“What’s going on?” shouted Dekken, running towards a commotion brewing below decks. He pushed his way into an excited crowd, and found Riventius scrabbling with two guards while an Astralbian AetherCrate mechanic stood by in handcuffs. He grabbed the Telton by the scruff of the neck and yanked him back, staring him in the eyes. “I asked what’s going on.”
“That’s her,” cried Riventius, pointing at Rewna. “That’s the sparker who blew up my ship!”
“Riventius,” chided Dekken. “That’s just some poor Astralbian female, there’s no reason to think-”
“Actually,” said the Astralbian in the greasy coveralls, her eyes looking imperious despite her dress and shackles, “I am Lady Rewna. But I did not blow up this worm’s ship.”
Dekken rolled his eyes, an intimidating feat when done by a stalk-eyed Raki such as himself. “I am in too much of a hurry to sort this out. Lady Rewna, where are your people?”
“Far away by now, I imagine,” she replied calmly. “I only hope my wasp was able to return before they departed.”
“I believe she’s telling the truth, sir,” said one of the guards escorting her. “We just detained her for sneaking around outside the Wingspan. We were about to call it in when this Telton accosted us.”
“Chief Officer, kill this cowardly criminal!” demanded Riventius.
Dekken stared the Telton down. “As I said: I do not have time for this. Guards, take them both to the brig, and, for all that is good and decent, put them in different cells!”
“Yes, sir,” said one of the guards, reaching for Riventius.
“I am coming quietly!” shouted Riventius.
“All the same, sir,” said the guard. “I’ll be walking with you, a few paces ahead of our other prisoner.”
Riventius spat but didn’t put up any further resistance. Dekken watched them go, shaking his head in despondent disgust.
That issue solved for the time being, Dekken went to make final preparations to launch. He hoped to be on Kirakna within two weeks, and hopefully be able to provide some level of support for Griffonia.
The launch went off nicely and once their ripmed jump was underway, he went down to the brig to deal with the troublemakers. The guards let him in and he walked up to Riventius’ cell. The angry Telton sat on a bench, looking down at his feet.
“Look, you are a civilian refugee, and as such not under my command,” he said. “Promise that you won’t attack Lady Rewna–or, more importantly, my guards–again, and I will let you out. In return, I promise you that if you cannot hold up your end of things, you will not see anything outside of this cell again for as long as it is under my power to keep you there. Are we clear?”
Riventius looked up at Dekken for the first time now, a fire in his eyes, but no defiance on his face. “I will make this promise, though I loathe it.”
“That’s fine,” said Dekken, opening the cell. “Liking it wasn’t part of the terms. Go.”
He watched for a moment to make sure Riventius left the brig and continued on towards his quarters. Satisfied, he turned to Rewna. “Alright. Your turn.”
“I did not blow up the Vahsing,” she said simply.
“I’m inclined to believe you, despite the fact that Wyven already told us you did,” said Dekken. “Unless you’re playing some game I can’t work out. To be honest, I can’t figure out your angle either way.”
Rewna shook her head. “Lord Wyven was prepared to let me take the fall for the attack out of expediency, whether I did it or not. My star tree has limited scanning capabilities. If anyone has any recorded evidence in my defense, it is you.”
“Well, we didn’t bother doing much digging after Wyven put the blame on you, but we do, in fact, have some evidence.” Dekken pulled a data pad off his belt and showed Rewna an image of a star tree. “This vessel was spotted in the air space where the attack originated from. Look familiar?”
Rewna’s eyes lit up. “No! It doesn’t! Because it’s not mine. You must share this image with Wyven.”
“I’m not in the habit of sharing intel with hostiles,” said Dekken.
“What does this possibly cost you?” she pleaded.
Dekken motioned to the guards and opened the cell. Rewna held out her arms as the guard put her back in handcuffs and Dekken turned to lead her up to the bridge. “Don’t make me regret this.”
***
Skritka sat at his desk in Griffon Keep, staring up into the night sky through the window. The time was close. The past week or so had been spent in preparation, building shields and restarters on every device they were able to, prioritizing military and political targets.
A huge portion of the civilian population had fled, but more stayed behind, and some were still waiting for transport offworld. Jrenka had stayed, much to Skritka’s dismay, as had her husband. The kids were with Jrenka’s cousin, heading for the safety of Kirakna.
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“The lower levels of the Keep and the old Undercity are secured,” said Grak-Yurp, slipping quietly into the room.
“Let's hope it doesn't come to that,” said Skritka, shaking his head.
Grak-Yurp nodded grimly. “I fear it will. We've done what we can, but we are looking at a technologically superior force with no interest in diplomacy.”
“It has been some time since the Republic faced a truly existential threat. But we are born fighters. Griffonia may fall, but our people will stand back up.”
“Prime Minister,” cut in a voice through the office’s comms system. “This is Admiral Gresta of the Red Claw Fleet. The hostiles are in sight. We are converging on their position.”
“Understood, Admiral,” said Skritka. “Providence shine on you.”
“On you as well, Prime Minister,” replied Gresta.
A display screen on the wall gave Skritka a real-time view of the battle that was about to begin, but he found his eyes drawn to the window. Time seemed to slow to an excruciating crawl, but it wasn’t long before he could see flashes in the heavens as the two forces met.
