The Pulurtans - Chapter 4
The Armor of Fendala
slipped into orbit above the formally Bian-populated world
of Industria. Days earlier the High Navy Combined Fleet
blasted its way into the system for moderate losses and
chased down Mechanized Space Navy ships that attempted to
flee. After bombarding the orbiting space station and
associated defense platforms into wreckage the planet was
treated with neutron warheads. The megacities on Industria
were made into ghost towns with only incidental fires,
blazing within the confines of Bian homes and businesses.
Only a few High Army battalions were sent down to finish off
survivors as well as gather information from the planet’s
groundside spaceports.
King Lugan was in Fendala’s officer
lounge and had the company of four of his children:
Princesses Lynaca, Coryn and Qavas, and Prince Dusan.
Admiral Kulsek, commander of the Combined Fleet and Wynja,
Chief of the Naval Intelligence Office were also attending.
All were drinking a rum-spiked tea to celebrate the
destruction of Industria, observing the planet as it rolled
past the grand viewport. “They must be on the ropes,” Lugan
said after sipping some tea. “What mobile forces they had in
this system barely rated as a task force by their
standards.”
“The defenses at the warp point
certainly made up the difference, my King,” Kulsek
commented. “Those extensive minefield rings and clusters of
small bases devoted to killing pods, fighters and gunboats
performed above expectations.” He took a sip of tea. “That’s
not mentioning that they’ve refitted some of their bases
with gunboat racks, enhancing their CAP. We only got into
the system because those missile-armed Volcanics had to be
where they were in order to be the most effective.”
Lynaca twitched her antennae. “It
was fortunate you had the foresight to centralize all the
pinnace tenders for this operation. Their firepower finished
the close-in bases and created a clear zone for the assault
carriers to launch relatively unmolested.”
“That’s if you consider breached
armor and 30% internal damage as being unmolested,” Coryn
said briskly. “Given the apparent age and development of
Industria this must mean the Bian home system is close by.
Waiting six weeks for the assault carriers to be repaired is
practically giving the Bians twelve in regards to
construction and deployment.”
Lugan gave his second-born a
leveling look. “Those six weeks might as well be an eternity
as far as the machines are concerned. By their own records,
and intelligence gathered from captured Bian officers, the
Registry is a 30 system empire with Bios at the bottom. In
fourteen months our fleets and survey flotillas have gone
through 24 systems and purged 5 Bian planets. It won’t
matter a mountain full of damns how well defended those
remaining six system are.”
“If I may be so bold, my King,”
said Wynja, “there is something in what Coryn said. The
quality of the enemy has gone down appreciably in the past
fourteen months. Indeed, it appears they’ve been sending
ships directly to combat without conducting shake-down
cruises. Even a majority of their capital units have
appeared with no hull painting, as if saving half a day
would make a difference in the greater scheme of things. In
the last two battles enemy fire control was sub-par with
fighter and gunboat squadrons displaying an equal level of
underdevelopment. Industria (actually it was former
homeworld of the Floggol, a race exterminated by the Bians)
was the first system settled by the machines. If having a
substandard task force stationed here was the best they
could do then we must keep the pressure up.”
Kulsek’s front pair of antennae
crossed to signify strong agreement. “Admiral Wynja has said
what my task group commanders are thinking, my King. With
just one major system left the MSN is in no position to
conduct a counter-offensive. Of course in defense of their
home warp point they can orchestrate spoiling attacks with
pinnaces and gunboats.”
Lugan took a long sip of tea,
savoring the honey flavor as well as the rum. “I would
welcome any such spoiling attack those machines cared to
mount. That would mean that much fewer gunboats and pinnaces
to oppose us. I only regret that no MSN ship or base
remained in Industria for us to inspect for a database. Warp
point data on Bios would be most helpful. For that alone we
could end the war that much sooner.”
“The Claim Jumpers are all nearly finished with
their refits,” Kulsek announced with leaden enthusiasm.
Undersized escorts, the Claim
Jumpers were built specifically to transit en-masse
enemy-held warp points and gather gravity surge data. The
High Navy only had use the Claim Jumpers twice before in the Bios
War, each time resulting in success but with severe
casualties. Fighting on their own territory the Bians had no
need for such a specialized ship. For the High Navy it was a
necessity when no data could be obtained from captured Bian
ships. Even with follow-up scans from pinnaces and gunboats
any ship following a missile pod bombardment without warp
point data would enter on random vectors, potentially
putting them in a bad spot should their defenseless sterns
end up pointing towards an enemy unit.
His cup empty Lugan refilled it not
with tea but with straight rum, replacing the straw in the
process. “Whatever defenses they may have to guard their
warp points we will swamp them in a torrent of missile pods.
The Bians must know this and will act accordingly, keeping
their mobile units away from the warp point. For that real
possibility I have a come to a decision.” He looked at
Kulsek intently. “Once the home system’s location has been
pinned down, and if the adjoining system has a suitable
asteroid, we will use the prefabricated components in the
fleet train to construct a gunboat base. In one massive wave
the gunboats will deal with whatever is left on the warp
point, creating at clear zone for the assault carriers.”
Quite until now, Prince Dusan
swirled the contents of his tea cup with a spoon. “Father,
are you going to authorize the colonization of Bian worlds
in our ownership? Cleanup of contaminated zones has been
simplified thanks to the Bians’ predilection to live in just
megacities.”
It felt as if the temperature in
the room fell a few degrees as Lugan got up on his legs. He
held his teacup with a grip he applied to the throat of an
Isset decades earlier. “Those worlds will be settled in the
coming months. It is our right to make the land of the enemy
our own, especially after all the deaths that were inflicted
upon us. However,” he continued, speaking in a righteously
indignant tone, “we will construct new cities on those
worlds and leave the depopulated ones alone. The cost of
adapting even one Bian megacity for Fendalen use would be
enough to establish a dozen settlements. More importantly,
it would be an insult to our race to dwell in the homes of
our dead foe. We would be the very vermin as seen by those
hedonistic machines. No,” he stated with finality, “those
cities will only be the domain of historians and
archeologists. We will let nature reclaim them. In time the
only proof that Bians even existed will be in museums, just
like they could’ve done to us if they’ve won and have
already demonstrated with Commander Gathyl and his bridge
crew.”
“That’s a very unpleasant thought,” Qavas
tossed out, sipping her tea quickly so she could fill her
cup with just rum, following her father’s example. She
needed to calm her nerves. In Fendalen folklore it is said
that if one stood still for too long it would be taken as an
invitation by the spirits of death to collect one’s soul.
Qavas had no intention of seeing the immaculately preserved
bodies on Heavy Melder had she known beforehand. On
invitation from her father she went down with him along with
Lynaca and Coryn to visit the home of Cogsworth, the Bian
officer that initiated the first battle in the war. There
wasn’t a greater form of desecration imaginable, the sight
of the stuffed bodies being so repugnant that Lugan had them
removed and incinerated in a common grave.
Recalling the way her father looked
and sounded Qavas wondered with trepidation if he was going
to follow historical precedent in regards to the Bians. In
centuries pass it was expected of the King to lead the
capture of the enemy’s capital and experience some personal
danger. Lugan had clearly fulfilled that obligation by being
aboard the Fendala for the past fourteen months and
participated in four battles. If he intended to carry
through and, heavens forbid, actually follow history by
landing an army on Bios Prime then avoidable casualties
would ensue. Qavas made it a point to have a talk with her
attending siblings and ask to convince their father, in a
group, not to conduct a land invasion. No more blood needed
to be spilt in the name of vengeance on living machines and
their parody of a civilization.
Admiral (1st Gear) Ampere, CNO of the Mechanized Space Navy,
was in his command center aboard the space station Steel
Star orbiting Bios Prime, trying to calculate how much time
was left to his race. With Industria lost there were only
five systems between Bios and the rampaging hordes of
leaf-stalkers. Looking at a simplified map display, Ampere’s
octagonal machine eyes betrayed nothing of his inner
thoughts. There were no fortifications in between Industria
and Bios other than light minefields and a smattering of
energy buoys. With some foresight, and cowing the sniveling
Naval Secretary Gestan Gears, Ampere had five squadrons of Booster Shot pinnace
carriers take station at each entry warp point of those five
systems. This even included Chasm-01, a starless void. 140
advanced armed pinnaces and 88 of the improved gunboats in
each of those systems weren’t going to stop the giant bugs.
What they could do was destroy the enemy’s assault carriers
and minesweepers, denying their future use and slowing their
advance.
As for the defense of Bios it
would’ve been impregnable in age before missile pods. Around
Bios’ two warp points were multiple shells of minefields
with only the innermost one composed of the antimatter
variety. Buoy clusters kept the inner mines company. 144 Volcanics, 42 Promethias, 20 Promethia-Vs, 10 Promethia-Es, 6 Toggle Switches and 6
of the recently complete Industria-class
forts
was an immense drain on resources, even more so considering
that each of the two warp points had the same defenses. Yet
they had to be this substantial so as to ensure enough would
survive a missile pod bombardment.
