After the 7th fleet subjugated the enemy fleet over Beladir and Dorn, they have made their way just within the threshold of the Teela Belt. Wary, Wolf ordered a full intelligence diagnostic of their latest are of operation.
“How are we looking, Minerva?” A man, grizzled from years of service, spoke to her.
“I have noticed a strong frequency that I have yet to catalog originating from deep within their system. I am attempting to recover intel related to my scans, but for now, we should be fine within the asteroid belt,” she reported.
Streams of data were a constant, and she effortlessly interpreted it in a manner that would prove useful to her commanders.
Drifting rocks here, speeding rocks there. All were standard according to her scanners utilized from the ship’s systems. She went ahead and did a preliminary scan of the asteroid belt, looking for anything erratic. She noted nothing of immediate concern and relayed that to her commanding officer.
The first sets of ships to enter the belt were a mix of corvettes and light frigates, evenly dispersed as they navigated the environment.
“Minerva, scan for low frequency. Something as small as an idle engine or traces of electrical consumption,” Wolf commanded.
He most likely wanted to try to utilize her to her utmost capabilities, testing the waters of what she can and can’t do. She didn’t know how well she can scan that in-depth, but it was something she was keen to attempt.
“Of course, Sir.” A pulse from a ping was sent out, taking in all forms of feedback that returned.
Background radiation, signals from friendly ships, the behavior of the asteroids… asteroids? She compared models of the nearby bodies with what she identified. They were erratic and flowed contrary to the natural state of the belt. They didn’t pop for excessive power consumption like what wolf had suggested, instead, they reminded her of an earlier ambush from a new class of ship in the earlier systems.
“That’s… Admiral, I recommend you order a full combat stance, at once,” advised Athena.
“What do you have?” he inquired, urgency prevalent in his voice.
“Putting it up on screen now,” she replied.
They had already displayed the bodies of asteroid that littered their area of operation, even the smaller ones. However, something caught his eye during the scans for the visualized radar systems.
“Scouting party?” Wolf asked, “Why Aren’t they showing up on screen?”
Minerva analyzed the anomaly intensively, and as they creeped closer but sat at a safe distance, still giving off the same elusive signature.
“It is by my account that these ships are of the same class or house the same technology as the ambush fleet from several systems ago.”
Wolf knew exactly what she meant. It was when they had just entered a system and found Vale and his advanced fleet in combat with an enemy that had left as quickly as they appeared. It was unlike any of the ships cataloged during Draxis, so he figured it was a hidden weapon they had been saving for later.
“Can you get a lock? What size ships are we dealing with?”
Minerva ran through her database of ships and concluded that the ships before them were corvette class. Lightly shield, and lightly armored. Even if they didn’t appear on-screen or on the tactical holographic table, they had Minerva to interpolate that data and thus, was the one to take weapons command. She would take the shot.
“Currently, there are only three stealth class enemy corvettes present,” she reported.
“Conducting surveillance, no doubt,” spoke Gruda, a voice who had been silent thus far.
“Even I can see that, Gruda. Do you know how much they’re gonna send our way?” Wolf beckoned with an urgency.
“With us so close to our cradle, they are likely to try to swarm your fleet while keeping most ships in orbit around the planet. I suspect a healthy one-hundred and twenty or so,” Gruda responded.
“Hm. In that case, Minerva, you have full execute authority. Organize a sync-shot of the three corvette size signatures. Randal, organize a formation using the nearby rocks as cover while the main force moves together.”
“What do you plan to do?” question Gruda.
“We’ll ambush their ambush. Minerva, fire at will.”
As Minerva charged the MAC in addition to two other heavy frigates, Wolf took this time to question Gruda.
“Tell me, do you regret joining us?”
Gruda didn’t know how to respond. He felt that the current tempo was moving too quick for his liking, but that was out of his control. He detested the acts of the current military and those who had allowed it to persist, most notable, the War Council and Chief-General Torlak.
“I do not agree nor can I condone what the military of Sellia have committed against your people. That blames falls to the War Council and their ultimate pawn, Torlak. I only ask that you spare the innocent citizens of Sellia and her people.”
Wolf nodded in response, “I’m glad you feel that way. Perhaps with sympathy like that, we can turn public opinion in our favor. Because what we are about to do will against all odds and will ultimately make us out as demons to your people.”
The words spoken by Wolf ultimately fell beyond Gruda’s initial understanding, leaving him confused. Wolf then turned to the rest of the crew and spoke into a microphone that was connected to not only the rest of the ship, but to others within the fleet.
“We are in the final stretch. Beyond these rocks is the home of our enemy, who will fight down to their last man, no doubt. We are most likely out manned and outgunned. Many of you will not live to return home to your families, and your service will be honored. Remember what they did to us and the atrocity committed. Let these shots, ring around the galaxy! Minerva, let ‘em have it!”
She nodded and returned a prompt ‘Yes sir’ before firing her main gun with two others, each at their victim. Within the midst of moving rock and debris, the magnetically accelerated rounds met a fraction of light speed, point four-tenths the speed, in fact. The distance covered was only a matter of seconds before the rounds met their target. In a plume of exacerbated debris and fire, the slug met the enemy’s shields and shattered them like a bullet through paper. It was instantaneous, the destruction wrought on the enemy as they did their jobs, waiting for reinforcements to join the fight.
As if on cue, upon their destruction, a large fleet of enemy ships had entered near their sphere of the belt. Lighting up the tactical display and table light a Christmas tree, the amount of enemy indicators flooded the area.
“One-hundred and ten enemy signatures accounted for, Sir. I’m also picking up enhanced energy output for shields. It appears the enemy has undergone significant upgrades since the last we met,” reported Minerva.
“Since last we met?” Wolf questioned, “Is it the same fleet we encountered at Draxis?”
“Affirmative, except there has been an increase in corvette and frigate class ships to their formation,” replied the AI.
“Are they in range to hail?” questioned Wolf, “I’m thinking we try Vale’s tactic. It seems to work, for the most part.”
“They are within range, but I must advise, their weapons are primed, and they will fire one they reach maximum effective range,” said Minerva.
“Put me through to their commander in charge,” ordered Wolf, “Gruda, you’re gonna be up. I hope you have a speech prepared.”
Gruda visibly recoiled at the notion, but nodded in response, “I will… do what I can.”
Minerva directed their gaze to the large screen at the rear portion of the bridge. A pending icon rotated in a circular motion in the center of the screen as they waited for the intended party to answer. After several moments,
Wolf was anticipating to be met with the one who had caused all of this in the first place, but was met with an individual apart from whom he wanted to settle this matter with. Gruda had detailed their ranking structure before and for commanders of fleets, markings would be on the sleeve of their attire ranging from one red mark up to three. The fourth mark was reserved for the lone Chief-General, but the one on screen was only marked with two stripes, a Chief-Captain.
Gruda thought about why a Captain was put in charge of a sizeable fleet such as the one before them. Captains would normally oversee a cruiser sized ship with an escort of corvettes and frigates.
The captain before them glared, first to the human admiral, then to Gruda, “I am Chief-Captain, Farlo,” he introduced himself with clear disdain for those before home, “So, we have a traitor within the enemy’s ranks. State your name, traitor!”
