Chapter 96
Dogfighting, the Morally Acceptable Version
Oddly enough, even before beastkin were known to exist, apparently air combat was called dogfighting. Also, it should be pointed out that dog, well wolf beastkin, are surprisingly the best combat pilots. Even now, generations after the great collapse of the beastkin empire, wolves, or beastkin that most resemble wolves, are prized for their ability to add to space combat.
Why does this matter? What does this mean? Does this mean that we are currently going to fight beastkin wolves? No. Sadly not, for this battle, the wolves have decided to fight with the Endarians. Apparently after the break, the wolf beastkin were the ones that often-found roots or positions within the Endarian fleets.
Also, I know you are thinking it too. But no, I will not make any jokes about the dogs being attracted to the Endarians, due to an intense want to pee on their sacred tree. Mainly because the world-tree didn’t exist for most of the time that the Endarians and Beastkin knew each other, at least not in this universe. Thus, that joke would not only be in bad taste, but also historically inaccurate. So, I will not even mention the idea of that being a possibility. Nope, not one mention of a beastkin dog, peeing on, biting at, or otherwise marking the sacred tree. I am above such crude attempts at humor or imagery. Also, apparently such thoughts are enough to warrant four hours of EO training, so I don’t want that.
For the sake of combat, oh that’s right, we are about to enter battle with Admiral Lemitov’s first fleet, that might be important. Well for the sake of combat, Alien Jess and I have been put in command of two different squadrons. Jess got the fleet of sexy Endarians. While I got the fleet of mixed Beastkin and Endarians. Supposedly the quality of the two squadrons is equal, but I can’t help but feel there is a slight disparity between the two squadrons.
Maybe I am just prejudice against beastkin? That is a troubling thought. I remember Goldie’s comment about not wanting to be with them due to rug burn, and that probably gave me a far more negative opinion of them than I should have.
“Father, you should know. The reason you have all the beastkin in your squadron, is because they all volunteered to be with you. These beastkin are extremely loyal and will pledge themselves to a commander through death. So, the fact that they are all willing to follow you means a lot.” Prime says. He is speaking in that way that only I can hear his broadcast, which I am thankful for. Especially with the message he is now sharing. For after hearing the words, I realize I missed a lot. It took a second for the meaning of his statement to get through, but once it did, wow.
Then just like that, I realized I was a prejudiced asshole. Wow, not sure that self-reflection is always best before a battle, but better now than never, I guess. Yes, that one comment was enough to make me realize I had been completely dismissive of an entire species of space people.
“Portal opening for first squadron will begin in 5, 4, 3…” General Fellina states.
There is a veritable fleet of support casters ready to help with our operations. My squadron, the first squadron, are made up of the craziest pilots. We are the tip of the spear and will be given a teleport that puts us right at the under belly of the advancing human fleet.
Once we are through, Astra, the portal grand wizard, will pause, then open a second portal where Alien Jess’ squadron will go through. Then sometime later Rayquel will lead the main fleet through at a different location far to the front.
The idea is that with our pincer maneuver, we will have effectively cut off the enemy fleet’s advancement. Then when they circle back to try and stop our fleets. That is when Rayquel will make her grand entrance.
On paper the theory is sound. But then again, a war was never won by a clipboard or data pad.
In the end, even the best laid plans mean nothing, if you don’t execute. And that is just what I will need to do for this battle, execute humans. My own kind. Well, half my kind, but still, they are my kind. At least they are what is seen as the base of my genetic coding and to some extent, I can’t help but feel that this is somehow a betrayal. Not that a human killing other humans is in any way a new or novel concept. We were doing it religiously back in the day. Now, well now, I almost wish we could avoid it.
“…Go!” The Admiral’s words bring me back to the present, to the giant open rift that lays before us.
Vroom.
I power up my ship, and before I have a second-to-second guess my actions, we are moving forward. It has taken me a long time to get to the point where I don’t hesitate in combat anymore. Even moving in formation is important, especially when you are the leader of an elite tactical squadron.
Normally I would give a speech to rally the troops. That is why I decide to begin with a classic.
“WAHHAAAHAA-HHOOOO!” I scream out, as I enter the rift in space and instantly emerge on the far end of space a few thousand light years away.
