Ravens By Starlight - IonFish
:: 07/16/01 ::
Chapter 6 - Blown On The Steel Breeze
"As when some mighty wave that thunders on the beach when the west
wind has lashed it into fury- it has reared its head afar and now
comes crashing down on the shore; it bows its arching crest high
over the jagged rocks and spews its salt foam in all directions-
even so did the serried phalanxes of the Danaans march steadfastly
to battle. The chiefs gave orders each to his own people, but the
men said never a word; no man would think it, for huge as the host
was, it seemed as though there was not a tongue among them, so
silent were they in their obedience; and as they marched the armour
about their bodies glistened in the sun. But the clamour of the Trojan
ranks was as that of many thousand ewes that stand waiting to be
milked in the yards of some rich flockmaster, and bleat incessantly in
answer to the bleating of their lambs; for they had not one speech nor
language, but their tongues were diverse, and they came from many
different places. These were inspired of Mars, but the others by
Minerva- and with them came Panic, Rout, and Strife whose fury never
tires, sister and friend of murderous Mars, who, from being at first
but low in stature, grows till she uprears her head to heaven,
though her feet are still on earth. She it was that went about among
them and flung down discord to the waxing of sorrow with even hand
between them." - Homer, 'The Iliad'
The room was small and sparsely furnished, the ceiling low and the lights dim. Escape at last; Marnos felt tired, so terribly tired - the meeting with Leedan and the Stormhawk's senior staff had drained the last of his energy. Introductions had been brief, formal: new faces, new names clouded his mind. Only a few stood out: Senior Lieutenant Jen Daima, the Executive Officer - Leedan's second in command - and the Operations officer, coordinating the ship. A tall, well-muscled woman with striking features, she was professionalism and unquestionable authority personified. Then there had been the thin, effete Lieutenant Koltor, the Intelligence Officer. A talkative man, his accent placed him unmistakably as an aristocrat - his parents had probably been high-ranking Imperial officials or courtiers. Marnos wondered why he was on the Republic's side at all: maybe he was a philanthropist, supporting out of a sense of right and wrong rather than simple expediency. Throughout the discussion, Dooman - present, as Chief Engineer - had stayed oddly silent: a stark contrast to his earlier babbling. The rest of the senior staff had been more trenchant: questions had pounded at him like hammers, his mind too sluggish from weariness to answer.
"Once we arrive at the outpost in the Farzan system we rendezvous with Task Force 317, part of the 43rd fleet. From there, they escort us through the frontier zone; after that, we're on our own."
"On our own? In Imperialist space? We won't last two days out there." Daima's voice was scornful. "Why the hell are Central sending us on this suicide mission? And what do Intelligence have to do with this anyway?"
"Ours not to reason why, ours but to do and die…" murmured Koltor.
Daima turned a scathing look on the blond-haired man. "Quoting ancient poetry doesn't make you any more right, Koltor, or any less slimy."
Koltor raised an eyebrow. "And questioning our orders does? Sometimes you forget you're in the military, not a school." he said sneeringly.
"Quiet, both of you." Leedan's deep voice brought unquestioning silence to the room. "Koltor is right; this is not something we have a choice in. Just remember, Intel, Lieutenant Daima is your superior officer, and you should treat her as such."
"Yes, sir. Of course." Koltor's voice was embarrassed but resentful; he stared at his boots as he spoke.
"Captain, if that's all…?" Marnos' voice was slow, quiet: exhausted.
"Yes, of course; I'm sure you need some rest, Captain Marnos. I'll have a crewman show you your room."
Marnos nodded his thanks; maybe now he could elude the thoughts that haunted his waking hours - scenes of violence and death replaying endlessly in his mind, the train of thought triggered by Raenar's last desperate pleas dominating his mind.
What he needed now was sleep, to flee the turgid, weary world for one of peaceful oblivion. His boots squeaked on the recently laid, dark blue floor tiles. A quilted coverlet covered the thin mattress of the metal-framed bed. In one corner a desk was bolted to the floor; built into the wall was a large locker. Both were made from the same grey metal. Some lightweight alloy, he supposed: saving mass for armour and weaponry. Tiredly, he pulled his datapad from a trouser pocket and placed it on the top of the desk. Opening one of the desk's three slim drawers, he tossed in the memory cards; they tinkled on the light, polished metal of the otherwise empty drawer. He pulled out the other two drawers; one was empty - the other held a regular military sidearm, the small weapon compact, heavy, the ergonomic grip ready to for him to reach out and touch it. He slid the drawer closed; not yet, said the voice. Not yet.
