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So, after reading MrNature's writing based in the StarMade universe, I decided to have some fun and write my own. It isn't as good as his, but I thought I would show it to you guys anyways. It isn't finished, and I (hopefully) will continue writing it over time. Feel free to suggest stuff about it, or ask questions. Here it is:
Everything was falling apart. The destroyers had crashed into his flank, and crippled two of his carriers before he could react.The enemy gunline had been faltering, but it had been a ruse, and he had fallen for it, moving his gunline up. Even now one of the carriers broke in half, shredded by the powerful lasers of the Praetorian class. He should have expected something like this. His intelligence front had been quiet on new Lazarus ship designs, but now he realized they just got better at hiding them. The second carrier tried to run toward his cruiser gunline, but the destroyers kept at it, ripping holes right through the hull. These new lasers were more powerful than anything else he had seen before, but they were quite slow to charge. Lot of good that did the carriers. He yelled for a fleet status report.
“3 cruisers left, 6 frigates, and 1, no, make that zero carriers.”
“How is our ship holding up?”
“A lot of stray cannon fire, but the shields absorbed it. But the enemy destroyers will be in range soon, unless we pull out.”
“Run? And what would High Command think of that?”
“That you got a battlesquadron out of a fight you can’t win, and gathered new intel on enemy ships.”
“You know they won’t see it like that.”
As if to punctuate the situation, an explosion rocked the bridge.
“Shields at 30% capacity and falling.”
“Make a choice, Commodore. Quickly, if you please.”
The lieutenant was right.
“Commodore Harding to all ships, retreat to sector 39 Alpha, repeat, retreat to sector 39 Alpha.”
The thrusters of the other ships flared as they engaged their engines. The Lazarus didn’t follow.
“All ships, damage report.”
The information flooded in, displayed throughout the bridge by the hologrid. It was bad. 2 of the cruisers had taken heavy damage, and the frigate squadron was half shredded. There wasn’t much he could do here, except get to the repair station at 39 Alpha. His thoughts were interrupted by his sensor officer.
“I think you’ll want to see this, Commodore.”
“Shit. All ships, engage jamming protocol Charlie Kappa, now!”
“We’re too close. The mines have already engaged thrusters.”
“Get us out of here!”
He could feel the impacts of the mines of his shields, though thankfully they still were hitting his shields. One of the damaged cruisers had rolled over, engines sputtering. Two of the frigates were wrecked as well, but he had to keep going.The minefield was endless. He lost four more ships, with no sign of a border. But he kept going, for a small hope.
“Alert. All crewmen to battle stations.” The synthesized voice shook him awake. He pulled on his uniform while running to the bridge, almost tripping over his leg. Need to get that recalibrated. The turbolift was offline, probably from a power glitch, so he dragged himself through a maintenance hatch and up toward the bridge. That never would have happened under Merle. An impact almost knocked him off the ladder, but his right arm never failed him. He continued his climb, before popping another hatch open and dropping down into the bridge. His bridge. The focal point of the Dominus Astra, a Paladin class battlecruiser.
“Status report.”
One of the Acolytes responded: “Three contacts, light cruisers. They will be within firing range in 36 seconds. Main power is at full capacity, all weapons online.”
“Good. What IFF are they broadcasting?”
“I’m not sure, it seems to be scrambled. Attempting to compensate.” The Acolyte paused, working furiously at his console. “Got it. Civilian IFF, but engine signatures match a known mercenary group.”
“They will be in range in 20 seconds.”
“Let’s see what they do, but keep weapons and shields charged. I doubt mercenaries are here to chat.”
“They have disengaged engines, and are contacting us.”
“Huh. This is new. Open a channel.”
A mercenary captain appeared in the hologrid. He was grizzled, but looked a bit on edge. He knew who had the firepower advantage here.
“This is reclaimed free lands. The Lazarus have no rights here. You are but a man here, and you will follow our rules. We must inspect your ship, and confiscate illegal technology or weapons.”
“To hell with that. This is Lazaran space. You have no right to be here, much less threaten an official Lazarus craft. Get lost, before I get tired of you.” He cut the channel.
The light cruisers flew back the way they came, but the encounter troubled him. He had an interesting report to write ahead of him.
The mercenaries were back the next day, except it was a pair of Praetorians who encountered them. The mercenaries didn’t like their answer, and killed them both. The Lazarus Imperium considered this an act of war. The Emperor of the Lazarus sanctioned an assault of the mercenary base, lead by Admiral Supreme Ramilius Stele.
“All ships, form up. We’ve got a scuffle ahead of us, but let’s display what the Lazaran can do. ” He watched as the ships floated through space to the positions he had dictated. Many men would’ve felt pride at the sight of it. He didn’t allow pride until the battle was won.
