The defensive efforts of the three capital ships were, if useless, still impressive.
Each of the two Bombarder ships had masses of heavy railguns, able to increase or decrease firing velocity at a moment's notice, various weights of shells with different intended purposes; and as the Gaze of Wrath approached, they started spitting out projectiles in a vague cone pointed in his direction; initially at a fairly low velocity, but increasing as they kept firing; ensuring that, at about the time he reached the region those first shots were fired in, he would be crossing an area with thirty minutes worth of sustained fire within, effectively, a two-second travel time.
He was pretty sure that, at the time he reached that spot and was twelve light-seconds out, they'd have started creating a second, smaller wave for the last few minutes of his approach.
The arc was massive, and, even if there was still a good chance of avoiding fire, meant that most likely, if he tried a direct approach, he'd pass through it at some point, and likely take a round or two. Assuming, of course, he maintained the direct approach. The amount of ammunition being thrown into space was insane; they could build multiple smaller starships with just the mass of composites being fired.
At the same time, they had launched missiles; the Battleship in the center firing over two hundred; in a wave behind that mass of fire; and shuttles were dropping from orbit to undoubtedly deliver all but a skeleton crew to the fortifications below.
He kept an eye on the display. They might need to duck and weave to avoid these projectiles; or they might happen across an area of space clear enough he could make another brief warp hop to avoid the incoming wave entirely. "What do we have going on down on the surface? The Klendath still fighting back, or the Marrick managed to break them?"
The nearest drone glanced up at the display. The ship was set to give a slight twist in angle and jump into warp at the tap of a switch; and Eyeball seemed to just be running his finger over that switch, staring off into space. Ascension considered, not for the first time, just what the precognition looked like; the thousands of possible futures in just the next few seconds. "No apparent fighting, though at least a few cities are still relatively intact; though all surviving cities are now closer to bunkers. The closest Klendath city to the Carin was destroyed a few seconds ago; over five hundred miles away. They have been targeting both the largest population centers they could find, as well as the closest ones to the fortification; creating both an ever-growing 'safe zone' circle through artillery and orbital bombardment, as well as devastating anything that looks like a possible hub of resistance."
A brief squeeze. For a few seconds, the Gaze of Wrath was moving at a warp factor of fifty; several light-minutes away, the barrage of projectiles now not even close to on-target. For a few seconds, the firing stopped. Then... they re-oriented, and started to create a new wave; but this time, the relatively sluggish railgun rounds wouldn't reach the Gaze until after the ship was only six light-seconds away. At best, they might damage the Gaze after themselves being within range of what they believed the ship could do for thirty seconds.
In reality, the tuning of the main guns meant he could nail them with precision from almost eleven light-seconds away; but he'd give it time. The three Yogg were all ignoring their simulations, staring at the display. It seemed... insane. Impossible. Warp travel this far into a star-system was insanely dangerous, but they'd just done it. Twice. While charging at three vessels, each of which outmassed and outgunned them enormously.
Eyeball glanced up. "Gentlemen. I know it looks as if we've got all of this under strict control, but one EMP could put us in serious trouble. Pay attention. Hands on the controls, and be ready to jump in. At least forty of those missiles they launched last time were EMPs, and they're likely to launch another volley in the next few seconds."
The enemy Battleship had started randomly spraying particle cannon fire in the Gaze's direction. The odds of a hit at this range were minimal; by now, it was over ten seconds between launch and arrival, so even the smallest shift of position would put them far beyond the impact zone.
He focused on the trigger; and smiled. "I'm going to deliberately miss the first shot. I'm sure what's happening here is being relayed onward. It should give them a bit of confusion on how this all works." He looked back at the display, moving the barrel of the gun a few millimeters to the left.. and tapped the trigger.
Three seconds later... again. The moment the guns were prepared, he fired a third time; and then watched the monitors.
First, the volley missed one of the Bombardment ships entirely. Then, with the second launch, the Battleship was killed; the first four rounds brought down the shields with direct hits, the fourth actually penetrating several decks into the ship, while the fifth and the sixth deflected inside, obliterating the ship with a series of chain reactions; while seconds later, the third volley slammed into the second Bombardment ship; the fat, bulbous mass with its banks of railguns breaking apart as its main power core was neatly pierced.
He centered the barrel on the first Bombardment ship... then stopped. "Huh."
The weapons on the ship were being stowed; shields powered up at maximum; covers over the barrels coming down. He stared; the ship was about to activate its warp drive and try to ram the Gaze like a living projectile. It wouldn't make it; it would strike a pocket of gas, or some bit of debris, a few light-seconds out, and its mostly-intact wreckage would be on his screens seconds later.
Sure enough, the display suddenly changed. At first, an error message. Then... the heavily damaged form of the second Bombardment ship appeared on-screen. It looked as if the hardened composites were a bowl of jello some child had made three massive scoops out of; atmosphere leaking out, bits of debris, and, probably, bodies floating every which way.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
".... Well then. That's something. Ascension, our main guns good for orbital bombardment?"
"Negative, sir."
"Too bad. Missiles?"
"We have over two hundred purpose-build ground bombardment multiple-impactor missiles purchased at Knife-7, designed to fragment on contact with the atmosphere and deliver high-density rods on up to fifty targets each."
Eyeball nodded; releasing the controls. "Well then. Get me five of those centered on that one republic fort... and coordinates to the most recently destroyed Klendath city along the edge of that circle of death." He tapped the side of his helmet. "Dancer. It's time. Bring the tools we discussed, and meet me at the main cargo bay. We're taking a field trip." He tapped the helmet again. "Doshet. Doshiri. I want one of you on the helm, the other with me on the surface. You choose. Whoever gets the helm, just keep working the simulator unless something goes wrong. Listen to Ascension; they're the only ones who can think as fast as you."
