Drixen zipped out of the hangar and looked around to get a visual on the star tree. He spotted a tiny dot by Hittania’s horizon and turned to go after it.
“Come on, squads!” he cried over the comms. “Let’s get this one for Viper!” He got a chorus of cheers and the fighters all followed him.
There was no doubt his was the faster vessel, and his rangefinder confirmed he was gaining on Traelby's star tree. Then he noticed three other objects twinkling in the distance.
A beam, like the one Raivyn had fired from the star tree, grazed Drixen’s fighter. He banked and started heading back towards the fleet. He punched a few buttons on his comm.
“Blue Griffon Fleet, come in. We have multiple hostiles inbound. I believe the Astralbians are mounting an attack on the fleet.”
“What’s that?” said Captain Vrik-Wei of the Arrowhead. "We have nothing on our- oh, no. Yes, multiple ships just came over the horizon.”
“This is Jasken,” said the admiral. “As you know, the Wingspan is dead in the water. We’re still assessing damage. I will remain here to offer tactical advice but I’m afraid this will fall to my captains and squad leaders. May the Progenitor watch over you, and providence shine on you.”
“You too, sir,” said Drixen.
“Thank you, sir, we’ll send them packing,” said Vrik-Wei.
“Tell us what you need and you’ll have it, and that goes for all of you,” said Captain Arquess of the Ferryman.
“Okay, squads,” said Drixen, this time over the fighters’ comm channel, “change of plans. We’re going to circle back and protect the Wingspan. Looks like we’re in for a full-on naval battle against an Astralbian fleet, so we’re going to try to get under the protection of our guns aboard the Arrowhead. Keep your eyes open. Squad leaders, call targets and make sure your bombers get plenty of opportunity to do their thing.”
Even as they circled back, eye beams from the Astralbian ships were peppering the Arrowhead, which was moving to position itself between the Wingspan and the enemy. The Arrowhead returned fire, its deadly broadsides pounding the hearty star trees.
A swarm of enemies showed up on radar, and Drixen knew the void wasps had started emerging from the trees. Each with a skilled rider atop it, void wasps were fighter-sized insects bred to survive and even “fly” in space. Griffonian scientists were fuzzy on the mechanism that allowed wings flapping in space to move a creature, but the Astralbians had figured it out.
Drixen performed a loop-the-loop and fired on the enemy while facing them, just to let them know he saw them. The wasps fired beams from their eyes just like the star trees did, and started unleashing a hail of fire on the Griffon fighters.
“Alright,” said Drixen. “That’s enough of that. First squad, let’s squash some bugs. Second squad, support the Arrowhead. Third, protect the Wingspan. I want everyone to keep looking for targets.”
Having received their orders, the squads went their separate ways, with Drixen leading First Squad against the void wasps. They were deadly, agile opponents, but their armored skin was fairly weak compared to the steel construction of mechanical fighters. Fighting against them meant hitting hard and fast, if you wanted to survive. The fifteen fighters, including Cowgirl’s bomber, took out seven wasps on their first sweep. Leading the charge, Drixen managed to take out three himself, alternating between machine gun bursts and laser blasts.
“Woohoo!” he shouted. “Let’s keep it up, folks!”
The mood aboard the Wingspan was much more dour. Reclan had spent the past half hour helping Dekken and his team pick through the wreckage in the electrical passages. The saboteur had been thorough. The blast that had darkened the ship had killed the security team sent to investigate, as well as taking out the central infrastructure for life support and the ripmed drive. Without that they could neither travel nor communicate over lightyears-long distances. The Wingspan was the only ship in the fleet capable of that kind of communication.
“Look,” she was saying to Jasken over her comm, “I think we can get the lights back on. We may even be able to get weapons up and running, and the atmo thrusters are a real possibility. But whoever did this was thorough and, frankly, brilliant. They bypassed the back-up generator’s alarms and then cut the back up power. Then they cut all power to the brig, then they set off the bombs to make their getaway. Sick, but brilliant. Not just to plan it, but to do it. They knew exactly what systems to hit, and in what order.”
“Okay,” Jasken sighed. “Just get what you can up and running. Keep me posted, but remember I’m going to be coordinating a naval battle up here. Thank the Progenitor comms didn’t go down.”
“Yeah,” said Reclan. “They’re de-centralized and radio-based, so they’d be harder to hit than most other systems, even for our crafty saboteur. I’ll stick to it and keep you up to speed.”
“Thank you, Reclan.”
