Previously:
Crossing the Void (pt. 1) | t2.world
Crossing the Void (pt. 2) | t2.world
Crossing the Void (pt. 3) | t2.world
Crossing the Void (pt. 4) | t2.world
Part V - Incursion
The Resolve emerged from warp with the sudden lurch that came with the restoration of inertia in normal space. Garret Jax steadied himself on the console. He hadn’t bothered to return to his locker and dress in his command uniform. Gilded trappings wouldn’t serve him in the battle to come. Instead, he stood confidently in the same navy and silver uniforms sported by his crew.
Before them, Ourea filled the forward view screen: a blue and white hemisphere fading to the bottom of the display. Jax’s eyes scanned the screen for any large objects in orbit. Ships, specifically. Destroyers, cruisers, carriers.
Nothing. There was nothing. Only a few meager orbital defense platforms that the Rebellion had put in orbit, and—based on the most recent intel Jax had received—those were still inactive following the Theracite invasion. The passive scanners confirmed this. The planet’s defense forces seemed completely unprepared.
“Status report,” he barked, refusing to turn his eyes from the forward view.
Belatedly, an ensign—he would later learn her name was Nema—replied, “No enemy vessels on sensors. Orbital defense platforms have not targeted us.” A pregnant pause. “Sir, there’s nothing out there. They seem like they weren’t expecting us at all.”
No way.
Jax had harbored realistic expectations regarding operational security. He’d expected at least some leak of their plan to reach the Theracites and the Solarians. But to arrive here and find nothing?
He wouldn’t run a diagnostic on a gifted shuttle. “Send active sensor pulses. Find the Victory and the Mercy.” Silently, he prayed that they’d not fallen victim to the same malfunctions his own ship had suffered through.
The reality, as it turned out, was far worse than his gravest expectations.
“I have the Victory on the line,” reported a comms officer. He hesitated. “Sir, they’ve been broadcasting openly, and they’re way off course.”
Garret scowled. “Where are they?”
“Near the Capitol Region Spaceport. They’re… I can’t tell what they’re doing.”
This wasn’t like Freeman at all. The Victory’s captain was the most regimented soldier Garret had ever known, almost to his detriment. “Patch-in the broadcast. Bridge speakers only.” He’d added the latter part as an afterthought, thinking not to disturb the combat units as they prepared for the impending assault. In retrospect, he wished he’d routed it exclusively to his personal comms.
Screams. That was what came through. Screams punctuated by the squelching, splattering sounds that were uncomfortably reminiscent of rending flesh.
Garret stood, breathless for a lingering moment. The sounds painted horrific images in his mind’s eye. He stood, momentarily dumbfounded, unable to process the terrors that assaulted his psyche.
“Shut it off,” he whispered. When the comms officer didn’t respond, he roared, “Shut. It. Off!”
With a start, the officer complied. Everyone on the bridge turned to Jax. His hesitation wasn’t long, but it was enough to show how disturbed he was.
Shit, anyone would be. That was hardly an excuse, though. He needed to be something more than human for his crew. He needed to be a symbol.
“Hail the—” He was cut off by a blinding flash of light emanating from the far side of the planet. The image held on screen for two seconds too long before the forward view shut itself off. Seconds later, alarms began to blare across the ship.
“Warning,” said the ship’s feminine AI vocalization across the loudspeakers. “Radiation surge detected. Diverting power to deflection shields. Brace for impact.”
The impact was hardly as scarring to the ship as it was to the crew’s psyche. When the hull ceased its shuttering, Nema sent out an active signal pulse.
“That was the Victory, Captain,” the ensign said. “Fusion core overload. Based on these readings, the explosion probably took out the port and space elevator too.”
Advantageous, but hardly a victory. Yes, this development deprived the enemy of a pivotal launching platform for a counter-assault. However, Garret couldn’t help but think of all the Gaian souls that must have been consumed as collateral damage. That was to say nothing of all the souls lost on the Victory.
“Comms,” said Garret. “Do we still have a signal from the Mercy?”
A moment’s hesitation. “Yes, Captain.”
“Hail her, please.” Silently, Garret prayed that he would not be greeted by the same screams that had been broadcasted so openly by the Victory.
The request was acknowledged, and Colonel Constance Nest appeared on the forward view screen. The woman brushed a stray lock of dark hair away from her eyes. “General, it’s good to see you. It seems you’ve fared a spot better than we have.”
“Looks can be deceiving,” Garret replied. “Sit rep, please.”
“Honestly? We should probably have this conversation on a private channel.”
It was a little late for that. “My crew is aware of the challenges. You have permission to speak freely.”