The long, lean, brown-furred form of one of the Jernal was in the seat before he was two steps away; he gave a soft chuckle as he headed down the hallway. This should be amusing. How many lies, and how much truth, was he going to give the alien? He was likely about to be copying the same methods used to make Hiroshima and Nagasaki back in the day; but since he wasn't one of the bugs, emotionally devastated by what was going on, it likely wouldn't work nearly as well as a young Japanese woman sitting in the ruins of a Japanese city.
Still. It should be impressive enough.
***
His helmet gave a soft warning beep as the assault shuttle opened, the native atmosphere hissing in; the local level of CO2 would be toxic to him in minutes if he removed his helmet... but how bad that would be for someone of his own capacities was an unknown. Could he last for days? Months? Or was breathing not something impacted by an overabundance of life force? More concerningly, of course, the ambient temperature was over 105C/221F, though going down slowly. Emerald would have been okay here, with a respirator. Preferably one as durable when it came to heat as she was.
The shuttle had landed on a relatively clear spot caused by a collapsed building; smoke and dust clouds rose in every direction, and the impact crater from the projectile that had done this was a few hundred meters away; most of the closer buildings hadn't so much fallen as just shattered, along with the people inside.
One of Ascension's drones stepped out first; or tried to. By the time it had reached the still orange-hot metal of the collapsed building, Doshet was already gone, with Eyeball, Dancer, and a pair of 'Pirates' following; both of them former Shoork Royal Navy. Most likely still attached, really; the Duchess probably had them keeping an eye out. Ascension started to calmly jog towards the center of the blast crater, on its own errand, as Eyeball scanned for underground structures.
Dancer's version of powered armor was, frankly, amusing. Rather than an actual armor suit, it was a bulbous, pineapple-shaped mass with manipulators projecting out of the sides and an array of radiator fin spikes on the top; floating down the path as Eyeball stepped down, finding a rocky, cement-like surface at what had once been ground level.. and stopped.
"...So. To make a Focus, you need powerful emotional impact. For even greater effect, you need significant loss of life force; and the more recent the better. A Republic officer here couldn't make anything; the magic might even kill him when he tried, and any device you made here would have such a will to murder the Republic that it would twist spells to that end." This was, of course, bullshit. Hiroshima and Nagasaki could have been made by an enterprising American sorcerer without a problem, and used against the Japanese.
"But as enemies of the Republic... the greater our hate, our emotional feelings towards them? We can bind with that, and take some of the local life force, and shape something. Either an enchanted object, filled with life force with a purpose... or a focus to augment out own magic. What kind of weapons do your people use, Dancer, of the up-close sort?" Also mostly bullshit, of course. Any strong emotion worked, but obviously if you were looking at the graveyard of your own species, it would be far more impactful to you than being angry about the quality of lunch.
After a moment, the insectoid sent a signal; and an image appeared. A pole-arm; a hammer, with a spike at its tip, with a long pole; somewhere between a pike and a warhammer.
"...Huh. Okay. Odd, but workable. Now... most of the blood on the surface here flash-vaporized. But..." He reached down, grabbing a chunk of debris; and heaved. With minimal effect; he just tossed a few hundred pounds of concrete through the air, breaking a chunk off of a massive slab; he'd somehow forgotten for just a moment the lessons of dealing with Butcher and lifting massive objects. "Bah. Fuck it... get behind me." He raised Titanslayer; and both Dancer and the two Shoork looked confused at the tiny weapon; with Dancer moments later recognizing this as one of the two Foci he'd seen on Eyeball.
A loud thunderclap. An impossible burst of power. The nearby dust was suddenly cleared from the air; before a new cloud started to rise from the massive hole that had suddenly formed. Eyeball's helmet projected an image of an entry into an underground facility, partially collapsed; and his first vision of the Klendath. Dozens. Hundreds of corpses, packed into a tiny space... mostly fresh, as it were.
".... Now. There's only a couple of steps truly needed. To shape the object with the right symbols, and invest the emotion. But what the object is can matter, and the steps of the shaping matter. The absolute best I've found is to both carve with emotion, use metal that itself was invested with life force and strong emotion; and then cool it with fresh blood, giving the new focus its own intrinsic life force."
Eyeball sat down at the edge of the hole, and Dancer settled in beside him. "...What are we waiting for? Does it need to cool?"
"No. Fresher is better, for this. But Ascension is checking to see if there's a usable chunk of the projectile that did this. It'll be deep, and most of it vaporized on impact; but if we have any, it would be perfect."
Suddenly, Doshet appeared in a brief blur, settling in beside Eyeball. He delivered a report; received information Eyeball already had programmed into the comms, waiting; and left.
The text appeared over his HUD even as he ran off. ~No survivors I could find, and no Republic either. Clear of threats I can see, though I'm not as good at digging as you, apparently.~
A momentary script. If:No_Survivors:+No_threats:~This place is on the edge of a circle surrounding whats left of the Republic base. We already hit it from orbit; if you want to make sure there's no survivors, your helmet will show you the way. Feel free to go check it out, or just relax until its time to go; we'll hit them again before we leave to make sure there are no survivors.~
Dealing with super-speed subordinates required either equal reflexes, or quite a bit of planning; not just foresight; and it helped if they were at least marginally competent themselves. Fortunately, despite having the education of, essentially, children, the Jernal all seemed capable enough.