“Commander, incoming message,” Nguyen said. “Exit from jump space expected momentarily. We are to ready for combat.”
Orson snorted. “Oh, I was expecting a nice jaunt on the beach. Signal message received and understood, corporal.”
“Aye, commander.” Nguyen pressed the keys before her, relaying the Gallant’s acceptance.
“Are patrol ships really going to make a difference out here, commander?” Johnson said. “I mean, there are thousands of ships here. Hardly like we’re tipping the scales, are we?”
Orson leant forward in his chair, elbows resting on the armrests, hands clasped together, a pose subconsciously copied from an old television show. “The Substrate has the council worried. They’re pulling everything and anything into this fight. An extra cannon firing is an extra cannon firing.”
“Honestly, sir, I’m a little worried we’re going to be cannon fodder.”
“Johnson, in war at this scale, everyone is cannon fodder.”
Space seemed to wobble for a moment, as the fleet tore through. The Substrate was waiting. Pillars of energy burst screaming from the top of dreadnoughts, projected from crystals set into the stone. They continued firing, lances of deadly energy pulsing into the darkness. They couldn’t see their opponents, not at this range. Shots went wide, cascading out into the void as the Council fleet fired engines and tasked thrusters to capacity, taking advantage in the time delay inherent in space combat.
They had expected a Substrate fleet, one of the smaller fragments that had broken off to ravage worlds. The plan was to move as a single force, engaging and wiping out the scattered Substrate forces before they could join together, strengthening themselves exponentially. The Substrate, however, had different plans.
The rocky aliens had already played the Council for fools the once, forcing them to gather their power in the region before attacking what was now undefended. Reasonably assuming their foe would move to counter, the Substrate had pulled their forces together after hitting their initial targets, counting on the time for messages to reach the Council fleet to prepare themselves. Hundreds of dreadnoughts had been gathered, along with thousands of smaller battleships and cruisers, each more than a match for their Council counterparts.
The Council fleet began to advance, firing as they went. Space filled with deadly energy blasts. The fleet’s ships worked in groups, choosing a single target and firing their barrage around where it was on their sensors, attempting to trap their prey within a deadly cage. The Substrate did the same, answering with their own wall of death.
Abberax stood on the deck of his dreadnought, watching the battle unfold on the holoscreen before him. The fleets were closing on one another, crossing the immense distance between them in an attempt to land their shots more accurately. Destroyed ships on each side numbered only in the dozens, but that number would very quickly grow much higher. Abberax was pleased to see that his force was ahead in that macabre race, useful, as his fleet was slightly smaller than the enemies to begin with.
“Lord Abberax, current projections predict large casualties on both sides, but at this pace, we will ultimately be victorious,” the ship’s captain said. The rocky creature bowed slightly, a low rumble escaping as his stones scraped together.
Abberax scratched at his torso, dust drifting off from where his talons scraped. “Excellent,” he said, his central crystal pulsing with light as he spoke. “Any word from our… associate, Captain Jorax?”
“Yes Lord, they are on route to intercept now.” There was a low rumble as debris struck the hull. One of the nearby dreadnoughts had dodged the wrong way into several clean hits and had exploded, sending chunks of stone and metal out into space around it. “Increase evasive maneuverers!” Jorax said, turning to scream at a nearby thrall. The organic had been wired directly into the control panel, his arms and waist disappearing in a mass of cables leading into the walls and floor. “I want true random. True! Any patterns and we’re next on the Council’s targeting list.”
Jorax’s anger abated moments later, when an enemy battleship blinked off the holographic display, his dreadnought scoring the killing blow. Jorax had a friendly wager with Yvanox, a fellow dreadnought captain. If she lost, Jorax would win himself a chance at courting her. He was looking forward to it, she had quartz in all the right places.
“Order the fleet to increase acceleration. I want to close this gap quicker,” Abberax said. Jorax bowed slightly in response. Closing the gap would increase the rate of losses faster than the captain would have liked, but Abberax was a lord. His word was law.
“Increase acceleration, relay to all ships!”
“Blessed cardinal, the enemy fleet is accelerating.” The call had come from a trooper stationed at the sensor suite. He was relaying information to the display in the centre of the room, a large hologram showing the battle. The trooper was struggling to keep it up to date, dealing with the time delay and thousands of incoming data streams from the fleet.
Cardinal Orsix rubbed his chin and then adjusted his robe slightly. He was thinking, wondering on the best course to take. The intermixing between the higher military ranks and the clergy was total, the Council using its religion to maintain its iron grip over the armed forces. The cardinal was tall, his legs thin and spindly. His skin was scaled, his features reptilian. Long blue feathers burst forth in clumps around the back of his neck.
“No doubt they seek to increase the pace of the battle. It makes sense, our current situation favours them.” Orsix turned to the officer next to him, a short stocky humanoid with pale yellow skin and piercing black eyes. “How long until we can jump again?”
“Two hours, at a push, cardinal. Some of our force will be left behind if we do that. Older drive types with a longer recharge.” The officer swallowed a gulp. Giving bad news to a member of the clergy was always a risky choice.
“Very well, it seems they leave us with little choice. Increase our own acceleration. If the heathen is eager to meet us in battle, we should not keep them waiting.”
“Are… are you sure, cardinal? Substrate ships outmatch ours. Currently, the distance is allowing us to evade their fire, but the closer we get—”
Orsix held up a clawed hand, the motion stopping the officer midsentence. “I am aware. Still, what choice do we have? The longer this fight carries on the greater their advantage grows. At least if we die here, we will take some heathens with us, and if we survive, would you want to explain to the governor that we did not try?”
“You make a valid point, cardinal.” The officer shuddered. The governor, like most elected councilmen, was not a reasonable man. “All ships to accelerate to maximum.”
Space was filled with wreckage, dead husks of ships torn apart by the blistering fire. Shards of Council ships floated next to the stony debris of Substrate vessels. Commander Orson was watching the graveyard outside on the viewscreen. It had been a sobering experience, watching the sheer carnage that had gone on around him.
Caught off guard by the reaction of the Council fleet, the Substrate forces had suffered unexpected losses, the aggression of the Council armada tipping the scales back in their favour. The battle had raged for hours afterwards, each force suffering enormous damage. The size of the debris field was a testament to that, thousands of ships stricken, millions of lives lost. The battle had continued until there was only a handful of ships left on either side. Technically the Council had lost, jumping away first, but Orson thought it hardly mattered. What really chilled him was that this was only a single battle between two fleets. Both nations were capable of fielding dozens at a time.