Walking to the locker, Marnos swung open the doors that reached from floor to ceiling. Inside, shrouded in clear plastic, was a suit of armour. Standard Light Combat Armour, the powered suit was made from lacquered black ceramic and metal: the empty shell sinister, standing waiting for a soul to fill the empty body. He slammed the doors shut again; he would need the suit soon enough, but for now he was free. Tiredness washed over him: he tugged off his boots and collapsed backwards onto the bed: into darkness - into sleep.
* * *
The darkness was shattered by a flash of light; the crack of thunder announced the storm.
Marnos stood alone on the clifftop, staring down at the seething sea as it smashed on the rocks below with ferocious abandon. White foam rose from the obsidian waves, pale ghosts rising from the grave.
He staggered, buffeted by the wind, as though struck by some invisible hand. The stinging rain whipped around him, the storm screaming in his ears like some demented animal.
A flap of wings, as heavy, feathered pinions beat against the howling gale. Claws clutched the black rocks that littered the clifftop, anchoring the raven as it landed. Wings drawn about itself like a dark cloak, it stared at Marnos with beady eyes. Unsure, he took a hesitant step towards it, then another, and another, until finally he was running, running, drawn inexorably towards the night-garbed bird; it stood, haughty, inscrutable, silhouetted against the flashes of lightning that lit up the scene.
The raven opened its wings, a vast feathered mantle unfolding; raindrops sparkled like stars as they flew from the black plumage. Then, in one swift, eternal moment the great bird flapped its wings, soaring upwards to the heavens as Marnos vainly leapt towards it. Upwards, into the dark sky - the black shape taking on the aspect of a ship, soaring into space, abandoning him to the gale.
A great cry tore itself from his lips and he fell to his knees, hands still raised aloft, as though in supplication to the sky.
He struggled to his feet, staggering bleakly forward, lost in the stormy darkness. One of the jagged black stones that covered the bare ground sent him sprawling, collapsing to the ground in an ungainly, twisted heap. Face pressed close to the earth he lay, staring down at the desolate ground, inhaling the damp scent of rain - a pungent aroma of rotting foliage. He stretched out a hand, grabbing at lumps of sharp, white-veined black rock, palms torn by the serrated edges of the stones. Not noticing, not caring, his aching muscles heaving himself onward.
Heedless, he raged onward, hand over bloody hand, dragging his feeble body on and on, towards… what? Even the lightning had ceased its tumultuous discharges; only the gale remained, eternal, wailing about him, icy fingers tearing at his flesh. Leaden, wind-ravaged clouds swirled across the murky sky, moonlight shafting through brief gaps in the ethereal host above the only illumination for the shadowy scene. Raising his head, peering through lids battered by storm-swept rain, he saw his subconscious goal: a tall rock, smooth sides rising above the lonely plain - shelter from the tempest's depredation.
Reaching the rock, he collapsed against it, panting as he rubbed cold hands together, shoulders hunched, head bowed. Rainwater trickled down his face in shining rivulets, like thin, cold fingers tracing a line from forehead to chin, brushing red, wind-scarred nose and cheeks as they did so. Glancing around, a flash of white caught Marnos' eye - a tiny, iridescent flower, white petals spattered with raindrops.
He leant forwards, marvelling at the delicacy of the minuscule petals. Then, suddenly, he reached out, tearing the flower from the black earth, white roots snapping like steel hawsers in his vice-like grip. Tearing, rending, destroying, he tore the petals from the stamen, ripping, shredding, until all that remained were white tatters, littering the dark ground like snowflakes.
Standing, staring straight into the storm, he screamed, his voice all but silent in the howling of the gale, the destruction of something so beautiful bittersweet in his mind, icy fire tearing into his brain, as the wind shrieked out its undying song.
* * *
The siren let out a great whoop, startling Marnos from sleep. A disembodied voice announced that the ship would be making the transition to normal space in five minutes. Hastily pulling on his boots, Marnos grabbed the datapad from the desk where he had tossed it so casually a few hours before, and ran from the room. Pulling up short halfway down the corridor, he stopped and walked hurriedly back. Entering the room, he took the sidearm from the desk drawer; attaching the holster to his belt, he left the room once more.
