Well, all of my loyal readers out there know how that turned out. This one has become an epic quite unintentionally, but nevertheless it has done so without any protests from myself. Some things just take on a life of their own. For me, Morgana is one of those.
I would like to thank Nellie for her wonderful editing and proofing, Noel for his support, Deborah for her interest, and Hypatia for putting up with my idiosyncratic e-mails and even answering them. There are many, many more of you out there who have helped and or encouraged my writing. You know who you are, and forgive me for not mentioning all of you by name here. I know who you are, too, and am thankful all of you are out there.
Well, enough of that. I'd imagine that you're here to read the story not my ramblings. Please enjoy it, and comments of all nature are welcome.
Maggie
Morgana
by : Maggie Finson
PART 6
CHAPTER 9: RAID
The holographic display showed a bleak, airless rock barely the size of a decent moon drifting through interstellar space without natural partners. Not that McGary point was lifeless, there were dozens of domes covering the pressurized entrances to tunnels leading down to immense chambers used to store freight and supplies. Ugly, deadly blocks of defensive emplacements were also visible scattered in a seemingly random pattern that wasn’t random at all. Those fired Hellgate missiles, essentially warp drives attached to a sophisticated seeker head loaded with a small amount of explosives. The weapons utilized a cheap, solid fuel booster to get far enough away from the emplacement for the small but efficient warp drive to kick in without disrupting the ground based launchers. Once the warp went on line, the deceptively small projectile achieved a significant percentage of light speed within a few seconds. The HE head was designed to blow once the high velocity missile penetrated a ship’s hull, though usually the impact alone at such speeds made the things very efficient and difficult to evade ship killers.
"We’ll have to take those bastards out quick," Merevan observed as much to himself as to the gathered officers. "Are your kids up to it, Ceaddvh?"
"Yes," the ground attack group leader answered without rancor towards the question. "Get us down there and we can take out the emplacements in about five minutes, providing those energy emplacements are aimed outwards and not set up for defending against a ground force." "They are," Aoevel answered, pointing to several hardened domes. "Field of Fire on those emplacements is pretty well restricted to outwards thanks to the abrupt curvature of the horizon, and the powers-that-be at McGary Point are understandably nervous about phased layer plasma weapons accidentally hitting their own installations. All the big stuff is pointed out, the Hellgates for killing ships, the plasma beams for defending the missile emplacements." "What about automatic or manned ground emplacements in the event of hostile landings on the surface?" Ceaddvh questioned. "Pretty basic infrared, and motion sensors on the automatics, which are short range plasma beamers and low power lasers designed primarily to punch holes in personal armor." Aoevel replied, taking her pointer and outlining one fairly well concealed hard point in glowing red. "We can defeat those with some rather complex, but straightforward jamming and disguising our infrared signatures. The programming allows for maintenance vehicles and personnel, and we can take advantage of that before the Humans and their allies have time to react and change the parameters."
"Patrols?" the Commander-Ground-ops questioned. "Rare, but they follow a set pattern," the young warrior answered, outlining a set of pathways meandering between the defensive sites. "The people at McGary point are largely military with a scattering of civilians, but they’ve gotten lax, fat and lazy. The NTF is still arrogant enough that they don’t believe anyone can penetrate those heavy defenses, so haven’t given much thought to really competent ground troops or equipment for them. Not that taking those troops out is going to be easy, they have armored crawlers, low gee tanks, and lots of ordnance to make use of. They just haven’t drilled with the stuff all that much recently, though with the influx of prisoners their commander has started the training exercises up again. McGary Point is an important waystation for NTF merchants and warships, so there are a fair number of troops on site. They just can’t conceive of a direct attack on the place that could get past the rock’s perimeter defenses."
"How many ground troops are stationed on that rock?" Lochnadd asked. "Regimental strength," Aoevel responded with confidence. "Armored infantry without much in the way of heavy backup. About a platoon of low gee tanks, mainly for show but good enough to be a problem if we have to sustain a drawn out fight down there. The crawlers are slow, and lightly armored troop carriers mounting recoilless 30 mm guns. Nasty, but not hard to take out with the right equipment."
"So," Morgana summarized. "We’re looking at about a thousand ground troops in a fair state of readiness, eight or ten tanks, and about sixty armored crawlers. Is that right?"
"Pretty much so," Aoevel nodded.
"We can handle them," Ceaddvh thoughtfully told the assembly. "Providing we don’t have to engage in a prolonged pitched battle." "You take out those launchers and beam emplacements," Lochnadd promised, "and we can make life very miserable, and short for those ground troops without much problem. What about system defenses?" "There are anywhere from three to six shrike class frigates on station, with four more on active patrol, light, fast, heavily armed, and poorly armored. Those are mainly to keep the merchant shipping in line and discourage piracy in their neighborhood. There is also a Thermopylae class heavy cruiser with a screen of four Nova class destroyers on station in high orbit. The NTF does take defending the place seriously. The station itself mounts energy projectors and missile launchers, but not all that many. Automatic defenses are pretty well nonexistent because of the mercantile traffic, but the ships stationed there are formidable."
"So are ours," Lochnadd answered as his eyes shifted from intent to the inward expression he showed while thinking carefully. "Hit them from system zenith and nadir at the same time, while you ground pounders take out the rock’s defenses. If we come in at about half-cee, that should get us past fast enough to avoid their ship killers and beam weapons, while still being able to make things rougher than riding out the release of The Twelve Nether Hells on those ships." "Can we distinguish between warships and merchants at that velocity?" Morgana questioned while setting the enemy ship images into the holo display.
"No problem. The power plant signatures are completely different and we can pinpoint the warships from as far out as three hundred k very easily. Plenty of time for targeting and firing, with that much room to make use of."
"That leaves us with the station garrison, then," nodding her understanding, the Irregular’s commander turned back to the newly made changeling. "How many of those are we looking at once inside?" "Between one-hundred to one-fifty lightly armored troops." Aoevel answered. "They rotate the troops to station duty from the rock on a regular twenty day cycle. So long as we don’t catch them in the middle of that, the numbers are pretty well fixed because of space and resource limits."
"Where are the prisoners kept?" Morgana carefully questioned, working to hide her own anxiety.
Aoevel touched the torous of McGary Station, outlining an entire quarter of the thing. "Here, and in a holding chamber meant for supplies on the rock itself. They are a mixed bag of Cheryii and renegade Humans not yet sent for readjustment. The Station commander uses them for cheap labor." "We have a pair of captured merchant ships occasionally used to shuttle prisoners at our disposal for getting the ground troops in place and lifting off with the liberated prisoners," Lochnadd told the assembled group, then gave a faint smile as he finished. "With some helpful modifications. These merchant tubs have teeth, long legs, and can vanish within seconds."