I of course make sure to broadcast my war cry loudly and on the open comms channel, meaning that the human fleet that is moving from one sector of space to another can easily hear me.
Why do this? Why give away the tactical advantage of surprise? Simple, after the first ship is taken offline, our surprise will be known.
We emerge to find several light fighter vessels surrounding the supply ships of the fleet. These supply ships are easy to notice, as they are squat square, and generally less armed than other vessels of the fleet. The armaments are meant mainly as a last-ditch survival mechanism, more than anything else.
Still, I have my task set out before me. Punch a hole straight through the fleet.
Stolen from Royal Road, this story should be reported if encountered on Amazon.
That is just what I do.
Mind Rend-X.
I find the different minds of the enemies before me and begin snuffing them out like they are candles on a birthday cake. I fire a focused burst at the different supply ships. Supply ships that are now unmanned and floating listlessly in space. But I don’t focus on any one target. Instead, I fire, duck, and weave through the fleet. I know I am a member of a squadron and that dozens of fighters will follow in my path.
I must trust that the rest of my squadron will follow in my wake. With me setting the path and pace, it is clear what my targets are. At least that is why I target what I do.
A short time later, when we are nearing the halfway point of our push through the enemy lines, I feel the portal open again. This time it is Alien Jess’ squadron that comes through. They are at a different angle and direction entirely than us, but I feel their entrance all the same.
I spare half a glance to see that they all made it through the gates unscathed. The entry was always going to be the hardest point of this, and the part that we had to worry about the most. Still her entrance goes largely unnoticed. Mainly due to Alien Jess not taking this seriously and not giving out a war cry.
Also, our small squadron is already causing a lot of damage on our way through the heart of the fleet.
More and more squadrons assemble to form up and strike at us. This is standard practice for most fleets, but also one that I have encountered numerous times in my past lives. Sadly, for the assembling forces, I have a method of dealing with them.
Mind Rend-X.
The squadron of eight ships that had been assembling to form a wedge formation, now float listlessly within the confines of space. I tag a few of the ships, but again they are mainly a waste of precious time right now.
At this moment, everything is going smoothly. Not that you expect things to go wrong, but mentally you always need to be prepared for something to go wrong.
Still the plan is flawless, so far. The portals are crisp and clean. Alien Jess’ squadron is encountering some resistance, but nothing they can’t handle. Especially with most of the fleet being focused on us.
Even the automatic systems are proving to be nothing for my elite forces of dogfighters, sorry beastkin fighter pilots.
Yes, everything is going smoothly. So why do I get the feeling that something terrible is about to happen? Is that just my natural pessimism? Is this mainly because I just assume something terrible will happen? Or is it something more?
I don’t know.
Still, we have a mission to perform. The squadron that is with me are top notch. I honestly don’t even look back to make sure they are still with me anymore. After the first few turns, it was apparent that they were able to adapt and move around obstacles, only to come back in tight formation immediately afterward. To put it simply, they are amazing, and I am glad I got this opportunity to fight by their side.
We of course can’t go near the flagship. At least not yet. We are too few to pose any real threat to the massive structure. Also, the number of automated turrets are enough to cause even trouble to our well-choreographed strike teams.
No, our job is to disrupt the supply lines, cause trouble, then get the enemy to double back on us. This would be the time when Rayquel would barrel through with the main forces. Also, she would lead several capital class ships. Capital class ships are not as powerful as flagships but are far more maneuverable and able to take the hits that the flagships can give out. Basically, they are the rock in rock, paper, scissors. Small fighter craft like mine are the paper that could take out the rock or capital class ships but would ultimately be cut to pieces by the flagships, or scissors of this analogy.
Now there are obvious exceptions to every example, but that is the basic premise for how space combat is handled.
Also, that is the base way that most people instill logical objectives in a combat mission. Of course, things like Magic and Psychic abilities throw a lot of these theories out of the water. Take for instance the fact that I can sense and detect minds from nearly twice as far away as most other psychics, and you realize I have a huge advantage. Then take that advantage and put it in space, where the abilities of psychics are nearly expanded tenfold and space combat for someone like me becomes a breeze.
In fact, our squadron alone has already done enough damage to this human fleet, that their advance either must stop here shortly, or they would need to find additional supplies.
Still, they are fighting, just as we are.