The one thing Ampere couldn’t
control was which warp point the enemy would chose. Given
the size and frequency of the assaults it wouldn’t surprise
the admiral if they elected to use both. However these
leaf-stalkers, being mortal flesh-and-blood beings, would
want to minimize their losses. Putting the mobile forces at
the right warp point would go a long way to ensure a
defensive victory. But if Ampere was wrong then the enemy
would get in, activate their cloaking systems, and move on
the homeworld. For that reason he elected to hold the mobile
force over the planet. Combined with the fighters from Steel
Star and the forts Ampere was certain his forces would give
a good account of themselves before dying.
If pride goes before a fall then
Ampere wanted to be there when Vulcana’s porcelain head hits
the floor. It was the vanity and obstinacy of the woman that
denied, until now, the changes needed in the basic structure
of the Bian neural cortex that would enable it to endure the
electromagnetic fields produced by a cloaking device. The
admiral’s mechanical voice produced his laugh perfectly. Had
Queen Vulcana permitted the required changes over two years
ago then the Bian race wouldn’t be at death’s door. All the
tactical and strategic possibilities the big bugs had
enjoyed for so long could’ve been for his fleet as well.
Ampere turned to the only other
officer currently in the command center. Cogsworth, now on
his second replacement body and archived memory activation
since the war began, was assessing reports sent out via
courier drones from Industria. For services rendered in the
war the officer was promoted to commodore. “Have you found
what you’re looking for, Cogsworth?” Ampere inquired.
“I have indeed, Admiral. The bug
king’s flagship took part of the Industria assault, in the
fifth wave.” Cogsworth wondered why he wasn’t feeling all
that much antipathy towards the being that possessed one of
his heads. It was only through captured data that he learned
of the antics used by King Lugan to goad Admiral Crankshaft
into combat. What Cogsworth felt was anxiety. Having a gap
in memory, even for one month, was unacceptable to him, even
with writings and personal notes to fill in the gaps.
“Do you anticipate a change in
their ID codes in the foreseeable future?”
“None, Admiral. While actual data
channels are encrypted the regular ID transponders remain
the same for the duration of a war, according to their
regulations,” Cogsworth replied. Going back in the record,
and the leafstalker king’s own transmissions and drive filed
frequency of his ship, we can readily identify him.”
Ampere nodded. “Very well. This
will be a standing order for all units defending the warp
points. Should the bug king’s ship appear in the inevitable
warp assault it will be a priority target. It will be
destroyed regardless of all tactical considerations.”
“What good will that do, Sir?”
Cogsworth asked.
Had he an actual mouth Ampere
would’ve made a cruel smile. “I’m doing it out of
consideration of our queen. It’s only fitting that the bug
king should die first so he could prepare hell for Vulcana’s
arrival.”
On the route to Bios via Industria one has the choice of
going into Gearshift or Steelpress. With the bulk of the
High Navy to call upon the probing of both systems could be
done in strength. Steady incursions by pinnaces showed the
entry points for the two were practically the same. 600
patterns of mines and 300 buoys were being shepherded by 35
advanced armed pinnaces and 22 of the improved gunboat types
used by the High Navy. There were no forts but twelve ship
contacts were registered orbiting their respective warp
points at a distance of 10.5 light-seconds. While engine
types gave a general idea of the size of the ships without
specific identification any missile pod attack against them
ran the real risk of being wasted. So instead of ships the
gunboats were targeted.
A mere 120 pods transited into
Steelpress. After entering on random vectors and suffering
interpenetration losses, including the trip into the
minefields, the pods were down to just 96. The pinnaces had
all moved onto the warp point to intercept any potential
wave of ships. As for the gunboats, knowing they were the
target since the pinnaces were just small enough to be
ignored, they went after the largest grouping of pods
regardless if any particular gunboat achieved action
stations or not. Just 14 were shot down when the pods fired,
each gunboat receiving the full load of at least one pod
that was within optimal range, equaling 8 nuke-armed CBMs.
Only one survived.
While the patrolling gunboats were
dealing with the initial pods a second wave emerged.
80-strong, the pods moved out to a distance of 1.25 LS,
orbited the warp point briefly, and then turned back to
consolidate atop the warp point. The Bian commander may have
congratulated his foresight in having the armed pinnaces
were they were now. Previously those big bugs used such a
similar tactic, using the first wave pods to pull away the
gunboats while the second wave doubled back and attacked the
close-in bases. With the pinnaces in place the 55 remaining
pods will be culled.
Surprise was complete as the first
pinnace locked onto a pod with its fire-control system.
Explosives blew off a panel on the pod, revealing
point-defense sprint missile cells. A quartet of missiles
spat into the pinnace’s face, destroying it before it could
get off a shot. This was repeated with each pinnace,
regardless if they sought to engage a pod or not. Of the
original CAP only one gunboat remained ninety seconds into
the battle.
The Bian ships were rushing to
action stations as best they could. While the two Pest Strip escort
cruisers, all five Mentalists
and the Contact Poison
command ship were active when the first HN ship appeared the
four Booster Shots,
based on freighter hulls, were slower. Just two of the huge
ships launched the remainder of their broods, holding
station until the last ship joined them when sixth HN ship
emerged.
The wave of HN ships was made of
five Spike SDs and
a Gilded Glove.
Only two were facing the same direction on entry but all
were turning to achieve their exit vectors. The Spikes released their
gunboats, 100 in all, and fired AMBAMs from their internal
launchers, wiping out 15 mine patterns in one patch. As for
the last CAP gunboat it closed on the Gilded Glove and
rippled-fired twelve close-attack missiles, hitting with
ten, and downing one Mace gunboat with point defense. 80% of
the ship’s shields were flatten, a pointless attack since
the weapon buoys were armed with lasers. Following the
destruction of the Bian gunboat the buoy parks were savaged
by the transit-addled weapons of the Maces and ships, taking
out 54 before the remaining 246 blazed to life. With their
impressive armor belts the ships remained unbreached.
Just the first Spike transited out
when six Redshift
survey ships entered and released their 72 gunboats. Another
Booster Shot
crashed-launched and released its pinnaces and gunboats,
leaving just one. 33 more mine patterns were obliterated. As
for the Maces they held station, waiting until a clear path
was created before venturing out.
Six Uhlan battlecruisers replaced the retiring
quartet of Spikes
and the Gilded Glove.
One Redshift left
as well, bringing back gravity surge data on the warp point.
More AMBAM rounds reduced the target patch greatly,
prompting the Bian ships to retreat. Just as the last Booster Shot launched
it flightgroup the minefield path was cleared, freeing the Uhlans and Maces to
conduct their pursuit.
Bowing to reality the four Booster Shot tenders
were left to fend for themselves as the rest of the
formation detuned their engines to put more distance between
themselves and the Maces. The Uhlans ignored the four as they could be
dealt with the Redshifts.
Massed together the 66 Gunboats and 105 advanced armed
pinnaces made a move on the Uhlans. Making no attempt to avoid the
horde the battlecruisers relied on the 171 Maces that moved
on ahead to intercept. With the range down to 1.5 LS between
them the Maces opened up on their enemy, showing that the
first wave gunboats had AFHAWKs on their external racks.
Despite a robust defense the android crews offered 44 and 27
of their gunboats and pinnaces respectively were destroyed.
Two light-seconds behind the Maces the squadron of Uhlans fired capital
anti-fighter missiles, take out just one gunboat.
Boosting to full speed the Bian
gunboats intended to get the Maces in crossfire with the
pinnaces. Maneuvering like racers on a banking road the
Maces had both formations at equal distance, but importantly
out of the arc of external weapons. Opening fire with point
defense and internal lasers the Pulurtans finished the job
for the loss of 24 of their own. Nine-and-a-half minutes
later 147 Maces gained ground until they were in range of
the Pest Strips’
missile launchers. At that point the duo stopped detuning
and engaged the tuners, permitting them to use their
missiles without penalty. For a full five minutes the Maces
were under attack, ultimate losing 40 of their number until
their lasers finally had the range.
Getting to the Mentalists and the Contact Poison took
longer as they changed course from the BCEs when the first
AFHAWK volley was fired. Once in range the CAE stopped
detuning so as to employ its capital point defense systems
while the Mentalists
went from detuning to using engine tuners. Instead of dying
as a group the control ships opted to maximize their kills.
While it was a good plan they were still going to be enough
Maces, especially those from the Redshifts as they were armed with
antimatter close attack missiles. For a further loss of 24
Maces the battle for Steelpress was a victory for the High
Navy. A task force soon filled into the system with the
survey flotilla undertaking the critical mission to find
additional warp points if any.
Back on the Armor of
Fendala the reports from Steelpress and Gearshift
came within an hour of each other. Admiral Kulsek and Wynja,
after being appraised of the results, went together to
inform King Lugan. They found him in a clear area of a cargo
hold doing his daily sword practice with Gyco, one of his
knights. If it could be helped officers usually waited until
the King was finished before seeking his audience, otherwise
one was likely made to spar for a few minutes. Waiting
discreetly, the senior officers watched and wondered if
Lugan would toss a pair of wooden practice swords at any
moment. Going by the way the royal was delivering this sword
strokes this morning they were glad they weren’t at the
receiving end.
In his service to the King this was
the first time Gyco experienced a session such as this.
Lugan was making an all-out effort in his swordplay, pushing
forward with much energy. Even his antennae were swept back
like saplings bowing in the wind. It was if the King had
taken an inner demon out in the open, using Gyco as a handy
proxy. He even looked possessed, something that the young
knight has seen before when attending to the King in his
study. It took everything the young knight knew just to hold
his own. Then, with a sudden infusion of power, Lugan made a
strike that hit just above the hilt of Gyco’s sword. It was
so intense that both wooden practice swords shattered. Only
Gyco dropped his now-worthless hilt, out of pain as much as
surprise.
