Ezrael's sprint ended as he entered the bridge. With a firm look at Sherry in the command seat, he approached her to take her place. "A status update would be nice. What the hell is happening here?" he asked, sitting down after the Commander had vacated his place. She moved over to her seat next to his.
"A Corsair fleet is attacking the system as we speak. The main battle is happening infront of the planet, including multiple capital ships on both sides. It is unclear which side is currently winning. There is also a Corsair Dreadnought that uncloaked a few minutes ago in a dangerously low orbit to Canaria. It either has been upgraded to be able to withstand the gravitational pull or it is on a suicide mission," the woman explained.
The Captain took a deep breath. His heart was still pumping wildly because of the chase a few moments ago. No rest for the wicket. "Alright, then we better get out of here before we get any unwanted attention. Enter cloak mode. Bretonia will surely handle this."
The lights turned blue and the shields dropped. The cloaking device was charging up. Sherry however stared at her Captain, and he noticed it a few seconds later, returning a questioning look. "What?"
"The Dreadnought is heading for Port Jackson, Captain," Sherry said quietly. "What do you think the Corsairs are going to do when they are in range?"
Ezrael chew on his cheek, then looked at the main screen. The ship was cloaking in this very moment. "They surely have a city shield and some defense turrets down there." But she kept staring at him. It was obvious she was not sharing his perspective. There were some words on her tongue but she kept them for herself, for now.
The Curacaoan leaned back in his seat, looking at the main screen. They were still in the lower orbit of Canaria. And even without having her in his vision, he felt her eyes piercing him. It made him remember that she was from Canaria. Not from Port Jackson, though, if he recalled it correctly. Once more he turned his face towards her, not saying anything. Then, after a few moments of them just staring at each other, he sighed. "A Corsair Dreadnought, Sherry, in a very low orbit. If our engines get hit once, chances are we will fall down to the surface. We don't have any fighter support, no bombers. Tau-31 was different than this. We knew there were reinforcements on our side coming."
She continued to stare at him. He moaned in annoyance. "We did our job here, and I almost died twice here. We survived this by luck. I'm not going to risk crew and ship under these conditions for some colony on a planet Bretonia illegally annexed as if they were dealing with savages."
"We're allied with Bretonia, Captain, and there are a lot of people in Port Jackson. Many civilians. What if that Legate starts a bombardement? They wouldn't go this far if they weren't able to do something big here. The Bretonians are busy somewhere else. We're probably the only ship that can catch up with the Dreadnought. We could contact the Bretonians to ask for snub support. All we need to do is disable that Dreadnought. The engines, and then it falls down. It is a slow ship, we are faster and better at dodging."
"They didn't ask for our help," Ezrael said in defense. "Sherry, I won't risk this much for people who wouldn't return the favor. Or do you think the Bretonians would deploy a battleship if we get into trouble in a situation where it doesn't require them to react?" he asked her. "We help out here and there with little jobs, hunt down smaller ships, but not a Dreadnought. That's too much. Who is going to pay the repair bill? What if we lose half of the crew again? Or worse?"
"They did send a distress call," Sherry informed him.
Once more, Ezrael bit on his cheek. That was an information he wished he would have gotten earlier. For a moment, he looked at the metal floor infront of him. Then at her. Then he stood up. "Fuck it. Red alert! Nav, set intercept course for that Dreadnought. Sherry, contact the Bretonians. Tell them we'll help if they assure us some snub support at least. Bombers, gunboats, whatever they can give us. It'll be a damn tough fight..."
"I will be honest with you. I don't like this idea at all. Yes, the Corsairs are generally our enemies and yes, the Bretonians are generally our allies, for allowing us to use their territory and the few stations they have left. Would they help us in combat if we needed help? Not sure, given they have all their assets in use against Gallia or to annex assets of conveniently defenseless neutral parties. What I do know is that there are people planetside that are trapped where they are. Not just Bretonians and not just soldiers. If that Dreadnought launches a bombardement, they will die. And we're the only ship in range capable of messing with a dreadnought.
I wish we could have evacuated the civilians off the Apahanta, but we are lacking the time. Right now, every second counts. I can't guarantee we will win this fight. Expect the worst and hope for the best. The Bretonians assured us they have a few wings on the way to help us, but we will need to buy them time. The Bretonians are counting on us. Port Jackson is counting on us. So, once more, we will stand up for other people and try our best to save them. If everyone here does their best, we can win this.
So we will."
it was the first time Noel heard this kind of speech from Ezrael. Only few crew members knew he did these speeches before battle, as only few had survived the one time they almost lost everything. But now, they were facing the bloody reality. They served on a warship, and it was possible at any time to get involved in a fight. They all knew this could happen. They were prepared, as much as it was possible.