“I’m reading six enemy contacts, three frigates and three corvettes. They are closing at high speed. All weapons online, torpedoes loaded.” The torpedoes were a recent innovation in Lazaran war technology, and were still being fully tested. A torpedo consisted of a large canister, that would break open when within short range of an enemy ship, releasing heavy mines. A clever idea, but was mostly untried in real battle.
“They are in firing range. Plotting a solution to the frigates now.” His weapons officer was one of the best, a rising star in the Imperial Navy. His name was Korlus, and would probably have his own command within the rotation. Ramilius checked his readout. Optimal firing solution in 3, 2,
“They are firing, Admiral. Light cannons and missiles, but I’m reading only a third of the power on the corvettes is being used. A pulsar, perhaps?”
“Fire cannon banks 1 through 4, hold on the laser.” The glowing bolts cut across space, before hitting the nearest frigate.
“I’m reading diminished shield output, though not complete. The Caesor is firing.” A pause. “Enemy shields are down, firing torpedoes.” Interesting. He hadn’t asked to fire torpedoes. Maybe Korlus should be getting his command sooner, for fear of insubordination.
“Frigate destroyed, corvettes are moving to flank us.”
“Bring the picket frigates to deal with them. Shields?”
“Holding, but down to 79% capacity.”
“Second frigate destroyed, pickets engaging now.” His battlegroup was powerful, handpicked by Ramilius for this mission. But he was troubled by the lack of real enemy resistance. A few frigates and corvettes was little more than a scout force, not s station defence group.
“Corvettes destroyed, minimal damage to our frigates. One enemy frigate left, shields are down.”
“Fire the bow laser.” He felt the vibrations of the laser powering up. But it firing was far more powerful. The vibrations grew to a peak, then it fired. The whole ship shook, but the damage to the frigate was far worse. The shot had punched a hole straight through it, large enough to fly a fighter through. The frigate detonated as one of its reactors overloaded.
“All enemy contacts neutralized, Admiral. Accelerating to the station now.” This string of events was still perplexing to him, and he hoped the station would provide some answers.
The cruisers drifted past the hulks of the corvettes, sliding sedately towards the mercenary station. None of their sensors detected the corvettes real purpose, and they passed by unaware.
“Enemy ships near the station?”
“I am reading at least three, but the station is interfering with my readings. Trying to get a better reading.” The sensor officer started fiddling with his console, but Ramilius didn’t need sensors to see what was coming.
“All ships, three enemy battleships closing. And they aren’t mercenaries. He knew that silhoutte well, but it was still just as surprising. Three Brotherhood battleships, here, in Lazaran space. But why didn’t matter right now, and the first would be in range within the minute.
“Charge all weapons, load full torpedoes, and get a firing solution on the lead battleship.” His battlegroup was powerful, but it just wasn’t big enough to stand up to three battleships. He needed to end this quickly.
“Flanking squadron, attack on my mark.”
“This is the Caesor. We took some damage earlier, went right through our shields. Our engines are too damaged to run fast enough. Other systems are unaffected.”
“I guess we fight this one.” He didn’t like this. He was outclassed and outgunned, and everything wasn’t adding up. The Brotherhood wasn’t hostile to the Lazarus, and definitely didn’t consort with mercenaries. He needed to-
“First battleship in range.”
“Fire all cannons, hold on the laser.” Light streaked out from the bow of the Dominus Astra, and flickered as it danced across the battleship’s shields. His other ships were firing, and it was silhouetted with light. Then its shields flashed white as they failed, and all of his ships fired their main lasers. The battleship was skewered like some Old Earth delicacy, but far hotter. The beams punched right through the ship, spraying debris out in arcs across space. A beam clipped one of the ship’s reactors, and a chain reaction ripped it apart.
The second battleship used this time to get in weapons range, and it unleashed hellfire on the Caesor. It’s main cannon overloaded her shields in one hit, and three heavy missiles ripped open her bow. The cannon fired again, cutting through the Caesor’s internal systems like butter, and shattered her reactor. The cruiser detonated, huge pieces of hull flying in all directions. Seven of those pieces hit the shields of the Dominus Astra, weakening them heavily.
“Mark.”
The pair of Praetorians coasted in from the flank, firing cannons. The other ships in the battlegroup joined in the chorus of fire, and the second battleship’s shields flickered brightly. But it targeted the picket frigates this time, destroying two and crippling the third. The destroyers kept up their fire, and the battleship’s shields finally failed.
“All ships, fire lasers.” Ramilius winced at his choice of words, now that he only had three ships left. The beams fired, burning holes in the battleship’s armor, but it’s turrets opened fire on the Praetorians, and it wheeled around to fire its main weapons.