“In all my years this was the first
time I’ve seen this happen,” Lugan said as he examined his
ruined weapon, antennae no longer folded back. “Gyco, my
apologies. Go see the doctor and have that wrist looked
after.”
“I will, Sire,” the young knight
said, bowing and leaving.
Lugan turned to the two officers.
“So, the performance of the new weapon was what we
expected?”
“Yes, Sire,” Kulsek spoke first.
“The defense pods eliminated all pinnaces and gunboats that
came within point-blank range. Granted, the number of pods
involved meant overkill but at least the new system was
proven in actual combat conditions.”
Placing his ruined practice sword
on a table Lugan took a sip of water from an ornate cup.
“Now that they’ve seen the pods in action how will the enemy
respond?”
Wynja took this one. “They will try
to determine the range of the defense pods in what time and
opportunities are left to them, my King. While they can kill
pods from extended range the percentage of kills would go
down. Moreover, they will have to consider the fact that a
defense pod is indistinguishable from our type 3 and type
4s. We will no longer send in pure groups of defense pods,
but seed them in our regular pod waves.”
“So,” Lugan concluded, “they will
have to accept the inevitable losses to their defending
fighters and gunboats to enhance the survival chances for
their bases. This will be useful in assaulting Bios proper.”
“If our bombardment is timed
correctly, Sire,” Kulsek said, “we can significantly degrade
their CAP before they can call upon replacements from their
homeworld defenses. It all depends if we can nail the
fighter platforms.”0
Lugan went the storage rack and
retrieved a fresh pair of practice swords. He held one out,
hilt first, at Kulsek. “Excellent, Admiral. Before you
resume your duties can you indulge your king in five minutes
worth of sword practice?”
Kulsek accepted. He was a member of
the academy sword team, and unlike the majority of officers
he kept in practice. Having witnessed the King in various
sessions this was the first time he actually went up against
him. After what Gyco went through Kulsek hoped to make it to
five minutes.
“You needn’t worry about a repeat
performance,” Lugan said as if he read Kulsek’s mind. “I
don’t do the same fight twice.”
Chapter 4.25
So it came that the Bian systems of Metric and Measure were
discovered and conquered by the vanguard of the Combined
Fleet. When the survey flotillas determined the locations of
warp points in those systems they were invested with
minefields and energy buoys. Next came pinnace tenders and
the tedious attempts to spy whatever was on the far side.
Sent in at random intervals, it was another month before the
spying brought results in Metric.
“A formidable fixed defense I must
say,” said King Lugan as he looked at the main holoimager on
the Armor of Fendala’s
CIC. Next to him was Admiral Kulsek, agreeing with the
flexing of his forward pair of antennae. “More than twice
the number of bases employed at Heavy Melder and 86 percent
more tonnage.” He gestured to the inner ring of bases that
held station 1.5 LS from the warp point. “Over half their
numbers are Volcanics
and no doubt primed to kill pods and gunboats.”
“That is not mentioning the buoy
weapons, over 3,600 spread across three shells,” Kulsek
added. “Mines in the immediate proximity of the warp point
number 12,000 patterns. It’s fair to say that thousands more
cover the space between the warp point and those monster
bases nine light-seconds out.” He pointed to a highlighted
spot on the holoimager. “Thankfully the pinnace’s long-range
sensors had enough time to detect them before leaving. Given
the distance, and at twice the tonnage of a type-5, I can
safely say that they’re either carrying fighters or filled
with missile launchers.”
“Perhaps both, Admiral. The gods
have favored us by making the machine men combat patrols
blind at just the right moment. 420 fighters and 248
gunboats suggest an immense reserve backing them up.”
Upon being highlighted in the
holoimager by Kulsek the icons for the small craft looked
like a swarm of malevolent fireflies. “It’s just as well
that we’re getting practically all missile pod construction,
my King. The fourth-generation pods as well as the
mine-clearance variety will be in numbers in time for our
assault.”
Lugan looked at the constellation
of base icons, reaching yet not quite touching them. “Still
no word on the pinnace probe in Measure?”
“None, my King. However, now that
we’ve determined what’s on the other side of this warp point
we can send the balance of our probe pinnace assets to
Measure.”
“Do so,” Lugan said as an
afterthought. “It’s clear to me that this has to the Bian’s
home system. Placement of our gunboat bases will have to be
here as there are no suitable asteroids in Measure. How long
will it take to construct them from the prefab parts?”
“Two months, Sire,” Kulsek
answered. “Gunboats will be prepped and deployed as the
service pads become available.”
With a thoughtful nod Lugan turned.
“Perhaps in the interim the probe of Measure’s other warp
point will prove that it, too, leads to Bios. I shall retire
for the evening, Kulsek. Once you and your staff have
finalized the plan for the Claim Jumper probe inform me regardless of
the hour.”
“As you command, my King.”
Had he been a lesser official then Admiral Ampere would’ve
appeared in person. As it stood he communicated with Queen
Vulcana from his private office on the Steel Star space
station. Not that taking two hours would’ve meant much in
the greater scheme of things, but Ampere didn’t care to be
in the same room with the queen. The holographic projection
of Vulcana’s face made Ampere remember the flesh-and-blood
original from centuries earlier. She could’ve gotten a
machine face like everyone else and even one that matched
the original in appearance.
It was true the queen was vain in
that she made it law that no-one else may have the same
style of face she wore. In Ampere’s opinion that was
sensible since no-one, not even the clusters of socialites
that populate Vulcana’s sphere of popularity, wanted a face
that literally came from a sales floor mannequin.
Chalky-white in color, a small chin, hint of a nose and two
slight depressions where the eyes would be wasn’t such much
a face but a death mask. Ampere considered the current one a
distinct improvement over the original.
“Make it quick, Admiral,” Vulcana
said with flourish, “I’m due to make a royal inspection of
the newly formed 9th Division.”
Ampere’s machine eyes glowed dull
red. “My queen, we have made progress in our counter probes
of the leafstalker forces in Metric and Measure. A pinnace
finally got back from Measure. We sent in gunboats drawn
from our planetary defense centers and dealt a blow to their
guarding force. The enemy lost 293 fighters.”
Had her fake face been adorned with
eyebrows Vulcana would’ve raised one. “I take that to mean
we lost almost all of our committed gunboats, yes?”
“Correct, your majesty. Of the six
hundred gunboats involved only 36 came back. We’ll be able
to make up those losses in three months.”That would’ve been one month,
Ampere thought, had the
industrial augmentation policy and the colonization of
this system’s moons been performed from the start, much
less one year ago. “Regrettably there were no ships
or bases in the immediate vicinity for the missile pod
reserve.”
Despite the lack of apparent eyes
Vulcana gave Ampere a harsh glare. “Admiral, until the
colonies on the outer moons are productive you will continue
with the gunboats raids. However, no gunboats from the
defending warp point bases will be employed. Draw upon the
groundbase contingents and those based on the defense task
group. If the pinnace probes find enemy bases have been
deployed in the interim then use the reserve pods. When the
industrial plan is complete we’ll have enough revenue to
outfit an assault force that will annihilate the
leafstalkers at our doorstep.”
‘So easy for you to say’ was what
Ampere wanted to sneer in reply but instead spoke
assertively. “Yes, my queen. Along with the Project
Development Directorate’s diligent work we will regain the
initiative and win this war.”
Vulcana spoke with an air that made
clear she was finished. “Then I’ll leave you to your work.
Good day, Admiral.”
Ampere couldn’t turn the imager off
fast enough to suit his sense of indignation. The Bian race,
such as it is, was doomed. The leafstalkers only needed to
send in random waves of missile pods to take down the fixed
defenses, a process that could last for months, before
sending in the definitive assault. What made it worse was
that the bugs could prune back the defenses of both warp
points, showing no favor as to which one would be assault if
not both. After all, they had the resources of a vengeful
empire to back them up while the Bians barely had enough
funds to replace lost gunboats.
Knowing that brooding would
accomplish nothing Ampere set upon writing another chapter
of his autobiography. He spent the rest of the day
describing how his flowerbeds were the envy of Mechanopolis
and made those at the royal palace look like dandelion
patches in a development plot by comparison.
Scarcely had funeral services been completed for the pilots
lost in the Bian gunboat raid when news came from Measure. A
pinnace finally came back from the warp point probe and
found a set of Bian fortifications equal to that opposite in
Metric. Most importantly the spectral emissions of the star
were identical to those observed by the Metric probe. This
confirmed prisoner interrogations as well as Lugan’s belief
that this was the Registry’s home system.
As the hordes of Claim Jumpers in both
Metric and Measure reduced their crews to the absolute
minimum in preparation of their planned probe assaults an
incredible piece of good fortune was received. Until now
there was just one unexplored warp point in the Brookhollow
sector. Located in Gravel Patch, a red star system that
boasted just one asteroid belt and three gas giants, the
warp point was untouched for decades for three reasons.
