Grefli looked out over the great blue orb of Kirakna with some doubt. It didn't seem likely to have much in the way of resources. But Farbin had certainly been right about the so-called “ripmed” technology. That had made the trip from one planet to the other a simple enough process, particularly since it meant Grefli could stay conscious for the duration and bring an entire military fleet along. Unfortunately, they hadn’t managed to figure out how the ripmed communications worked, so communicating with Farbin and the Council would be impossible without sending a messenger.
“Herald Grefli,” said the captain of one of his war trains over the communications network. “We’re picking up signals indicating a large number of ships between ourselves and the planet. It’s- it must be at least thirty ships, sir.”
“I see them,” said Grefli, returning his eyes to the console and studying the readouts. He heard the concern in the captain’s voice, but he chose to ignore it rather than sanction it. It could be a hundred ships, it would make no difference. “Wait until we are closer before engaging. They are able to reboot power after a short time, so there is no reason to begin our disruptor assault yet.”
“Yes, Herald,” replied the captain, keeping his emotions in check this time.
***
“All ships, fire laser weapons as soon as the enemy is in range,” said Admiral Trich of the Red Shield Fleet, scratching her velvety snout thoughtfully with her spade-like Talpidarian claws. As the senior admiral in the armada, she was responsible for overseeing the battle, and happy to lead from the frontlines. “The enemy expects us to be sitting ducks, so we have the advantage.”
The crew aboard the Keel was nervous as five distant specks became clearer, an amethyst hue becoming more readily visible as the enemy approached.
“Admiral Hunt,” said Trich, sending a direct comm to the Blue Griffon Fleet. “What is your ETA?”
“We’ll be there shortly after the enemy is in range,” replied Hunt. “We plan to take a slightly longer route so that we can flank the Drakmundi rather than attacking as a single line.”
“Understood. Providence shine on us all,” said Trich, ending the comm. She quickly switched to another channel. “Scramble fighters, and keep a holding pattern around the fleet until I order otherwise. Remember, we will be focusing on using energy weapons to deplete the EM shield around the enemy vessels, but bombers equipped with trunk busters should be at the ready to fire on any unshielded enemies.”
Reopening his comm lines to the five fleets spread out over the area, waiting to intercept the Drakmundi. “It looks as though the enemy is heading most directly for the Red Shield Fleet. We are ready to intercept.”
A chorus of acknowledgement and hearty encouragement came over from the other four admirals.
“Sir,” said his comms officer. “The enemy is at maximum focal length for our laser cannons.”
Trich nodded. “Open fire.”
***
The opening salvos of laser cannons blasted into the purple orbs around the war trains. Of course, they did no damage. Grefli smiled. Heralds were meant to be stoic, but Grefli had always enjoyed crushing the resistance of new worlds. The more advanced their technology, the more fun it was to prove they were no match for the Drakmundi.
“Fire disruptor rays,” he ordered.
Passing harmlessly through the shield bubbles around the war trains, the invisible rays, tracked by Grefli’s console, all connected with their targets, crippling the largest of the Griffonian vessels. Or, at least, it should have. Nothing changed. Laser fire continued to bounce harmlessly off the shields, but it should have come to a stop.
“Fire again, on a higher intensity,” said Grefli, working hard to keep the emotion from his voice. “And scramble fighter drones.”
***
“They work!” exclaimed Trich over the public comms channel. “The shield cages work! We’ll make the Drakmundi pay yet!”
“Fighters are incoming, Admiral Trich,” said the fleet’s fighter commander.
“You’re cleared to engage,” said Trich happily. “Remember, save those trunkbusters for clean shots on their capital ships. Reports indicate that the serpentine fighters are vulnerable to conventional weapons.”
Trich turned her attention to the scopes focused on the enemy ships. Snake-like drones poured out of the war trains’ hangar cars, slithering through the aether towards the fleets, speeding up suddenly when they left their mothership’s shielding. Their defenses were holding up, but they had yet to draw first blood from the enemy. Breathing out slowly, he checked the range to the enemy.