Ramilius saw his chance, and slid into torpedo range. Korlus noticed this, and fired all of them before the order was given. They spiralled through space, reflecting the glare from the turret fire as they glided toward their target. The battleship captain noticed them too late, and they ripped a thirty meter hole in its flank. Dominus Astra’s laser fired again, and hit the hole square on.
The battleship didn’t explode, but shook itself to pieces, looking for all the galaxy like an old Terran snake shedding its skin. The final battleship was in range, and killed one of the weakened Praetorians with a single shot. The other destroyer attempted to outmaneuver the larger craft, but was hit again by the heavy bow cannon, and was destroyed as well. That’s it, Ramilius thought, one cruiser can’t kill a battleship. But the battleship didn’t fire, just closed the distance.
“Get me a firing solution, and put all spare power to the shields!”
“I’m reading an energy pulse, expanding out from… one of the corvettes. Impact in 5”
What the hell? I guess we know where the extra energy was going.
“2, 1.”
Ramilius heard a strange sound, like a deflating balloon, and the lights throughout the ship flicked off. He checked his console, but it was dead. The rest of the bridge crew had the same issue, and one was crawling under his console to access it directly. He called his engineer, a man named Donal.
“What the hell just happened. I’ve got no power up here, and not even a light or two. What hit us?”
“Seems to have been some kind of pulse wave, designed to overload and disable power systems. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Of course you haven’t, you’ve never been off of the Homeworld until now. He cut himself off. He wasn’t being fair and he knew it. He shouldn’t compare him to her, if only for his own sake. He tried to avoid the memory, but it came crashing down. Merle walking toward the turbolift, the door closing. Finding her sprawled under a synaptic interface, eyes glassy.
No. Not now. He could grieve later, if that is what it could be called. Donal called again, giving him a status report he didn’t want to hear: “...ain power offline, secondary power at minimal. I have just enough power to get a single system running, which shall it be, Admiral?” God. Everything was falling apart. He now knew the intentions of the third battleship, and they disturbed him greatly. He called back to Donal;
“Life support. And get me sensors back next, I need to know what I’m up against.” We’re, he thought, what We’re up against. It’s not just me, not this time. He knew that the entire crew would be arming themselves, and that the bridge crew had begun as well. He unhooked from the captain’s chair, only then realizing the lack of gravity. Great, one more way of making the next few hours even more hellish. He floated over to the other weapons locker, punching a hole in it with his fist when it didn’t open automatically. He started throwing weapons out, to float in the bridge. He looked back, and saw Korlus grabbing a slug rifle out of the air. He absently hoped that Korlus made it out. One less letter to write. His arm found what it had been looking for, and he pulled it out with something that might’ve been relish. An energy hand cannon. One of the few left in Lazarus hands, it was an immensely powerful personal weapon, known to stop a tank. He tucked it into its holster, and grabbed a recoilless rifle to supplement it. Now he waited. The air on the bridge was tense, and it wasn’t just the crew. Dominus Astra wasn’t happy. Ramilius remembered that feeling. The last time he had felt it had been when-No. Not now.
Donal called again, but the door to the bridge started to glow. Everyone tightened their grips and checked their safeties. The door fell forwards, but no one charged in. No hail of energy bolts, no walking tanks. Just a small, beeping, object. Ramilius threw himself to the side, behind a sturdy-looking console. The room filled with light, and he heard more than one person cry out. Then came the hail of fire, though no walking tanks, thank the Emperor. Two more of his people went down, and he fired thirty shots from his rifle towards the doorway. 30 left. He saw movement, and hit it with fifteen. The shape buckled, hit from two directions. 15. More movement. He fired his last, before dropping his rifle and activating his hand cannon. Its parts slid into place, and he popped out of his cover, and put a six-inch energy bolt through the first soldier’s head. There wasn’t much of a head anymore. He popped out of cover again, looking like some kind of demented jack-in-a-box, except far more deadly. Eventually they stopped coming, and he checked over his crew. Damn. Korlus, Belko, Tanis, and Mael. He signalled an advance, and his crew moved forward.
“What is your status, come on, talk to me.” Donal came through the comm, sounding like a gunshot in the silence. I guess there are none left. That would’ve drawn them out like flies.
“I’m here. How are you holding up down there?”
:Not good. Two more guys are dead, plus I checked the primary power relay, and it’s completely fused. We aren’t using that without a week in drydock. I coaxed a bit more power out of the secondary relays, and I got a snapshot through internal sensors before I ran out of juice. Uplinking now.”
Impressive. But he was still stuck half a ship away. It would have to wait. More importantly, he could see exactly where the enemy soldiers were, or had been thirty seconds ago. Shit. Shit shit shit. He could see at least two hundred life signatures that didn’t belong here, and a hundred and seventy in between him and engineering. This would be interesting.