The Captain sat down again, looking at the main screen. Through all the white clouds, they were able to see the Legate already. The Apahanta was still cloaked, so there was no reaction from it. It was straight heading for the bretonian colony.
"Scan results?" Ezrael asked.
The Commander responded. "Ablative Armor Upgrade Type 8, altered weaponry placement. Two heavy mortars, two normal mortars, two torpedo launchers at the bottom of the vessel. Small hangar, empty. Primary and secondary weapons focused on mid-range bomber defense. Makes sense, they won't risk a magazine breach with all those warheads onboard. Cloaking device seems overheated and dry, also a jump drive. Their shields are slightly weakened due to the atmospheric resistance and the cloaking device overuse, and they are losing altitude, not sure if on purpose or not."
Ezrael kneaded his upper lip with thumb and index finger. "Time?"
"A bit more than three minutes until the Legate is in firing range for Port Jackson. Given the proximity, the city shield will not be able to last long against these mortars. We will be in firing range in four minutes, and we have only a very limited window of opportunity. The Legate is way below us, only our Kinetics will reach them. If we miss, chances are we hit Port Jackson with stray shots. If the Legate goes any deeper, we won't be able to target them effectively."
The Curacaoan exhaled. "And the Bretonians?"
"ETA ten minutes, maybe less."
"Sh... every shot needs to be a hit. If we hit the engines, they will drop down. If they do that over Port Jackson, that'd be a bad thing. If we could cause a magazine breach, that would be better, so the explosion happens above the city. Where are the warheads located?"
"At the bottom of the ship, close to the launchers. We would need to get below it for that," Sherry explained.
Ezrael raked a hand through his hair. "Damn... so their range is higher than ours, we have limited opportunities to hit them, we can't really disable them. And we need to destroy them above the city... or we stop them right here..." Once more, he exhaled, the tension getting unbearable. His heart was rushing. "Uncloak, launch both Rovers via remote control, intercept the Legate. All energy to shields, engines and the Kinetic batteries. Maybe they take the bait and turn around."
The gravitational forces of Gran Canaria began to affect the Apahanta more and more. The pressure on the structural integrity was increasing, and here and there was the sound of bending metal. Followed by the impact of a weak mortar shot on the shields. This was not in space. Every shot caused sounds.
The Apahanta approached the Sokol, and the moment it got in range, the Sokol slung mortars in her direction, only to get the favor returned with Sledges and Kinetic shells. The Legate was wiggling, having troubles to maintain optimal distance and altitude. Having three times the mass of the swift little Mako, it had to divert more energy to the engines, shields and stabilizers. The mortars were weakened.
The moment Ezrael realized they were merely trying to keep the Apahanta at bay, he ordered the ship to head directly towards the Sokol. The enemy looked more dangerous than it was. They couldn't keep up maintaining all systems after already having used much energy by cloaking and entering the atmosphere. It made sense, Ezrael thought. They were prepared for bretonian ships, which were not known for being able to operate in atmospheres. But they didn't expect a stray Mako.
"Shields are down to 40%. If we stay that close, their shots are stronger," Sherry sounded out aloud. The noises all around them were making communication difficult. The ship was shaking with every hit.
Ezrael sat in his commanding seat, checking the various camera screens facing the Sokol. Their shields were holding as well, but they had to reduce their speed. That would probably buy enough time for the Bretonians to arrive with their bombers. Hopefully, so he thought, the Apahanta would last long enough. "Any weaknesses found?"
Another mortar hit the ship, lowering the shields to 32%. "Nothing. They are transfering the energy of the bottom shields to the upper ones. We need to get below them, that's the weakest spot. A few Kinetic hits could finish them off right there."
"We're already struggling to keep altitude, and they are dropping further. The engines could fuck up any time," Ezrael mumbled, biting his cheek. The Apahanta was doding two mortar shots this time while the smaller weapons barely scatched the Mako's shields. It was just enough to prevent them from regenerating again. "I think I have an idea. Helm, bring us in for another direct strike, try to get us below them! Sledges, fire at will. Kinetics on my mark!"
"Ez, we're in trouble," Sherry began, looking at the ship's schematics. The engine section was flickering up in red. "That heavy mortar caused an explosion at the main engines, we're loosing altitude now. The Legate also just launched two warheads, they are heading for Port Jackson!"
Seconds began to stretch, feeling like minutes. The shields of both the Sokol and the Apahanta were about to fail, while both ships lost more and more altitude. In the meantime, the Attractive Rover and the Handsome Rover chased the corsair warheads heading for Port Jackson, successfully intercepting them.