"Simply put," Chief Weapons Officer Herevin added, "We’ve made them into some pretty effective combat transports without altering their outside appearances and have been able to mask the different energy signatures of their power plants. Our ground troops are going to ride in right under the Humans’ noses."
"Then we’ll take it from there," Ceaddvh promised with a grim smile. "If the ruse works. If not, M’Lady, you’ll be recruiting some more troops real soon."
"We’ll hope that isn’t necessary, and work to keep it so." Morgana tapped the air where the virtual station and the buried chamber were with her own stylus, "Those, then, will be our objectives. We will free whatever prisoners wish to come, Cheryii or Human and sort them out later. Clear?" At the nodded and voiced assents, she shut off the display. "Have a coordinated battle plan on my desk by morning, then, and we’ll work out whatever kinks that might turn up. Let’s get on it, then. Dismissed."
* * * *
"Station, this is NTF Alpha niner one seven charlie, Bethany’s Bequest requesting docking instructions with the rock."
"Roger, Alpha niner, we have your ID and authorizations, stand by for transmission of docking instructions," "Received, station," the disembodied voice of a ship’s comm officer acknowledged as the short burst of coordinates was pulsed outward from McGary Station’s huge comm array. "We have confirmation of docking clearance in bay 6C, ETA seventeen minutes, thirty seconds on this mark." "That’s a roger, Alpha niner," the comm tech responded before turning to answer more incoming traffic’s requests for clearance and docking instructions. "Welcome to McGary Point."
"Thanks, station, Alpha niner out."
"More prisoners," the tech grumbled while giving Bethany’s Bequest’s manifest a rapid scan. "Ought to please General Xian, anyway. Cheap grunt labor coming in."
With that the tech returned to the business of traffic control. It was an unusually heavy day even for this isolated, asshole of the universe, waypoint that handled traffic the regular NTF citizens didn’t need to know anything about, which tended to be a lot. "Happens," he grunted while answering another request for docking clearance on the rock.
* * * *
"Nice," Ceaddvh, complimented Aoevel on her successful contact with station. "You really sounded Human in that communication. "I was human just a few months ago, Commander," the changeling shrugged. "But my throat’s a little sore from the language. Anglic is so full of hard edges and sharp clicks, I kind of got out of the habit of using it at all."
"Glad you didn’t forget," Ceaddvh grinned. "Just make sure you hold on to the accent while we dock, then work your magic for us. And be ready to lift in a hurry when we get back. Things are going to get a little hot on that rock pretty soon."
"I was, and still am, one of the best ship jockeys in this sector," Aoevel grinned back a little nervously. "And computer systems sit up and beg when I ask them to. Don’t worry, sir, Their automatics will be so confused they’ll be shooting at each other once things start to get exciting." "Huh!" was all the reply he had to give.
* * * *
"Sir!" scan tech first class Denehy called out from his station. "Could you come have a look at this for a sec? Got an anomaly here." Lieutenant JG Erica Ping walked casually over to where the tech was stationed, then peered over his shoulder at the display from the immense scanner array lined up on the system plane as defined by the station and the rock. "What have you got, Denehy?"
"Not sure, sir," the tech pointed at a faint blip on the display that vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. "No signature and it fades out more than in. What do you think it is?"
"Probably a system glitch, a ghost on your screen," Ping decided, not knowing just how right she was about the latter. "Do a complete systems check and that should locate the problem. Then we’ll get maintenance on it."
"Aye, aye, sir," the tech responded, wondering why officers always seemed to think enlisted personnel were idiots while watching the already running diagnostic program work.
* * * *
"We’re being scanned," ECM officer Fiahnn announced nervously, then finished with visible relief, "But no lock on. They probably think we’re a glitch in their system."
"Let’s hope so," Captain Cobhan of the Ghost Raider Shadow Dancer replied quietly with a glance to the timing chronometer in the corner of his screen. "Almost time, sound the alert."
A quiet chime warned the crew, and small force of armored infantry, that action would soon commence as Shadow Dancer continued her inward drift, using only momentum from her original approach for speed with most systems powered down to standby.
"Now." Cobhan ordered.
Shadow Dancer powered up, with weapons systems, screens, and the energy eating cloaking device all becoming active at once. "Flank speed, course fifteen degrees zenith."
"Target acquired." Weapons announced as the shrike class frigate that they had been stalking began to notice something was wrong. "Launchers 1 through 4 ready."
"Very well, weapons." Cobhan acknowledged calmly. "Fire numbers one and four. Helm, stand by for maneuvering."
The small, but deadly ship shuddered as their own Dhrow missiles, the Cheryii equivalent of ship borne NTF Hellgates, blasted free of the launch rails then immediately went into pulses of warp drive heading directly for the targeted frigate.
"Hard to course 115 nadir!" The NTF frigate disintegrated quite satisfactorily without so much as getting a warning off on its comm. Cobhan knew it wouldn’t have mattered if they had. The battle was started, and they would beat any comm transmissions to the rock anyway as Shadow Dancer accelerated towards McGary Point. Watching the forward display, he keyed comm to the scan station. "Let’s find some targets, people."
* * * *
Stalker and Huntress met with similar results, achieving kills on their respective targets without difficulty then arrowing towards McGary Point looking for more targets.
Wraith successfully took out her first planned target, then turned inward to continue the attack on McGary Point itself. Alarms clamored for attention and the scan officer called to Captain Coille, "We have a bogie coming in fast on an intercept vector, bearing 157 Zenith, Captain!" "Come to course 057 Nadir, helm," Coille ordered, then questioned scan.
"Have they locked onto us, and what the hell is it?" "No weapons lock yet," scan reported, energy signatures indicate a Javelin class light cruiser, with weapons and screens powered up. Still on an intercept vector, Captain. They’ve changed course to match our new one." "Damn! Engineering!" Coille called, "check that cloak, I think we’re leaking something they can trace. Helm! Come about to head into them, shields to full on forward. Weapons, ready tubes 1 - 4." "Their weapons have locked on to us," Scan reported. "Beginning ECM measures now."
"Come on, come on," Coille muttered as his boards began showing green on the missile tubes, chaff release, and red on threat warnings. "They’ve got us in their sights, people, strap in, this is going to be a rough ride."
"Incoming!" Scan announced. "We have one, three, no, five missiles inbound."
"Fire tubes 1 through 4!" Coille ordered and the small vessel shuddered as their own deadly little packages shot towards the enemy ship. "Come to course 090 now!"
"Incoming ETA forty seconds."
"Decoy drone ready in tube six." Weapons announced.
"Launch decoy," Coille almost shouted then keyed in comm to engineering.
"Lisle, talk to me, have you found the leak?"
"Negative, Captain," The chief engineer reported. "Boards all show green here. Getting into the hardware now."
"Decoy off." Weapons reported.