Reclan looked over to see Vanbrook pacing the floor, his mag-boots stomping with every step. He had changed from his gym clothes into his combat gear, complete with his revolver on his hip and his saber on his back.
“Van,” she said. “What’s going on?”
He ran his fingers through his hair, exasperated. “I’m no use here. I should be fighting.”
“Unless you’ve got a fighter stowed away somewhere and know how to use it, this is where you’re needed right now. See all this scrap floating around?" Reclan motioned to the wreckage and debris that drifted lazily in the zero gravity conditions of the ship. “Move it into those crates over there so I can get at the wreckage without sifting through it all. If I can get this mess of wires and whatnot sorted out, I might be able to get some lights back on, but I need space and I need to see what I’m doing.”
Without another word, Vanbrook started lugging the wrecked pieces over to the crates, trying to keep them sorted to the best of his ability in case any of it was salvageable. D’Jarric and Raivyn, who had been standing nearby, joined in.
“It’s a shame Doc’s not here,” said Reclan as she worked to fix the back-up power cables.
“He’s helping with the wounded,” said Raivyn.
“I know,” replied Reclan, “It just feels like something’s missing when we’re not all together.”
Vanbrook and D’Jarric smiled at her. Raivyn kept working.
***
Doc stood by an injured soldier’s bedside aboard the Ferryman, reading his chart and muttering to himself. The Human had a shattered femur while defending Fort Bog Iron from the Collective and was on enough pain medication to keep him happy for a long while.
The patient’s eyes fluttered open, slowly focusing on Doc’s features.
“Oh, hey, you’re Doc Manford,” he said groggily.
“Heard of my famous bedside manner, I presume?” asked Doc sarcastically, not even looking at the man.
“Oh, no,” said the soldier, a look of confusion crossing his face. “Heard you were one of the best shots in the Navy, though.”
“I’m a good shot,” said Doc noncommittally.
“I’m Havvis, by the way,” said the soldier.
“Yup,” said Doc. “That matches your chart.”
“Oh, right,” said Havvis. “Man, this hurts.” He looked up at Doc. “Do you- y’know- feel pain?”
Doc stopped, turning to the man. “Not like you do.” He tapped the plate that covered his chest. “If my core is damaged or struck too hard I feel something analogous to pain. If I’m damaged or otherwise physically endangered, I have a network of sensors that act like nerves and help direct my body to move away from the source of danger, but that doesn’t really… ‘hurt.’”
“Huh,” said the sailor, lying back. “Okay. That’s kinda cool.” He propped himself up again. “So, when do I get back to the fight?”
“It’ll be awhile,” said Doc. “But you’re one of the lucky ones. You’ll have some artificial bits and pieces where most biologicals have a femur, but you’ll make a full recovery.”
“Not to make anything of it, but how come a Robot practices medicine?” asked the sailor.
“How come Humans fix machines?” replied Doc.
“Wow,” said the sailor. “That’s some deep stuff.”
Doc shook his head as the sailor laid back in his bed, falling back to sleep.
***
Down at Fort Bog Iron, Captain Fenrik strode along the perimeter wall. The black, iron-laced fungal walls, which had grown to over ten feet in height, had been braced with fresh-cut lumber from the forests and a walkway and battlements had been constructed on top.
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Admiral Jasken had warned that the Wingspan was compromised and that the Astralbian fleet was attacking, so Fenrik's soldiers were on high alert for a ground assault.
Fenrik's comm burst with a sudden warning, "Ramshackle troops inbound, sir. They're coming in crafts down the mountainside road." It was Kwa-Kwa, leader of Fenrik’s elite Scout squad, reporting from the outer perimeter.
"Good work, Kwa," he responded. "Activate defenses and fall back to the fort." Fenrik rubbed the back of his neck. He'd seen combat, but not as captain of a base.
"Okay, folks," he said over the Fort's general comm channel. “We have Ramshackle troops inbound. Everyone to battle stations."
Kwa-Kwa's ATUC came zooming into the fort, the security doors closing behind it. She quite literally leapt out of the vehicle, landing nimbly on long, amphibious legs.
An explosion sounded from the north. She grinned wide, as only a Krauqian could, her frog-like face beaming.
"Guess the defenses work," she said cheerily. Fenrik couldn’t help but smile, even though he knew the mines they’d laid along the major routes would only do so much to slow the coming battle.