Constance hesitated only briefly. “We’re dead in the water, General. There was some kind of sub-spacial surge that caused half our pods to open mid-journey. Most of us held through it fine, but a few succumbed to warp sickness.” A pregnant pause. “Is your vessel okay, General?”
Jax noted the colloquial framing of the question. Colonel Nest was being mindful that she was on an open broadcast. “We suffered some setbacks, but we are mission-ready,” he reported. “Do you have any fighters or expeditionary assets you can deploy to assist on the field?”
Nest swallowed hard. “I will see what I can do, but don’t count on us.”
Jax heard what she actually meant with those words. No one was coming to save them. They may have been alive, but the Mercy was as dead as the Victory.
No Mercy, no Victory, only Resolve…
“I appreciate your commitment, Colonel. We’ll take it from here.” He signaled for the comms officer to close the channel. When the viewscreen once again displayed the mostly vacant horizon of Ourea, Jax turned to address the crew on the bridge. “Ensign, patch into the ship-wide channel, please. I’d like for everyone to hear this.”
“Yes sir,” the ensign replied. “Connection established. It’s all you now.” The implication of the statement wasn’t lost on Jax.
“Crew of the Resolve,” Garret began. “As intended, we’ve arrived in orbit above Ourea. However, as most of you know or have surmised, our voyage has not gone as anticipated. Our comrades aboard the Mercy and the Victory will be unable to aid us in this fight. Yet, I’m glad to say that we do not require their assistance in this operation.
“The Solarians and Theracites are entirely unprepared. There is no defense force in orbit. Truly, I see no indication that they have the orbital sensor grid operational. If it is working, though, they are likely shitting their pants right now, because the Victory took out their primary deployment platform before becoming combat ineffective.
“Now, my soldiers, my comrades, my fellow Gaians, it's time to show these bastards what we’re capable of. Our operation is to continue as plotted. Adjustments to the original combat plan will be communicated as needed to your unit commanders.”
At this, he rounded on the crew of the bridge. “We’ve come this far. We’ve suffered unforeseen hardship. We’ve had losses we didn’t anticipate. Yet, we are still winning. I asked you before, and now I ask you again. Scream it loud, my crew. Let those Solarian bastards know your answer. Are you with me?”
The erupting cheer from the bridge echoed across the corridors of the Resolve, punctuated by every unit listening to the proclamation.
This is it, thought Garret. The rebellion thrives or dies in these next hours. By the will of the gods above, below, and beyond, let us make it so.
#
Grace Anders raced across the lower decks, scurrying between crew members while seeking solace within the cacophony of battle readiness. She, of course, had been given her assignment. That task beamed red across her wrist data monitor. She ignored such obligations in a desperate need to establish a private transmission channel.
She finally found such a station in an alcove below the engineering decks. This space provided a direct connection with orbital satellites while using interference generated by the fusion drives to keep her comms undetectable from the bridge.
Pulling a silvery brick from the bag over her shoulder, Grace closed the access hatch on the alcove. With trembling hands, she activated the device. After a few tense seconds, a flickering blue hologram appeared above its surface.
As soon as the tentacled visage appeared, Grace let loose a barely muffled tirade. “What, in the actual fuck are you doing?”
Her monstrous contact seemed both confused and taken aback. “How are you sending this?”
“Using the same gods damned device you gave me, you asshole. We’re above the planet, and guess what? You’re not fucking here. Where are your defenses? You were supposed to force a surrender.”
The Theracite’s expression was, as always, hard to read. Its hesitation, however, spoke volumes. “Is your ship not disabled?”
“No, you idiot. The Resolve survived the…” Too late, realization dawned on her. “It was you. You did the…” What had Constance called it? A sub-spacial surge?
Her contact didn’t wait for further elaboration. “Impossible. All three ships should have—”
“You asshole,” Grace interjected. “You sought to disable us while we were in warp. What the fuck was I supposed to do, huh? What about the contacts you had on the other ships? Gods below, you tried to kill me.”
The Theracite might have said something. It might not have. The cascade of this revelation left Grace momentarily numb and senseless.
They tried to burn me. Fuck, if General Jax finds out what I…
She terminated the connection and threw the box to the floor. With a cry of frustration, she stomped on the device repeatedly, denting its metal casing but doing far more to damage her ankle. She kicked the thing aside, drew her sidearm, and shot six irradiated rounds into the damn thing. That put it out of commission, along with her unprotected ears.