A final heavy mortar hit the Apahanta and the shields were gone. Solaris Gatling shots were raining down on it. At this point the battle had taken a different turn. The goals had changed. The Sokol wouldn't be able to bombard Port Jackson like that. Vuy stood on the bridge of the Sokol, fury written into her face. This was her holy plan. Everything was planned into detail. Her group would cause enough distraction for the bombardement to happen before Bretonia would have been able to react. The cloak, the jump drive, the nukes. And her ship was about to break apart. She knew there was no way out of this anymore. This damn Mako would share the fate with them. Port Jackson would survive unharmed. Escaping was impossible with these two drones out there, and they kept enough distance to not get into range. The ship was dropping down to the planet, but before it would reach the bretonian colony, the Apahanta would blow the Sokol up.
No, not like this. This was not how she wanted to be remembered. Pulling the navigator away from his console, she took over, and the Sokol made a sharp turn downwards. If the Apahanta wanted to take it down in time, it had no choice but to follow. That meant either the Sokol would crash into Port Jackson, or the Apahanta would make it in time but crash into the colony itself. One ship would crash into it for sure, possibly even both of them.
"They... they just moved past us. Below us now," Sherry commented, looking at the holographic 3D projection of the battlefield. "They are heading for Port Jackson, Captain!"
"Chase them, fire everything!"
Both ships were not just falling from the sky but thrusting directly down towards the surface. The speed and friction caused the hulls to heat up. From the surface, it looked like two giant fireballs were heading straight down to the colony. Stray shots were held by the city shields, some intercepted by the planetary defense turrets.
The temperature inside the Apahanta was raising as well, and the bridge crew strapped themselves into their chairs. The gravity stabilizers could have failed any second and anyone would have been tossed around inside the ship with dangerously much force.
"Overheat the guns if necessary! That ship needs to explode right now!" Sweat was running down Ezrael's forehead, his hair sticking to his skin. The ship was shaking and rumbling. The shields regenerated for a few seconds every now and then, but the nose of the ship was breaking apart from the mortar hits. There was no possibility of dodging like this.
Then however, the Kinetics made a lucky hit. "Their manouver thrusters just blew up. They can't move anymore at all! They are slowing down slightly," Sherry said, looking at Ezrael. He nodded, understanding what advantage that gave to them.
"Helm, bring us below it. Gunnery, aim for the silos! We can end this right now!"
Catching up again, now that the Sokol's engines were completely destroyed, the Apahanta moved in a better position, able to reach the Sokol's torpedo silos that way. The Sledges were overheating, firing faster than ever before while the Kinetic Turrets were waiting for the best opportunity.
Before it was over, the Sokol fired a last heavy mortar. Then the Apahanta returned fire. The shields went up just in time, eating the destructive power of the Sokol's antimatter. But the Corsair Dreadnought took the hit. A direct, critical hit at the warhead storage. Magazine breach!
The civilian crew was hiding in the safest place of the ship: the cat room. It was in the very center of the ship, heavily armored, and since Ezrael thought it was the best idea to put Sombra's cats in the one place they are supposed to be in case of an emergency onboard in this room, together with some cat toys, litterboxes and a scratching tree. Usually people came here to watch the cats play around or to pet them. This time, half of the crew was gathered here, holding onto support straps from the ceiling. They weren't allowed to lean against the walls for obvious reasons.
Despite being an engineer, Noel had snuck into this room as well. Not because he was afraid, which he definitely was, but more because of Simone, who probably had no idea what was going on and why everyone around her was concerned or almost panicking. The semi-mute girl was somewhat in a corner, doing what everyone else did, however Noel had an arm wrapped around her and pulled her close against his body. "Don't worry, my love, nothing bad will happen."
Sombra was here, too, looking at the two of them. Ezrael wasn't here. He was on the bridge. It was something she hated. If she had to die, she wanted to be with him, together. Like Noel and Simone were. Not even her cats were in range, as they had hidden themselves. She then looked over to Freya and Isaak. The woman was holding the child close to herself, stroking his head over and over again while telling him everything would be alright.
The ship was shaking heavier with each minute. The temperature was rising non-stop, and breathing became difficult. There was the constant sound of metal bending somewhere. Cooling gas was leaking somewhere for a moment until the leak was sealing itself. There were no windows in this room as it was far away from the outer hull.
Sombra had kept her eyes closed, not wanting to see how Noel held Simone while Ezrael was not around to hold herself. She was constantly fighting the urge to run and get to the bridge. But that was probably something that wouldn't have helped Ezrael at all right now. He hadn't given the order to evacuate the ship yet. It was not over yet.
