Deep Orbit Over The Pit - Republic of Humanity Territory
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The Ramses hung suspended in her orbit around the bland, gray rock called The Pit. Her massive thrusters sparked dully, only kept barely alive in case she needed to move suddenly. Another flesh-formed pod entered the system, and the battlecruiser’s massive rail cannons fired. Four tungsten pillars the size of a drop corvette jetted forward and accelerated to a measurable percentage of light speed.
A moment later, the flesh pod vaporized.
Admiral Davison watched from the forward bridge, glaring at the single point in space where the bug’s massive pod had entered The Pit’s space. The bugs had to come in there, and his flagship was one of twelve battlecruisers evenly spaced on three separate orbits around the odd-shaped planet to provide constant coverage of that one point. They wouldn’t get in.
But his eyes narrowed as the Ramses’s drones approached the carapace-and-muscle wreckage. It had been too easy. He hadn’t even needed to fire all four rods; one would have split the pod in two just fine. He’d gotten used to firing all four to create weaknesses and instantly exploit them.
What were the bugs up to?
The drone broke through the outer cloud of gore, and Admiral Davison’s eyes widened. Empty? We’ve never had an empty pod before. What are they up to? He peered at the screen. Something was wrong here. It was too easy, and the rod strike hadn’t even spaced any bugs.
The Ramses shuddered in space as the rod launchers finished their painfully slow reload. Tiny thrusters along the ship’s sides fired, repositioning her heavy forward guns to face the jump point. The battlecruiser’s ten-kilometer-long bulk rotated slowly even as The Pit’s gravity pulled her toward the planet in a lopsided orbit.
Admiral Davison tensed. He couldn’t help it; the transitions between battlecruisers were always a weak spot. The Avenger of Liberty had fallen behind slightly to cover a flesh pod four revolutions ago and hadn’t yet caught up, so there was an almost five-minute gap in coverage.
Another pod came through, and the Ramses shook as all four rods left their cannons in a staggered launch that lasted less than a second. The pod evaporated. Just like that. Routine. Suspiciously so.
“Admiral, four minutes until we’re past maximum effective range,” his navigator said. She stared at the space map; the Avenger of Liberty had fallen even farther behind, and the coverage gap was closer to five and a half minutes.
“Cannons reloading. Ammunition stockpiles at forty-seven percent,” the officer in charge of the ship’s batteries rattled off.
Then, all of a sudden, the entire bridge was talking. Status reports flew back and forth as the Ramses’s staff officers competed for the admiral’s ear, and he rubbed his temples. None of their words mattered. All that mattered was whether The Pit’s single jump point was covered.
And it would be, but only for another three minutes.
The massive ship shuddered again.
[Admiral-san! Call waiting from EAF High Command o.0]
He groaned and stood up. “Thank you, system. I’ll take it in the communications bay. The private communications bay. Captain, you have control.” Whatever had gone wrong with the system AI’s birth and training, he could hardly understand them sometimes.
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His frustration faded as he stalked toward the hologram bay far away from the Ramses’s accursed bridge. Commanding the strongest single fleet in Earth’s Armed Forces? That was a headache. Managing a dozen staff officers’ personalities and ambitions? That was eight or nine that never went away, constantly crushing his skull. But this? This was politics. He knew how to do that; anyone who reached his rank had to.
High Admiral Shohei’s mustached face popped onto the massive hologram. “Admiral Davison, report.”
“Sir, The Pit’s defense is proceeding optimally, given my resources. I’ve deployed my battlecruisers into an orbital net facing the jump point; nothing can enter from bug space without one of my ships engaging. We’ve intercepted over one hundred intrusions, destroying them all before a single one approached near orbit.”
“Good. Very good. Will you be able to operate with three less battlecruisers?” The High Admiral asked.
Davison tried to hide his wince. “Sir? Are you suggesting we lower The Pit’s defenses? This campaign cost us—“
“I am well aware of the cost to take The Pit,” Shohei said acidly. “However, we have other defense requirements, and in order to push the Bonravans off Chandra, we require three battlecruisers at minimum. Your fleet represents half of our operation-ready ships and is currently holding position over a pacified system, firing billion-slip rounds at an incredible rate against near-helpless targets. The Republic’s view, not mine, Admiral. You know that I believe The Pit has to be held at all costs, but the keyboard-pushers have their prerogatives.”
“So, to appease the representatives, you’ll strip away our defenses?” Davison asked. “I know you, and this isn’t you.”
“I’ll offer you the following choice, Davison. Either you begin moving the Avenger of Liberty, Nero, and Midas out of your battle lines and replace them with the dozen rail frigates I’m sending you, or I’ll take them off myself. The Republic needs those ships.” Shohei’s voice left no room for bargaining.
Davison closed his eyes; he’d been wrong. It was politics, but not the kind he could manage. Then, with a sigh, he nodded. He didn’t have a choice. Not really, and rail frigates could serve the same purpose—as long as nothing went wrong. “Very well. This will leave gaps in our coverage until those rail frigates arrive. Please send them as quickly as possible.”
“Thank you, Admiral. I have a half-dozen other admirals and commodores from which to requisition ships. Good luck with your continued defense.” The hologram went dead, and Davison headed straight for the door. “System, clear the bridge except for gunnery, logistics, and navigation. We have a new defensive scheme to lay out.”
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Very Deep Orbit Over The Pit - Republic of Humanity Territory
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The bug was special.
Its body had been formed to live for only a day or two. It lacked a digestive system, sex organs—the atrophied kind most of its species had or the hyperactive ones the drones and queens possessed—or even a way to move in anything approaching atmosphere. Its limbs had evolved away to nothing, and even its chitin jaws had been sealed shut by time and a thousand hyper-accelerated brood cycles.
Instead of a bug shape, it resembled an asymmetical bullet. Its whole body was locked in a carapace shell, with the exception of its oversized photoreceptors and a super-space nerve string that trailed off toward The Pit’s jump point.
It didn’t know any of this, of course. All it knew was to watch.
And so it did.
It watched as the gap between battlecruisers grew wider, second by second. It watched the ships’ rail launchers crush flesh pod after flesh pod. And then, at the edge of its vision, it watched as three of the hated steel machines’ engines turned on and started burning for the jump point. They disappeared with a flash, and as they went, the bug’s eye recorded it all, sending the information along its super-space nerve string. Smaller vessels appeared within half the bug’s life cycle.
Another empty pod appeared ten thousand kilometers from the bug, perfectly timed to arrive when the smaller ships were at their maximum orbit. They fired, but the flesh pod absorbed their smaller rods. It took another reload for them to complete the pod’s destruction.
The bug watched it happen silently, unmovingly. It sent its signal along the nerve string.
Then, with its signal sent, it allowed itself to drift into orbit around The Pit—far enough away that it couldn’t see anything anymore. When a new signal returned along the nerve string, it died without a fuss. Its purpose was complete, and the queens knew when to strike at The Pit.