"Ten seconds to impact." Scan reported, then went silent as the first enemy missile went for the cloud of chaff and veered off course to hurtle into empty space. The second plowed through what had confused its sister and impacted on Wraith’s forward shields with enough force to knock crewmembers off their feet.
Defensive particle beams took out another as the decoy drone began transmitting a drive signature identical to Wraith’s and drew another missile to itself. The fifth and last of that salvo continued boring straight in on them as the first two of their own missiles failed to reach the Human cruiser.
Coille was knocked out of his command chair by the impact and explosion of the fifth enemy missile and regained his feet to hear frantic damage and casualty reports on the comm. "Forward screens gone, Captain, port screens down to forty percent. We have hull damage forward, Missile tubes one and three are damaged."
"Align the good shields with the enemy, helm," he ordered, then to weapons, "fire everything we have available."
One of their four missiles impacted on the cruiser’s shields and the larger ship visibly slewed sideways with the force, and the second struck the newly weakened shields and penetrated to the hull. The javelin began spinning nose to tail as scan excitedly reported. "We have power plant shutdown on the Javelin, Captain, weapons still active but no targeting scans showing."
Two more Dhrow missiles streaked towards the damaged target, as Wraith shuddered and clanged with another impact. Coille shouted into his comm link, "What was that?"
"Debris from the shrike, sir," Scan answered, "blasts from their hits spun some around into our path."
"Warp pod two is gone, Captain!" Engineering reported almost frantically.
"Debris sheared it off, and Ion drive is out."
"I show escape pods from the cruiser," Scan reported, then added, "the crazy sons got another weapons launch off hidden among the pods, vector one five zero and moving towards us. Impact on starboard screens in five seconds!"
"Brace for impact!" Coille ordered, too late, as Wraith shook like a small animal in the jaws of a large predator and began coming apart. "Javelin is hit again!" Scan shouted, "She’s breaking up!" The last thing Coille saw was the cruiser splitting in half as his own command groaned, shuddered and began to die. He silently bade farewell to his family and made peace with his gods as he thumbed the self-destruct sequence to keep even fragments of his ship from falling into Human hands.
Wraith’s remaining pair of warp pods went into overload and imploded, making the little ship into a brief, bright nova that faded into glowing particles of still super heated gas spreading into space.
* * * *
"We’re docked," Aoevel sat back in her command seat for a moment before swinging the newly added console up and over her lap then furiously keying in commands. "Now to give the ground sensors a belly ache, and you’re on your own, Commander."
"Where is Pride berthed?" Ceaddvh questioned while giving his equipment a last check.
"Lexington’s Pride is right across the concourse from us," Aoevel answered with a grimace. "Not my first choice in positioning, but it should work out. Good luck to you."
"Luck never hurts," the ground commander agreed, then added; "though I much prefer skill and training. Luck be with you, too." "Ship pressure and concourse’s are equalized," Aoevel noted, "They’ll be expecting us to unload now."
"Let’s not disappoint them," Ceaddvh turned to the internal comm and gave the order. "Go."
* * * *
"Remote telemetry shows Shadow Dancer, Huntress, and Stalker inbound and past the pickets." Scan reported to the bridge crew of Frostfire, then finished. "I have energy signatures consistent with the destruction of ships behind them. Wriath has gone off the Hyper-Link, I think she’s gone, Commander. I get energy signatures from two ships breaking up and another blowing its pods."
Morgana closed her eyes briefly, then nodded in acknowledgment before turning to Lochnadd and gesturing at the forward view screens. "Take us in, Captain."
A rapid stream of coded blips sent through the newly developed HL, a crude but effective FTL communications system alerted Frostfire’s sister ships as Lochnadd gave the command and his modified Banshee arced from her position at zenith to the plane of the McGary Station and the rock it held position with to accelerate towards her targets. Sylvan executed an identical maneuver from the nadir point while Raven and Wolf respectively took up positions of high and low guard to cover their sister’s rears and hold potential lines of retreat open. Huntress, Shadow Dancer, Stalker, and four other ghosts that had not met picket ships streaked inward at full acceleration to support the ground troops on the rock named McGary Point and spread whatever confusion and destruction they could among the enemy fighting ships.
* * * *
The concourse garrison, expecting a group of dispirited prisoners, instead found themselves facing a determined force of black armored, and lethal, warriors spilling out of two separate merchant ship/transports with weapons both active and horribly accurate. Of the fifty-three NTF officers and soldiers, a bare twelve survived the first few seconds of furious fighting. Those twelve continued to fight a hopeless battle that was finished within minutes of beginning.
"We’ve got the concourse," Ceaddvh reported as the warning klaxons of alarms wailed in the background. "Are those alarms internal or system wide?" "Internal." Aoevel responded as the klaxons stuttered into silence. "But the whole bloody complex is alerted now. Sorry." "Our problem, now," Ceaddvh replied, waving his units forward. "We’ll take the missile emplacements first. Just keep any reinforcements off our butts while we’re busy."
"Roger that," a solid thump outside the concourse dome that shook the floor announced that Bethany’s Bequest’s captain was already doing so. "Take ‘em out, my friend. We’ve got you covered. Pulling out now." "Decompression coming!" he warned his troops as both refitted merchant ships pulled loose from the grapples holding them nose first into the docking bays and swung into combat positions over the dome. More alarms blared as the interior pressure dropped, but the loose hoses and open bay doors sealed rapidly enough to prevent full loss of atmosphere. "Move!" Black armored troopers split into separate strike teams and disappeared into the maze of tunnels as he gave the order. The remaining troops took positions to defend the concourse from a potential counterattack and hold the way out for their brothers and sisters in arms or began sweeping the area for surviving enemy soldiers.
* * * *
Captain Henri Muhammad of the newly refitted NTF capitol ship, Phoenix was wondering for about the thousandth time what he had ever done to displease the Powers That Be. Whatever it had been he still didn’t think it rated a posting at a God forsaken pimple on the arse of the universe. His command, a formidable fighting group made up of his own Thermopylae class heavy cruiser and four brand new Nova class destroyers that were just short of being light cruisers in their own right, should have been at the front lines where their firepower would be useful for more than overawing a bunch of scruffy merchants with questionable morality. His complaints, prudently kept to himself, were interrupted by the alarm klaxons and a command over the intercom. "Condition Red, repeat, Condition RED. Captain to the bridge, all hands to battle stations!" "Shit!" pulling on his tunic and hastily sliding his feet into a pair of boots, Muhammad exited his cabin and entered the bridge area while muttering to himself. "This had better not be another damned paranoid I.G. inspired drill."
"What have we got, First?" he questioned while settling into the command chair and eyeing the boards.
"The rock is under attack," First officer Jarrod Caine announced, then grimaced. "By ground troops, yet. With two merchant ships fielding weaponry and shields that are definitely military standing guard over them. They’re concentrating on taking out the emplacements, sir." "Damn!" Muhammad keyed up a situation report and saw reason to be even more worried. "Scan!"