Minutes passed, and suddenly, the rumble stopped. No shaking. The temperature was still high, and Sombra's hair was sticking to her sweaty face. She opened her eyes again. The people around her were looking around in a lack of understanding. What had happened? Another minute passed. "Captain to crew, we've jumped from Port Jackson airspace to Coronado, a few minutes away from Yuma. We're safe now, and we've destroyed a Corsair Dreadnought. Excellent work, everyone!"
Relief. The mood was brightening up instantly. Freya was kneeling and hugged Isaak. Noel and Simone were kissing. Sombra's three cats were still hiding. Sighing, Sombra turned away, not wanting to watch the boy kissing his mute girlfriend. Instead, she moved through the other people to reach the door, intending to head to the bridge. She wanted to be close to Ezrael now.
Running as fast as she could, she noticed some internal damages here and there. More leaked and sealed openings in the wall panels. Here and there a KSR already fixing some issues. Lights were broken. The closer she got to the bridge, the more issues became visible. There had been smaller explosions. She slowed down slighty, wondeirng whether she was supposed to be here. Maybe it was dangerous. But then she sped up again.
The door to the bridge opened up and she stepped in. Ezrael was not in the commanding chair. Not even on the upper stage. She moved into the room and look down to the lower stage, where she found him, closing the eyes of a male dead crew member. Sombra knew him. It was Brian Tate, bridge officer, engineering. "Ez!" Sombra yelled and moved down to the lower stage, fell on her knees and hugged him.
Heavily damaged, the Apahanta remained at Sabah for the next few days. However, Ezrael couldn't just keep Freya and Isaak there for the entire time. When the most important things were dealt with, schedules planned, materials purchased and repair crews hired - at least the Sokol's bounty covered some of the costs - Ezrael called in the CV-Apotheosis, his trusty Bishamon-class gunboat. Now all he needed to do was to bring his two hessian guests to their destination in Omega-47. Letting the Red Queen wait was no option.
The Red Prince was napping in one of the rooms at the rear. Freya took the opportunity to move over to the spacey cockpit, to sit down on the co-pilot seat. She turned to the side, facing her savior. The gunship was currently in Manchester, cruising above the trade routes towards New London. He looked over to her, smiling slightly. "Conveniently sleepy, the boi," he sounded, pronouncing the last word the same way Sombra does.
"He is excited to see her," Freya said quietly, taking a glance out of the front window. She knew why they didn't use the lanes, yet the view of the open wide of Manchester in this area was intimidating. "I heard one of your crew members died in the battle, is that true?"
"Yes," Ezrael confirmed, then exhaled audibly. "You've probably noticed there aren't as many people on my ship as one would expect from a warship of that size. Everyone knows each other very well, and he was one of the first to join my crew. Always difficult to find reliable personnel for rather loosely described job." He smirked at her. "He knew the risks, though. Everyone on my ship does. I do. And he died for a good cause."
"I'm sorry to hear that. Very sorry." She looked down.
"I'm the one who needs to be sorry. This entire thing was supposed to work out much more flawless, without BIS agents, without Corsairs and what not. You were supposed to be back in, uh, Noosterheem-"
"Muspelheim..."
"...Omega-47 two days ago already. I'm glad if the Generalmajor doesn't kill me when we arrive there. And then there are the other things she'll probably hear about, like what we did, the BIS agents and that I've protected Port Jackson instead of doing her the favor of letting two enemies destroy each other." Sighing, he faced the console infront of him.
"Well, nobody knows about the BIS agents or what we did, except us and your young friend," Freya said, her cheeks slightly blushing up. "I killed two bretonian agents, nobody knows. A Corsair Titan crashlanded into the building, so all they will find are two dead bretonians. And you pretty much saved us right in time, as otherwise Isaak and I would have died in that crash as well. I think that is all Anna needs to know." She poked his leg with her shoe. "If you don't tell her about the bedroom stuff, I won't tell her either. And I'm sure the Corsairs were chasing us, so you had to defeat them."
Ezrael turned his head towards her, noticing her slight smile. "Yeah, eh, they were chasing us. The saving Port Jackson was more of an accident." He nodded at her with a wide smirk. She then stood up and moved closer to him, leaning in to whisper something into his ear. It made him smirk like an imp, while she moved to leave the cockpit again.
The journey to Omega-47 would take a good while longer. Not using the trade lanes or the other frequently used routes was slowing down the progress, but in the end, he was smuggling two very valuable passangers through Bretonia, and neither Bretonia nor Gallia nor anyone else needed to know about them. Later the ship arrived in Omega-47, ready to transfer the VIPs to the fleet at Viernheim. It was about time for son and mother to reunite after a long time...