“You ready for phase three?” Rayquel’s voice calls out.
At that sound, I let out a sigh of relief. I had missed the third portal opening. Again, space and the distances of how far away we are is not to be overlooked. We are so far away, that I couldn’t even feel the portal where Rayquel’s forces were to originate from.
The fact that she is talking at all means that all of her forces are through the portal and are now prepared to engage in combat.
“WOOHOO!” I shout back, trying to sound more energetic than I feel.
As for how I am feeling, I am getting fairly tired.
Fighting is tough, add to that the fact that I am constantly feeling for enemy minds, then snuffing them out, then flying between debris, auto turrets, and trying to find easy objectives for my squadron to focus on, and it is easy to see why I would be tired.
“All squadrons, prepare for our final objective.” Rayquel states.
That is our cue. With that, we are to finish any last strafing runs, form up and make consorted attacks against the human flagship.
The only problem is that I feel a slight tightening in my chest as fear grips me.
Not wanting to appear weak, I fight through the sudden phantom pain in my chest. Though I wonder what it is, maybe gas?
Still, I take a moment to cast Healing-X on me. The spell of course does nothing, as nothing is in fact wrong with me. I am perfectly healthy.
Yet, I can’t help but feel there is a slight problem.
Regardless, I lead my squadron in on our rear flanking run. Then out of an abundance of caution, I for whatever reason feel the need to do a quick check on my seals. Everything is in place, at least that is the way it looks now. Then I feel it, something feels wrong. My hands start to sweat. I feel a tightness of breath, and even my heart begins to pound faster.
Badump. Badump.
Fear. This is fear, irrational and intangible fear. But I can’t look weak, not here, not now. Not in front of my troops.
“Hahaha. Welcome Cadet Kyle Goldman.” A voice mad with insanity speaks out over the open communications in human English.
At that voice, I know it. That is the voice of Admiral Lemitov, the hidden Prolaxian Herald. We are so close; this is but one more herald to kill. Still, I can’t help but feel an impending sense of doom coming over me.
Maybe this has something to do with the warning that the other Herald gave. The one where killing one more could cause the summoning of the behemoth? Is that why I feel so uneasy. The fact that killing the Admiral will lead us, into an even greater conflict with that behemoth monster, the one that is larger than solar systems?
That must be it, this is a warning for me to disable but not kill the Admiral. I am about to make a comment to that effect when I feel even more pain coursing through my body.
“DIE, you traitorous scum!” The Admiral’s Voice shouts out.
At least that is what I think he says, as I am suddenly filled with an intense burning pain within my chest. My entire body begins to light up with pain.
“GAAHHHHHH!” I manage to cry out, before the world goes black as my mind is shut down with intense and overwhelming pain.
***
MEANWHILE, aboard the Flagship of the first fleet, a trinket that Admiral Lemitov carried with him religiously suddenly crumbled to dust.
“Hahaha!” The Admiral cackled with delight as he watched the lightning bolt shaped trinket crumble to dust. He had won. He had managed to survive another day. His trinket was none other than the legendary artifact Hero Slayer, a special item that could only be purchased when he first chose to take his form. He had many times to use the powerful relic, but only now did it feel so sweet to use the instrument.
Now this next part was where he had to reveal his next part of the plan. A part that might out him, if he wasn’t careful.
Using his natural powers, he the herald of Locusts, created a portal that summoned forth the lowest level of Prolaxians.
“WAHH!” His crew chief cried out, “we have sightings of Prolaxians.”
“Quickly, all ships move to evacuation points now.” Admiral Lemitov shouted.
This was too perfect. The fool fell right into my clutches. Now I will use the Prolaxians to devour his corpse and ensure we are safe to move on to our next phase without issue. We can still win with just the three of us, Admiral Lemitov thought to himself as he and his fleet prepared to depart amid the chaos of battle that was forming around them.
While it was a shame to lose so many of the young to such a cause, sometimes such casualties were needed for the overall success of the mission. With that, he created more and more pockets where the locust grade Prolaxians could be produced in the thousands.
“Emergency destination point set.”
“Get us out of here.” Admiral Lemitov said.
Click.
There was the distinct sound of a hand pressing the emergency jump button firmly. Then a slight blur as space began to fold around their flagship as they raced through space.