent riots.
     Sajel served as viceroy for ten years, only leaving when the Vendians held two national elections in a row without violence. He would return again for he kept his word to see that the Venda remained free, even at the cost of his life.


* The most memorable incident occurred when 200 occupants of the Sunnydale Complex, Block D, attempted to stop a tank. After the war this action was the centerpiece of a dark comedy called 200, detailing the various lunatic efforts performed by civilian action teams with the full support of callous government officials. In the actual attempt the 200 were killed short of their tank target. For the movie the whole group had managed to dogpile atop the vehicle, hoping to collapse the suspension. Being a hovertank this didn’t work, and after the anti-personnel strips were expended the tank called upon an infantry squad to ‘hose off’ the would-be suspension breakers with gunfire. 200 swept the Vendian Media Awards the year it was released.

Vendian Space Navy Ranks
Sub-Lieutenant - Ensign
Lieutenant (3rd - 1st Grades) - Lt. jg, Lt. sg. Lt. Commander respectively
Division Commander - Commander
Squadron Commander - Captain
Chief Squadron Commander (3rd - 1st Grades) - Commodore
     CSC-1s were most often head of bureaus while 3s commanded actual flotillas.
Fleet Director - Rear Admiral
Senior Fleet Director (3rd - 1st Grades) - Vice Admiral/Admiral.
Chief of Naval Forces - Admiral of the Navy


07/20/07
updated 08/12/07

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