Wolf ignored their disposition and beckoned for Gruda to reply with a simple nod, “I am Gruda Arlesk, former Chief-Commander of the once mighty Sellian military.”
“Once?” the chief replied, anger visible from their tone, “The armies of Sellia are great! We have fended off the armies of the Union, and we shall do the same with these Terrans.” They spoke the name of their enemy with disdain, yet Wolf, and many of the crew were unfazed.
“You’d best mind your tongue, Captain,” Gruda replied, his tone now reflective of his new-found allegiance. Anger now seeped in Gruda’s voice, and a smirk appeared on Wolf’s face.
“For five systems, no, seven systems! The Terrans drove away a campaign fleet and have now reached our home! You would do best to cease your aggression and let the Council pay for what they have done!”
“Lies! I have heard enough, traitor! The War Council knows of the transgressions of these Terrans and they threatened our borders! What are we to do? Let them encroach on our rightly claimed space?”
As he spoke, Gruda noticed that the captain only regurgitated the standard propaganda of Polas. He was blind to the truth and all present on the bridge knew this as well.
“You speak for a treacherous Council who commit crimes against sentience. They have allowed the enslavement of their people. They are not the aggressors, we were! I have proof for all in your fleet to see-”
Farlo raised his hands to stop Gruda mid-sentence, “I will not accommodate words from a traitor. The time for talk has gone. I suggest you make peace with your death.”
“Don’t make a threat, if you know you can’t deliver,” spoke Wolf, now breaking the silence of the fellow crew members.
“You have twelve hours, Farlo,” Wolf replied and promptly cut the transmission, leaving Farlo stunned in response.
Then, at the same moment, Wolf issued a series of orders to his crew, “Minerva, send an encrypted message to Athena. A twelve-hour count,” she nodded, “All stations, General Quarters!”
The crew went from standing on the sidelines, to issuing commands and executing all necessary orders for combat. Their minds were set, and they did so in perfect unison.
“Sorry about this, Gruda. Sometimes, you can’t talk down an enemy when their mind was already made up.”
Gruda nodded to his consolation. If one could call it that.
“Very well,” he replied dejectedly as the rounds of ships began to fire.
The corvettes that maneuvered around the floating masses of rocks were the first to fire their volley of cannons and missiles. The enemy shields flickered as a response to the cannon fire until they broke with a dying simmer. A volley of missiles followed close behind a salvo of cannon fire with timed execution.
With the shields down, the additional rounds from the cannons peppered the enemy hull, weakening it for the explosive reception of hellfire. Several enemy corvettes fell to the initial barrage. However, it was not a one-sided endeavor by the Terrans.
The enemy corvettes were supplied by an escort of a frigate that delivered devastating return fire to the human corvettes. Instead of kinetic rounds, the enemy had opted for plasma-based weaponry. As darts of purples and blues littered the void as they met their mark. It devastated shields and hulls alike, and the human corvettes fell easily to its power.
The outer flanks fell, overwhelmed by the numerical firepower of the enemy, and the surviving corvettes of the TRSC retreated. Corvettes in the outer ring of their formation were melted and ceased operation almost entirely, save for a few noble turrets that operated on the last of their crew and power.
As the enemy ships flew by the remains, shots rang out from barely surviving crew of select ships, firing relentlessly into the exposed hulls of the enemy ships that wandered too close to the debris.
Their shields were already lowered and were in the process of regenerating when their lower compartments were enveloped in flame and shrapnel. It wasn’t enough to completely down the ship, but enough to slow their advance. However, the enemy frigates took aim and reduced the smoldering resistance of terran debris into dust.
“First engagement layer has been breached,” reported the scans officer.
“Coordinate a MAC volley. Target the larger ships with a missile salvo,” ordered Wolf, “and target a deck cannon barrage on their life support systems if able. The use of APHENT rounds is authorized.”
“Aye, sir!” the crew responded with unanimous fervor.
As the Sellian navy inched closer, the frigates of the TRSC Navy oriented their spinal Magnetic Accelerator Cannons towards targets selected by Minerva. Her targeting solutions provided the most optimal source of hostile termination, in theory at least.
Wolf had his doubts about her total capabilities, and total war was an area he had yet to see her active in. As fate would have it, a call from the scans officer provided a perfect opportunity.
“Incoming signatures! Fighter class! I’m counting just under four-hundred!”
Wolf turned to Minerva, her form peering into the screens of the battlefield.
“Randal, sortie our fighters,” he received a nod, and began issuing orders to their appropriate personnel.
“Minerva, generate the best tactical solutions for our fighters. You have the reign.”
She nodded in response, “Just a moment sir. Enemy targets… three-hundred and ninety-two. Friendly fighters… one-hundred and forty-four. It is not ideal, but I think I can manage. Requesting full control over fleet deck cannons.”
Wolf thought for a moment, and answered, “Granted. Randal, ensure she has what she needs.”
“Understood, sir,” replied the commander.
On the tactical display, smaller dots sharing the same green hue, digital signatures of friendly fighters departed both carriers of the group, aiming for the outer edges of the formation in a crescent moon pattern.
The formation of the enemy ships reflected a trident, with their heaviest concentration in the center flanked by a lesser concentration on the sides. Cruisers, a carrier, and heavy frigates made the center with the sides consisting of corvettes, and light to medium frigates. Numerically, they outnumbered and outgunned his fleet, but that didn't mean they outmatched them in quality. All it would take were a few well-placed shots.
The enemy fleet remained in cover of the asteroids, so a direct assault wasn’t viable. Their fighters began to navigate through the field, circling the large asteroid before them, tens of kilometers wide.
“Sir, their forces are splitting, full steam,” mentioned the scans officer.
“Minerva,” he turned to the AI, “You got it?”
“Of course, sir,” she replied.
The first waves of fighters consisted of only half of all available fighters per carrier. It was standard practice with carriers to send off a wave of fighters while the rest stood by until it was time for the first wave to return. Before they would, the second wave would enter combat to relieve the prior wave. Such a system was devised to maintain a continuous stream of fighters, using the in-between time as time to re-arm and refuel. The fighters were now closing in on the enemy, halting their advance.
From the numerous monitors, the green friendly indicators engaged the tip of the enemy fighters. Aerial combat had now begun.
Wolf had relieved command to Minerva for fire support. He was skeptical, still, but proceeded to go along with this field-testing.
“When you’re ready, Minerva.”
She didn’t respond, as her gaze was locked on the battlefield from the numerous scanners and probes available to her, not just from her ship, but from the data gathered from the other ships from the fleet.
When she came to, her eyes darted around until locking onto Gruda, then to Wolf.
“It will be some time, but you may want to turn your eyes forward.”
They turned, unquestionably, to the viewport, which also had flanked around it, other displays of ships in different areas of operation.
In the next moment, several heavy frigates, along with some light cruisers, accelerated towards the enemy force, but stopped just out of the enemy maximum range.
“Gruda,” she spoke, turning to the pale blue Sellian, “Do you know what one should do to achieve victory over your enemy?”
He thought for a moment, before responding, “To defeat the enemy commander. From there, the rest would scatter. It is universal for us, as it is our doctrine,” he replied confidently.
“True. Perhaps from a more ancient era,” her words confused him.
“What do you mean?” he questioned.
