Born of Ash and Iron — Chapter 7
TWO WORLDS REPUBLIC SHIP ‘Hound’ BRIDGE
/ / SO8.iv_v-udw · Somari Eight / /
“Take us to the rings,” Volm ordered, patting his pilot on the back. The small-framed Eukary nodded and rotated a pair of knobs that moved the vector plot on her screen.
“Setting vector and ranging, moving across open space to ring intercept.” She replied without even looking up from her screens. New plot vectors painted across the screen, and a wireframe of the stellar bodies showed their intercept.
Volm had never fully grasped the concept of placing vectors in three-dimensional space and calculating movement across distances. He liked it when a ship switched to RCS thrusters, tapping a joystick and receiving instantaneous feedback from the engines was more his speed.
“Very good,” Volm said finally, and moved back to the plot. “How are we looking, Chen?”
“Not good, and worse,” Chen said, grimacing as he looked up from his console-mounted scope. “I don’t want to waste more of our point-defense ammunition, but I can’t stop these monsters.”
“Comm, alert Firestorm, we’re going to outrun these weapons to the rings,” Volm said, gesturing to his bridge. “If they’re going to engage long range, we need to run.”
COMMONWEALTH DESTROYER ‘Antler’ BRIDGE
/ / SO8.i_v-udw · Somari Eight / /
“Rebels are moving up on our dorsal approach,” the tactical midshipman announced from his station. “They are one-one-eight positive gee, and climbing.”
“Time to intercept?” Captain Arsnetti asked. She pushed back from her ready-desk at the rear of the bridge to stretch her legs. Arsnetti felt her knees pop as she shifted her weight. She was in her duty shorts today, and her bony, mottled, blue-gray legs faded nicely into her black command uniform.
“Twenty-six hours, and increasing.”
Arsnetti had her ready-stations assembled in the back of the bridge so she could always keep an eye on her crew. It wasn’t that she was paranoid – she just didn’t trust them.
“Close the gap.” Her words snapped like a whip.
The pilot examined the plot screen, and adjusted a pair of knobs, trying to lock an intercept. “Apologies, sir, they’re already at full thrust.” He turned to face Arsnetti, “We’ll be inside the rings before we catch them.”
Arsnetti pinched the bridge of her cranial ridge; she could feel tension bleeding into her subconscious lattice. “Ok, we’ll chase them into the rings and drop Starcats on them.”
Knowing the incoming question, her tactical midshipman looked up from his command board facing the center of the bridge, “I have thirty-six Starcats- eight decoy and eleven MIR-RAM’s.”
The MIR-RAM, a multi-infrared rapid-aiming missile, was the most advanced missile a Type-88 could carry. Arsnetti had received a flash notice from Admiral Fisker that one of the captured diplomatic party had confirmed somehow that the Rebels had pulled all the MIR-RAM’s off the Destroyers they’d stolen, to be used as parts to build inter-planetary torpedoes.
Arsnetti couldn't help but grin. She’d been at Celaeno, the Trinary Stars, and finally at Skywatch﹘it would be nice to be on the other end of a missile barrage for a change.
“Send them a dozen Starcats with decoy.”
The Starcat was an old-school, reliable missile with a traditional explosive payload. Arsnetti didn’t want to waste the MIR-RAM, and the Starcats would be a nice test of their opponent’s defenses.
TWO WORLDS REPUBLIC SHIP ‘Firestorm’ BRIDGE
/ / SO8_v-udw · Somari Eight / /
The reflective light of the rings of ice and rock sparkled around the Firestorm, light from the retro-thrusters reflecting as they completed their fire. Firestorm’s forward momentum slowed.
Deep inside her hull, Captain Riley mused at the majesty of the rings up close. As a child, he’d built a diorama of a gas giant, with its gorgeous gradient rings. Somewhere, back at his family's homestead, that diorama still hung in his childhood bedroom, a room now occupied by his children.
If he survived this war, Riley intended to return to his homeworld, Feenly IV, in the Mergan system, and gather up his brood and move them to Somari Prime. They’d be safer here, in a new republic, and not galactic neighbors to the troublesome Rew.