“Gunships, advance towards the enemy,” she said. “They seem happy to hang back from the fight, let’s push the attack.”
***
Grefli watched the drones leave the shield as the sleek Griffonian fighters approached. Both forces opened fire, and a number of drones were destroyed before he saw a Griffonian fighter explode. He snarled, stroking his beard in thought. No matter the intensity, the disruptor rays were not working on the Griffonian ships.
“Should we release the other drones, Herald?” asked a voice over the comms.
“No, hold them in reserve,” said Grefli. “Focus on weakening their shields with ballistic missiles. Once they are depleted, fire the infiltrator craft. We’ll see how they like fighting beast soldiers within their ships and drones without.”
Despite the brave words, the dogfights were not going in their favor. The sleek, mobile Griffonian fighters were better shielded than the serpent drones and had surprisingly strong and accurate weapons.
The truth about the Drakmundi warmachine was that it relied almost entirely on strong shielding and the disruptor rays. With the disruptor rays neutralized, Grefli found himself worrying for the first time about the integrity of his war train’s shields.
***
Trich looked worriedly at the fleets’ shields on his display. Some of the gunships’ shields were getting dangerously low.
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“Maul and Dagger, pull back,” she said. “The Keel will advance to give you cover. Keep up pressure on the enemy.”
“Yes, sir,” answered the captain of the Maul.
“This is Captain Truup-Ma of the Dagger, Admiral,” said a staticky voice. “Feedback from laser impact has damaged some of our systems, maneuvering may prove difficult.”
“Understood, Captain,” answered Trich. “We’ll do our best to cover you.”
“Admiral Trich, this is Admiral Hunt,” came a welcome voice over the comms. “We’re coming into range, what are your orders?”
“Good to hear from you, Admiral!” answered Trich. “Scramble your fighters and put any firepower you can on the war trains’ shields. We have yet to score a hit on their ships, and no reason to think a fighter would fare any better against the shields than our missiles have.”
“Yes, sir,” answered Hunt. He turned to Triflin. “You heard Admiral Trich, let’s scramble fighters.”
***
Grefli watched the readouts carefully, grinning as he saw what he’d been looking for.
“One of the smaller gunships is flagging, and lasers are now leaving marks on the hull,” he said to his captains. “I’ve indicated it on your consoles. Fire infiltrators.”
He watched gleefully as the arrow-like ships floated lazily out through the shields and then shot off towards the gunship. Nothing demoralized the enemy quite like knowing their comrades were being torn limb from limb, and nothing made Grefli happier.
***
“Did you see that!?” asked Kiflin over the fighters’ comms channel.
“See what?” asked Drixen, swinging around and firing his foreguns at a serpent drone. He managed to send a hail of lead into the joint behind what amounted to its head, and the drone exploded, pieces tumbling off into the aether.
“The rockets the Drakmundi just fired,” she said. “They move slowly until they leave the shields, then they pick up speed. The smaller rockets did the same.”
“And?” asked Cowgirl.
“I think that’s how they’re getting through the shields!” answered Kiflin. “Our shields hug our ships, right? So we don’t have to worry about missiles going through them from the inside, but the Drakmundi have these weird, massive, purple bubbles. They have to compensate somehow.”
“Oh!” exclaimed Drixen. “I get it!”
“Triflin,” said Kiflin. “How fast are those missiles going before they leave the shields?”
“Uh… give me a second!” answered Triflin. “About… a hundred miles an hour? A little less than that.”
“Thanks!” said his twin sister before making a beeline for the nearest war train.
“Wait, Gemstone!” said Drixen, using Kiflin’s callsign.
“Yeah, you’re going to need a bomber!” said Cowgirl.
Drixen sighed, and fell in behind them. “Everyone else, stay on the serpents, alright!?”
***
“This is Captain Truup-Ma of the Dagger, we’re being boarded!”
Hunt’s head snapped to the console when he heard the voice coming over the armada-wide comm channel. They’d all seen the video from the Pinion by now, and Hunt looked up to see that the arrow-like ships had struck the Dagger. Each of the five ships represented two or three beast soldiers that were now tearing the crew apart.
