“I want us in the air as soon as all personnel are aboard and strapped in!” shouted Jasken into his comm as he ran up the Wingspan’s ramp. By the time he reached the bridge, the engines were rumbling, eager to take to the sky.
“Whenever you’re ready, Admiral,” said Dekken.
“Captain Hunt,” said Jasken, “are all crew accounted for and ready for lift off?”
“Yes, sir,” replied Hunt, double checking the report on his tablet.
Jasken nodded. “Officer Dekken, take us up.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the engineer.
“Sir,” said Mairen. “We have a broadcast from the Astralbian fleet, should I play it now?”
“Go ahead, Mairen,” answered Jasken.
“This is Lord Wyven of the Astralbian Empire. The great eye blast that you just witnessed is your first and only warning,” said a nasally and attenuated voice when Mairen played the broadcast. “This world has been claimed by High Emperor Jylik of the Astralbian Empire. You will leave at once or face the full wrath of Emperor Jylik and his fleet.”
Jasken smoothed his mustache, his face sour as he absorbed the information. Jylik had finally taken the step of declaring an empire, effectively declaring war on the rest of the galaxy.
“Get me Prime Minister Skritka,” he said.
“On it,” answered Mairen.
A few moments later a groggy Skritka appeared on Jasken’s screen. It was the wee hours of the morning on Griffonia. Jasken explained the situation and forwarded the Astralbian broadcast to him.
Skritka shook his head. “I’ll need to call an emergency meeting with Executor Grak-Yurp and both Houses. Obviously this is an act of war, but don’t engage unless your hand is forced. I know this wouldn’t be our first naval encounter with the Astralbians this year, but if Jylik is looking for a war I want it to be absolutely clear he was the aggressor.”
“The Wabuluban Kingdom and PIC were subject to the same warning shot and broadcast, I think the politics will sort themselves out,” said Jasken.
“I understand,” said Skritka, holding up his hands defensively. “I still need you to be patient.”
“Unless ordered otherwise I will stand my ground, Prime Minister,” warned Jasken.
“I expect nothing less,” said Skritka. “I’ll be in touch shortly. Providence shine on you and your fleet, Jasken.”
“On you as well, sir,” answered Jasken.
The comm was ended, and Jasken turned to his officers. “Make preparations for combat. I want our fighters ready to scramble. Officer Dekken, are shields fully charged?”
“Yes, sir,” answered Dekken. “Combat shields are fully operational and travel shields have fully recovered as well.”
“Excellent,” said Jasken. “No starting a war until we get the okay.”
“Incoming comm from Griffonia, sir,” said Mairen.
Jasken sighed. “That was a little too quick. Answer the call.”
The shrewd eyes and grizzled, warty face of Executor Grak-Yurp appeared on one half of Jasken’s screen, the more reserved Skritka reappearing on the other half.
“Admiral,” said Grak-Yurp. “The Astralbians have crossed a line. This was a completely unprovoked attack on a sovereign world, not a dispute over newly discovered territory. Combine that with the declaration of an empire and I’d say we’re looking at full scale war with the Astralbians.”
“Agreed, Executor,” said Jasken. “As far as I’m concerned, the Astralbians have been at war with us since they attacked us on Hittania, but I’d like to hear the Houses confirm that.”
“I am giving you full license to repel this invasion using any means necessary,” said Grak-Yurp. “The Houses can have their say when our people's lives are not in immediate danger, and I daresay they will vote to declare formal war.”
“Thank you, sir,” said Jasken. “We’ll see who we can get to throw their lot in with us and the Shairet.”
***
From the command center of the star tree overseeing the advance fleet, Lord Wyven sneered down on Gateway. He watched a hodge podge fleet from different corners of the galaxy rise from the surface, wondering how many would simply flee in response to the warning and how many were preparing to fight.
They had lost a few star trees pushing as hard as they did, but they certainly had enough forces to deal with this rabble. The fact that the infamous Wingspan was among the enemy didn’t bother him. He would simply have to take them out first.