I’m so fucked. They’re going to find out. They’re going to kill me. Who “they” were was a confused jumble in her head. Who was she more afraid of—the Gaians, or the Solarians? Fuck, what about the Theracytes? Did they even read the Solarians in on the plan?
Gods… I’m completely expendable.
Collapsing against the nearby bulkhead, Grace seized her wrist terminal and stared at the red text with tear-clouded eyes. Her breath hitched with sobs as she wiped one gloved wrist across her face. The terminal had registered that she had missed her initial deployment and was in the process of reassigning her.
That’s when Grace got her idea.
She tapped her terminal to pull up her interface. Overriding the system with permissions she definitely should not have had, she accessed the deployment roster.
If she was going to fix this, she was going to need artillery. Serious artillery.
#
Twelve hours after the Resolve’s emergence above Ourea, Garret Jax found himself overseeing the most significant orbital incursion of his career. The Solarians and their Theracite mercenaries hadn’t managed to get a single defense asset into orbit, and those that had just happened to be lingering there were quickly dealt with by the carrier’s fighter squadrons.
They had complete orbital control. Now all they had to do was take the surface. Easier said than done.
At the Battle of Amarog, Jax’s commanding officer had been forced to call off a seven-day orbital assault against a coalition of Nati and Indigo forces. Despite orbital supremacy, their surface infrastructure held against the initial assault, and the coalition eventually managed to start lobbing extraplanetary darts at the orbital forces. Outside of glassing the whole damn planet—something that had been prohibited by the Solarian brass at the time—there was nothing they could do to neutralize the defender’s artillery. They’d been forced to withdraw.
For that assault, they’d had seven fully manned, fully operational star carriers. Today, Jax only had the one. Fortunately, however, Jax had an advantage.
Ourea wasn’t an enemy enclave. Ourea was a Gaian outpost. Though it had been subdued and captured by the enemy, the populace was largely loyal to the rebellion’s cause. They were fighting back against the occupiers.
Jax and his allied forces were now enforcing no-fly zones over every major aerospatial launch site. Myrmidon-reinforced strike teams held sway in the largest population centers. Orbital landers hand-deployed heavy-assault teams at twelve of the twenty major military depots on the planet. The Theracites had been reduced to what essentially amounted to a guerrilla insurgence in just a few short hours.
The problem was that this insurgence was incredibly well organized and maintained control over the planet’s communication network. Consequently, the enemy’s counter-strikes were both efficient and deadly. Though the Gaians had the early advantage, the entrenched Theracites were exacting a brutal toll on them every passing minute.
If Jax was leading a Solarian incursion, this would not have been a problem. The Monarchy would be able to reinforce its dwindling assets and crush the enemy over time. He, however, had no reinforcements coming. He had to take the planet soon, or his momentum would result in a long-term failure. If the Solarians were allowed to reinforce the Ourea occupiers, then all hope was lost.
If only he could find a way to…
“Sir,” Ensign Nema said. “We have a priority transmission being routed in from squadron Foxtrot-Echo-42.”
FE-42? The mech-squadron in the capitol? They’d lost comms with that group over an hour ago after they were hit by Theracite ordinance.
“Patch them through,” Jax commanded.
Per combat protocols, the transmission came to Jax’s personal comms link. “This is Private Anders. Do you read me, Resolve?”
Grace? “Jax here. Report, Anders.”
“To be frank, sir, shit is FUBAR. Sergeant Pennyworth is KIA, and… fuck, sir. It’s a mess. Theracite missiles hit our position. It’s just me and two others left.”
That matched their intel. “Pull back, Private. Withdraw with the other survivors to Rally Point Delta.”
“Negative, sir. We have a high-value target in sight with three operational mechs. We need reinforcements.”
Was Grace a mech pilot or support personnel? Shit, Garret didn’t remember assigning her to that detail at all.
“Repeat, Private? Reinforcements?”
“Affirmative, sir. We’ve found their command and control tower. Two clicks north, four clicks west of my current position.”
Jax pulled the coordinates up on his tactical map. That area of the map registered zero data. Hell, there was a 30-click radius around that site that registered null on sensors. How in the hell had FE-42 ended up there in the first place?
“I’m not reading anything in that area, Private. Are you certain?”
“I have eyes on the target, General. They’re jamming hard in this area.”
Maybe the unit’s commander had picked up on this and went to investigate. Still, how were Grace’s comms penetrating the jamming field?
It was no time to argue. Their forces were weakening by the second. If there was even half a chance that Grace’s intel was correct, Jax needed to act on it.
“Reinforcements en route, Private Anders. Give them hell.”
To be concluded in:
Crossing the Void (Conclusion) | t2.world
