Opening Moves (55 page)

Natara doubted they could win, but she was prepared to meet her fate doing the best she could to fulfill her duty.

“Enemy ships have entered effective firing range,” Torok Sen said quietly, her eyes fixed on her own displays. “It's begun.”

* * * * * * *

A great plume of white smoke rushed up into the sky, funneled upwards by the underground silo, a one hundred and fifty megaton warhead riding at its top. As the Ashani threat had grown, the government recognized that, despite the peaceful beliefs the Érenni held, these terrible weapons might one day be all that stood between death and survival. The missile rose on its pillar of fire, slowly at first as it overcame gravity, pushing up from the surface and clearing the thick forest its silo had been hidden in, burning nearby trees and stripping away leaves. It joined eleven other weapons from the same facility. In the distance the trails of hundreds more launching across the hemisphere towards space could be seen. It was a sight no Érenni wished to see, yet their distaste for the weapons was tempered by the gratitude they felt for the service the missiles provided. Every weapon launched changed a bit of Érenni civilization, but more crucially, every launch also saved and preserved it, too. It was a hard balance to accept, but in the end nobody truly doubted that a spiritual breakdown was something preferable to physical annihilation.

In the same instant as Érenni missiles began to launch into space, warheads coming from the vanguard of the Dominion ships began to fall down. The blocky
Stormwave
-class missile ships, untypically angled and lacking the grace of their comrades, slowly expended their magazines in salvo upon salvo of nuclear missiles meant to saturate the planet's defenses. Even so, they had little chance to do much actual damage. However, they kept the defenses occupied while the fleets closed in. Fighter wings raced to the front of two of the advancing fleets to intercept the defenders' missiles. Only the third fleet's fighter escorts seemed to ignore these very same missile as they went after defense platforms and satellites in squadron-sized, coordinated strikes. The two volleys of missiles passed each other in the dead of space between the two battle lines. For a few moments, all eyes on all sides were focused on that same patch of space. Then the firing began.

Dreadnought SUNBURST, 12
th
Dominion Fleet

Swiftpaw fighters began picking off incoming Érenni missiles and defense platforms while the defense network surrounding Akvô fired on its own targets. The spectacular display hid its true nature in garish beauty. Realistically, the Érenni could not afford to let a single missile past the defenses as each weapon held the potential of carrying a bioengineered, self-replicating and adapting virus far more lethal than any nuclear warhead.

Despite the massive exchange of fire the Dominion vessels still kept their battle lines in good order, maximizing their defensive fire by forming overlapping zones of fire and slaving their own fire control systems into networks to coordinate their efforts. The few missiles that got through the fighter screen were quickly disposed of by the interlocking point defense arcs of the fleets' formations without even slowing the advance.

“We've got defense platforms, satellites and gunships blocking our way, Ma'am,” Captain Farwalker reported, her voice echoing through Pyshana's helmet's speakers.

“
No warships?” the young female strategos shot her an irritated frown.

“
No warships, Strategos. It appears the Érenni are keeping them back.”

Pyshana chuckled coldly. “Fools. This is our chance to overwhelm their defenses, just as I planned. Once we're in position, no amount of Republican reserves or trickery will do them any good.”

“Shall I release our ships, Ma'am?”

“
No, not yet. Hold formation and coordinate your fire,” she ordered. “Keep us in line until the last possible moment.”

The 12
th
Fleet slowly slipped out of the minefield – and into the staggered spheres of defense platforms and satellites. The larger Érenni guns began firing now. Destroyer-level anti-ship plasma lasers began to chew into the Ashani lines, hundreds of them, thousands, bringing down the first casualties. Their mangled wrecks spun away as their fighting comrades passed them, burning hulks and seared metal devoid of any life.

“
Return fire, but hold formation,” Pyshana commanded. SUNBURST was in the center of the vanguard and therefor well within range of the Érenni fire.

One of the increasingly rare Republican missiles broke through, killing a destroyer in a single hit. Two more vessels fell to concentrated laser fire, and a third struck a hidden mine, the vast explosion burning away much of its belly. Holes began appearing in their formation, much as they had during previous assaults as the Ashani line started to wear thin.

“Close up the gaps!” Pyshana stared at the constantly shifting tactical plot. “Keep a solid front!”

Vessels moved up from the second wave to replace damaged or destroyed ships at the front. With every second Republican defense sats and platforms blinked out of existence, but in these very same seconds the dead and dying defenders pulled far too many Ashani ships and soldiers with them into the abyss. As the range decreased so, too, did the time available to intercept Érenni missile volleys or destroy platforms before they threw their might against them, and the battle groups kept on thinning, losing their cohesion.

“Hold them together!” Pyshana snarled. “We must concentrate our forces! Hold them!”

The space above Akvô was a lightning storm of fiery red and sickly green plasma laser beams and small, quickly fading suns, and the gap between attacker and defender was now shrinking rapidly.

A thousand little duels played out in the crowded space as Swiftpaw fighters and Érenni small craft duked it out Ashani pilots sought to destroy the thinly armored defense satellites. The Dominion's pilot corps was highly experienced and motivated, but the Republican defenders fought with such fierce determination that the Ashani squadrons found it hard to tackle the fixed defenses.

“
Send in more ships! More ships, damn it!” Pyshana shouted in growing frustration. “This attack must not stall!”