An alert chirped and he turned his attention to the incoming comm.
“High Emperor Jylik,” he said happily.
“Lord Wyven,” said Jylik.
“The message has been delivered,” said Wyven. “Ships are rising from the surface.”
“To flee or to fight?” asked Jylik.
“Hard to say,” mused Wyven.
“They have their warning,” said Jylik dismissively. “If they show any sign of resistance, take them out.”
***
The fleet of Republic, PIC, Wabuluban, and miscellaneous ships rose almost as one. Then, one by one, the smaller groups began jetting off.
"If we hold together as a unit we can take this fleet," said Jasken over the public channel that had been set up on Gateway to maintain order and communication in the airfield.
This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.
"You cannot perpetrate a war here, Jasken," said Domm-Zahr. "Not without local buy-in."
"He has it!" said Chreep. "I speak for the council of my village. We will not be bullied!"
"Anyone else?" asked Jasken.
"This is Baron Flubbyn of the Wabuluban Kingdom," said a warbly voice. "We are with you, Admiral."
"Glad to have you," said Jasken.
"Sorry, Jasken," said High Brother Treskt. "The PIC has no interest in war with the Astralbians. We'll be on our way."
A number of industrial and mercantile ships left with them.
"Cowards," muttered Jasken low enough his mic wouldn't pick it up.
“Aethercrate Hauling is with you Admiral, though we’re not exactly a military outfit,” said a new voice on the comms.
“Happy to hear it, Aethercrate,” said Jasken. “What do you have to offer?”
“Two light haulers and a full-sized cargo ship, the Mayblin. With, um, you know, a few self-defense ballistic cannons,” responded the hauler. “Maybe something a little hotter if the situation called for it. Oh! And plenty of shielding. We have redundant travel shields that we’ve managed to fully charge up hoping and praying for some work on Gateway. Looks like the Cluster isn’t the goldmine we were hoping for.”
“Not yet, but give us some time,” answered Jasken. “Oh, and Aethercrate?”
“Yes, Admiral?”
“I can promise you you won’t face any investigation for any unlicensed military-grade equipment you use to help repel the Astralbians. Not that a fine, law-abiding organization such as yourself would have any such things.”
There was a pause. “I like you, Admiral.”
Jasken allowed himself a small chuckle and turned to his display screens. They were outgunned by the Astralbians but they had a decent supply of trunk buster missiles ready to go on the gunships and bombers.
“We want a defensive formation, folks,” he said on the public channel. “I want the Wingspan front and center flanked by the Gladius to our fore and the Halberd to our aft. Wabuluban fleet, I suggest a similar formation, above our position. Leave enough space for the Aethercrate ships to hang out between our formations and fire from a position of relative safety.”
“Agreed, Admiral,” said Baron Flubbyn.
“Sounds good to us, Jask- uh, Admiral Jasken,” said the Mayblin.
The first shots came from the Astralbian fleet before the formations were fully formed. A multitude of great eye blasts slammed into the Wingspan’s shields, reducing them suddenly and causing EM feedback that shook the ship and fried a few minor systems.
“We’re okay,” said Dekken. “We can’t take a whole lot more of that, but they’ve probably spent what they could for now.”
“Hunt,” called Jasken. “Scramble fighters. I want our bombers focusing on great eyes.”
***
Finally getting the word he’d been waiting for, Drixen led the fighters screaming out of the Wingspan’s main hangar. The Republic fighters were sleek, with rounded fenders that flared out in the back to fin-like thrusters and a bubble-like cockpit in the middle. The bombers were similar, but had wider fenders to accommodate their bulky payloads.
“All squads, look alive,” he said to his fellow pilots. “Admiral Jasken wants all bombers focused on great eyes. We’ll be working with Wabuluban fighters on this one. They’re on our common channel, so don’t say anything unprofessional.”