***
High above, Farbin looked down on Griffonia in person for the first time. It was a beautiful world, a ripe fruit hanging in the aether, ready for the picking. His console lit up with alerts as the Griffonian Republic Navy converged on the fleet's position.
He shook his head. Of course, resistance was expected. If sapients had one thing in common, it was the will to survive. There was no reason to throw their lives away when they could just as easily run–seeing as they were a space-faring civilization–but stubbornness was another common trait.
The first fleet the Griffonians had sent had been utterly destroyed down to the last fighter. The largest ship had been kept intact after the beasts had done their work, killing everyone aboard. That was back with the scientists on an armada world being studied in hopes of replicating the Griffonians’ faster-than-light travel.
Disruptor rays began autofiring at targets, and Farbin’s console alerted him to the activity, drawing him out of his musings. It was only moments before laser fire followed the disruptors, burning holes through ships and tearing them to pieces.
A few missiles, lasers, and ballistic rounds slammed into the energy field around his train, but the field was no worse off for it, and Farbin hardly took notice.
The fighters posed a slightly greater threat, and Farbin released his serpent drones to counter them. The enemy fighters swooped into the field, but those that didn’t pull up in time slammed into the shield and were destroyed. Nothing damaged the war train itself.
The Republic fighters were surprisingly advanced, considering they were not of Drakmundi design. They were sleek and relatively maneuverable and well-armed, the smooth fenders on either side of the cockpit bristling with ballistic and energy weapons, with an additional gun or two jutting out of the back where the fenders flared out to accommodate thrusters. Farbin’s serpent drones were built like smaller versions of the trains, segmented to allow them to weave in serpentine movement through the aether. Their powerful laser weapons were highly maneuverable as well, fitted along the sides of the segments in a ball and socket arrangement, the drone’s artificial intelligence allowing them to maximize movement and targeting. The drones fell on the fighters swiftly, moving quickly and reducing the relatively slower fighters to slag. Waves of fighters continued to pour in, meeting a similar fate.
The larger ships were slowly whittled away. The massive carrier ships that spewed out fighters were targeted first, and were soon destroyed. Some of the other ships began to peel away in retreat, but all in vain. They appeared to be unable to activate their faster-than-light travel while being targeted by disruptor rays, and so they were far too slow to escape the fleet’s massive battery of laser cannons.
Once the majority of the ships were destroyed, Farbin spoke to the other commanders. “Left flank, focus on destroying the remaining naval opposition. Right flank, begin targeting surface infrastructure and prepare to launch ground forces.”
There was no smile on Farbin’s lips as he watched his forces dominate the Griffonians. In truth, he did not enjoy the battles and bloodshed. He found them eminently boring. Wiping away the chaff of a planet so that his people could feast upon the wheat was a noble and glorious goal, but in his heart he longed to ascend to where others could take his place in battle so that he could be with the truly great among his people. His day would come. For now, he had to focus on the task at hand. The destruction of Griffonian civilization.
***
Back on the Wingspan, Dekken stood by the handcuffed Rewna, waiting for Wyven to accept the call. After waiting for nearly ten minutes, an angry blue face appeared on the screen.
“What is this, Admiral Dekken?” asked Wyven shortly.
“I have Lady Rewna here with me,” said Dekken. “And I have a couple of questions for you.”
“You have the perpetrator,” said Wyven dismissively. “Do with her as you see fit.”
“We also have this,” said Dekken, pointing to Triflin. The picture of the star tree popped up on the display so that both Dekken and Wyven were viewing it. “Whose star tree is this?”
“Difficult to say,” said Wyven without batting an eye. “Why?”
“It’s not difficult to say!” protested Rewna. “You have a database of star tree images at your very fingertips, Lord Wyven! Use it!”
Wyven stared daggers at his upstart underling, but nodded to someone offscreen. There was an awkward silence, and Dekken looked questioningly at Rewna, who nodded confidently.
“Lord Gwestiv,” said Wyven. “The star tree is a match for Lord Gwestiv’s.”
“Who defected to the Koomites!” declared Rewna victoriously.
“Lord Wyven, that photo was taken just after the Vahsing was destroyed,” said Dekken. “In low orbit over our airfield. We believe this Lord Gwestiv was the culprit. We are not at war with the Astralbian Kingdom, or whatever you’re calling yourself these days, and I am willing to return your Lady to you as soon as you can provide her transport.”
“I have a better idea,” said Wyven, a wry smile playing across his crystalline lips. “Has not the Republic put out a call for any and all allies to lend aid? Let this be our contribution: keep Rewna as one of your own, and I will send a star tree for her to command.”
Rewna’s eyes narrowed. She did not want to work with the Republic, and did not trust Wyven. “My own tree?”
“Not the one you gave up command of when you left it, of course,” said Wyven disdainfully. “But I am willing to send a new crew loyal to you–currently detained, I admit–from among your old crew along with a new star tree to call your own.”
“We would welcome the aid, Lord Wyven,” said Dekken. “Assuming Lady Rewna accepts her new commission.”
“How can I not,” said Rewna, more out of apathy than gratitude.
“That’s settled, then,” said Wyven, ending the conversation.
Rewna turned to Dekken. “I’m your problem now. Am I going back to the brig, or what?”
Dekken was about to answer when an emergency ripmed comm came through.
“It’s Kerucester,” said Triflin, looking over at Dekken. “The invasion. It’s begun.”