First was that if an alternate route existed to find the
Gyst royals and their supporters it was felt that it would
be found in the Red Vista sector. As for the second reason
Brookhollow was the last sector to be resettled after the
civil war and was underdeveloped in comparison to the
others. Defenses, fleet bases and mobile units for the
sector were likewise downscaled. Finally, and most
importantly, the other two warp points in Gravel Patch were
closed on that side, meaning that if anyone came in through
the third one they couldn’t advance unless they were shown
the way.
When it came clear a year ago that
the fight against the Bians was going to end in a High Navy
victory a task force was organized and stationed in the
Brookhollow sector. Ten months later Lugan gave his
permission for a survey flotilla to enter Gravel Patch’s
third warp point. Thanks to the communication network it
took only two days for the news to reach Lugan. There was
now a third way into the Bian system.
For one hour upon receipt of the
highly-guarded news Lugan conferred with Kulsek and his
staff and then retired to his quarters. He was surprised to
find that he had guests. Lynaca, Coryn, Qavas, and Dusan had
availed themselves of the tea and made a pot. Lugan accepted
the offered cup from Qavas. “It must be telepathy,” he said
as he took a sip, “for the news isn’t that fast.”
“You forgot that Beysek’s assigned
to the survey flotilla command ship,” Dusan said.
Lugan preened his left rear
antennae as he took his seat. “Then he either broke
regulations or invoked royal privilege.” He looked at the
assembled offspring like a judge in court. “I imagine three
of you invoked royal privilege to come aboard in so short at
time.” He made a resigned sigh. “Go and make your say so
you’ll have peace of mind.”
Lynaca went first. “Father, we can
now decisively end the war. Task Force Brookhollow can
destroy Bios and all other population centers in the system.
With no resources to draw upon the defenses we’re facing
will decay into total uselessness.”
“Even if their mobile force
survives it will be worse than useless,” Dusan joined in.
“We can engage them in a running fight both here in Metric
as well as Measure if they care to do so. With the distant
stance we’ve assumed from the warp points whatever pod
reserve they have is worthless.”
“There’s no need for the Claim
Jumper probes,” said Coryn. “We’ll be saving 18,000 lives.”
Qavas spoke last. “We can end this
war totally on our terms and gained our revenge. Fate gave
us the means to do so, Father.”
Had Gyco been present he would
immediately recognize the look Lugan made. It put the
offspring on the defensive, for they had never seen their
father like this in person. Rumors made it sound like he was
possessed, but now in his presence it looked all too real.
“No doubt that idea will be put forth by the command staff.
There are other factors that both you and the staff will
have to consider in this scenario,” Lugan said in a hollow
voice fit for a cold valley. “While the system in question
is most likely Bios we won’t know for sure until the cloaked
survey is complete. Bios Prime will be easy to spot from its
emission signatures, but the enemy will likely have a
comprehensive surveillance net. If we send in Task Force
Brookhollow now, and if it’s detected upon emergence and
defeated in-system it will leave the Brookhollow sector at
the mercy of those mechanical men. The fixed defenses
guarding the warp point on our side are only now getting
their shield and armor upgrades. Given their productive
nature, the last thing we need is a Bian force rampaging in
our space and possibly gaining a foothold.”
Being the oldest, Lynaca responded
first. “Father, Task Force Brookhollow is very strong in
fighters and has a generous supply of missile pods. Even if
defeated the minelayers can still proceed independently
under cloak and deploy their pods within range of Bios and
obliterate it.”
“Or be obliterated in turn,
daughter,” Lugan said indignantly. “Now is not the time for
unwarranted gambles. We will continue with the current plan
of action. A plan that will ensure fewer resulting
casualties after all is said and done.”
Somehow Coryn found the courage to
challenge. “We’re surrendering the initiative to the enemy,
Father. Machines do not deserve this prolonged torture we’re
about to inflict on them. It will only give them time to
engage in a reckless yet potentially profitable attack if
they decide to do so via Measure instead of Metric.”
“They deserve torture!” Lugan
drenched the words in malice, antennas vibrating “I want
them to feel all-encompassing doom! Our military casualties
pale into insignificance next to lives lost on worlds
overran by the Bians. This war will end on my terms, and I
won’t rest until my feet and the royal standard are on Bian
soil.” He gave all of them an eye fit to wilt a garden of
flowers, especially Lynaca. “I will hear no further talk
about the Brookhollow option. I’m going to live with
whatever comes from my
decision. If any of you succeed me to the thrown you’ll find
that being the ruler means living with a lot of things. You
said what you had to say, so go.”
The four siblings left the room,
convinced thereafter that this was the worst day in their
lives.
Two sets of defenses waited in tension-filled darkness for
their inevitable destruction. For the android crews
operating the bases, fighter and gunboats it didn’t matter
as they had nothing to lose if they died. It was a different
matter for the officers. Being Bians and subsequently
endowed with what could charitably called lives they
resented the waiting. It felt as if they were tasked with
melting a glacier with matches, mindlessly watching their
scopes and acknowledging sensor reports purely for the sake
of the record.
Instead of dread it was relief the
officers felt when the dual set of Pulurtan probes emerged
in the wake of the missile pods that preceded them seconds
earlier. The armadas of Claim
Jumpers had lost their allotted portion to
interpenetration but had at least 480 each to their credit
in the aftermath. Short-range scans showed the type-3 bases
to be where they were from the pinnace probes. In a ring 1.5
light-seconds out there were twelve groups of twelve bases
each. Unseen at the moment but known to exist were the 72
type-5 bases, in a ring of twelve groups of six each at
range of six light-seconds, and further out where the six
massive bases and six of the diminutive type-2s.
Of the 2000 missile pods in each
probe a bit over 300 in both were immolated upon entry due
to interpenetration. Without grav surge data the pods strode
out on random vectors but a healthy percentage was still
committed on their original track. Being faster the
defending fighters and gunboats easily caught up with the
pods by elected to stay behind them. It was knowledge of the
existence of the defense pods that tempered the defenders as
well as justifiable fear for a single defense pod could take
out an entire squadron. Besides, the light interposing
minefields had grounded the six pods groupings really well.
On the warp point the Claim Jumpers had
turned about to their exit vectors. They waited for their
systems to stabilize with the expectancy of dry grass in a
summer shower. Those bases that went active divided their
fire between the diminutive escorts and those pods that were
in range. Following the engagement plan for this situation,
the Bian commander elected to destroy as many of the ships
before invoking the buoy weapons. It shouldn’t have been a
surprise that the Pulurtans elected to upgrade the Claim Jumpers to be
more survivable, especially in the light of the knowledge
that probing the very obviously heavy defenses would justify
the cost of upgrading 1200 of the little ships. To their
credit the bulk of the Bian base commanders elected to
expend their external ordnance to compensate.
Of the fighters and gunboats in the
CAP roughly 80% had stayed behind while the rest, both
active and those still striving to arm weapons, went against
the pods. Firing as singletons those active CAP squadrons in
that 80% did what they could but there were still over 150
escorts when 300 force and 300 energy beam-armed buoys were
released to fire. Thanks to the enhanced shield and new
overload dampeners those Claim
Jumpers that had been previously untouched were
still intact. With the force beams involved those ships
crippled previously were eliminated, denying the Bians the
chance to capture one that would’ve been otherwise
immobilized. Waiting until the last possible moment, the
remaining escorts taunted the fighters and gunboats and
transited out en-masse. 120 gunboats followed, ordered on an
impulse by the defense commander, to finish off the escorts
so that their findings wouldn’t be passed on the enemy.
Waiting for them were 600 Pulurtan fighters at action
stations and dozens of datalink jammer buoys spun to full
power. Inbetween the fighters the minefields the gunboats
only achieved twenty escort kills. Thus 72 Claim Jumpers returned
to Measure with 48 coming back to Metric.
The journey of the pods was almost
over. With the arrangement of the BS3s the six groups
completed their last set of programmed maneuvers; moving
away and then curving back so as to end up next to their
targets. Encountering no further mines beyond, the pod
groups faced the fire of just one base when fire control
synchronization was achieved. It was here that the Bians
first experienced the new Pulurtan missile pod that could
fire four CAMs in lieu of regular missiles. Five BS3 groups
suffered only moderate armor damage while the sixth, focus
of the largest pod group, was devastated. Four beam-armed Volcanics were wiped
out with the two more severely damaged. Three Volcanic-Ws were now
clouds of debris with only random chance sparing the other
three from outright destruction.
For the cost of 90% of the ships
involved and 16,200 lives the Pulurtans obtained the gravity
surge data they required for future and far more deadly
missile pod bombardments. With Lugan’s blessing a new pod
wave was deployed immediately in Metric, eventually followed
by one in Measure. Composed of 3000 SBM3 (leavened with 20%
of the defense type) this new wave encountered all 1680
fighters and 870 (of the original 990) gunboats of the
Metric-opposed defenders.
With no option but to engage at
point blank range so as to utilize proximity-fused close
attack missiles (and maximize kills) the defenders dove in.
As predicted they took their inevitable losses but with
erratic maneuvers the defensive pods downed fewer than
anticipated. Assigned to just one cluster of BS5s the 432
remaining SBM3s closed to within 2 light-seconds and fired.
Only one of four BS5Vs survived mainly due to the sacrifice
of the defending BS5E and BS5C.