“I’m sending my Special Squad,” said Hunt. “Will they be able to board?”
“Yes! Yes! Please, any backup that can be sent is appreciated!” said Truup-Ma.
“Talon Squad, report to your shuttle immediately,” said Captain Hunt. “I’ll explain while you’re on your way.”
***
Grefli noticed something strange on his console. Three pips were heading towards one of the war trains, but they were too large to be missiles. They were fighters, and they weren’t turning. He allowed himself a light chuckle. They’d smash into the shield and die. Maybe it would be a lesson to their fellows.
As Grefli settled in to watch the pips disappear, the unthinkable happened. They began to slow down.
“Captain Yilmi, three enemy fighters are about to breach your shield!” he exclaimed.
“What?” asked Yilmi. “Can they do that?”
“IF THEY SLOW DOWN, YOU FOOL!” shouted Grefli. “Destroy those fighters!”
***
Drixen winced as his fighter, slowed down to a meager ninety-five miles an hour, came into contact with the war train’s shield bubble. However, he passed through as though nothing was there, arriving safely inside. Safely, at least, if he didn’t consider the serpent drones gliding towards him, lasers firing from their many segments.
“Look alive, ladies!” he called to Cowgirl and Gemstone.
“Woohoo!” shouted Cowgirl. “Looks like we riled ‘em up!”
“Gemstone, you and I are going to focus on these drones,” said Drixen. “Cowgirl, put those trunkbusters to use, let’s see what Drakmundi ships are made of.” Switching to the armada channel, he added, “the Drakmundi shields can be penetrated, just go through the shield at speeds of ninety-five mph or below!”
“How do our weapons fare against their war trains?” asked Trich nervously.
“We’ll let you know,” answered Drixen, avoiding an oncoming drone by performing a barrel roll.
“Cowgirl, do you have a shot?” he asked.
“Lining one up,” she replied. “There are a lot of instruments sticking out of the front, I wanted to fire one right into the heart of that array.”
“We’ll get you there,” answered Drixen. He peeled off with Gemstone and made an arc for the front of the train, dodging incoming fire as he went.
“There!” shouted Cowgirl, firing a trunkbuster missile at the array on the nose of the train’s first car. The three fighters banked away as the missile found its mark, crashing into the train and blasting antennae and dishes in every direction.
“Hmm,” said Cowgirl, surveying the damage as the debris cleared the point of impact. “I’d like to put another one right there.”
“That’s gonna be tough,” said Drixen, who was watching a horde of drones fly through the shield and begin to converge on their location.
Just then another group of Griffonian fighters flew into the bubble behind the drones and began picking them off one by one.
“Hey, Textbook!” called the fighters’ commander. “Twig, at your service!”
“Hey, Twig!” answered Cowgirl. “Haven’t seen you since flight school!”
“Yeah, sorry I had to miss the wedding!” answered the pilot.
“No worries, you made this party,” said Drixen. “Hey, whatever bombers you’ve got with you can follow Cowgirl’s lead.”
“You heard him, folks,” said Twig. “Let’s blow this thing to smithereens!”
With the added cover and firepower, Cowgirl was able to swing around and fire another trunkbuster at the nose of the train. This one pierced into the vessel itself and peeled it back like a banana. Another bomber followed on Cowgirl’s heels and fired into the smoldering opening. After a short pause, the entire first car erupted into a ball of flame, throwing the other cars into disarray. The purple bubble surrounding the train burst outwards in a violent purple explosion, fading into nothingness a split second later.
“HAHA!” exclaimed Drixen. “Does that answer your question, Admiral Trich!?”
“I believe it does, Commander!” answered the Admiral.
***
Grefli looked on in disbelief as Yilmi’s engine car exploded, the shield flickering out of existence. No Drakmundi war trains had been destroyed in the last century. All too late it dawned on him: the Griffonians would not be easy prey.
“All captains,” he said, voice ragged with anger. “Put everything you have into destroying those fighters.”