Donal pulled his head back down, under the relative safety of the console. Three massive 20mm rounds whizzed over his head, portrayed in slow motion by his cybernetics. That’s not going to work. The heavy weapons team had placed itself perfectly, right at the main entrance to Engineering. He could get out if he liked, but he needed to get to a console 4 meters in front of him. 4 meters that, in an instant, could be filled with 20mm shells. Three of his people had died to that thing already, and he didn’t want to give the Admiral any more reasons not to like him. The Admiral’s attitude towards Donal was confusing, as there was a Lazaran saying about ship captains; They have three bonds, one with their commander, one with their ship, and one with their engineer. Of the three, the engineer is the most important. But Admiral Ramilius had been at best polite, and at worst openly hostile to Donal, and he just didn’t get it. He hadn’t done anything wrong. A ping on his screen told him of an incoming com, but another burst of fire distracted him. It was simply suppressing fire, but it worked like a charm. Donal wasn’t moving anywhere unless something worse than a 20mm cannon showed up. He responded to the message, seeing the Admiral’s signature as he opened the channel.
“How close are you to getting engines back online? We need to get out of here.”
“Are you kidding?” Donal snorted. “We don’t even have access to the warp stabilizer console because of a damned heavy weapons team on our doorstep. Any assistance would be helpful.” To say the least.
“They had time to set up heavy weapons? What were you busy with, nanosurgery?”
“I can tell you the specifics later, but I need to access the life support panel. Some jackass merc was playing with it before I shot him, and I need to know what he did. But I can’t get over to it without ending up like him, except messier. When can you be here?”
“10 minutes, minimum. I have to go through at least 80 mercs, unless you have another way through.” Shit. Only 80. His sensor snapshot had shown over 150 between here and the bridge.
“I can see why you're the Admiral.”
“Don’t flatter me, we’ve got a job to do. Can you get me another way through?”
“I doubt it. If you take the access tubes you’ll just end up where I am. Could you cut a hole through the wall at junction 317? That would let you skip about half of the remaining mercs.”
“I’ll try. Ramilius out.”
He shook his head. He just didn’t understand that man.
Ramilius paced back and forth, watching as Tanis carefully burned a hole through the wall using a laser torch. It was bright enough that an unaugmented man wouldn’t have been able to look at it for long, but he stared at it, like that would make it go faster.
“Can’t we go any faster?” He barked.
“Not without making a messier hole, and that will only cause more problems. You know that well enough.” Tanis’s barb stung, and he realized his behavior must have not been limited to Donal. He made a mental note to try to repair the damage, if they got out of this alive. Tanis must’ve known that had crossed a line, and she moved to speak, but the Admiral cut her off.
“No apologies, those can wait. Mael, what’s on the other side?”
I’m reading a large heat signature down the corridor to the left, in the door to engineering, and six mercs patrolling this corridor.” The heat signature would be the 20mm, and his people could easily take out the other six, but he kept pacing. It was a bad habit he had picked up, one that wasted energy, but it was easier for him than just standing there. So he paced. And waited.
Donal took the burnt power capacitor in his hand, and stuck three wires in one end. Now he just needed a charge.
“Anybody got something flammable or explosive? Now’s not the time for reprimands, so cough up.” Most of his team just shrugged or showed their hands, but one reluctantly pulled a dull metal flask from his belt and handed it to Donal. He took a sniff. Strong stuff. Alcohol was rare in the Imperial Navy, bordering on taboo. But people will suit themselves, so you’ll always find someone with a bad habit. But he was grateful for it, and poured it into the capacitor. He sealed it, and set the wires burning. He switched it to his cybernetic hand, and gave it a toss. It sailed through the air, and he heard the all-too-familiar roar of the cannon. Then the wires burned down, and it filled the doorway with flame. He took his chance, and ran to the life support console, frantically running diagnostics to see what the damned merc had done. He couldn’t have long, but he kept at it. There. He had been trying to make the air in the ship pure oxygen. What the hell? There was little point to that, just a waste of resources. He reset it back to standard levels, expecting a large hole to appear in his chest any moment. He turned around, only to see the Admiral striding up, the corpses of the mercs laying in the doorway.
“Status?”
“The merc was attempting to make the air pure oxygen, but I reverted his changes. Without that cannon firing at me, I can get a bit more power back, but it will take time.” Donal walked over to a set of panels near the warp stabilizer, and started running power checks.
“Need anything?” The question startled Donal, because the Admiral had never asked something like that. Maybe he was finally warming up.
“Actually, I could use these three junctions secured, can you do that?” He noticed the Admiral was walking back and forth. Odd.