Just one hour later the third pod
wave came in, though comprising just 2500 SBM3s. This time
it was a group of regular Promethia
BS5s that was eliminated. A fourth wave came in a day later
and polished off a third set, all results being duplicated
by the force stationed in Measure. Then there was a lull,
pinnaces sent in to see if the enemy had invoked changes to
their defense stance. Results came back with the sixth such
attempt eight days later.
“Looks like someone had a
brainstorm,” Kulsek said to Lugan in Armor of Fendala’s CIC,
“or upgraded their RAM. They placed all their remaining BS5s
together as well as their BS3s. What the mines, fighters and
gunboats don’t get then they’ll dilute the effectiveness of
the pods.”
Lugan made an agreeing grunt. “With
55 of the bigger and 137 of the smaller they can weather out
several bombardments. I’m sure they’ve rearranged their
minefields to compensate.”
“At least we got some of their
fighter bases before they had an opportunity to launch,
Sire. Also the defense pods did their part. The Bian CAP has
been reduced appreciable.”
“Admiral, it is time we raise it up
a notch,” Lugan said as he caressed the hilt of his sword
with his thumb. “Commence with the modified second pod
bombardment. Send in alternating waves of SBM3s and SBM4s
armed with laser-tipped CBMs and CAMs. Include the new
mine-clearance pods. This will be their first combat
deployment.”
Kulsek smiled. “The Bians will
react badly, Sire, especially in the numbers we’re going to
shovel in. I hope they’ll divide whatever mobile forces they
have and assign them to cover their side of the Metric and
Measure warp points.”
The light codes in the holoimager
filled Lugan’s eyes with righteous glee. “If their top
admiral is prideful or goaded by his queen they might make
an all-or-nothing attack with their fleet. It’ll avail them
nothing if they go by Measure. If by Metric, then we’ll have
the honor of crushing the last of the Bian navy.”
“The rest of the Combined Fleet
wouldn’t have it any other way, Sire.”
Chapter 4.50
“You do realize,” Admiral Ampere said righteously, “that
you’re signing the death sentence of the navy as well as
that of the Bian race. I ask you to reconsider one last
time.”
“I will not change my mind,
Admiral,” Queen Vulcana said to the holoimage of her top
admiral. “You said yourself that in two weeks the primary
minefield and buoy parks surrounding both warp points will
be gone. The laser warheads the leafstalkers are using for
their pods have already weakened the remaining bases and
done outright internal damage to the Volcanics. The fighter
squadrons of the CAP are only strong as they are because
we’ve sent those based on Steel Star to make up for losses.
As for gunboats only the ones on the Industrias are in use
since the racks on the smaller bases are wrecked. What good
is the fleet if it’s only going to stay in orbit and
surrender the initiative to the enemy?”
“Rushing headlong into oblivion
isn’t a plan, but suicide,” Ampere spat back. “I rather have
the fleet in a holding position between both warp points and
send in gunboat assault probes after the next-to-the-last
wave of mine-clearing pods come through. We’ll take whatever
forces are assembled on the far side by surprise. Once the
true source of the enemy’s strength is determined the fleet
will proceed and attack. If we’re going to die then I want
to make it meaningful.”
“Die?” Vulcana smothered the word
in laughter. “You shouldn’t apply such a meaningless word to
us, Ampere. Obliterating the leafstalker force opposing use
in Metric will give us time to finish up the carrier wings
in Steel Star’s construction slips.” Her tone then turned
catty. “In a way, the leafstalkers are done us a favor. Now
that we have some bases destroyed there’ll be enough
maintenance resources for the carriers.”
Ampere’s eyes glowed more
intensely. “What made you decide to proceed against Metric
instead of Measure? Did you flip a coin?”
“I divined the intent of the
leafstalker king,” Vulcana said regally. “The Metric route
to Industria is the same one we used centuries ago to
conquer the Floggol. I believe he’s compelled to take the
same route to conquer us.” For a moment it seemed her
aesthetic face came to life, mocking Ampere. “No, you had it
right. I really did just flip a coin.”
“I suspected as much, my queen,”
Ampere said in understated displeasure. “I’ll be commanding
the task force personally from the monitor Iron Gear.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your work,
Admiral. I expect a leafstalker diorama as your gift to me
for my birthday.”
“Nothing but the best for you, my
queen. Ampere out.”
It was during the night shift just after the most recent
bombardment that Wynja, Chief of the Naval Intelligence
Office, had a brainstorm. He got the junior officers of
Kulsek’s staff to create and run simulations under his
direction. Only when he was satisfied did Wynja send the
sleep-deprived brass-polishers away, refining his proposal
for Kulsek and ultimately Lugan’s consideration.
As it stood the plan was to send in
a gunboat raiding force, 900 strong, from the soon-to-be
completed asteroid forts. Wynja proposed to send in the
current force of 600 fort-based gunboats augmented by 300
drawn from the fleet support train as well as the fleet
itself. Preceded by a wave of SMB2s, the last stock of the
weapons in the High Navy inventory, the gunboats would
destroy all the bases and clear the weapon buoy parks with
the help of 200 accompanying advanced armed pinnaces.
Following three hours of
consideration Kulsek and his operations officer Sathyl
presented the plan to Lugan with Wynja in attendance. Twenty
minutes and one full cup of honey tea later the plan had the
king’s approval. One hour after that 2,000 SMB2s lead the
way into Bios with the gunboat/pinnace force following
immediately behind.
On entry the pods moved as one; at
a distance of 1.5 LS they divided into two groups to orbit
the warp point. Surprisingly the pods suffered no loss due
to mines and the Bian CAP, having been on the opposite
vector of the pod’s entrance, was only able to devote half
of its strength to snipe at them. As for the other half it
was focused on the 762 Pulurtan gunboats which, due to
superior speed, were among the pods despite their
ever-so-slight later entry. Of the 168 pinnaces that
survived the mass transit they stayed on the warp point,
firing transit addled weapons at the immediately surrounding
buoy parks. Despite the temporary effects of transit the
gunboats managed to bag a fair handful of Bian gunboats and
fighters while only taking trifling losses in turn.
The reason why the mines didn’t
attack was that particular route was deactivate for the
approaching Mechanized Space Navy task force. Given its size
there was no doubt that at least one ship, be it a corvette
or monitor, would have its transponder codes misinterpreted
by the mines and attacked. Only a scant 3.25 LS from the
Metric warp point the task force would be at battle stations
in 60 seconds and find itself in battle 30 seconds after
that. Well, that was the plan Admiral Ampere was counting
on.
Scarcely believing her luck the
surviving senior gunboat wave commander sent the order for
just such a contingency. Instead of attacking the bases the
gunboats went after the task force. Bian jamming buoys spun
up, denying the Puls their datalinks only to have their CAP
squadrons denied theirs as well. One out of eight Pul
gunboats carried a jamming pack powerful enough to knock out
starship datalinks though that didn’t matter all that much.
The assault the Bians had planned was so precise and tedious
that weapons and active defenses were locked until the ships
were within 1.25 LS of the warp point. Even ship speed was
regulated, preventing the small ones from speeding ahead and
thus freeing themselves from their self-imposed handicaps.
Admiral Ampere had decreed these restrictions so as to
prevent the despondent and fatalistic of his officers from
jumping ahead on their own initiative and thus spoiling the
assault. True, it was a suicide mission but Ampere wanted at
least some semblance of dignity and discipline at the end.
Facing the wave of gunboats that was right in front of him
he knew even this was no longer possible. Thus he ignored
the urgent pleas of his subordinates to abandon ship and sat
in his command chair, removing a pipe from the pocket of his
tunic. Having no lungs he was unable to smoke it, but he lit
the crushed impacted leaves just the same as the Iron Gear was removed
from the universe.
Every ship, save the Heat Lightnings and the Neons, had gunboats on
their racks and thus depriving Bios Prime the last of its
organic gunboat strength. A key part of the assault was for
the task force to make a mass transit into Metric and
release gunboats upon entry. So of course those gunboats
carried the maximum amount of firepower in the form of
anti-matter close attack missiles. After taking their
drubbing from the CAP and inflicting the same with internal
lasers the Pul gunboats had all-but obliterated the task
force. Only sixty Neons
remained, either barely moving or stopped stone-cold.
Hurt as they were from
earlier bombardments the 120-odd Volcanics opened up on the pinnaces at the
expense of the closest set of pods. Handfuls of the craft
went down, fulfilling a secondary role of diverting fire
from the gunboats. Firing back with laser-armed standoff
missiles the pinnaces took down five of the bases and sent
one of their number back to Metric.
The first set of pods had
been programmed to engage any Promethia-class
bases within a range of five light seconds. As for the
second set they were tapped for the Volcanics. Firing their
loads, the last of the SBM2s revealed that their missiles
had a newer generation of laser warhead, inflicting 50% more
damage than previously experienced. Bases large and small
alike went up like gas-soaked tinder as their ravaged frames
couldn’t deal with fresh damage, but that still left a
considerable number to be dealt with.
Save the jammers all the Pul
gunboats still had one or two volleys of close attack
missiles on their rails. With lasers flailing at their
pursuers the gunboats piled on the Volcanics, turning that patch of space
into a massive debris field. It was expected that the larger
Promethias would
fire on the gunboats with everything that could reach them.
What was not seen until now was the firepower of the six
even larger bases. From a range of 7.5 LS the accuracy of
the capital anti-fighter missiles wasn’t all that great, but
out of 240 fired and 150 lock-ons the Puls lost 40 gunboats.