“Captain, bogey one just painted us with an IR beam.”
Riley’s attention snapped quickly back to his bridge. Riley was a former gunboat Captain, before he was arrested and imprisoned for failing to protect the convoy he was escorting. The official report said that they were Nothonian pirates, but Riley knew what he saw in the darkness. His insistence that the transports were boarded by Archonum had resulted in his all expense paid, one-way trip, to Somari.
“Power up the PDCs and charge the rail cannon,” Riley barked across the bridge, tightening his fingers around the handrails. Aztar, his combat officer, ran a hand across his control board, and the panels lit up.
“Should I paint them back?” Aztar asked, his eyes still set on the controls..
“No, we don’t have Starcats to waste at this range,” Riley replied. “Can you get me an identity on the incoming bogey?”
“Just that she’s a Type-88 like us,” Aztar’s eyes squinted at the read-outs on his control panel. He shook his head slowly. “We’re still running off our operating system and library; we never were able to crack the Commonwealth’s encryption.”
Riley nodded knowingly. He kept himself updated on the team’s progress to hack into the computer system that had been onboard the Firestorm when they seized the vessel. “Very good, Mister Aztar. Keep our nose hot, and give him a greeting when he gets in range.”
“Aye, sir.”
“Captain, orders from Hound,” the quiet midshipman manning the communication board spoke up suddenly, “Commodore Volm wants to tie our anti-missile nets together.”
“Confirm uplink,” Riley ordered. “Time to impact on the incoming?”
“Twenty-decimal-five-five minutes.”
TWO WORLDS REPUBLIC SHIP ‘Hound’ BRIDGE
/ / SO8_v-udw · Somari Eight / /
Volm could tell the connection with Alkora was beginning to fade. His hearing was a little less sensitive, and his irritation at the knurled grab bars' texture was returning.
“Brace for impact!” Lieutenant Green called out.
Volm grabbed hard, his dark blue knuckles on his three central fingers turned white as bone. He’d never been more thankful for his anterior thumb than –
The voluminous thump vibrated his chest, as Lieutenant Green moved up alongside Volm. “That’s another Starcat warhead, ate most of the pressure against the shielding.”
Volm nodded, then twisted to look over his shoulder at the incoming missile plots. A trio of vectors was closing in, a web of pulsing red rings on the plot.
“Designate bogey two, now also in range, Commodore,” the gunner said, moving the crimson red silhouette onto the command plot.
“Calculate their vector and let them have some railgun,” Volm said through gritted teeth. “Loosen their pursuit.”
Alkora looked up from the plot, in the hazy remains of their connection, Volm could feel his pain and concern. “Richard,” he said softly. “It might be time we split up from Fireball.”
“I will not leave them behind.”
“We’ve got to give them more targets,” Alkora countered. Volm didn’t need his connection with Alkora to know that the cold calculation had not come easy to his friend.
“Bogey two is painting us,” Lieutenant Green said as another exploding Starcat overpowered the RCS, causing the ship to roll against its gravity sync. Holding tight, the rumble vibrated through the ship again.
Power surges oxidized the artificial oxygen, and the bitter smell of carbon filled the cabin. Volm’s eyes flashed as the sudden acrid smell bit against his senses. “PPE, now!”
Even the non-military crew, like Volm, knew exactly how to wear emergency personal protective equipment.
Volm pulled open the nearest bulkhead-mounted drawer and pulled out a vacuum-sealed bag. Tearing open the perforation, he slipped a clear plastiglass helmet over his face. Volm threw the air tank shoulder strap across his chest and placed the separate wireless earplugs into his ears. Tapping on the earplugs, they quickly paired with his personal computer, and he was reconnected with the command net.
Volm pulled several more packs of PPE from the drawer and began tossing them across the command deck. “Masks, now,” He ordered.
A third thunderous bang resonated through the vessel as another Starcat erupted. Volm felt himself lift off the ground and connect with the terminal ahead of him. The plastiglass took the hit, forcing the mask into his face, but without breaking.
“Armor strike!”
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Concept Art Created from AI iterations on hand-drawn artwork.