"Sir?"
"Get me an updated system map, and I mean real time, not that bloody delayed shit station feeds the civvies."
"Up," the scan tech answered, shifting the view on his boards to the captain’s console.
"Agonistes, Achilles," he commanded on ship to ship. "Get to the rock and take those bitches out, then clean up the mess. Hercules, Hera, take flanking positions on Phoenix and keep your eyes open. We’re in the shit this time."
"No response from the pickets, Captain," Comm reported. "That’s because they’re not there any longer," Muhammad answered. "Get me Station, then Xiang. Helm, move us into position to defend Station."
* * * *
"Got a pair of Novas coming in fast, skipper," Scan reported to Aoevel. "Wonderful," she grated. "We can’t stand up to those babies. Where in the Hell are the good guys when you need them?"
"If that was a call for assistance," a voice crackled over the comm, "Consider it answered. Shadow Dancer here and moving to cover you, Bethany." "Good to hear," Aoevel responded. "Hope you brought some friends, those Novas are nasty bitches."
"Roger that, Bethany." the voice replied. "Try and hold your position without getting your ass shot off while my friends and I plow the rows up here."
"Bethany, Ceaddvh’s voice broke in. "We have some tanks and crawlers giving us grief at position A-52. A little help would be appreciated." "Roger that, Ground command," Aoevel responded, swinging her ship aside and moving to the indicated position. "SOME?! Remind me to run like hell if you ever sound panicked, Ground command."
She saw twelve low gee tanks and fifteen armed crawlers pounding an emplacement that had been destroyed before the NTF fire had reduced what was left into gravel and splinters of metal, ceramics, and plastic. "Keep your heads down, Ground, here I come."
Fifty millimeter Ship to surface Gatlings spaced along Bethany’s flanks and belly sprayed the massed armor with depleted uranium shot and high explosives, all moving slowly enough to penetrate the flimsy shields around the tanks and crawlers. Interior lights flickered as the heavier beam weapons began firing once the shields were down.
"Poor sods," Aoevel commented as the majority of the enemy armor disintegrated under the pounding and the remainder simply quit moving, firing, or much of anything else. "You’re clear Ground. Will maintain cover so you can get back to your hole."
"Roger that, Bethany, and thanks." Ceaddvh’s voice came back. "Watch yourself up there, I hear things are heating up outside." "No shit," Aoevel muttered while slewing her command to avoid a wayward missile from the battle above The Rock. The weapon impacted on the already ruined armor, simply putting an exclamation on the near total destruction the tanks and crawlers had suffered.
* * * *
"Four bogies, vectoring on us!" the scan tech aboard Achilles sounded shocked. "They just appeared out of nowhere!"
"Missiles?" the captain questioned while his ship took evasive action.
"No, sir, ships. Unknown type and coming up fast." "Ships we can kill," he replied as his command shuddered from missile launches forward. "In system fighters?"
"No, I don’t think so, Captain," the tech answered. "Wrong power plant signatures, and they’re still dumping Vee with jump drives." "Incoming!" scan second screamed out. "I have ten, twelve, no, fifteen blips separated from the bogies and accelerating." "Chaff off!" Weapons announced.
"Little bastards, aren’t they?" the Captain commented as the missiles closed the distance between themselves and his ship. "Missile screen, concentrate on the forward grouping, helm! Give me a full power turn to port. Engineering, shunt power to starboard shields." The crew and tech aboard Achilles were good. The best the NTF possessed on both counts. Between them, they accounted for all but two of the incoming swarm of missiles. Those two were enough to kill her, though. "Christ on a crutch!" Reginald Langdorf, Captain of the Antigones shouted as he watched his ship’s companion reduced to a glowing ball of expanding gases and debris while forgetting about the refitted merchant ship he had been readying for destruction. "Weapons, get those damned incoming ships targeted!"
Three more of the unidentified ship types emerged from behind The Rock and destroyed Antigones before the command could be followed.
* * * *
"Delta Spread One," Muhammad ordered as he witnessed the death of his two ships on vid. His three remaining warships formed the points of an equilateral triangle a thousand kilometers to a side, with the station in the center like an immense hub on a deformed wheel. "Hold positions relative and begin spin."
The three NTF warships began an elegant, stately swing around the center point of McGary Station. The maneuver kept them from sitting in one spot, while swinging their own scan arrays over a vast area of space in a short time. Unfortunately, their movement was like that of a choreographed dance, and easily intercepted. Fortunately, the formation also allowed for mutual cover fire and support, with additional help from the stationary armaments mounted on Station.
It was the best Muhammad could do under the circumstances, aside from turning tail, abandoning McGary Point completely, and running. Or outright surrender. He knew that General Xiang would destroy his command before allowing either to happen. Besides, running from an enemy or giving up a fight that was still in question no matter how bleak things appeared in the immediate present were not things Muhammad was willing to do either. "Group Captain Muhammad to crews," he announced on the intership comm links simultaneously with intraship comm. "Make peace with whatever gods you call your own, and wish the I.G. in hell ten minutes ahead of us. We’re facing a determined, well armed, and very good enemy force here. It has been my distinct honor to serve with you all. Now let’s kick some Elf butt and show these I.G. pukes and these Cheryii madmen how the real navy fights."
* * * *
"That man is very good," Lochnadd breathed in admiration as he watched the remaining NTF warships position themselves for a last, forlorn but defiant defense. "It will grieve me to kill him."
"That may not be necessary," Morgana answered slowly. "Those ships are real Navy, not I.G. The two are notorious for being at each other’s throats when not fighting an outside enemy. Most of the good naval commanders I’ve ever known would as soon spit on The Inspector General and his flunkies as look at them. This commander is good, we know that already even though he’s reeling from our surprise attack, he’s set up his remaining assets to best advantage and is calmly waiting for us. That tells me that he’s very out of favor with the NTF’s rulers, otherwise an officer of that caliber would be at the real front."
"Which means that this next part of things is going to be very nasty," Lochnadd sighed while turning to the HL operator. "What is our own asset situation?"
"Four Ghosts, Shadow Dancer, Huntress, Stalker, and Whirlwind, plus the four Banshees, and two refitted merchants."
"The Ghosts are to escort the merchants," Lochnadd ordered. That leaves us, Wolf, Sylvan, and Raven to tackle three alerted, battle ready capitol ships and an armed station. Dammit, why am I always finding myself in the middle of a slugging match with nothing to use but ships designed for hit and run fighting?"
* * * *
Ceaddvh drew in a ragged breath as his own team skirted the wreckage of one of their own Ghost Raiders. That one had been downed while protecting Lexington’s Pride from a small, but deadly swarm of unexpected single seat fighters based on The Rock. "Defenses neutralized up here, let’s get those prisoners out and ourselves with them. Remember, none of our own stays behind, dead or alive. We all go home or none of us do." "Commander Ceaddvh," the voice of the warrior left in command of the concourse interrupted. "We have three very nervous merchant Captains down here. What should I do with them?"