Another was lost by an incredible long-range hit by one
base’s spinal force beam.
Now freed from the ravages of
the Volcanics the
Puls only had to contend with the continued long-range fire
from the Promethias
and Industrias.
Only one additional minute was spent in Bios and only then
for the purpose of shooting down more fighters, gunboats and
buoys. Then as the group the Puls left, leaving behind the
agitated defenders. For them the wait was only sixteen
minutes. Three thousand pods emerged, losing their allotment
to interpenetration, divided into three practically-equal
sized groups and moved out into the depleted minefields. One
headed directed to the Promethias
with the other two moving slightly away and then turning
back on parallel courses. The defenders surrendered to karma
and attacked the central pod group. Along with defense pods
there were a number of SBM4s that were tasked to fire on
fighters and gunboats within one-fourth of a light second
with CAMs. From the bases’ perspective it was like watching
a string of firecrackers advancing as pods and fighters
alike went up in fireballs.
It all came to a glorious end
that no Pulurtan eye witnessed. Having been at the receiving
end of a new generation of laser warhead the Bians were
dubiously blessed with a final technological upgrade. The
CAMs in the SBM4s had the new directional charge (some wags
in R&D called it shape charge) modification that
increased damage output by 50% while slightly reducing
accuracy. What CAMs that missed were more than made up by
the ones that hit, resulting in total destruction of the Promethias with 20%
overkill.
For the next six hours
smaller waves of pods carrying mine clearance charges,
guarded by CAM-firing SBM4s and defense pods, finished the
primary minefield barriers as well as the three rings of
weapon buoys. One minute after the last wave five Mansion assault
carriers and an Explosion
minesweeper entered, releasing gunboats from their holding
racks and turning to their exit vector. They found no CAP
and only 41 buoys out of the original 3600 greeted them with
pathetic violence. Strangely the six large bases were gone,
though they had never been targeted by pods. As the Mansions launched their
strikegroups and left the Explosion
stayed and ventured out, tactical scanners mapping the
minefield remnants and sweeping with contemptuous ease. All
six of the Toggle Switch
bases were in their original place and easily dispatched by
incoming waves of High Navy missile ships.
After transiting and falling
into formation the Combined Fleet moved in-system. The
mystery of the missing big bases was solved. Six Magnet tugs, having sat
motionless out of definitive scanner range of the Pul
gunboats, had moved in once the assault wave gunboats and
pinnaces had left. They’ve been pulling the bases towards
Bios Prime for almost six hours but were still overhauled by
the fleet as it went to max monitor speed. Only Spears and Mangonels engaged,
targeting the Magnets
with CBMs equipped with the directional charge modification.
With the tugs gone there was no need to engage the bases, so
they were left where they were, to eventually fall apart
from a lack of maintenance material. The force in Measure
was ordered through the communication network that reached
back to Industria to stop pod bombardments. What bases that
were left guarding the warp point to Measure were going to
be allowed to fall apart as well.
King Lugan had his four
offspring in the fleet join him on the Armor of Fendala’s
observation deck. The only other attendees were four of
Lugan’s knights, including Gyco. From there they witnessed
the final space battle of the war. 500 SBM3s, the last of
the pods from the fleet train, was sent in against Steel
Star. Escorting them were over 2,400 fighters, primed to
self-defense thanks to fighter decoy missiles. This was the
Pulurtan’s trump card, making a mockery of the Steel Star’s
enormous missile battery. The Combined Fleet moved to within
CBM range just as the pods achieved optimal range. Distant
fire and the missile tsunami made the centuries-old
structure disintegrate, leaving only 100-odd fighters to
achieve petty revenge by shooting down 32 Pulurtans fighters
before dying.
Taking orbit the fleet
crossed into Bian’s dark side. Like previous machine worlds
there were only a handful of intense lights on an otherwise
coal-black background. They even saw Steel Star debris enter
the atmosphere, much of which survived re-entry only to hit
ocean expanses or great wilderness areas. “Once we’re
through it’ll still be a habitable environment,” said
Lynaca. “Those megacities will only require a handful of
nukes to neutralize.”
“I’m thankful we’re not going
to invade,” said Dusan. “We had enough problems reclaiming
our worlds they’ve occupied.”
Coryn scratched her
right-front antenna. “Have they attempted to surrender? This
is after all the last bastion of their race. We’ve destroyed
the outposts they’ve established in the outer system.”
Dusan scoffed. “Like we’re
going to accept their surrender now. It’ll be akin to a
computer opponent conceding a game of chess.”
“Odd that we haven’t started
the bombardment,” Qavas stated blatantly. “We had more than
enough time to fix the location of the population centers.”
Lugan turned to the outspoken
princess. “I had wanted to enjoy the view just a few more
minutes, but to ease your impatience I shall accelerate the
plan.” He turned on a private comm. “Kulsek, initiate the
fire plan I approved.”
“Yes, your high majesty,” the
admiral replied respectfully.
Second later the first
fireballs appeared on the surface of Bios. Multiple
antimatter-armed missiles hit the targeted cities to create
overlapping zones of devastation. The last missiles had the
directional charge modification so as to pulverize the
foundations, crushing multiple sublevels and whatever
shelters the machine men happened to hold themselves up in.
A few minutes past, the fleet
moving back into daylight. The pattern was repeated with
cold efficiency. Linked to her ship via a datapad, Lynaca
noticed an oddity. “Father, according to telemetry data we
only destroyed one-third of the cities on the planet. Also
the fleet has been issued an order to stand down.”
Lugan took on the aire of a
parent stating the obvious to an oblivious child. “Of
course, daughter. There’ll still be enough population to
suit the needs of the Kingdom.”
“You’re going to invade?”
Dusan said credulously. “Father, we only have 50,000 army
troops with us. They’re only here to conduct sweeps to
eliminate survivors. We don’t have the supplies for a
sustained campaign in an urban environment. If we had
learned anything in recovering our worlds is that the Bian
soldier is at his best in city fighting. Go ahead and throw
in the marine contingents from the fleet, but we’ll still be
hideously outnumbered.”
Lugan’s antennae twitched.
“Yes, we are going to invade. We’re not such much conquering
a race but subjugating a huge warehouse full of
ill-programmed hardware. They will be made to serve us.”
“It’s pointless,” Qavas added
belligerently. “We don’t need their labor.”
Gyco stepped forward, putting
himself by Lugan’s side and speaking passionately. “Losing
blood and life to living beings is one thing. To lose to a
machine that thinks it is alive is something else. By
destroying the Bian race now will only prove that we were
the weaker and acted out of fear, unable to bring about the
obedience of machines by our strength and intelligence. We
will not give them the satisfaction of extermination, dying
as they lived, indulging in decadence and sloth.”
“Forgive me for saying this,
brave knight,” Coryn challenged, “but you’re speaking from
personal bias. Far more of the Kingdom will have the Bians
as radioactive slag that have them made into servants. We
won’t tolerate another Isset-styled rebellion.”
Lugan’s visage fully conveyed
his righteous indignation. “Gyco not only spoke his
conviction but of mine as well. I will have this race labor
for the benefit of the High Kingdom, and insurances made to
keep them subservient, most of all of having them confined
to this planet. This is my will, and by extension the will
of the Fendalen race.” He gave Dusan a glowering. “We will
be invading just one city, their capital Mechanopolis. They
are a shallow, vain people. After inflicting enough damage
with our troops and kinetic bombardments they’ll surrender,
if only to save their precious possessions and wealth.
“Go to your troops and
prepare, Dusan. As for the rest of you return to your ships.
The freighters will be releasing the kinetic satellites
shortly and assign ships to control the various subgroups.
We’ll be landing troops this time tomorrow. That is all.”
Turning his back and accompanied by his knights Lugan strode
out into the corridor every bit the royal conqueror.
Like all Bian cities Mechanopolis had a ten-kilometer wide
clear zone that sloped from the outer edge to the untamed
forests. A preparatory bombardment tore up this immaculately
maintained real estate, destroying hidden defense pits and
detonating mines. Under the constant cover of kinetic
strikes the first assault shuttles disgorged troops and
armored vehicles, moving in a straight line towards the
center of the city. There were no subtle maneuvers or clever
stratagems, only an advancing wedge of destruction heading
directly for the palace at the center of the city.
The fighting started in the Bian
suburbs, and as the High Army troops moved forward they
encountered increasing signs and remnants of ever-more
expensive dwellings. Nothing was spared, so even a solitary
sniper in a house would bring down a kinetic projectile fit
to level a neighborhood. Android troops, some even without
the benefit of optical camouflage film, fell in job lots as
their officers lead them in reckless charges or
ill-conceived retreats. Not one civilian raised a hand to
save themselves, hiding in their basements that for some
became their tombs.
Only when the creeping barrage of
devastation had chewed its way into high-rent residences
that surrounded the palace grounds did the Bians call for a
cease-fire. Lugan asked for a clarification and resumed the
bombardment. Two minutes later the call came again, this
time announcing their surrender. Had they waited thirty more
seconds then a kinetic round would’ve blasted the ornate
main gate.