“I’m saying, in an earlier, more archaic time, killing an enemy commander was all you really needed to turn the tide of battle and demoralize the troops. However, for humanity, we have developed multiple philosophies on war.”
Gruda grew concerned to her words, as each alluded to a worst-case scenario as the first and only option. Fear grew within him.
“Such as ancient works such as the Art of War by an individual called Sun Tzu, who is believed simply to be an alias. Or, the forty-eight laws of power, which can be applied to oneself as well as in war, and I fear for your people, of the fifteenth law of power.”
Gruda gulped, his throat dry from his sudden restlessness, “W-which i-is?”
“To crush your enemy, totally.” Fear wrought on Gruda’s face as he tried to parse the five–worded sentence, trying to rationalize their meaning.
With a defeated countenance, he asked for clarification, “What… does that entail?”
“With a race such as yours, you should know,” He nodded in response but beckoned the AI to continue.
“We will not stop here. Should we be successful in our initial conquest, the fleets not present would be targeted for subjugation. If we leave your armies capable of recovery, then they would want nothing but revenge. Humanity can only gain peace if our enemies ceased to exist, but I am bound by protocol to abide the orders of my human counterparts.”
Gruda spoke, in response, slightly angered, but ultimately fearful of the AI, “And that will be in your favor, how?”
“If we can remove all options for our enemy to retaliate, then they will have no choice but to bend to our will. We have already done so with the colonies already conquered. As long as there are no rebellions, they will live.”
He soured at the notion, but conceded to their superiority, “How do you know when you have won?”
“By giving the enemy nothing to negotiate with and no room to maneuver. By then, we will have crushed them, and this battle will be no different.”
Gruda feared for his countrymen but knew it to be inevitable. He felt a pressure on his shoulder and knew it to be Wolf who seemed ready to offer some form of consolation.
“Humanity has always known war. It’s one of the few things that in our blood that we can use to offer a better chance for those who are innocent, just as much as it is easy to take. It’s why we do the dirty work, so that the innocent, friends, and family, can live their lives in normalcy.”
“I… understand, but I find it frustrating watching my people fall for the decisions of the War Council.”
“I can’t say I don’t sympathize, I do. But a message needs to be sent; you attack citizens of the Terran Republic, your armies will burn. Minerva, Fire at will.”
As directed, Minerva had gained control over the weapon systems of the fleet and systematically aligned their barrels to strategically marked enemies that zipped around in the void.
Back and forth, TRSC fighters trailed behind an enemy, just as much as the enemy trailed them. Trails of blue thruster debris littered the environment as they chased their prey, firing into their backside with a wall of depleted uranium core rounds that spun upwards of four-thousand rpm. Even with on loaded missile support, it wasn’t enough to compensate for the density of Sellian fighters that littered the space.
The Terran fighters did have quality of pilot over the standard Sellian, but were enormously outgunned. It began to show when friendly fighters were slowly incapacitated during their dogfights. It was a wonder the enemy didn’t crash into one another as they tried to gun down a single craft at any given time.
“Initiating counter-offensive. I hope you brought earplugs and sunglasses.”
Wolf nodded to the crew, but did little to actually mitigate sunlight damage. They wished to see the show, and magnified areas of combat heavy with enemy forces.
Minerva began, “Firing, in three, two, one.”
From across their battle lines, traces of light darted from the Terran ships, meeting their mark with destructive power so fierce and deafening that Wolf and his crew almost felt pity. Instead of wasting a shot on a small corvette or the smaller frigates, most shots targeted the largest ships in the enemy formation. Heavy frigates and cruisers were par for the course and were now heavily crippled from the attack. Even some enemy fighters were caught in the trajectory and were met with instant obliteration that they had no way of registering. It was painless and sudden, a fate that Minerva felt to be too good of a death. This was met with a glare from Gruda who watched in solemn horror, the slaughter of his kin.
“At least… It was quick, for the fighters,” he muttered, catching the attention of Minerva and Wolf.
“I am surprised your people have not developed such technology,” commented Minerva, “For Humans, it was only a matter of time since the dawn of fire arms to figure out how to make a projectile go further, with bigger, more destructive ordnance.”
“I’m sure I’ve said it before,” replied Gruda, “But Terran ingenuity is terrifying.”
Wolf noticed on the corner of his peripherals, a motion of fist-bumps from the nearby comms and navigation officers.
“Minerva, make sure we conserve ammo. We still have a planetary blockade to fight,” Wolf mentioned, enlarging that area surrounding the planet.
Data from a dedicated scanner ship relayed the latest information as requested to supplement the scanners from the battle group. It was precise enough to gather data of larger signatures orbiting the planet, especially from within the Teela Belt.
Gruda was curious about the scanning capabilities of the Terrans, as was evident from his focused expression upon the tactical table.
“How… are your scans so precise? As far as I’m aware, not even our best ships have scanning abilities like this,” he said, looking at both the battlefield before him and the signatures orbiting Sellia over yonder.
Wolf answered, beating Minerva to the question, “Warfare is more than just numbers and the enemy in front of you. What you need, is information. I’m sure you’re aware,” Gruda nodded in response.
Wolf continued, “Even long before commercialized space travel, my people have developed technology, advanced for its time, for the sole purpose of information gathering. By utilizing that information, you can then accurately determine the best course of action from troop deployment, such as… here.”
Wolf pointed to a lightly covered area of space west of the formation in orbit above the capital city. His gaze was now focused as he analyzed the field with Minerva.
“The main fleet will engage on the left flank of the defense, which should keep us out of range of that station…” said Wolf, “Then we’ll organize a secondary flanking assault with Vale’s fleet.”
He looked to Minerva, issuing her a set of new orders following their current engagement, “Organize with both fleets the best targets to engage using the MACs. We just need to keep the enemy busy until reinforcements arrive so that our ground troops can complete their mission.”
“Of course, sir. Would you like me to prep Lieutenant O’Brian’s requisitions and reinforcements?” added Minerva.
Wolf nodded, “We should have enough Kestrels for vehicle transport aboard their Assault Carrier, as well as a healthy contingent of Raiders to make a drop into the city. They’ll need more than a company. Randal, organize the rest of Fourth Battalion for a hot drop.”
“Aye sir, I’m willing to bet they’re itching for a fight, too,” replied Randall.
“Just remind them of the Rules of Engagement. I don’t need them making paperwork for me after this is over,” Randal nodded with a grand smile, and left the bridge to the tactical war-room, leaving Gruda with Wolf, Minerva, and the rest of the focused bridge crew.
For six hours, the fight raged on in the void of the Sellian asteroid belt. Ferric-Tungsten slug rounds of the Terran ship-board MACs were doing a number on the Sellian ships, adopting the tactic of essentially sniping their targets beyond their maximum range. In a battle where they were numerically out manned, it was best to keep their distance, and diminish the enemy’s numbers through quality of firepower. An advantage the Terrans took to the highest degree.
“They’re in disarray, sir. Enemy forces have decreased to just over sixty percent, and they are preparing a retreat. Requesting permission to engage with broadsides,” Minerva said, adding to the holographic projection, routes and optimal firing angles.
“Granted. Don’t let a single one survive,” acknowledged Wolf.
The TRSC ships enclosed on their retreating counterparts, firing their MACs, deck cannons, and missiles. Each one targeted with a designated purpose.