"Keep them close, but don’t harm them," Ceaddvh ordered. They aren’t the ones we’re here to fight and we aren’t pirates. Make sure they understand that. Stay out of the way and they and their ships might get out of this reasonably intact."
"We’ve located the prisoners, sir," another officer reported. "Got them heading for the concourse now. Going to be a tight fit aboard the two ships we’ve got for transport, though."
"Just get them topside," Ceaddvh answered while chivvying his own unit back towards the relative safety of the domed concourse. "We’ll deal with the logistics of getting them off this rock when I get there." "Gods, sir!" One of his warriors was staring in shock at the remains of the armor that had held them pinned down in the rapidly dwindling shelter of an armored emplacement before Bethany’s Bequest had arrived. "Did that converted merchant ship do this?"
"Most of it," came his gruff response. He disliked simple slaughter on principle, and was almost sorry that these enemies had met with such an end. "But one of their own missiles from out there finished it off. Ware the debris, there are some hot spots in it and radiation poisoning isn’t pleasant. Neither is the cure."
* * * *
"Target the sensor and comm arrays on the station first," Lochnadd ordered. "If we can blind them and silence their communications even from the station, that will be an advantage we need badly. Then go for the station’s weapons emplacements. Those damned ships we’ll just have to take as we can on the first pass. One fast one, then a tight turn, and hit the warships on the second. Only chance we have against them. Head on battle with those three is a real bad idea for us."
"You’re the expert," Morgana nodded. "So long as we keep them pinned to defending the station. If they get loose while our evac is in progress on The Rock, all of this was for nothing."
"Oh, I think we can give their commander enough to worry about that he wouldn’t consider sending even one of his remaining ships to harass our people on The Rock."
"I’ll hold you to that, Lochnadd,"
"Damn, I think I liked you better as the half exhausted, battle shocked Heroine of BanLoch," Lochnadd grumbled good-naturedly. "At least then you showed an old warrior some respect."
"You have that, and always will, Captain," she answered seriously, then flashed a fleeting grin at him. "Besides, your crew knows me well enough to discount such idle blathering. Let’s got this over with." "Right," turning to the comm tech on the HL, he passed his orders to his remaining four warships that could be spared for action. "Sylvan will stay with me, we get the cruiser on the second pass. Wolf, break right and take the one Nova, Raven, left and the other one. Good luck, all."
* * * *
"Sons are good." Muhammad acknowledged as the four ships came in from Zenith and Nadir, gracefully arced into the rudimentary system plane and formation while still bearing down on his own position, and the station. "Fly real pretty. Let’s see how well you fight when the enemy’s ready for you."
"Banshees, all of them," his first officer spoke quietly as IDs on type were positively made. "No match for us, Captain. What are they playing at here?"
"They’re attacking us, First," Muhammad responded. "I’ve tangled with Banshees before and these just don’t look right to me. What kind of signatures are we getting off those ships?"
"Different power plant config," Senior Scan responded with interest mixed in her nervousness. "Say another forty percent power from that, and their weapons are live so I read more energy there than a normal Banshee packs."
"Which was more than enough for me, thanks," another tech, in weapons, threw in to general, if grim, chuckles.
"I’ve also got a really odd reading, just a trace, as if another modification has just been shut down recently. I can’t get it to hold still for evaluation, but it’s there all right."
"Another weapon?"
"Don’t think so, Captain." the tech sighed, squinting at her board as if that would give her a better insight. "Seems to be something passive in nature, almost, but not quite like a second set of shields. Could be some form of cloaking device given the way they jumped us without warning." "Cloaking devices." Muhammad nodded thoughtfully. "Is that possible?" "Theoretically, very." the tech returned in fascination as she continued watching the deadly shapes rush in their direction. "With a mirror surfaced hull, and a hellish energy drain, it could be done for a ship that size, but not for one any larger, I think. We’ve never managed it." "The Cheryii have been a spacefaring species far longer than Humanity," the science officer added with something approaching awe in his voice. "It’s possible that they have solved the energy/mass problems. At least well enough to hide from a casual scan."
"Get that information to Station," Muhammad ordered, "With a priority relay to Central Command."
"On it, sir," comm one answered.
Watching the range figures diminish with unnerving speed, Muhammad smiled savagely. "All right you brilliant bastards, that’s close enough. Weapons. Open fire."
* * * *
"They have weapons lock on us," scan reported. "Power surges in all three ships on sides presented to us. They’re preparing to fire." "Steady," Lochnadd quietly ordered, gauging the rapidly closing range against the effectiveness of the Banshees’ own weaponry. "We can’t afford to waste shots here and we’re still too far out to do much more than annoy them."
"No chaff yet," Scan added.
"Don’t want to foul their own beam weapons," Lochnadd nodded. "Standard ECM and Evade-1, repeat SECM and Evade-1 on my mark. Three, two, one, NOW!" Blindingly bright, ravenous pulses of energy plowed through the vector the four Banshees had been on only heartbeats before. Lochnadd seemed to ignore that, while quietly issuing his next command "Return fire, missiles, tubes 1 through 6 only."
"Giving them something to play with?" Morgana’s calm voice was belied by her white knuckled grip on the arms of her combat couch. "Mostly," Lochnadd nodded, then flashed a wicked little grin with no humor in it at all. "Then again, we might get lucky and hit one of them."
* * * *
"Sensors are better than I thought," Muhammad mused as the four approaching ships neatly and elegantly sidestepped his first attack. "They caught the power surge when we were readying to fire. And their commandeer anticipated nicely. This one’s good children. Watch him and learn." "Call from Station, Captain," Comm one relayed the call to his screen and Muhammad beheld the smooth, oily and hairless countenance of Commanding General, I.G. and NTF regular forces, scowling at him from a very busy situation room.
"Sir,"
"Why aren’t you engaging those Banshees, Muhammad?" the commander in chief of McGary Point demanded. "They are inferior in firepower and armor to your Novas."
"They are a new breed of Banshee, sir," Muhammad calmly reported, shunting the information they had gotten off scan to the general’s own board. "One we haven’t properly evaluated as of yet, and I should point out, with all due respect, that there are at least four other warships of unknown type and capability out there that did manage to take out a pair of Novas in less time than it’s taking me to tell you about it, not to mention all of our pickets without raising a single alarm as they did so. Now, General, if you will excuse me, I have business to attend to." The screen obligingly returned to tactical display and real-time vid. "Comm, if the General calls again, please inform him that I’m busy trying to keep his ass in the position he’s accustomed to having it in, or feign comm damage, I don’t care. Just keep him off my boards. Clear?"