An advance team composed of Prince
Dusan and his troops, the 511th Infantry Company, went ahead
and scouted the main pathway that lead to the palace’s
entrance. He reported his findings to his father. “I don’t
like it. The trees and thick brush lining the path could be
hiding any number of hidden weapon emplacements. Those
narrow slits on the main face shout sniper holdouts. Are you
sure you want to accept their surrender in person?”
“Every fiber in my being
demands that I must be there to accept it, my son,” said
Lugan righteously. Speaking from a field command post, Lugan
looked at a side screen. The palace was an octagonal affair
with a massive dome in the middle surrounded by eight much
smaller ones. His eye was drawn to the southwest wall.
“However, I will go through an entrance of my own choosing.
It is, after all, now my palace.” He spoke to an officer
off-screen and returned. “This will but take a moment, son.
I’ll be right with you.”
A barrage of shells tore up
the palace grounds that lead up to the southwest wall.
Immaculate flower beds and hedges were atomized by kaboomite
rounds, followed by a huge percentage of the southwest wall
itself. High Army officers announced to the startled palace
staff that such a thing was done to ensure the safety of the
king and to dissuade anyone with less than noble intentions
from acting out.
With thousands of troops
waiting outside and a like number of kinetic satellites
ready to punish any treachery the royal contingent went
inside the palace through the newly-created entrance. Lugan
was flanked on his right by his son Dusan, still clad in
full field gear but adorned with his princely headband.
Behind him were Coryn and Qavas, the princesses also in
fully-functional field gear that was painted in royal
platinum and gold. Admiral Kulsek and High General Polobus
were between the two, not clad in armor but in a full
officer dress of metal forearm and shin plates. To the left
was Gyco, resplendent in his accented armor and knightly
crest on his shoulders. The other three knights of the realm
were assigned one each to the royal offspring. Behind them
was Dusan’s platoon, veterans of the fighting on Spice.
Having proven themselves in the bitter fighting on that
planet no-one could accuse Dusan and even the king of
playing favoritism by selecting them. They carried the flags
of the High Kingdom, the royal household, the High Army and
High Navy along with video equipment to capture the historic
event. Princess Lynaca, the oldest and designated successor,
was in orbit in case of betrayal perpetrated by the Bians.
Great paintings and other
treasures that dated to even when the Bians were primitive
flesh-and-blood beings lined the great hallway leading to
the throne room. When the party came into view two palace
androids opened the double doors, gold in luster and very
likely made solid of the material. The walls of the great
chamber had appointments made of diamonds and gemstones as
large as fists, throwing rainbows of such number as to make
one think one was walking through painted air.
On the dais was Queen
Vulcana, standing and attended by six of her governmental
ministers. As always, she wore black, floor-reaching fabric
that only left her expressionless and nearly featureless
face exposed. Her only adornment, an opulent blue stone set
in gold attached to her chest. A rich, red carpet ran from
the throne behind Vulcana all the way to the doors. “King
Pulurtan Lugan,” she spoke in accented Fendalen, her voice
drenched with the disapproval found in old societal ladies,
“there was no need to ruin a perfectly good wall. I wouldn’t
jeopardize the remainder of my race by killing you.”
Lugan strode forward with his
entourage following. He wore the same set of battle armor he
used during the Civil War and Isset Rebellion. All the dents
and stains were left in place with only the gold detailing
restored to its full luster. Under his left arm he carried
his helmet while his right hand carried a platinum scepter
surmounted by a green ruby. His crown glinted in the light
like so many diamonds. Thirty paces from the bottom step he
stopped. “You will, of course, pardon the modification I
made to this grandiose structure. As the front door wasn’t
to my liking I made one that was appropriate for the
circumstances.” He raised the scepter and pointed it at her.
“Queen Vulcana, before the diplomats arrive with the
official documents I will have you swear fealty to me on
behalf of your race.”
“Having read your racial
history I expected this from you,” Vulcana said haughtily.
“However I will only submit to your admiral or general as
they are far more deserving.”
“Explain your impudence,”
Gyco said on Lugan’s behalf, hand resting on the hilt of his
sword.
“Earlier in the war,” the
queen continued in a smug manner, “I was privy to captured
records found on worlds my soldiers conquered. The ones
found in the safe of the governor of Spice were most
enlightening.” She expected a reaction from Lugan but was
unable to read his face, so she chopped it up to the fact
that he was a big bug. “The paper in question had
contingency orders written on it concerning the Gyst
loyalists and the recovery of the Diamond Scepter from said
loyalists.”
That disclosure caused some
uncertain shuffling in the group but not Lugan. He was
absolutely still. “Yes,” Vulcana said, oblivious to the
significance of Lugan’s statue-like stance, “I see the
purpose of this theatre. You want me to be proxy for
something you wanted for decades. Well, I shall not oblige,
Pulurtan Lugan.”
“You will oblige,” Gyco
glowered, hand tightening on the sword hilt. “You will swear
fealty to the king or die.”
Vulcana pointed at Lugan like
a prosecuting attorney. “Again, I will offer it to your
admiral or general or even one of your foot soldiers. Lugan
may have the Diamond Throne, but lacks the Scepter that is
the true symbol of legitimate
authority. What he has in his hand may as well be a stick
with a piece of candy at one end. I will not surrender
myself and my nation to a userp…”
It happened so fast, Lugan
moving so quickly that Gyco only reacted once it was done.
The king dropped the scepter and pushed off with his hind
legs at the same instant. He wasn’t going directly to the
machine woman but just off to the side, enough space for him
to draw and swing his straight sword. The same sword he used
more times he cared to remember in the Civil War. Vulcana’s
head was cleaved from her body, falling to the floor and
fracturing the left side of its porcelain face. The six Bian
ministers had stepped back in shock, finding the leafstalker
king right in front of them. Behind Lugan was Vulcana’s
still-standing body, the finger and arm still pointing and
accusing but now at empty air.
Gyco stepped up to be by
Lugan’s side. Sheaving his sword, the conquering king held
out the finger adorned with the royal ring at the prime
minister. “Now that the queen is gone you’re the highest
official on the planet. Swear fealty for the entire Bian
race to me and I shall rule with a firm but fair hand.
Refuse, then I shall continue until I find one among you
that will agree.”
The Bian bowed over Lugan’s
hand and, despite lacking lips, kissed the ring. “I swear
fealty to you, King Pulurtan Lugan, sworn rightful ruling of
the Fendalens,” he said in a smarmy manner.
Chapter 4.75
The rays of the setting sun were now hitting King Lugan as
he sat behind the desk in his private study at the summer
palace on Fendala. He pressed a control to seal that
particular shade and the one for his guest. Chamberlain
Mystral had a clipboard that held the quarterly Bian report
in her hand, turning over sheet after sheet of royal
parchment. “Luxury goods output has increased to meet the
surge in demand in all sectors, especially the homeworld
sector,” she stated formally.
“No doubt the demand is from
recently retired military veterans,” Lugan mused. After the
Bian War a fair share of High Army and Navy personnel that
served during the conflict elected to stay on for a full
twenty-five years, thus earning a substantial bonus to their
retirement pension. “What of the shipyard complex output?”
Mystral flipped over three pages.
“After the recent upgrade the station over Bios Prime now
has 40 standard and 20 medium construction slips.
Construction scheduling is set so that three Domination and three Vengeance class ships
will be completed each month, entailing the usage of 39 of
the standard slips. The smaller slips will construct advance
battleships and prefabricated components of type-6 bases. On
a related note the last five percent of the reserve fleet is
undergoing refit which will include the augmented cybernetic
control net.”
Lugan nodded. The ACCN was
the one piece of Bian technology the High Navy decided to
incorporate into its ships. A ship so equipped would be able
to operate weapons and defenses at full efficiency with only
one-third of the required crew. However, certain functions
such as servicing strikefighters and operating mobile
shipyards would still suffer penalties for being
undermanned. The ACCN could’ve been developed to the point
that a reduced crew wouldn’t suffer penalties but the HN
settled on implementing common sense and philosophical
constraints. Wary of ships that might go rogue, the HN made
operator input required at several points in the ACCN
decision making process.
Mystral lifted another page.
“While on the subject of cybernetic controls, Sire, there
has been an appreciable reduction in Bian homicides since
last year. Projections are still holding for an 82%
‘completion rate’ in five years time.
The king laughed. “Looks like
they’re learning family values.” The Bian homicides were a
consequence of the Royal Convention on Bian Employment for
the High Kingdom, the body of laws that governed the
conquered population of Bios. For the most part a police
force and civil service composed of those Bians willing to
align themselves with their conquerors for prestige and
perks enforced the laws and dictates of the crown governor.
One major law was that Bians
could no longer be reconstituted from back-up copies if
their current memory core was non-functional. With memory
restoration vaults banned (and their contents made worthless
thanks to intense radiation) enforcement was carried out by
a secret, ruthless branch of the police that answered solely
to the crown governor. While an individual Bian could still
live for hundreds if not thousands of years once the memory
core was compromised they were considered dead.
Procreation for Bians was
limited to one offspring per couple every 25 years. Instead
of an amalgam of personality traits these new offspring were
given totally random traits. Parents couldn’t get a
‘do-over’ if the traits weren’t to their liking. Over time
this lead to cases of murder when the parents or the child
weren’t able to get along with the other. Murders also
resulted thanks to the revised inheritance laws, leading to
particularly intricate plans on some Bian children’s part to
off their parents. The Pulurtans found this to be source of
macabre humor, especially when the Bians themselves turned
such tragedies into teledramas.