During the initial engagement, Minerva’s targeting was imperfect for moving targets and missiles landed on their targets, but didn’t deliver a crippling blow. As the battle continued, Minerva’s tactical combat programming adapted quickly and overcame her errors, reducing the margin of error from forty-six percent, to five percent. A large margin compensated for, but it drastically increased their fleet’s lethality. Now, the enemy tried to run.
“Target their engines then strike with a selective missile barrage,” ordered Wolf.
Minerva nodded, compensating her orders over her assumed network of the fleet as she targeted life support, shield generators, anything that would result in a destructive demise with the least amount of wasted ordnance.
The Sellian ships fought desperately, flinging ill fired plasma ordnance toward an encroaching predator. Most shots fired wide, largely missing their mark, but occasionally, it would land, severely damaging the ship’s shield production. If a shield were depleted, it would effectively melt a decent portion of hull that made contact, flinging slag out into space. Luckily, for the heavier class of TRSC ships, their hull was thick enough to shrug off most shots that didn’t make direct contact. This frightened them, and it showed in their disorganized retreat.
“Minerva,” Wolf called out to the calculating AI, to which she replied with a curt ‘Yes?’ before returning her attention to the battlefield. “What is your assessment of the enemy’s plasma tech?”
She paused for a moment before answering, “From their application against our shields alone, I believe it sufficient as an item for the TRSC to research and develop. However, Sellian application is slow, yet destructive. With proper tuning, I believe we can utilize it as a counter to enemy shielding in the near future.”
“I think so as well. Take note. We haven’t really touched plasma tech since…” Wolf paused, trying to remember the incident in question.
“The Bacari Disaster,” noted a nearby officer, who returned their focus to their station.
“Ah, yes, that,” replied wolf with a distance look in his eyes. Gruda’s expression grew with confusion.
“What’s the Bacari Disaster?” he asked, first toward Minerva who shook her head, then finally to Wolf, who now remembered the incident.
“It was the result of scientists on Bacari, a planet dedicated to research, when they tried to develop more practical applications for plasma beyond just mining equipment. If I recall correctly,” he said, stroking his chin in thought, “They had a prototype projectile-based platform that could have been used on fighters and was to be later added to ship defenses. But a scientist, a one Doctor Veringbraun, created a plasma warhead that detonated prematurely. The result was… unexpected.”
Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.
“How so? I would imagine a plasma warhead to have similar properties as a normal bomb, just… super heated,” replied Gruda, curiosity gaining with each passing moment.
“It did more than that. Whatever he did, he turned the entire research sector into glass, and it's surrounded by a perpetual lightning storm. Needless to say, the TRSC halted all projects related to plasma greater than simple mining equipment.”
Wolf shrugged to his retelling, continuing on with a final note,
“But now, with your people's design, we can probably kick-start the research again.”
The thought made Gruda shudder. His newfound allies already had a weapon that decimated shields and ships alike, with cannons boasting similar properties but can be fired in an endless barrage if need be.
He thought to himself, ‘For what? Why would they need plasma? Their current tech already outshines our latest development.’ He rightfully feared what monstrosity the Terrans would conjure.
Some time would pass, and the Sellian ships began to slow after Minerva’s tactical strikes on key systems; shield generators, life support, weapons, and engines. All were swiftly targeted, and as a result left many, if not all ships, disabled, to drift aimlessly. They were now subject to the mercy of the Terran Republic.
The corvettes and frigates that arrived first lined their broadside deck cannons against their foe, and without stopping, fired a purposeful salvo into the exposed regions of the alien ships. Some already had exposed compartments in their hulls that were prime for targeting with the use of the APHENT round, resulted in a brilliant display of destruction from within. With Minerva’s adaptive programming, the pace at which they could destroy their enemy increased, and steadily the enemy force dwindled until a cruiser, a handful of frigates and a single carrier remained.
“Enemy fighter presence is still substantial, but half of those remaining belonged to their sunken carrier. How do you wish to proceed?” Minerva interjected, interrupting Wolf’s thought.
“What’s our fighter status compared to the enemy?” Wolf probed.
“We out number them, three-to-one,” she reported.
“Waste them. Order our fighters to search-and-destroy. I also want a concentrated barrage on the remaining ships. No quarter.”
Minerva nodded, updating the information in real-time to current fighters, as well as the fighters within the two carriers. Like a hive of disturbed hornets, the fighters began their assault.
The remaining capital ships of the Sellian fleet were heavily crippled, relying on each other for defense. The frigates encircled the carrier and cruiser, along with a web of fighters darting around trying to cover their exposed flanks. It was their last stand, and they knew it, but before TRSC fighters came within range, a call was received from the enemy carrier.
“Sir, a call from the carrier. It’s Captain Farlo,” relayed Minerva, instead of the normal comms officer.
Wolf looked at Gruda with a smirk then turned to Minerva, “Have the fighters cut off their escape route, and make sure they’re out of the way of the MAC.” She nodded and Wolf turned his gaze to the rear monitor, where it lit up and the look of a distraught Sellian was visible.
“Well, if it isn’t the almighty Sellian navy,” Wolf replied in a snide tone.
“What would it take for you to spare the rest of my fleet?” Farlo responded despondently, his spirit visibly crushed as it appeared on his face.
“No number of pleas will save you, or your crew. Have you already forgotten? I requested a bloodless surrender, but you turned me down. You’ve not only doomed yourself, but your entire fleet. What more is there to discuss?”
Farlo hung his head in despair, before bringing it back up once again to meet the gaze of Wolf, this time, with anger.
“You are no more barbaric than the Union,” he sighed, lessening his gaze to one accepting of his fate.
“Then, may I ask that you spare the innocents of Sellia and ensure their safety?”
Wolf nodded, his face emotionless, yet sincere, “I will offer them what you did not offer to mine, peace. There may be collateral, but it will not be my intention. Then, if we’re done here, I bid you farewell.”
Farlo bowed silently, then cut off the signal, “The Sellian known as Farlo has ceased communications. Do I proceed with the attack?”
Wolf nodded, “Fire at will.”
With a syncopated display, bursts of linear light flashed from their ships and into the collective hulls of the Sellian ships. It didn’t take much for the cannons to make quick work of the remaining ships. The slugs decimated what little shields they had recovered, reducing the ships to nothing but fine debris. Some ships had also lined up perfectly to make for a series of collateral penetration shots for the lucky few ships.
As the Sellian fleet was reduced one by one, the fighters had begun their last ditch effort to try to deal any surmountable damage, only to be met by friendly fighter resistance.
Wolf had noticed on the tactical table that the enemy fighters had grown fatigued. What should normally be well executed maneuvers devolved into witless and frightened reactions. Their fighting quality had declined sharply and Wolf saw fit their swift end. He ordered all friendlies to make quick their execution, as some fighters had taken the liberty to toy with their faltering opponent. A topic he was sure he would need to address later.
“Prepare a torpedo for the cruiser and the carrier,” ordered Wolf, as the MAC slugs penetrated the lesser sized Sellian combat vessels.
“Aye, sir!” reported a helmsman.
He knew that he could order a MAC salvo at both the cruiser and carrier, but he had opted to try to save as much of that ammo as possible. They had a large depot of MAC rounds, and they knew this, but they had yet to be properly resupplied from their logistics fleet. So he had to sparingly use the remainder of their munition stores.