From overhead, the squad of Wabuluban fighters came to join them. They were fish-like, with a conical nose and rocket-shaped body that tapered towards the back and then flared out into a thruster. Their domed cockpits blended into the fuselage, and the only thing that broke the fish-like silhouette was the array of guns jutting out under the nose.
“Aw, what would that be like, Textbook?” asked a warbly voice.
“The legendary Tide, folks,” said Drixen. “He’ll be leading the Wabuluban fighter squads in focusing on void wasps. As I was saying, we wouldn’t want anyone commenting on how you folks can’t land a pontoon fighter on an ocean.”
“Yeah? Is that what they say?” said Tide jovially. “I heard Republic fighters can’t hit a tree unless it’s the kind that sit real still for you.”
Drixen laughed. “Hey, let’s sit down and insult each other over drinks once we’ve taken care of these Astralbian scumbags.”
“Sounds good,” said Tide.
Drixen pulled off a loop-the-loop and Tide made a barrel roll through the loop, much to the delight of their squads. Pleasantries over, the two groups of fighters focused on their targets. A horde of Astralbian riders on void wasps flew out from the star trees and began firing on the fighters.
“Fire when you can but do not engage,” said Drixen. “The Wabulubans have got these guys. Squad two, take the star tree to the port of the mother tree,” he said. “Squad three, the one on starboard. Squad one is on the big one.”
***
Picking off a few stray wasps on his way past, Drixen led his squad straight for the largest star tree.
“I’ve got a visual on my target,” said Cowgirl. “And a trunk buster with its name on it.”
“Sounds good, hun,” said Drixen as he dodged an incoming hail of fire from some of the trees’ lesser eyes. The eye she was referring to had a slight red glow to it. “Just watch yourself, it looks like it’s about ready to fire.”
“I’ll stay out of the line of fire, then,” replied Cowgirl. “Just a little closer and…”
The trunk buster missile shot out of its tube, careening towards the great eye and impacting just as the eye was about to fire. The ensuing inferno took everyone off guard. While the trunk busters had proven themselves a powerful munition, the explosion looked more like a supernova than a missile. The corona of fire and energy that erupted from the eye engulfed wasp and fighter alike, sending them tumbling into the aether.
Alarms blared aboard Drixen’s fighter as he tried to stabilize. “Woah, Cowgirl, sound off!”
“Textbook!” she called. “I’m okay.”
“What was that!?” asked Drixen.
“I don’t know!” said Cowgirl. She was now upside down in relation to the star tree she had hit, but it took up most of her view. The smoldering hole left behind by the trunk buster was ten times the size of the one she’d left the last time she’d had the opportunity to fire one and nearly half the tree was scorched black.
“Squad one, regroup!” called Drixen. “Looks like we might have finished off our target quicker than expected!”
***
Jasken watched in awe as the star tree all but blew to pieces. It was a welcome surprise, but he wondered what would cause a trunk buster to do that kind of damage.
His musings were cut short as the rest of the Astralbian fleet fired another volley of great eyes. The Wingspan rocked as the shields struggled to absorb the shot.
“That was a weaker hit, given that the mother tree is out of the game,” said Dekken. “We still can’t afford another one of that magnitude, though. We can move to travel shields if need be.”
“Gladius, Halberd,” called Jasken. “I need cover for the Wingspan. Our combat shields are largely depleted. Leave a lane of fire for the central cannon battery but cover our fore and aft.
"Yes, sir!" responded Grepk and Captain Kresht in unison.
***
Wyven looked around shakily as soldiers and tree priests worked to put out a number of small fires in the command center, using a device that looked similar to a thorn gun but that sprayed a fire-suppressing gel rather than shards of wood.
“Do the comms still work?” he asked grimly.
A priest walked away from a smoldering countertop to check the communications equipment.
“Yes,” he said after a moment. “We’re still in contact with the other trees, but faster than light communications are destroyed.”
He nodded his understanding and moved to the communications station. His elderly face was set as he addressed his fleet.
“We fight til the last of us is a crystal, floating through the aether,” he said. “We are heralds of the High Emperor. We will be heroes, not cowards.”