“Yeah, I’ll get them for you. Keep me posted.”
Donal got back to work.
Everything was falling apart. The destroyers had crashed into his flank, and crippled two of his carriers before he could react.The enemy gunline had been faltering, but it had been a ruse, and he had fallen for it, moving his gunline up. Even now one of the carriers broke in half, shredded by the powerful lasers of the Praetorian class. He should have expected something like this. His intelligence front had been quiet on new Lazarus ship designs, but now he realized they just got better at hiding them. The second carrier tried to run toward his cruiser gunline, but the destroyers kept at it, ripping holes right through the hull. These new lasers were more powerful than anything else he had seen before, but they were quite slow to charge. Lot of good that did the carriers. He yelled for a fleet status report.
“3 cruisers left, 6 frigates, and 1, no, make that zero carriers.”
“How is our ship holding up?”
“A lot of stray cannon fire, but the shields absorbed it. But the enemy destroyers will be in range soon, unless we pull out.”
“Run? And what would High Command think of that?”
“That you got a battlesquadron out of a fight you can’t win, and gathered new intel on enemy ships.”
“You know they won’t see it like that.”
As if to punctuate the situation, an explosion rocked the bridge.
“Shields at 30% capacity and falling.”
“Make a choice, Commodore. Quickly, if you please.”
The lieutenant was right.
“Commodore Harding to all ships, retreat to sector 39 Alpha, repeat, retreat to sector 39 Alpha.”
The thrusters of the other ships flared as they engaged their engines. The Lazarus didn’t follow.
“All ships, damage report.”
The information flooded in, displayed throughout the bridge by the hologrid. It was bad. 2 of the cruisers had taken heavy damage, and the frigate squadron was half shredded. There wasn’t much he could do here, except get to the repair station at 39 Alpha. His thoughts were interrupted by his sensor officer.
“I think you’ll want to see this, Commodore.”
“Shit. All ships, engage jamming protocol Charlie Kappa, now!”
“We’re too close. The mines have already engaged thrusters.”
“Get us out of here!”
He could feel the impacts of the mines of his shields, though thankfully they still were hitting his shields. One of the damaged cruisers had rolled over, engines sputtering. Two of the frigates were wrecked as well, but he had to keep going.The minefield was endless. He lost four more ships, with no sign of a border. But he kept going, for a small hope.
“Alert. All crewmen to battle stations.” The synthesized voice shook him awake. He pulled on his uniform while running to the bridge, almost tripping over his leg. Need to get that recalibrated. The turbolift was offline, probably from a power glitch, so he dragged himself through a maintenance hatch and up toward the bridge. That never would have happened under Merle. An impact almost knocked him off the ladder, but his right arm never failed him. He continued his climb, before popping another hatch open and dropping down into the bridge. His bridge. The focal point of the Dominus Astra, a Paladin class battlecruiser.
“Status report.”
One of the Acolytes responded: “Three contacts, light cruisers. They will be within firing range in 36 seconds. Main power is at full capacity, all weapons online.”
“Good. What IFF are they broadcasting?”
“I’m not sure, it seems to be scrambled. Attempting to compensate.” The Acolyte paused, working furiously at his console. “Got it. Civilian IFF, but engine signatures match a known mercenary group.”
“They will be in range in 20 seconds.”
“Let’s see what they do, but keep weapons and shields charged. I doubt mercenaries are here to chat.”
“They have disengaged engines, and are contacting us.”
“Huh. This is new. Open a channel.”
A mercenary captain appeared in the hologrid. He was grizzled, but looked a bit on edge. He knew who had the firepower advantage here.
“This is reclaimed free lands. The Lazarus have no rights here. You are but a man here, and you will follow our rules. We must inspect your ship, and confiscate illegal technology or weapons.”
“To hell with that. This is Lazaran space. You have no right to be here, much less threaten an official Lazarus craft. Get lost, before I get tired of you.” He cut the channel.
The light cruisers flew back the way they came, but the encounter troubled him. He had an interesting report to write ahead of him.
The mercenaries were back the next day, except it was a pair of Praetorians who encountered them. The mercenaries didn’t like their answer, and killed them both. The Lazarus Imperium considered this an act of war. The Emperor of the Lazarus sanctioned an assault of the mercenary base, lead by Admiral Supreme Ramilius Stele.
“All ships, form up. We’ve got a scuffle ahead of us, but let’s display what the Lazaran can do. ” He watched as the ships floated through space to the positions he had dictated. Many men would’ve felt pride at the sight of it. He didn’t allow pride until the battle was won.