"Aye, sir,"
"We have incoming fire, Captain," scan reported. "Missiles, too many to count."
"Just showing us that he can play rough, too," Muhammad nodded in acknowledgement. "Anti-missile defenses?"
"Up and running, sir," Weapons answered, then added, "comp is going nuts tracking all the little sods. Some are going to get through." "That’s why we have shields and armor, son," Muhammad returned imperturbably. "Let’s just hope they’re up to the task. Sound the impact alarm."
* * * *
"I count two, make that four hits on the cruiser, Captain," the scan tech called out. One to the starboard Nova, three on the one to port. That one seems to be breaking up. That’s an affirmative, port side Nova is in an uncontrolled roll and trailing debris."
"That evens the odds a little," Lochnadd sighed in visible relief. "Target Station scan arrays and their long distance comm clusters. Hold on tight, Milady, the ride starts getting rough from here on in." "Incoming missiles!"
"Chaff! Now."
"On the way, sir." Weapons confirmed then gave an apprehensive glance to his own scan. "Too many of them. We can’t fool or stop all of those." "Get as many as you can," Lochnadd quietly responded, lending confidence to his bridge crew with the simple act of remaining calm. "Cloak and drop out of system plane after firing on the station."
* * * *
System Scan feed from McGary station went to white noise as Phoenix’s scan One nearly shouted. "They’ve hit station. Repeat, they’ve hit station!" Ship’s scan filled the blank space on the screens as he announced that, with vid of the debris filled space around the station. "Main Scan arrays are gone, so is long range comm. Weapons appear intact and are returning fire." "He wants us half blind, deaf, and mute," Muhammad nodded grimly. "and the son’s got us there, by God."
"Hercules is out," comm reported over the babble of damage control teams and status reports flooding into the bridge. "Took a hit to the mains. Ion drives went with them. They’re in an uncontrolled roll, Captain, and leaving a trail of debris and bodies."
"Damn, that one’s good. He took a chance to distract us, hit the station, and still got one of us. Lucky bastard." Muhammad peered at his own feed from scan as the four shockingly deadly and competent enemies faded away. "They’ve cloaked! Random fire patterns dead ahead and into vectors headed nadir and zenith. Now, Damn it! Helm, come about. He’s going to try and come at our tails. Scan, get me something to at least aim at."
* * * *
"Wolf is gone, Sir," Comm reported as the remaining three Banshees wove in a delicate and desperate dance through the concentrated fire from both the remaining NTF warships and the Station. "Raven has taken heavy damage but is keeping up."
"Right," Lochnadd considered the losses and how that altered the odds yet again. "Send Raven to shepherd those two merchant ships of ours and get the Ghosts over here. Have them concentrate on station’s weapons emplacements, then go after that last Nova."
"Done, sir. All ships have acknowledged and are moving to new stations." "Send to Bethany’s Bequest and Lexington’s Pride, --Haul ass, good luck, and see you at home."
"On their way, Captain. With Raven trailing for cover." "Milady," Lochnadd turned to Morgana with a crooked grin. "I would suggest that you armor up and join your people below. We either take that damned station and the ships still covering it on the next pass, or I’m pulling us out of here. If there’s anything left to pull out." "Understood, Captain." Morgana arose from her couch and headed off the bridge, but turned to give then all a salute. "In either case, well done people. Try and keep us alive, would you Lochnadd?" "A sentiment close to my own heart, Milady," Lochnadd returned the salute while turning back to his command. "Helm, come about and give me flank speed right down that damned cruiser’s throat. I’d ram the bright eyed bastard if I thought for one second it would work."
* * * *
"Well, they managed to jig their way through that," Muhammad thoughtfully watched the tracks of the augmented, and very dangerous Banshees as they turned to approach again. "But we got one of them." "If you’ll forgive my saying so, sir," his first officer put in almost laconically, "that isn’t all that much comfort. Those bastards have more ordinance, are faster, more maneuverable, and have a lot more power than the ones that gave us so much trouble before. This new type is damned scary."
"That they are, First," Muhammad replied, then grinned in nearly savage appreciation. "But so are we, and this fight isn’t nearly over with yet." Tactical showed Hera, the only Nova remaining in action firing her own weapons at the advancing Banshees and swinging in to defend the station. "Good man," Muhammad muttered, then noted something else and almost shouted into his command comm mike, "Hera! Ware your backside! We’ve got bandits pounding station, and one of them has turned towards you!" The warning came too late. A swarm of missiles from a Banshee in one direction, another coming from the unknown ship type near the station impacted on the Destroyer almost at the same time. One set, she could have survived, both tore her shields to shreds, broke the ship’s heavy armor into chunks that went spinning off into space, and exploded in her power plant. The shockwave from the ship’s very violent end shook the station, and caused the decking of Phoenix to shudder. "Weapons!" Muhammad ordered. "Choose your targets and keep pounding them until we can’t do it any longer. Helm! Get us in close to station. If we start breaking up I want some of my crew to get out."
"Shields down to 10 per cent!"
"Give me more chaff!" Muhammad calmly commanded, sure that he was a dead man, but determined to do everything he could before that event was made certain. "Concentrate fire on one of them at a time." "Shields are gone, Captain!"
His ship shuddered as more missiles, and beams impacted on her unprotected hull. Only the thick, superlative armor had kept them from being destroyed already. "Keep up your fire, wea..."
Impacts, hollow clanging booms, screeches of overstressed metal, ceramics and plastics, and screams of injured and dying filled his world as he was pitched from his command chair when the safety harness parted, and darkness filled the hell his command had become.
* * * *
"She’s dead, Captain," Scan reported to Lochnadd. "I have no signs of power to weapons, no drive signatures, and no comm. Minimal life support is still functioning, but that’s about all."
"Every time I see something like this," Lochnadd quietly spoke while watching the battered hulk of a once proud ship, "I am reminded of a human phrase, ‘Gone in Harms Way’. Too many good ships and crew have done that today. Have Sylvan see if anyone is still alive in there, and get them off." "Done, sir."
"Good, now let’s take that station and get out of here." he answered, keying the comm to the waiting troops below. "We’ve got them, Milady. Prepare to board the station."
* * * *
The familiar clang of docking and various small movements as the ship accommodated herself to the bay and whatever connections were made had the troops behind her moving restlessly. Morgana watched for a moment then raised a hand to settle them and gain their attention. "Remember, we’re her to retrieve prisoners. I want no more killing if it isn’t absolutely necessary. Enough good people on both sides have already died today. If the station garrison wants to fight, take them out as quickly and ruthlessly as possible. Otherwise, take their surrender, disarm them, and get them out of the way. Understand?" Murmurs of assent answered that. With a nod, she reached for the hatch control and opened it to the long, dim corridor leading into the station docks. "Let’s get going then. This station has taken enough damage that its hull integrity isn’t going to last more than a few more hours." The docks they walked into were empty of life, even automatic machinery had ground to a stop, and were eerily quiet. Their armored footfalls sounded like a march of the damned through hell. "Find me a functioning comm unit or tie one of ours into the station net," she ordered while watching for signs of hostile forces waiting in ambush. Armored troops from the remaining Ghosts cautiously spilled out of ramps to find the same unnerving silence. "Lady, we’re out and can find no opposition here. One of the officers informed her on suit comm. "I’ve noticed." came the response. Fan out in squads and cover every inch of this dock. I expected opposition and I don’t like what we’ve found so far."