“Minerva, how much MAC rounds do we have after this engagement?”
“One moment…” she relayed as she calculated all the munition stores from across their entire fleet. “One-hundred and seventeen. Vale’s fleet is not with us, and so I did not include them in my initial assessment. I belay my last, we are now at two-hundred and four. Not enough for the number of ships waiting for us in orbit.” That assessment was not what he wanted to hear, but that was reality. It definitely not where he would like to be, but it was enough to hold off the enemy at a distance.
As he pondered his newest query, a set of torpedoes from two heavy frigates collided with the shieldless cruiser and carrier near the engine compartment. The explosion was grand and the shockwave of the warhead shattered the internals of what Minerva presumed to be their reactor core. Both biological life and metallic frame were liquified all the same, collapsing the ship and setting off a chain reaction that resulted in a sparking ball of light and fire.
“Hm, torpedoes. Nasty things when they land,” Wolf commented, nudging Gruda with his elbow, only to be met with another bout of silence.
“Missiles!? Magnetic Accelerators!? Rounds with liquid fire?! Now torpedoes?!? How are they different from your run-of-the-mill missile?!?”
Gruda responded with heated fervor to the newest addition of Terran armament, garnering a small chuckle from Wolf.
“Do you… know the difference between a missile and a torpedo?”
Gruda shook hid head in the negative, “What’s the point of having both missiles and torpedoes when a missile does the same thing?!”
“You can trace it as early as the early twentieth century,” Wolf began, “when we were still confined to our only planet, Terra. We had ships that floated on water to transport equipment and troops, as well ordnance. Similar to ships of today, well, space is an ocean, in a sense.”
Gruda leaned in, listening intensely to yet another history lesson of early Terran warfare. Something that he had grown a great interest in.
“I’ll shorten it, but when this is all over, perhaps I can lend you some knowledge of our early history,” Gruda replied with a nod, begging Wolf to continue, especially now that the original threat has long deceased.
“In essence, missiles can track objects, and can do so quickly. Adjusting mid-flight to autocorrect where it will be. There was a time when we phased-out torpedoes for a while, but with the advent of shields, they saw a return when we tried to conserve our last resort,” he said, hinting at the spinal integrated mass accelerator.
“With torpedoes, they’re slower than a missile, but can shatter most shields if they hit, and their payload is designed to shatter both shield and hull alike. But because of their speed, they’re weak to any decently programmed point-defense system. They were designed to sink ships, unlike missiles which were designed for pinpoint accuracy and fast-moving targets. Well, there you go. That's the gist of it.”
“Are they expensive, compared to the accelerator? I’ve noticed your fleet has been utilizing the main cannon almost exclusively.”
“They’re definitely cheaper than a Slug, that's for sure. But we’re also on a timeline, so I can wait to see whether a torpedo will land or not… although… that station might be a perfect candidate to test the true might of the fabled ‘ship killer’ ordnance.”
Wolf said, directing his attention to a hologram of the larger station orbiting directly above the capital city, “We’ll see about that,” he muttered, barely audible to both the nerve racked Gruda and the collected Minerva.
Wolf then looked at the bridge’s timer, showing that they had just under four hours to assault the planetary barricade and deliver to the ground team their assault vehicles.
“Prepare a jump,” he ordered of the navigation officer, “The space west of the city, here,” He pointed to the location, citing how few ships were near it. The nearest being a small group of corvettes that could jump to their location in mere seconds the moment they entered real space.
“We’ll deal with the ships that respond, but it should allow us enough time to supply the ground teams for their initial assault,” added Wolf.
“Would it not be the perfect time to also launch the rest of our forces? I’m doubtful the first Raptor Squad has the resources to mount an offensive strike of any significant portions,” added Minerva. Wolf shook his head at her suggestion, garnering confused looks from both the AI and Gruda.
“How do you mean?” beckoned Gruda, “There’s less aerial presence over that space. Plenty of area to land troops,” he said, noting the open fields in between the outer walls of the city and a small town to the west.
“Which is why I'm sending the rest of Raptor Company aboard with the Kestrels. We need to limit our aerial footprint and allow the ground teams the protection of medium and heavy armor.”
Wolf switched the view to holographic outlines of three vehicles side-by-side. The first was the smallest, with four wheels, two seats for a driver and passenger and a rear gunner. It was lightly armored, favoring speed and agility while donning a quad-barreled belt fed machine gun with a metal shield covering the operator’s torso.
“This is the Puma,” he said, pointing to the smallest of the three, “It’s a light-armored reconnaissance vehicle that can get around and provide field intel from ground troops. It can vary its weapon type here, on the rear. We didn’t have the resources for the more experimental variants, so they’re running with standard ballistic. It’s effective against infantry, should they come across a patrol.”
Gruda then pointed to the next vehicle. It’s larger than the Puma by nearly three times, with eight wheels, four in front, and four in the back, with a large central compartment reserved for munitions and squad seating. Mentioning also, the relatively larger gun fixed atop near the front of the vehicle.
“That’s the Armored Personnel Carrier, the Rhino. Built with reactive plating and small shields, it can traverse well into a hostile environment with troops while still delivering effective fire with its 35 mm cannon. You send this into a target rich environment, and it’ll do a wealth of damage to the enemy. Moreover, did I mention it can float on water?”
“For what reason does a land vehicle need to be able to traverse water?” Gruda said, with clear disdain for Terran craftsmanship.
“Well, sometimes we can’t always get our troops in their target area of operation, and they would need to traverse from a safe landing zone. Every so often, that had to cross small bodies of water. It originates from the early 20th century with the concept of amphibious assault forces,” Wolf replied in kind, now directing his attention to the latest of the three,
“And so, I present to you, the Grizzly,” he said with pride, “Boasts a large shield generator, improved ablative reaction plating and a rail gun for its main cannon.”
“You can probably mount them on a ship and claim is as a deck cannon,” added a nearby officer, garnering a chuckle from others on the bridge.
“Well, I think that’s enough of a technical lesson from me, Gruda. Let's just focus on the task at hand.”
The Sellian in question nodded, no focussing his attention on the now dwindling Sellian Fleet. Throughout the field of asteroids now lay the debris of both forces vying for control over the other, with his brethren now overcome with Terran superiority. He feared how their ground forces fought, and wanted to see them in action. He could ask the Admiral, Minerva, or perhaps even one of the nearby officers but decided against it. His duties offered little more than tactical advice on Sellian culture and tactics. However, when telling his superiors of their culture, he wondered how knowledge of it could benefit one’s decision-making in combat, much less combat in space. To which Wolf offered his insight.
“Warfare is more than just slinging rounds at one another, and more than the movements troops take to overcome their adversary,” he said, urging an understanding nod from the newly commissioned Sellian Officer.
“Ultimately, you can deduce how one might act in combat if you know how they’re raised. At least for the common strategist.”
Gruda racked his brains at how they might have gained even more knowledge to better their foes. Did he tell them? Was that why they had him aboard? To probe him for information to better take down his brethren?
Such thoughts raced his mind as he felt he was now responsible for the recent slaughters of his people, and it made him nauseous.
“Don’t worry about it, Gruda,” those words seemed to comfort him, followed by Wolf’s further explanation.