“Our colony on Bios Prime has
now reached 15000,” Mystral continued. “Crown Governor
Prince Beysek will congratulate the fortunate family during
the anniversary celebration next week.
Lugan sighed. “Hard to
believe it’s been twenty years since the end of the war. I
trust you have a copy of the speech I’ll give next week at
the capital?”
Mystral pulled a slim stack
of hardcopy from the briefcase by her side. “It’s ready for
your inspection, Sire. The speechwriter added the
generational perspective you requested.”
“Good.” Lugan took the
offered paper and thumbed through it. “Shorter than the one
I gave at the 10-year anniversary. Just as well since the
generation born after the war has a short attention span.”
Antennae twitching
apprehensively, Mystral turned serious. “There is one other
matter I’d like to remind you of now before finishing the
rest of the Bian report. Tomorrow marks the 68th anniversary
of the disappearance of the Gyst loyalists in the Sauna
system.”
“Mystral, you know better
than to use that word,” Lugan said in spry manner. “They’re
not loyalists; they’re outlaws that refused to acknowledge
my royal supremacy.” It was no great secret that this
particular note in history was a sore point for Lugan, one
that he vented his spleen on the fifth anniversary so
memorably that further observances just replayed what he
said. Officially the Civil War ended when he was crowned
king. Subjugating the last Gyst loyalists on Acre, the only
inhabited planet left in the High Kingdom aside from the
homeworld, was labeled as suppressing a rebellion. As such
this was considered the ‘first decisive action’ of the
then-young king’s rule.
Having inherited the position
of chamberlain from her father Mystral was privy to all
secrets of those in and near the court. In private the
father always referred to the followers of the Gyst family
as loyalists since many of his friends and relatives were on
that side of the conflict. Decades of very limited surveying
had turned up no sign of the Gyst. Indeed, it was felt that
the best chance to find them would’ve been during the Bios
War. Again nothing was turned up, and aside from the yearly
survey mounted from the very few open warp points left in
the High Kingdom all eyes were fixed on the Table Rock/Sauna
warp point. Once a year to the day when Sauna’s white dwarf
went supernova a survey ship attempted to transit through
Table Rock side of the warp point. Each time it was
deflected like a rubber ball off an equally-rubbery wall.
For the past eighteen years, to spare crews the wrenching
sensation they felt during the attempt, advanced
reconnaissance drones were deployed.
Still, to be speaking spryly
proved to Mystral that Lugan has mellowed since she became
his chamberlain. “I seriously doubt that this year will be
any different,” he said. “You’ll just be delivering the same
report tomorrow morning like you’ve done for the last thirty
years. Now, let’s finish this Bian report. I want to spend
the rest of the evening going over the speech.”
“Very well, Sire.”
Lugan slept alone this particular night for Queen Aythes was
at the Crowne Complex personally overseeing the preparations
for the Bios War 20th anniversary victory gala. Suffering
from a particularly resilient form of lung cancer Aythes
refused to let her remaining time be dominated by bed rest
and will-sapping medication. The climate that the summer
palace enjoyed the majority of the year was the only tonic
that alleviated the worst of Aythes’ symptoms. While he had
mellowed over the years the passion Lugan felt about the
Gyst still burned bright in the background, but now it was
eclipsed by his concern about Aythes. After the gala he
planned to hold court at the summer palace as much as
possible so that his queen would have some relief.
That night he expected a
dream about the victory dinner twenty years ago. Instead he
was visited by a memory he had all-but suppressed. A dark
memory fit to fuel a nightmare. Five months into the Civil
War and at almost the start of the Isset Rebellion Lugan had
finally tracked down Kysjyt, the one-year-old heir to the
throne of King Hysax. Accompanied by his bodyguard and a
squad of Isset vassals Lugan was about to seize the hidden
shuttle that would’ve taken the child and his protectors to
safety when… he
showed up.
Archduke Wonset, brother of
Hysax and regent for Kysjyt, attacked with the assistance of
a handful of knights. Surprise was total. The Isset were
slaughtered where they stood, the only thing their gory
deaths provided was time for Lugan’s bodyguards to take
cover. In a bitterly contested action the knights covered
Kysjyt and his retinue’s entry into the shuttle at great
expense. Lugan’s men, suffering their own losses, had gotten
within fifty meters of the shuttle and were ready to fire
portable one-shot rocket launchers. None got off a shot for
Wonset smothered them in a hail of grenades. In a brutal
slow-motion only possible in nightmares Lugan recalled every
one of those small explosions and how each took the life of
a trusted comrade.
Not ready to admit defeat Lugan
sprinted forward as he knew the grenade launcher had fired
its full load. Just one rocket hit in an engine pod would be
enough to ground the shuttle. It would’ve been prudent had
he kept his eye on Wonset instead of a rocket launcher. A
rapid set of leaps on the Archduke’s part placed him right
on top of Lugan. Only meticulously-honed reflexes allowed
Lugan to draw his sword in time to parry Wonset’s blade.
Even so the youthful Pulurtan was off-balanced and fell
back, desperate to attain a solid footing. Every bladestroke
sounded like thunder, flashing metal as bright as lightning.
Clearly in his element Wonset
pressed the advantage. A powerful stroke battered the sword
from Lugan’s hand, and immediately he put the edge of it
against Lugan’s chestplate. So connected he pushed his
younger opponent up against a tree. Being a straight sword
it had no sharp tip but a flat, thick edge like a ruler.
Nevertheless, Wonset pressed it against the armor with such
force that it was actually dented. Had he possessed manic
energy the blade would’ve gone through and impaled the young
foe.
Just then Wonset jumped back
and turned in one fluid motion, blade coming down on the
last of Lugan’s bodyguards. The head was severed, falling to
the ground like a frozen apple. Expecting to be finished off
Lugan saw Wonset fall back to the shuttle. The engines were
roaring with life, but despite that he heard the Archduke
with the clarity only fear could provide. “That dent will
have to do for now, but I’ll know where to pick up next
time.” His burst of laughter might as well have been from a
demon as far as Lugan was concerned. “You will oblige me,
Duke Pulurtan Lugan, by standing still so that when the
blade runs through you it won’t hurt as much.”
Lugan woke up in a start, finding himself on the floor as
the pillows were scattered about the room. Only the now rare
Isset nightmares produced such a scene, his subconscious
mind acting out violence in the physical world. After
rounding up the tossed bedding he took to the small liquor
cabinet and poured a shot of whiskey. For the next hour he
brooded, trying to divine the significance of the nightmare
as this was the first one that concerned Wonset. Of all the
Gyst family Wonset was the one Lugan held with most
hostility. Had the memory of the extinct Isset faded just
enough to allow the memory of Wonset to come to the top? Or,
like 26 years ago with the Bians, was it message from the
ether that foretold peril for the High Kingdom?
One of only a handful of
people entered the royal bedchamber at this hour without
preamble. It was Chamberlain Mystral, and her antennae were
twitching. “Your Highness, this news cannot wait until
morning. The Table Rock/Sauna warp point is now open. Six
recon drones have confirmed the stability of the warp point.
As per standing orders regarding reestablished access to
Sauna a squadron of Claims
entered the system to conduct a survey under cloak.”
All the woolgathering was
banished in an instant. “The Table Rock fleet base and its
attending defense task force are at alert?” Lugan inquired,
even though he knew it to be the case.
“Yes, Sire. Bases stationed
at Table Rock 3 have been towed to the warp point and buoys
and mines deployed from Table Rock 5-A’s depots.”
Lugan stood up and walked
towards the windows. The very slight glow along the horizon
told him dawn was about to break. In contrast his thoughts
were dark and getter darker. “Have Dukes Belyn and Mastys
sent to Table Rock immediately. They’re the closest. In the
eventually we do find the Gyst on the far side of Sauna’s
other warp points those two will act with full authority as
crown ambassadors.”
Mystral was incredulous.
“Ambassadors? Your Highness, it may be a bit early to assume
the Gyst are still alive. The odds were heavily against them
when they fled. Coupled with difficulty in establishing a
colony with only the resources they brought along there are
other imponderables such as disease, famine and
fractiousness. We’ll be lucky the find the ships they
mothballed on some moon let alone a failed settlement.”
There was fire in the eye
when Lugan turned around. “If Wonset can escape from a
seemingly impossible situation then there’s nothing beyond
their reach. No, I say the odds of him being alive are
remote, that insufferable bastard, but the Gyst are alive in
some remote system, perhaps have even made a small empire.
Our ambassadors will determine how tractable they are in
coming back in the High Kingdom.”
“They would be wise to join
the High Kingdom in the spirit of reconciliation,” Mystral
said despite that she didn’t believe one word of it. As long
as the Gyst still had the Diamond Scepter they could say
they’re the legitimate rulers of the realm. Lugan would
settle for nothing less than getting the scepter in his
possession, even if he had to pry it out of the dead hands
of whatever Gyst royal was in charge.
With antennae slanting down
Lugan showed his intensity. “Mystral, I want my speechwriter
here no later than breakfast. By dinner tonight the people
of Fendala will the first ones in the kingdom to hear that
68-year-old wounds and accountings will finally be settled.
The High Kingdom will now truly be made whole in my
lifetime.”
03/17/09
updated 07/12/09
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