"Roger that, Lady."
"Comm is open, Lady," one of her own troops walked up and gestured towards a glowing screen in a sheltered alcove before rejoining her comrades in a wary, spread formation to guard against attack. Moving to the screen and console, she reached forward to activate the circuits and waited till the station emblem appeared and nearly snarled as the NTF/I.G. blazon came up. Examining the options, she keyed in a connection to station central and waited until a surprised face appeared on the screen.
"Get me the station master, or whoever is in charge here. Now." she ordered before that one could either close the connection or say a word. The connection remained open and she heard a susurrus of background noises, voices, and some shouting in the background before a slight, shaven headed human in the uniform of an I.G. general appeared on the screen. "I am General Howard Xiang of the Inspector General’s office and am in command of this station."
"No, sir you are not." Morgana responded crisply. "I am
Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A’’chddra’im of the Warrior Clan Yllar’ium and currently I own this station, that pitiful rock it is tied to, and everyone on either one of them. I have called you only to accept your surrender and arrange for your prisoners to be transferred to me and my troops, then to get you and yours off this station before it breaks apart."
"That is where you are wrong, Cheryii bitch," Xiang hissed as a frightened, but defiant looking Cheryii female was brought to stand beside him. "You will withdraw immediately, pull your forces out of this place or I will execute every prisoner on this station."
"That, General Xiang," she answered without raising her voice. "would not be an advisable action on your part. Go ahead and kill them if you feel you must. Then my troops will make very sure we destroy any life support equipment we can find, along with escape pods, and further damage the structural integrity of this station. Then we will leave you and your personnel to die a slow, unpleasant death. My patience is limited and you have reached the end of it, sir. You have heard my terms and the consequences of rejecting them.
I would also add that the only functional ships in the area are mine or under my control, and that the facilities on McGary Point itself have lost their atmosphere and structural integrity to the point that they are irreparable. This station might hold together another few hours or it might begin going to pieces while we argue here. Personally, I don’t care whether that occurs or not. My concern now is to get you and your prisoners off this station alive. But all of you come, or none of you do."
"Then here is your answer, bitch!" Xiang returned placing the muzzle of his sidearm to his prisoner’s head.
Both of them disappeared from the screen to the sounds of a scuffle and numerous shots being fired. A different person came on, wearing the uniform of an NTF regular infantry captain and a worried expression. "There has been a change in leadership here, Lady, but I’m afraid that several of your people have been injured in the fracas. For what it’s worth, my troops and I, and the few civilians left here, would not have allowed the son of a bitch to do what he’d threatened in any case. I’m having the hatches to the interior of the station opened for you, and we accept your terms."
‘Thank you, Captain." she replied with relief. "I was not looking forward to holding to my word."
"But you would have."
"Yes. Then regretted it for the rest of my days."
"You should be aware that there are still a few detachments of loyal I.G. troops loose on the station. I don’t think they’ll accept my surrender, or my leadership in it, especially since I seem to have managed to kill their General."
"Thanks for the warning, Captain." Morgana motioned for her troops to move towards the hatches leading to the heart of the station as those opened with reverberating clangs. "We’ll handle opposition as it comes up. I’ll be there as quickly as I can manage."
Keying an all station channel, she spoke clearly into the comm. "ATTENTION all NTF personnel and civilians aboard this station. Prepare to be taken off. Please cooperate with my troops as they appear and follow their orders. We have no intention of causing more people to die unless we are given reason. Any opposition we meet will be dealt with quickly and in a manner that will insure the opposing force will not trouble us again. Morgana-Iey-Sylvanus-A’’chddra’im of the Warrior Clan Yllar’ium, out."
* * * *
Muhammad regained consciousness in a bridge lit by fitful emergency lights, sparks, and occasional spurts of flame. The medic, who had been seeing to him, nodded and silently moved to one of the other bodies strewn across the deck.
Rising to his feet a little slowly, and wincing as one of his knees and both shoulders protested, he spotted his First Officer and waved him over. "What’s our status, First?"
"Well, they’ve stopped shooting at us," the other gave a grimace that might have been a grin. "But that’s about all the good news I have. We’ve got minimal life support, no engines at all, no weapons operable, and comp is down. Phoenix is in a slow spin around The Rock and we should have the pleasure of seeing its surface very clearly before we impact on it. Only half the ship has atmosphere, and half of that is unlivable thanks to smoke, or failure in climate control systems. I’ve got surviving crew gathered in the safer spots and ready to use the escape pods, for whatever good that will do us. The only jump capable ships in the whole area belong to the enemy."
"What about comm?" Muhammad questioned.
"Short range only, and that’s pretty spotty." The first officer shrugged. "Circuits keep blowing whenever we try to use ship to ship, and even ship’s intercom is out. We’ve been communicating with suit comms, and hand helds." "The station?"
"Surrendered, close as we can tell. One of the remaining Banshees has docked along with four of those little devils that gave everything else such hell. Haven’t heard anything from there since we went down except for that ass Xiang ordering us to ram the enemy. And that was about an hour ago." "What about the other Banshee?"
"Holding station alongside us." The first officer, sighed wearily. "Thanks to comm being out, we haven’t been able to contact them yet, but they haven’t made a hostile move. Bennet says they’ve been taking crew who have gotten out aboard, though."
"Well, that’s something, anyway." Muhammad nodded. "I suppose we should consider getting the rest of the crew out of here, too." "Phoenix, this is Cheryii ship Sylvan. Are you receiving this call?" crackled out of the command comm link. "Repeat, Phoenix, do you read?" "We hear you, Sylvan," Muhammad answered. "What are your terms? We are obviously in no condition to continue hostilities. May I request that you get my remaining crew off?"
"Doing that already, Sir. Would you be the Captain?"
"I would be, Captain Henri Gerald Muhammad, at your service." My captain’s compliments to you, sir." the female voice answered with respect clear in its tones. "Please stand by for evacuation to Sylvan." "Standing by, Sylvan, with my gratitude for your care of my crew."
"Very good, Sir, Sylvan out."
"Polite, aren’t they?" The first officer commented tiredly. "Honorable, First," Muhammad answered. "The battle is over, now they’re seeing to those who need help, friend and enemy. Our government could take a lesson from this."