“I haven’t had the opportunity to actually do a deep dive or your people’s culture to exploit it,” he smiled. It did little to actually comfort him, but worrying about it now was moot. He had already given his loyalty to the Terrans, under the condition that they spare the civilians the best that they can. So far, they have delivered on their promises and as such, carried on with his duties, as insignificant as he felt they were.
With each rumble of cannon fire, end expended missile or torpedo, the enemy fleet before them was reduced to nothing.
It was a complete Terran victory.
The scene before them was now serene as all ships halted firing. Metal from destroyed ships glimmered from the sun as they danced in the void, now orbiting the nearest large mass of rock, adding to an ever-increasing total of satellites.
Wolf sighed once confirmation of the enemy totals came through on the nearest monitor, “All Sellian resistance has ceased. No survivors,” replied Minerva.
It was a grim realization, even for Wolf, but he knew what needed to be done, and proceeded with what seemed to be a never-ending tempo for those of 7th Fleet.
“How much longer until the resupply fleet?” he asked.
“Just over an hour, sir,” Minerva replied, her voice reverberating through the now silent bridge.
Wolf looked at each face as it returned the same to him. All eyes faced his way as he took this moment to collect himself. He looked at a timer that he has set before the fight. They had less than three hours to deliver the requisitioned items for O’Brian and his squad.
“How are we looking to send O’Brian his reinforcements?” he questioned to the AI.
“All forces aboard the assault carrier are eager to commence, Admiral.”
Wolf nodded, satisfied with her response, returned to the numerous displays of battlefield intelligence gathered before him. Instead of the area of their fleet, he was now focused on what laid beyond, Sella. Thanks to advanced scanners and intelligence, he had settled on the aforementioned plot of space that house little to no occupied forces.
“Prep all ships for a Slip Stream Jump. Reload all cannons and replenish all stores for immediate access. Minerva, prepare a set of orders for the Assault Carrier and a detachment of marines for a ground assault on the main city.”
She nodded as her silently relayed orders to all that were required.
Wolf took hold of his main central intercom, as he began to speak to the rest of the fleet.
“Attention 7th Fleet. We are not done yet, so don’t get comfy. We have one more stop, and I'm sure you all know what I mean. That’s right. Next is the heart of the Sellian empire. Their home. They are sure to have it heavily defended, and I am sure many of us will not return. But know this! We will strike fast and true! We will take down the very enemy that sought our destruction while still holding ourselves gracefully in their presence. We know war and it’s horrors, and we will not submit to the barbarism the enemy has shown to us so easily. We will strike at the head of the snake, and with it, their empire will fall!”
Wolf hung up his all call with a triumphant smile, all of which lasted a mere few seconds, before regaining his calculating demeanor.
“Slip-Stream is spooled, sir. Standing by,” reported the helmsman.
Wolf now turned his attention forward, as did the rest of the crew, and issued their next orders into a battlefield yet unforeseen, the result still clouded with innumerable variables.
Wolf paused for a moment before issuing the death warrant of not just his people, but of an enemy that most likely didn’t know what they had gotten themselves into. Upon his seat, he ordered their advanced.
“Enter Slip-Stream, to Sella.”
The 7th fleet engaged in Slip-Stream to their area of operation, previously sighted by Wolf and Gruda. It was a region of space left of the super-sized station directly over the capital city of Sella. The travel time was several minutes and Wolf knew that they could get there even faster if they entered Slip-Space instead of utilizing real-space style of sub-light travel, but that was procedure when operating within a solar system. Luckily, Minerva and the scans' officer had already registered and named all known celestial bodies with added points of interest for later forces to investigate.
“Ready all stations, and prepare for combat,” Wolf ordered to all fellow captains of their respective vessels.
“Expect a quick response force to test our formation. Hit ‘em hard and fast and don’t follow. Our goal is to hold out until reinforcements can resupply. Don’t waste shots if it’s not guaranteed. Stay vigilant.”
He closed out his outgoing signal and watched in real-time as the formation of his fleet organized themselves in a defensive posture. As instructed, main cannons were loaded and all available munitions were moved to closer to their designated armaments to reduced load times. All vessels stood by, waiting for further orders, as Wolf and his command planned their next move.
“Is the assault carrier ready for deployment?” Wolf asked his new AI.
“The Fourth Battalion Command has been properly notified and are standing by for further orders,” she replied promptly, “requisitioned vehicles for Lieutenant O’Brian are idle and set to launch, at your command.”
Wolf nodded, pleased with their swift preparation.
“Have them set to launch once we receive an LZ beacon from his squad…” Wolf’s statement trailed off into silence, as if a thought had crossed his mind amidst their current predicament.
“Is the package safe?” he asked, only to be met with confused expressions. Their faces changed when he elaborated, “If I'm not mistaken, O’Brian and his team extracted some targets, correct? For our friend here?” he motioned to the Sellian who stood oblivious to Wolf’s roundabout form of questioning.
With a subtle sound of confirmation from Minerva, she provided further detail on the matter, “The targets have been successfully extracted, as stated in an encrypted message from Athena,” she replied.
“What did they use for transport? I would expect a corvette of its class to flare up like a Christmas tree on sensors, even if it is a stealth variant,” added Commander Randal. He had finished his work organizing drafts for a ground unit invasion, as indicated with notes and visuals on his personal work device.
Minerva spoke, answering his query, “It appears they utilized an onboard gunship, outfitted for stealth operations. Its signature would be greatly reduced in atmosphere compared to a stealth-class corvette.”
“What? Next, you’re going to tell me you have stealth cars and infantry!!” Gruda said, voicing surprise.
“What is it now, Gruda? Never heard of stealth…anything?” Randal was the first to address Gruda, who only shook his head in denial.
As far as Gruda was concerned, he only knew stealth to be applied to small and medium forms of ship transport. Frigates and corvettes fit this bill to his understanding, similar to the ships they had encountered before, but at a lower capacity. With some technical wizardry, they could at most reduce their signal in open space, but there was always a sign.
“If possible…” he muttered, “How would you describe ‘stealth’?”
His question caught many on the bridge surprised. He described how for his people, stealth was the act of being unseen. At least that was how his translator opted to describe it in his stead. The concept of stealth was relatively new to a Sellian.
“That is a new word to my people,” Gruda added, his expression exuding curiosity instead of his usual disgust or shock, “For as long as my people have recorded, to commit deeds unseen has always been thought lowly of. We always faced our foes head on, but lately, the council’s tactics have strayed…”
Gruda’s face was now one of concern in respect to his people's ever-changing doctrine. Perhaps he had simply fallen unfamiliar with the latest developments since his retirement. He had faced Union forces with no need for subversion or the underhanded tactics employed by the enemy, and yet, he still came out on top. As far as he was concerned, subversion and underhanded tactics belonged to cowards and the ill prepared.
“You’re not wrong,” Wolf replied, sitting atop his seat with a fresh green fruit in hand and popped with every bite, “Stealth has always had a place with our people when they knew nothing but throwing stones and sticks…”
Gruda raised an eyebrow, “How so?” urging him to continue.
“Stealth exists now just with humans. We didn’t invent it, only gave it a term,” Wolf grabbed for his personal device when a screen beside him lit up with an array of animals that all shared a common trait. They were postured on four legs with differently colored and similar facial features. Many who had sharp fangs protruding from their upper mouths as some had their photos taken with an opening of their maws.