“I’m reading six enemy contacts, three frigates and three corvettes. They are closing at high speed. All weapons online, torpedoes loaded.” The torpedoes were a recent innovation in Lazaran war technology, and were still being fully tested. A torpedo consisted of a large canister, that would break open when within short range of an enemy ship, releasing heavy mines. A clever idea, but was mostly untried in real battle.
“They are in firing range. Plotting a solution to the frigates now.” His weapons officer was one of the best, a rising star in the Imperial Navy. His name was Korlus, and would probably have his own command within the rotation. Ramilius checked his readout. Optimal firing solution in 3, 2,
“They are firing, Admiral. Light cannons and missiles, but I’m reading only a third of the power on the corvettes is being used. A pulsar, perhaps?”
“Fire cannon banks 1 through 4, hold on the laser.” The glowing bolts cut across space, before hitting the nearest frigate.
“I’m reading diminished shield output, though not complete. The Caesor is firing.” A pause. “Enemy shields are down, firing torpedoes.” Interesting. He hadn’t asked to fire torpedoes. Maybe Korlus should be getting his command sooner, for fear of insubordination.
“Frigate destroyed, corvettes are moving to flank us.”
“Bring the picket frigates to deal with them. Shields?”
“Holding, but down to 79% capacity.”
“Second frigate destroyed, pickets engaging now.” His battlegroup was powerful, handpicked by Ramilius for this mission. But he was troubled by the lack of real enemy resistance. A few frigates and corvettes was little more than a scout force, not s station defence group.
“Corvettes destroyed, minimal damage to our frigates. One enemy frigate left, shields are down.”
“Fire the bow laser.” He felt the vibrations of the laser powering up. But it firing was far more powerful. The vibrations grew to a peak, then it fired. The whole ship shook, but the damage to the frigate was far worse. The shot had punched a hole straight through it, large enough to fly a fighter through. The frigate detonated as one of its reactors overloaded.
“All enemy contacts neutralized, Admiral. Accelerating to the station now.” This string of events was still perplexing to him, and he hoped the station would provide some answers.
The cruisers drifted past the hulks of the corvettes, sliding sedately towards the mercenary station. None of their sensors detected the corvettes real purpose, and they passed by unaware.
“Enemy ships near the station?”
“I am reading at least three, but the station is interfering with my readings. Trying to get a better reading.” The sensor officer started fiddling with his console, but Ramilius didn’t need sensors to see what was coming.
“All ships, three enemy battleships closing. And they aren’t mercenaries. He knew that silhoutte well, but it was still just as surprising. Three Brotherhood battleships, here, in Lazaran space. But why didn’t matter right now, and the first would be in range within the minute.
“Charge all weapons, load full torpedoes, and get a firing solution on the lead battleship.” His battlegroup was powerful, but it just wasn’t big enough to stand up to three battleships. He needed to end this quickly.
“Flanking squadron, attack on my mark.”
“This is the Caesor. We took some damage earlier, went right through our shields. Our engines are too damaged to run fast enough. Other systems are unaffected.”
“I guess we fight this one.” He didn’t like this. He was outclassed and outgunned, and everything wasn’t adding up. The Brotherhood wasn’t hostile to the Lazarus, and definitely didn’t consort with mercenaries. He needed to-
“First battleship in range.”
“Fire all cannons, hold on the laser.” Light streaked out from the bow of the Dominus Astra, and flickered as it danced across the battleship’s shields. His other ships were firing, and it was silhouetted with light. Then its shields flashed white as they failed, and all of his ships fired their main lasers. The battleship was skewered like some Old Earth delicacy, but far hotter. The beams punched right through the ship, spraying debris out in arcs across space. A beam clipped one of the ship’s reactors, and a chain reaction ripped it apart.
The second battleship used this time to get in weapons range, and it unleashed hellfire on the Caesor. It’s main cannon overloaded her shields in one hit, and three heavy missiles ripped open her bow. The cannon fired again, cutting through the Caesor’s internal systems like butter, and shattered her reactor. The cruiser detonated, huge pieces of hull flying in all directions. Seven of those pieces hit the shields of the Dominus Astra, weakening them heavily.
“Mark.”
The pair of Praetorians coasted in from the flank, firing cannons. The other ships in the battlegroup joined in the chorus of fire, and the second battleship’s shields flickered brightly. But it targeted the picket frigates this time, destroying two and crippling the third. The destroyers kept up their fire, and the battleship’s shields finally failed.
“All ships, fire lasers.” Ramilius winced at his choice of words, now that he only had three ships left. The beams fired, burning holes in the battleship’s armor, but it’s turrets opened fire on the Praetorians, and it wheeled around to fire its main weapons.