"Why in Hell are we fighting them, anyway?"
"They just had the misfortune to be in the way, First," Muhammad replied sadly. "But contact with them may turn out to be the most fortunate occurrence for Humanity since we got ourselves into space and off one overcrowded little planet."
* * * *
Reports of sporadic fighting came in, with the same results in each case.
Whatever troops still fought were eliminated rapidly and without quarter. Word of that spread, and opposition shrank to almost nothing after the first few encounters.
"We have weapons fire ahead, M’Lady," came over her suit comm. "I.G. troops firing on someone hiding in some kind of storage bay. Whoever is in there is returning fire."
"Never learn, do they?" Morgana sighed, drawing her own sidearm as they approached the sounds of the fight. By the time she and her personal guard had reached the area the fight was over, with Cheryii troopers carefully inspecting the bodies for signs of life.
"Hello in the storage bay!" she called out, noting the bodies piled in front of the door. "Throw out your weapons and come on out, the I.G. troops have been taken care of. It’s safe now."
"With apologies," a male human voice echoed from the bay. "But not until I see someone who isn’t in an I.G. uniform and am sure it isn’t a trick." "All right," she called back. "Don’t get trigger happy, I’m coming in." The scene within the bay was appalling. Dead humans in uniforms and civilian clothing, wounded, and a group of Cheryii females and children behind the humans still standing. Lifting her visor, Morgana could only stare for a moment while breathing, "Gods, what happened here?" "We took exception to the General’s orders to round up and kill all prisoners," the human who had shouted out spoke, a rumpled, but otherwise intact infantry lieutenant. "So we got who we could in here and held the pukes off until you showed up."
"So you did," Morgana smiled, holding out her hand. "And you have my thanks for that...??"
"Forgive me," the lieutenant straightened himself and saluted, after tossing his weapon to the deck. "Lieutenant Junior Grade Hamilton Stark, at your service."
The clatter of another weapon hitting the deck was followed with a gasp and joyful scream. "Morgana!"
Maeve, red hair in disarray, clothing torn, but reasonably intact, bruised, painfully thin, with dark circles under her eyes that would take a long time to go away, rushed forward and nearly bowled her sister over in her eagerness. "Gods, oh gods, Morgana. I thought you’d died on Sylvanus. It’s so good to see you alive." "And you, Maeve," Morgana quietly answered, careful not to injure her sister in the hug they were exchanging because of the armor she was still wearing. "I thought we had lost you until I saw a vid that a very brave lady got out of here some time ago. Gods it’s good to see you, touch you, and know that you’re alive. Is there anyone else from the family here?"
"Not that I’ve ever seen," the redhead replied through her tears. "Though I’ve been confined to the station since they brought us all here." "Come on," The architect of the first truly stunning defeat the NTF had ever suffered gently guided her sister through the open hatch, careful not to stumble because of her own tears. "Let’s go home."
* * * *
"McGary Point," Shapiro breathed. "I heard about that, through the grapevine, though it was hushed up even in those circles, with some pretty draconian consequences for anyone letting any information about that out for public consumption. People died for giving out anything on that one."
"What did you hear?" Morgana questioned with an eloquent lift of one eyebrow he had learned denoted a hint of wry humor in his companion. "What kind of rumors were spread among NTF grapevines regarding my first true action against your rulers?"
"Some pretty apocalyptic stuff," Shapiro answered slowly. "Nothing left of the station but debris. Two hulks that had been ships, empty of anything living, drifting in that debris. More dead ships on the fringes where pickets would have logically been placed. Blown domes and defensive emplacements on The Rock itself, with no atmosphere, and not enough structural integrity left to warrant repairs were reported. There was nothing living left there, and no trace whatsoever of the force that had done all that. It was almost supernatural."
"True enough," Morgana agreed quietly with an almost haunted expression on her beautiful face. "We left little for salvage, and evacuated the survivors. Otherwise they would have been condemned to a slow, terrible death in that place."
"You blamed yourself for all the losses, on both sides, didn’t you?" "A common failing of good commanders, I’ve been told. One that a person must shrug off so he or she may continue on with what must be done." Grimacing, she gave a slow shrug. "Which is so much bullshit, Curt. My actions, my planning, my execution, killed every one of those who died at McGary Point, and in almost every other battle I have participated in. I will never shrug off the consequences of my actions, or sleep nights without nightmares featuring those who have died at my orders. I was a Healer Curtis Shapiro. One who cured illness and fought death at every turn I could.
For the first time in my life I had known something close to peace, and the love of a family that had been taken from me by the NTF when I was Human.
A healer, gods damn them all; the I.G., the NTF council and its president. But they couldn’t leave me or my adopted people in peace. So I once again started to tread the paths of war, and now there is nothing I or anyone might do to change that. Can you even begin to understand what that has done to me? How much I hate the NTF and all it stands for? Not because of the friends and loved ones I have lost, but because of what the godless, grasping fools have driven me to do?!"
Her cheeks glistened with tears that had not been shed since Shapiro had first seen her in chains on the world she had called Sylvan. On an impulse he neither questioned or completely understood, Shapiro moved to stand in front of her, taking her shaking shoulders in his hands and gently answering her while marveling at the fact that this was the first time he had ever touched her.
"No, I can’t understand the healer aspect, but the rage, the hatred for a system like the NTF and what it has imposed on my people, I can. Someone has to oppose the monster; the damned cancer eating at this poor galaxy that goes under the guise of the NTF. You aren’t to blame for the deaths in this damned war, or for all the suffering it has caused. If anything, your actions have shortened it, saved a lot of needless suffering for Cheryii and Humans caught up in this insanity, and caused the NTF advance further into the galaxy to grind to a halt. All through history, there have been people who seem to have been chosen for some specific task, and most of those were extremely unpleasant jobs even if necessary. You just have the misfortune to be one of those."
"I know that," looking up into his face, tears still streaming freely, she offered him a sad smile. "But I am not alone in bearing that onerous burden any longer, am I?"
"No, I guess you aren’t," his answer was barely a whisper as he gathered her unresisting form into his arms. "But that’s going to be a moot point soon. Once we get to Central Command, our lives are effectively over with." "I am not finished yet, old friend," she whispered into his ear while nuzzling it. "Neither are you."
Shaken, still holding an alien female who had been his bitter enemy and his best friend, Shapiro drew in a ragged breath and did his best not to pursue that answer. It wasn’t time. Not yet.
But it soon would be.
That certainty was as solid for him as the fragile, lovely, wondrously and frighteningly powerful female crying in his arms. Their time would come.
And it was very close.
Somewhere in the morass of rage, pain, grief, and hatred he had experienced, and the sweet, heady sense of a love he still feared to acknowledge, Curtis Shapiro found room to pity the NTF. Barely.
TO BE CONTINUED
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