Minerva was the next to speak, adding context to the sudden influx of images, taking care to not take away any information on the tactical table display,
“I present to you, the felidae.”
“Felidae?” he responded, his translator working to add meaning to another unfamiliar term.
She nodded, “A broad term for the family which we call the ‘cat’. Predators on my creator's home world who use stealth as a primary tactic for hunting.”
She cycled through a series of images of ‘cats’, most of which were the larger predator species. She even showed muted video of how a cat stalked its prey, unbeknownst to it the fate that seemed inevitable.
“Many exist in a wide array of biomes native to Terra,” she then cycled through a series of diverse landscapes native to Terra, “Boreal, tundra, Savannah, rain forest… even within the home as a pet, do some of these hunters have residence.”
“I-in the home? Is that not a danger to the family?!?” His concern was valid, given the photos Minerva had selected, before putting them away, forcing Gruda to turn toward her.
“That was just to supplement my lesson to you, ensign Gruda,” she spoke curtly, “It was just to show you that ‘stealth’, is not innately human, but part of nature. However, humans have utilized it to a… higher degree,” she said scanning her environment, no doubt implying the technological developments they had made and used to their advantage.
Gruda understood that beyond hunting, the Terrans would have made the logical decision to incorporate said ‘stealth’ in their technology; the gunship and corvette, being the only forms from the Terrans he had seen to date. He did wonder how they would incorporate that in a smaller factor, but set that thought aside, focusing instead on their current dilemma; their current orbit above his home, Sella.
It was a surreal experience for the Sellian, finding himself above his people’s cradle, not as an ally, by as an adversary. His expression was enough to voice concern from his benefactor, Admiral Wolf.
“I’m sure this may feel… wrong, for both you and Yorla,” to which Gruda nodded in response.
“One doesn’t think of ever returning to their cradle as an enemy. I’m sure if word got out of our assistance, there would be nothing but scorn awaiting us…” Gruda replied in a dejected manner, a complete shift from his previously curious inquiries.
Wolf returned the same thought. How would he feel if he was forced to turn his back on Terra to free it from an enemy that had taken hold, using their efforts to demonize him and his crew? He shuddered at the notion, placing his hand on the shoulder of the Sellian.
“I understand many of your people don’t know the truth of what happened in our colonies. I think we can figure out a way to sway public opinion. We’re going to need all the support we can get after this mess is over,” Wolf replied in a hearty tone to raise spirits.
“Minerva,” he said, “prepare a statement and evidence to distribute. Randal, get with Minerva to work out the details. I want a video ready for the masses ready once we have secured the War Council.”
“I have already gathered all necessary materials, Sir,” Minerva replied swiftly when Wolf concluded his orders.
“Very well. Randal, get to work, I’ll handle the rest from here,” Randal returned a nod and quick ‘yes sir’ before exiting the bridge. Most likely to a room where he wouldn’t be disturbed and where some crew members with technical know-how could edit a sure-fire video. Wolf had hopes in its production and returned his attention to the bridge.
Minutes left on his timer, he was about to order a sortie, when alarms blared on the bridge and red indicators from the direction of the large station illuminated the tactical holographic display table.
“Sir, we have contacts en route to our perimeter. They’re making a short sub-light jump!”
“Prepare an interdiction web! We can let them enter our perimeter. They’ll tear us from the inside!”
The officer nodded and quickly began issuing orders and notifications to the appropriate groups, “Sir! The interdiction web is operational! We already have reports of perimeter ships engaging the enemy, but the number of enemy fighters is too much for what they can handle.”
Wolf’s countenance formed into one of cold calculation, his eyes narrowed, and his eyes furrowed as he studied the battlefield before him. He wanted to minimize his brethren’s casualties but knew that to be impossible. His best hope right now was to hold out until reinforcements arrive.
“Where are the majority of those fighters coming from?” Wolf asked Minerva, promptness evident in his tone. He didn’t have time to wait and demanded an answer, and as far as computational analysis ability goes, she was the fastest to conjure a solution.
“Seventy-Two percent of fighters are being sent from the large orbital station, with the remaining Twenty-Eight percent from cruiser and carrier class ships, which are currently the only forces engaging the perimeter fleet.”
Wolf nodded, analyzing the glowing display in the center of the room. The three-dimensional objects that were illuminated were suspended above a two-dimensional grid, giving the illusion of a floating object. His fleet was oriented with concentrated groups of ships at key points around his ship. Similar in standing to the vertices of a cube with his group placed in the center.
Smaller indicators of blue began to dance around similarly sized red icons, with each side having several disappear, never to reappear again.
“Give all ships authority to utilize their MACs. Concentrate on the carriers and cruisers. Don't give their fighters a place to resupply to,” Wolf ordered.
A series of ships from the perimeter forced maneuvered into position, as reflected on the holographic display table center of the room. Compared to his own force, they were outnumbered and outgunned. Continual scans of the planet revealed nothing substantial for them to fear. No anti-air batteries or missiles on standby. Compared to certain areas in orbit, the planet remained relatively quiet. This had concerned Wolf as he studied the battlefield amidst Minerva’s continual effort to coordinate strikes against the enemy.
“How soon can the rest of Raptor Company be re-armed and deployed?” Wolf beckoned to any who could hear him. Instead of Minerva, an officer was faster to reply, leaving Minerva slightly dismayed, as evidenced by a small, near inaudible ‘click’ of the tongue. An action new to Wolf, but quickly dismissed for larger issues at hand.
“If they deploy now, approximately fifteen to twenty minutes. Now is the best time, Sir.”
Wolf took the timeline into account, along with the data from the battlefield, and ordered the immediate deployment of Raptor Company.
“We have an LZ beacon set by O’Brian, Sir. Troops are ready to deploy,” added Minerva
“Good. Deploy the rest of Raptor Company, and keep the rest of the 4th Battalion on standby for an Orbital drop. Ensure the transport has an escort,” Wolf replied, swiftly and concise, “Thank you, Heartly.”
“Of course, Sir,” she replied, giving a small nod and returning to her station.
Several minutes passed since the troop deployment when he saw several indicators departing from the assault carrier that all the 4th Battalion were stationed on, each carrying the specified cargo requested from O’Brian. The transport ships would travel just one-fourth of their journey when an urgent call came from Minerva.
“Admiral, a contingent of Sellian fighters have broken off from the perimeter and are now headed on an intercept path for the transports. They number roughly sixty small-class fighters.”
Wolf had anticipated this. In terms of scanning ability, he expected the enemy to have a home field advantage, whether it be planet or orbital-based scanning arrays. As far as his scans provided, they couldn’t get a beat on any planet side infrastructure. Nothing reliable, at least.
Currently, he did have many squadrons patrolling the empty space beyond what they could reasonably scan and engage. As such, they were only able to provide scanning and radar support. Realistically, that was all they needed. The fighters would do the rest.
“Launch interceptors. Don’t let the enemy take out those transports!”
A collective roar sounded from the crew, Gruda included., to the orders to protect the cargo that could grant them a foothold planet side. He had full confidence in O’Brian and his Company to deliver what they needed to end this war.