***
Drixen, meanwhile, was still thinning the void wasps as much as he was able, but saw that the massive star trees, orders of magnitude larger than the one Traelby had fled in, had come within range and were firing on the Arrowhead. Without the Wingspan’s guns supporting it, the Arrowhead was no match for the Astralbian fleet.
“Okay,” Drixen said. “Let’s blind those star trees. Bombers, follow your squads. Target the eyes on those trees.”
Charging in, they were quickly bogged down in a swarm of void wasps. Two fighters were lost almost immediately as the wasps focused on one craft then another, using their maneuverability and swarming tactics to isolate and destroy their enemies. Five more fighters were lost to the same tactic before the first missiles were fired.
Cowgirl managed to take out an eye with some well-placed ordinance, but it was too late. Beams of red energy rained into the Arrowhead, quickly draining the electromagnetic shielding that protected it. The ship’s guns never stopped returning fire, taking down a smaller star tree that had maneuvered to try to take the Arrowhead on one-to-one, but holes and cracks began appearing in the metal plating of the ship’s hull.
Captain Vrik-Wei came over the comm channel that included Drixen, Jasken and the other captains. “Folks, I’m afraid the Arrowhead is sunk. Admiral, please see to it that the Astralbians are paid back in kind.”
“Count on it. You will be remembered with love and gratitude, Captain Vrik-Wei. May the Progenitor save you.” This was no time to mince words or be stifled by pride. He owed the Arrowhead open and honest praise.
With that, a final volley of fire from the Astralbians slammed into the Arrowhead’s hull. The ship burst into a massive fireball, lighting up every object in the aether with a red glow. Jasken grimaced and lowered his head in sorrow as the shrapnel that was once a mighty ship and many friends could be heard pelting against the Wingspan’s shields.
Reclan came over the comms. “Admiral, we’ve got thrusters but Dekken says there’s no way we’re getting life support back online.”
“What?” asked Jasken, still reeling from the loss of the Arrowhead.
“We need to land, sir. As in clayside. We can move but we won’t be able to breathe much longer up here.”
“How many hours of breathable air do we have?”
“Um, I don’t know. Hours, a day or two? I don’t know the volume of breathable oxygen or how much the crew as a whole needs. Thoughts, Dekken?”
The chief engineer grunted and waved Reclan off. He had a tool in both of his major hands, and was holding a number of wires with the four lesser hands that were normally tucked close to his chest.
“Okay. How are guns looking?”
“I don’t know. Moving and breathing were the first priority, we’’ll get on the guns now.”
“Okay. We’ll try and see this battle out if we can.”
Reclan didn’t believe what she was hearing. They were floating, defenseless. They needed to retreat, not try to stick it out. She obeyed anyway. “Yes, sir. I’ll keep you updated.”
The fighter squads continued to harass the Astralbians, but at a high cost. Suddenly heavy laser blasts started slamming into the star trees, and the Ferryman could be seen rising over the Wingspan like a moon rising over a world. Firing what weapons it had, it provided some much-needed cover for the fighter squads.
The respite was short lived, however, as the Ferryman was quickly targeted and sustained heavy damage. Never designed as a combat vessel, it quickly succumbed to the assault of an entire Astralbian fleet. The rocket propulsion system was damaged and the ship began spinning wildly.
Watching Hitannia swing by over and over from the bridge as the Ferryman spun through the aether, Captain Arquess called Jasken.
“We’re out of control, sir. We’re going to focus on stabilizing, but we certainly won’t be any more help in this fight.”
“Understood, captain. Progenitor preserve you.”
“Why aren’t they targeting us?!” demanded Captain Hunt of no one in particular as he paced the bridge with Jasken.
“The Cornucopia Cluster,” remarked Jasken. “They want the coordinates, so they’re hoping to take us alive. Or at least to take the ship intact.”
“Admiral, guns are online!” came Reclan’s welcome voice. “And you should have weapons and navigation controls available to you on the bridge… now!” Screens lit up all around Jasken, and he smiled in the cool blue light.
“Fire at will,” he said to those manning the cannon controls, “and start taking us down, I want to land at Fort Bog Iron.”
He opened up the channel to speak to the fighters, “All fighters, you are to escort the Wingspan. We are going to take the ship clayside.”
Aboard the Astralbian’s grandest star tree, Lord Raelik watched the dissipating wreckage of the Arrowhead and the twirling path of the out-of-control Ferryman, smiling.
“Ready a boarding party,” he said, “Jasken is helpless now.”