Ramilius saw his chance, and slid into torpedo range. Korlus noticed this, and fired all of them before the order was given. They spiralled through space, reflecting the glare from the turret fire as they glided toward their target. The battleship captain noticed them too late, and they ripped a thirty meter hole in its flank. Dominus Astra’s laser fired again, and hit the hole square on.
The battleship didn’t explode, but shook itself to pieces, looking for all the galaxy like an old Terran snake shedding its skin. The final battleship was in range, and killed one of the weakened Praetorians with a single shot. The other destroyer attempted to outmaneuver the larger craft, but was hit again by the heavy bow cannon, and was destroyed as well. That’s it, Ramilius thought, one cruiser can’t kill a battleship. But the battleship didn’t fire, just closed the distance.
“Get me a firing solution, and put all spare power to the shields!”
“I’m reading an energy pulse, expanding out from… one of the corvettes. Impact in 5”
What the hell? I guess we know where the extra energy was going.
“2, 1.”
Ramilius heard a strange sound, like a deflating balloon, and the lights throughout the ship flicked off. He checked his console, but it was dead. The rest of the bridge crew had the same issue, and one was crawling under his console to access it directly. He called his engineer, a man named Donal.
“What the hell just happened. I’ve got no power up here, and not even a light or two. What hit us?”
“Seems to have been some kind of pulse wave, designed to overload and disable power systems. I’ve never seen anything like it before.” Of course you haven’t, you’ve never been off of the Homeworld until now. He cut himself off. He wasn’t being fair and he knew it. He shouldn’t compare him to her, if only for his own sake. He tried to avoid the memory, but it came crashing down. Merle walking toward the turbolift, the door closing. Finding her sprawled under a synaptic interface, eyes glassy.
No. Not now. He could grieve later, if that is what it could be called. Donal called again, giving him a status report he didn’t want to hear: “...ain power offline, secondary power at minimal. I have just enough power to get a single system running, which shall it be, Admiral?” God. Everything was falling apart. He now knew the intentions of the third battleship, and they disturbed him greatly. He called back to Donal;
“Life support. And get me sensors back next, I need to know what I’m up against.” We’re, he thought, what We’re up against. It’s not just me, not this time. He knew that the entire crew would be arming themselves, and that the bridge crew had begun as well. He unhooked from the captain’s chair, only then realizing the lack of gravity. Great, one more way of making the next few hours even more hellish. He floated over to the other weapons locker, punching a hole in it with his fist when it didn’t open automatically. He started throwing weapons out, to float in the bridge. He looked back, and saw Korlus grabbing a slug rifle out of the air. He absently hoped that Korlus made it out. One less letter to write. His arm found what it had been looking for, and he pulled it out with something that might’ve been relish. An energy hand cannon. One of the few left in Lazarus hands, it was an immensely powerful personal weapon, known to stop a tank. He tucked it into its holster, and grabbed a recoilless rifle to supplement it. Now he waited. The air on the bridge was tense, and it wasn’t just the crew. Dominus Astra wasn’t happy. Ramilius remembered that feeling. The last time he had felt it had been when-No. Not now.
Donal called again, but the door to the bridge started to glow. Everyone tightened their grips and checked their safeties. The door fell forwards, but no one charged in. No hail of energy bolts, no walking tanks. Just a small, beeping, object. Ramilius threw himself to the side, behind a sturdy-looking console. The room filled with light, and he heard more than one person cry out. Then came the hail of fire, though no walking tanks, thank the Emperor. Two more of his people went down, and he fired thirty shots from his rifle towards the doorway. 30 left. He saw movement, and hit it with fifteen. The shape buckled, hit from two directions. 15. More movement. He fired his last, before dropping his rifle and activating his hand cannon. Its parts slid into place, and he popped out of his cover, and put a six-inch energy bolt through the first soldier’s head. There wasn’t much of a head anymore. He popped out of cover again, looking like some kind of demented jack-in-a-box, except far more deadly. Eventually they stopped coming, and he checked over his crew. Damn. Korlus, Belko, Tanis, and Mael. He signalled an advance, and his crew moved forward.
“What is your status, come on, talk to me.” Donal came through the comm, sounding like a gunshot in the silence. I guess there are none left. That would’ve drawn them out like flies.
“I’m here. How are you holding up down there?”
:Not good. Two more guys are dead, plus I checked the primary power relay, and it’s completely fused. We aren’t using that without a week in drydock. I coaxed a bit more power out of the secondary relays, and I got a snapshot through internal sensors before I ran out of juice. Uplinking now.”
Impressive. But he was still stuck half a ship away. It would have to wait. More importantly, he could see exactly where the enemy soldiers were, or had been thirty seconds ago. Shit. Shit shit shit. He could see at least two hundred life signatures that didn’t belong here, and a hundred and seventy in between him and engineering. This would be interesting.