A hailstorm of fire met her demands as the defenders threw every weapon they had in range against her, from surface batteries to satellites and gunships. Yet, the Republican ships still did not show up. They were out there, waiting. Worse still, the static defenses seemed to be doing a good enough job on their own, crippling and destroying ships faster than their positions in the Ashani attack formations could be replaced

“No,” Pyshana growled in growing fear and frustration. “No! Not like this. We
must
break through. We must!” Gods, no. She could see nothing but failure and shame awaiting her if she did not get in here. Her first command as Strategos of the Fleet, and it looked a lot like it would already be her last.

“
Enemy fire is too great, Ma'am!” Farwalker's voice was tight reported. “We just can't advance into it! We've already lost more than thirty percent of our ships!”

“
Lies!” Pyshana snarled, staring wildly at the chaos unfolding in her tactical display as icons blinked out of existence faster and faster. “This attack is led by cowards! Get some true warriors on the front!”

“
They are not cowards, Ma'am!” Farwalker snapped, forgetting protocol this time. “They're the finest crews we have, but even our warriors of myth couldn't break through this. It's too much!” she almost pleaded.

“
We will
not
retreat!” Pyshana roared, a raw, guttural sound completely at odds with her own slender physique. “If this day is to be our last then let us make it one to remember!”

“
Yes, Ma'am,” Farwalker shook her head inside her helmet, sighing quietly, resigning to her fate. Yes, today would be remembered, if not for its glory then for utter its stupidity. More ships rushed forward, the SUNBURST included, but as the Érenni defense shifted it didn't make a difference.

Supporting attacks went in to hit different parts of the defense grid as 12
th
Fleet expended its fighter complements. But the network was too well built, and with every destroyed satellite a new vicious series of crossfires and dead ends built into it opened up to drown the Dominion's ships in fire.

Cold mathematics were winning the day for the Érenni defender, and for all their fanatic bravery the Ashani lost more and more ships and crews which could not be replaced. Worse, their senseless death endangered so much more. It was Corr'tane who recognized this, who saw that honor and the stubborn desire for victory or death in this battle was going to get their entire civilization killed unless he acted. This slaughter had gone on long enough.

SUNBURST shuddered from a hit by a dreadnought grade Érenni laser. The proud ship's hull buckled as compressed energy bore through its layers of armor and opened up part of the main engineering section to space, the rapid decompression emptying the whole compartment of anything still alive in a storm of oxygen, flames and shrapnel.

Alarms howled through the dreadnought, but the damage only served to fuel Pyshana's rage. It was the anger of a caged predator: the Érenni would not let her advance whereas romantic Ashani military tradition scoffed at the idea of retreat. She was trapped between two worlds, one physical and one in her heart, and both were crumbling her hopes. Losses to 12
th
Fleet were heavy – too heavy – and the supporting forces were little better off. There was no way, not like this.

“
Strategos Pyshana, respond,” a cool male baritone reached out to her through FleetNet, one she instantly recognized as that of her brother.

“
Strategos Corr'tane!” It took her a few moments to order her thoughts and log into a secure channel. She sighed with relief. “Brother, are you bringing your fleet to my aid?”

“
I bring my knowledge to your aid. You are defeated. Retire
immediately
and conduct a fighting withdrawal to the edge of the minefield,” she heard him say without a sign of affection. “I will shift my forces to provide cover in case the Érenni send ships to try and rout you.”

“
Never!” Pyshana almost screamed at him, pressing against the restraints of her shock harness. “I will
not
abandon the attack.”

“
The attack has already failed.” His voice was so calm, so... detached. “All you're doing is wasting ships and lives in a futile gesture of pride, ships and soldiers we'll need later in this war.”

“
If we do not win there will be no campaign. It'll end here!” she snarled back at her brother. “The Pact will see we cannot defeat their most feeble members and will strike us down with all their might!”

A muscle flexed in Corr'tane's jaw as he tried to both concentrate on the private conversation with his sister and on commanding his own fleet. It was a subtle hint that he was on the verge of losing his temper. “Every second you delay costs us another ship. There are other ways to fight this war. But for today the battle is over. We lost,” he said a lot more calmly than he felt. If only his fellow fleet commanders had put the good of their fleets and some caution before their egos...

“Like how? How can we proceed with an enemy home world at our backs?” she spat back at him.

“
That's not a decision to take here and now,” Corr'tane replied almost soothingly, though he ground his teeth. “But now you must withdraw.”

Pyshana stared at the battle around her and leaned back in her command chair, her expression as resolute as it had never been before. “I will
not
.”

“
I can make it an order,” Corr'tane warned, his patience for this folly running thinner with every second. “I can take your fleet from you.”

“
They won't follow you! They will join me in fighting through to victory or dying in the process.”

“
Do you so desire death?” he finally snapped in frustration and rising anger. “Would you so quickly throw away your life and that of tens of thousands of others? And for what? Honor?”

“
Of course, it's reason enough for all of us,” Pyshana responded instinctively without thinking.

“
Honor gives you
nothing
,” Corr'tane's voice was a deep contemptuous growl. “Just a cold grave for people with more ambition than sense. Use your mind, cut our losses and retreat! Or, by the gods, I will
make
you do it!”

“
You should understand... of all people,
you
must understand sacrifice!” she called over a rumbling explosion that shook SUNBURST's bridge.

“
Sacrifice?” he scoffed, his voice galloping like a prairie hunter. “I know all about sacrifice. I gave up everything to help our people! I gave up everything to help
you
! All that work I put into raising you and educating you, and you want to throw it away for some stupid notion of honor? You've been a strategos for barely a week and you're already as big a fool as the rest of them!” He took a deep, quick breath. “You're smarter than this, Pyshana. This isn't you,” he said more quietly, slowly. “Don't let this be the end. Bring your ships back.”