Then something unexpected happened. The Wingspan lit up, beginning on the bridge and spreading down the tower to the rest of the carrier. Rocket systems ignited and the ship began to move. The remaining Republic fighters returned to it. Its cannons began firing. A nearby star tree erupted in flame. The battle had been hard on it, and the Wingspan’s opening salvo was enough to destroy it. Furious, Raelik's eyes burned a deep, bright sapphire.
“Shall we pursue?” asked the tree priest at the controls.
“No,” spat Raelik. “They’re crippled, but dangerous. We’ll finish them when the time is right."
Down below, on the mountainside road to Fort Bog Iron, Crush directed her troops to keep pushing towards the Republic fort. They had lost a few soldiers to the mines, but they had pushed on, rigging up a makeshift mine plow from a destroyed vehicle to take the brunt of the explosions.
She looked at the fort as she considered strategy. A siege wasn’t viable; the idea was to wipe out the base quickly. It hadn’t worked out that way.
The fort was well defended by massive laser and ballistic cannons mounted on iron walls, as well as hefty electromagnetic shielding around most of the buildings. The shields were able to stop the Ramshackle’s artillery shells from leveling infrastructure as they were meant to, and Republic soldiers that weren’t operating the heavy cannons sheltered in the protected buildings during barrages.
“Target the cannons,” said Crush to her artillery commander.
The greasy, broad-shouldered artillerist nodded and directed his troops accordingly. The tactic didn’t take long to bear fruit, and Ramshackle losses started to level off as the Republic’s firepower dwindled.
“Alright,” she said, satisfied with the progress they’d made. “Put everything we have into flattening the gate. I want to be walking into that camp in ten minutes.”
***
On the other side of the wall, Fenrik was wishing he’d shielded the cannons better. He simply didn’t have the resources to cover all the bases. The Ramshackle Collective was about to blow the gate wide open, and it would be a bitter fight to hold on to the fort if they managed it at all.
“Alright,” said Fenrik, shouting orders to his remaining force, “I want those artillery cannons taken out!” It felt hopeless, but if they could do that, they’d be able to take the fight to the Collective without fear of losing half their force in a single blow.
A strangely familiar rumbling sound came from behind Fenrik, and the sun was blotted out. He turned, fearing enemy air support, only to see the Wingspan coming down out of the skies like some kind of heavenly cavalry riding to the rescue.
The Wingspan’s cannons fired on the Ramshackle Collective’s position, a brief volley turning the once-intimidating force into so much slag in a crater. A small band on foot and a single hovercraft broke for the woods, under constant fire from the cheering troops of Fort Bog Iron as they ran.
Fenrik watched in awe as the Wingspan’s thrusters fired to maintain a safe descent speed, the massive ship rattling the earth beneath his feet as it settled onto the ground behind the fort. A small escort of fighters followed behind and looked for ground level enough to land on.
“Can my team go chase the runners, sir?” asked Kwa-Kwa, who had walked up behind him silently. He turned to her in surprise. He shouldn’t be shocked at this point that the battle-hungry, possibly insane scout would be itching to fight rather than help with the Wingspan, but she always managed to surprise. It would be wise to harass the fleeing enemy and make sure they were dead and or gone.
“Yes. That’s fine,” said Fenrik. If possible, the Krauqian smiled even more widely than she had before the battle. She was on her comm and running to her ATUC before Fenrik could wish her providence.
By the time Fenrik was able to get to the Wingspan, Jasken was walking down a ramp to greet him. Fenrik saluted.
“Admiral Jasken,” he said, “I’m certainly glad to see you alive and well.”
“Alive indeed, but well I’m not so sure,” the Admiral replied. “We lost the Arrowhead, and the Ferryman is MIA, last seen spiraling out of control. We’ve been unable to raise it on comms. Sir Traelby escaped, killing some aboard on his way out, and it looks like you’ve sustained casualties as well. We currently have no way of getting a message to Griffonia. Things are dire. I will be gathering with you and Captain Hunt shortly to discuss our immediate strategy.”
“Of course, sir. We’ll make a way if we have to beat the path with bare knuckles.” At this Jasken smiled a sad smile.
“Good man,” he said, slapping Fenrik’s shoulder, “good man.”
Talon Squad came down the ramp, sweaty and bleeding from their effort to fix the Wingspan. Drixen and Cowgirl led a small band of dejected looking pilots. Of the forty-five that had flown out of the Wingspan only ten remained.
"Well everybody," said Vanbrook with a depressed yet still wry smile, "welcome home."