On the central display, several medium-class fighters traveled to the designated intercept point, maxing out their thrust for the short journey. The amount of Terran medium-class fighters numbered two-thirds of the enemy contingent. The remaining amount would be supplied by small-class fighters shortly after enemy intercept. It was unfortunate, but from what Wolf was told, both small and heavy class fighters were still prepping for their sortie. A decent amount going down for emergency maintenance.
“This will have to do. Have them stall until we can resupply them with more fighters.”
Minerva nodded, quickly integrating into the ship’s processes and processing the orders to the officers in-charge.
“Get me in touch with the pilot in charge of the interception,” Wolf ordered Minerva, who nodded in compliance.
A brief moment later, and the likeness of a cockpit and its helmeted pilot took the screen placed in the rear of the room. Below the pilot, overlaid on the screen, was their personal designation and the name ‘Razor’ placed at the end. When both parties were online, the pilot was the first to speak.
“M.F.P. Razor. What’d you need, Admiral?”
A nonchalant tone was heard in his voice, garnering sidelong glances from the more senior officers, but his attitude didn’t phase Wolf. Fighter pilots in the Stellar Command existed outside the regular established branch ranks. They still obeyed the commission officer, but there wasn’t an emphasis on profession courtesy. The average life span of a fighter pilot was immensely short-lived. It was a wonder they had the numbers to sustain in combat, given their death-ridden reputation.
“I need you and your squadron to ensure the safe transport of the Kestrels. They can’t be allowed to down a single one. Clear?”
“Crystal, Sir. Four-Sixteen has you covered. Torch, Gearbox. Break off. Strike the lead craft, take your squads and waste ‘em,” Razor returned his attention to Wolf, ignoring him mid-sentence, “We’ll delay them as long as possible, but we’ll need support of the light-weights.”
Wolf nodded to Razor’s request, “They’re being sent out now. They should arrive a few minutes after you. Just hold out until then.”
The call was cut, leaving the monitor to its normal blackened state. From what wolf had learned from his briefings, squadron Four-Sixteen is one of the most decorated Medium-Class fighters squadron in the TRSC. The number of deployments under their belt is almost in-humane with how often they rotate with other squadrons. From what rumors he heard about them, they practically volunteer for it.
No shots had been fired by either party, at least until the first Medium fighter entered the fray. Wolf had no visuals to call upon, only what the table before him displayed, which were only a series of digital indicators of friend and foe, identified by green and red, respectively. Little by little, friendly ships entered the combat zone, and the once organized formation of enemy fighters were now in disarray. Scattering like grass to the wind, the tight formation of enemy fighters was now nothing more than a mass of ships engaged in combat. Their weapons were too far from the combat zone, so all he could do was watch as Minerva assisted the fighters with priority targets.
Occasionally, a Sellian shop would stray from the group, their trajectory headed for the transports, and several Medium fighters would chase in response to orders from Minerva.
“Can any nearby ships provide support?” Wolf beckoned, not taking his eyes off the display as fights raged on their perimeter and against their transports.
“Redirecting the nearest frigate to the AO. A one, TRSC Lighten’ Up, Sir,” Minerva responded.
“It’s a well-suited choice,” Wolf replied in kind.
The TRSC Lighten’ Up was like many frigates of the heavy variety. Well armored and boasting a diverse array of anti-fighter capabilities. Instead of rail guns for their deck cannons, it opted for a missile array to target from fighters, to capital-sized ships. The mere presence, alone, would do much to deter the enemy, and it did just that.
Once the frigate entered within several tens of kilometers, the missiles flew, the plumes of heavy white smoke covering the entirety of the ship as each missile launched from its silo. As they flew, the plumes of smoke radiated from their trail, making a trail directly from the ship to the numerous ships that were unfortunately the target of precise designated strikes. No doubt resulting in a sudden and fiery death.
He didn’t like thinking about it, but the thoughts of one’s final moments in an attack like this had to be jarring, to be conscious one moment, then nothing the next. Even without a direct visual, he had seen it up-close numerous times and envisioned the scene as the indicators atop the tactical display relayed short-lived information. Smaller triangles symbolizing the missile were innumerable, and they flew from their origin to their victim as the ship drew close.
With its presence and pressure, the enemy ships quickly began to whittle down to a drip, with each surviving one making a last ditch effort to assault the cargo transport which also doubled as troop transport. Those were raiders aboard them, and he was given a duty to ensure their safety, which happened to be the case when the last enemy indicator disappeared.
Wolf understood O’Brian’s place in the battle and how capable he is as a soldier, but even if that is the case, he would need mechanized armor to push through fortified lines that he expected to be present on the outskirts of the city.
“Sir, enemy attack formation has been neutralized,” spoke Minerva, “And the perimeter group is holding the line, but munition stores are rapidly depleting.”
Wolf grumbled at the news. The perimeter was tasked mainly with trying to keep the larger ships at bay, leaving the fighters to take on the stragglers that made it through their defense.
“I suggest we utilize Commander Vale’s fleet. It could buy us some much-needed time,” Minerva added.
“How long until reinforcements?” he asked.
“The last IFF ping was in the Trill System, six hours ago. It shouldn’t be long until their arrival. I suspect they made a brief stop before continuing their Slip-Space jump.”
Wolf nodded at the information. If his estimations were correct, then it could be any moment that their reinforcements would appear. Now would be the best time to cause chaos among their ranks. With the safe transport of the transports and their new escorts, Wolf turned to the larger threat before him.
“All ships, begin our assault-!”
Before he could finish his sentence, a scream blared from a captain of a ship, with a friendly indicator on the tactical holographic display disappearing. Followed by several more disappearances of the smaller classes of ship, all near the perimeter defense ships.
“What?! Get me a status report!”
A swift nod and sound acknowledgement came from Minerva as the central tactical display changed scenes from their orbit, to an expanded scene of the ground below them. Red dots flared for a moment before disappearing, and as each one flared, it would reflect in their view overlooking the planet. Countless blue projectiles erupted from the surface of the planet, connecting with a Terran ship; either destroying it or severely crippling it.
“I thought we scanned for planet side surface to orbit batteries!” Wolf ordered firmly and with urgency in his voice.
“We did sir,” Minerva replied, “But it appears they have masked their output signatures right before they fire.”
Wolf took those words silently, letting them marinate before he offered his next set of orders.
“Order all ships to engage the enemy fleet. Get us on top of them and order an orbital drop for the 4th battalion. We need them to take out those guns,” Wolf ordered, his voice stern, yet calculating, “We can’t afford to wait any longer. Let’s just hope we get our reinforcements in time.”
As ordered, all ships not currently engaged in combat maneuvered with the rest of the fleet, organizing themselves once again as a large force of Terran firepower. They made their way towards the perimeter defense that had only, until now, kept the enemy at bay.
“Call Vale,” Wolf ordered Minerva, “Tell him to strike with extreme prejudice.”
“Right away, sir.”
While Wolf and his ship weren’t at the forefront of the battle, they were at the epicenter of their formation, and enemy fighters began their resupply evolutions.
The final battle was upon them. With the enemy battery constantly firing into them, they had no time to waste and proceeded into the enemy formation. As Wolf analyzed it, there was a large contingent of ships in between them and the large orbital station that provided an almost bottomless supply of enemy fighters.
Wolf didn’t wait to rally his forces. The only command he ordered, when they were within maximum effective range, was simple:
“Open fire.”