Donal pulled his head back down, under the relative safety of the console. Three massive 20mm rounds whizzed over his head, portrayed in slow motion by his cybernetics. That’s not going to work. The heavy weapons team had placed itself perfectly, right at the main entrance to Engineering. He could get out if he liked, but he needed to get to a console 4 meters in front of him. 4 meters that, in an instant, could be filled with 20mm shells. Three of his people had died to that thing already, and he didn’t want to give the Admiral any more reasons not to like him. The Admiral’s attitude towards Donal was confusing, as there was a Lazaran saying about ship captains; They have three bonds, one with their commander, one with their ship, and one with their engineer. Of the three, the engineer is the most important. But Admiral Ramilius had been at best polite, and at worst openly hostile to Donal, and he just didn’t get it. He hadn’t done anything wrong. A ping on his screen told him of an incoming com, but another burst of fire distracted him. It was simply suppressing fire, but it worked like a charm. Donal wasn’t moving anywhere unless something worse than a 20mm cannon showed up. He responded to the message, seeing the Admiral’s signature as he opened the channel.
“How close are you to getting engines back online? We need to get out of here.”
“Are you kidding?” Donal snorted. “We don’t even have access to the warp stabilizer console because of a damned heavy weapons team on our doorstep. Any assistance would be helpful.” To say the least.
“They had time to set up heavy weapons? What were you busy with, nanosurgery?”
“I can tell you the specifics later, but I need to access the life support panel. Some jackass merc was playing with it before I shot him, and I need to know what he did. But I can’t get over to it without ending up like him, except messier. When can you be here?”
“10 minutes, minimum. I have to go through at least 80 mercs, unless you have another way through.” Shit. Only 80. His sensor snapshot had shown over 150 between here and the bridge.
“I can see why you're the Admiral.”
“Don’t flatter me, we’ve got a job to do. Can you get me another way through?”
“I doubt it. If you take the access tubes you’ll just end up where I am. Could you cut a hole through the wall at junction 317? That would let you skip about half of the remaining mercs.”
“I’ll try. Ramilius out.”
He shook his head. He just didn’t understand that man.
Ramilius paced back and forth, watching as Tanis carefully burned a hole through the wall using a laser torch. It was bright enough that an unaugmented man wouldn’t have been able to look at it for long, but he stared at it, like that would make it go faster.
“Can’t we go any faster?” He barked.
“Not without making a messier hole, and that will only cause more problems. You know that well enough.” Tanis’s barb stung, and he realized his behavior must have not been limited to Donal. He made a mental note to try to repair the damage, if they got out of this alive. Tanis must’ve known that had crossed a line, and she moved to speak, but the Admiral cut her off.
“No apologies, those can wait. Mael, what’s on the other side?”
I’m reading a large heat signature down the corridor to the left, in the door to engineering, and six mercs patrolling this corridor.” The heat signature would be the 20mm, and his people could easily take out the other six, but he kept pacing. It was a bad habit he had picked up, one that wasted energy, but it was easier for him than just standing there. So he paced. And waited.
Donal took the burnt power capacitor in his hand, and stuck three wires in one end. Now he just needed a charge.
“Anybody got something flammable or explosive? Now’s not the time for reprimands, so cough up.” Most of his team just shrugged or showed their hands, but one reluctantly pulled a dull metal flask from his belt and handed it to Donal. He took a sniff. Strong stuff. Alcohol was rare in the Imperial Navy, bordering on taboo. But people will suit themselves, so you’ll always find someone with a bad habit. But he was grateful for it, and poured it into the capacitor. He sealed it, and set the wires burning. He switched it to his cybernetic hand, and gave it a toss. It sailed through the air, and he heard the all-too-familiar roar of the cannon. Then the wires burned down, and it filled the doorway with flame. He took his chance, and ran to the life support console, frantically running diagnostics to see what the damned merc had done. He couldn’t have long, but he kept at it. There. He had been trying to make the air in the ship pure oxygen. What the hell? There was little point to that, just a waste of resources. He reset it back to standard levels, expecting a large hole to appear in his chest any moment. He turned around, only to see the Admiral striding up, the corpses of the mercs laying in the doorway.
“Status?”
“The merc was attempting to make the air pure oxygen, but I reverted his changes. Without that cannon firing at me, I can get a bit more power back, but it will take time.” Donal walked over to a set of panels near the warp stabilizer, and started running power checks.
“Need anything?” The question startled Donal, because the Admiral had never asked something like that. Maybe he was finally warming up.
“Actually, I could use these three junctions secured, can you do that?” He noticed the Admiral was walking back and forth. Odd.
“Yeah, I’ll get them for you. Keep me posted.”
Donal got back to work.