The bridge was silent when he reached it; Leedan, quiet as always, gestured noiselessly to the seat Marnos had occupied before.
The Helm officer spoke quietly. "Reversion in five…four…three…two…one…zero."
With the last word, everything changed.
The pale blue glow of hyperspace was rent asunder in a blinding white flash as the Stormhawk tore her way into normal space. The low whine of the hyperspace module faded away, replaced by the rumble of the ship's vast engines: twin dragons, their fiery breath urging the cruiser forwards.
Forwards; into chaos.
As the searing flash of reversion faded, the featureless vista was replaced by the inky black shroud of space, the glittering stars - and the fire of battle.
"Red alert! All hands to battle stations! Prepare for immediate action!"
Marnos could feel the shock spread through the bridge as the crew took in the apocalyptic sight before them. All around, two opposing fleets wrestled, like a pair of titans engaged in some primeval struggle. The searing blades of ion beams rent dark sky; plasma bombs exploded with furious strength as they smashed into the hulls of frigates and destroyers. Wings of fighters strafed the surfaces of capital ships while corvettes roamed between the massive walls of the vast vessels: wolf packs, hunting their prey.
"Evasive action! Adjust vector: port twenty degrees, down ten degrees. Roll port ninety degrees."
The strident voice was that of Captain Leedan: Marnos wrenched his attention from the anarchy that surrounded them to see the cause of the alarm. Dead ahead, weapons trained on the Stormhawk, was a Raptor-class destroyer. Striped like a jungle cat, the red and yellow of the Empire denoted her allegiance. Twin ion beams lanced out, tearing a streak down the Stormhawk's spine as she dove beneath the destroyer. Marnos felt the ship shudder as the thick armour absorbed the blow. Her starboard turrets swivelled towards the belly of the Imperialist ship as she rolled to port.
"Fire at will!"
The cannons roared, a stream of shells pulsing from the tri-barrelled turrets, racing across the gap that separated the two ships, smashing into the destroyer's hull with unbridled ferocity. Punching through the ship's armour they detonated, a ripple of fire spreading across the Raptor's blackening carapace.
In the middle of the chaos Leedan sat, a calm centre to the storm - the raging battle had left him unperturbed.
"Comms, find out who's in charge of this mess! Helm, bring her around to face that destroyer - Ops, prep our fighters for launch."
A chorus of Ayes echoed across the room.
"What's our hull status?"
"Holding, sir - just a scratch."
"Helm, full power to manoeuvring thrusters; let's see if we can hit her in the side before she turns."
"Aye sir, full power to thrusters."
The tiny jets scattered across the surface of the ship flared, turning her towards the destroyer - similarly twisting, a predator in flight spiralling towards its prey.
"Ion cannons have a firing solution on the destroyer!"
"Fire at will!"
The ion cannon turrets mounted on the Stormhawk's beak swivelled, tracking the destroyer as she turned; the cruiser's manoeuvrability paying off as the cannons fired, bright blue beams lance spearing the destroyer. The massively powerful charged particle beams melted through armour, bulkheads, crew - Death's scythe, razor sharp, carving through life, through the ship.
Damaged, but still alive, the Raptor turned to face the Stormhawk once more, ion cannons replying to the Jaguar's barrage. Gun turrets roared, mass driver shells slamming into the cruiser's multi-layered hull.
"Fighters are ready for launch!" yelled Daima.
"Launch Osprey and Vulture squadrons; Osprey's to cover Vulture while they make strafing runs on that destroyer." Leedan's orders came calm and clear; cool water flowing over the hot heads that filled the bridge.
Vulture squadron - six Attack Bombers, blue light from the port hanger glinting from their black hulls - launched, while the twelve Interceptors of Osprey deployed hastily from the starboard hanger, automated launch rails hurling them forwards, into the fray.
"Captain, we're taking heavy damage from those ion cannons!"
"Fire and movement! Attack vector up fifteen degrees, lock ion cannons on her sensor array. Strike craft, focus attacks on the Raptor's engines."
"I have the Republican fleet commander on line, sir!"
"Put him through!"
A portion of the wall rippled as the battle gave way to the bridge of another ship; a carrier, Marnos judged. In the centre of the picture was a woman's face; a strong jawline and high forehead dominated the ivory face. Straight black hair was tied back severely.
"Taidaani cruiser, this is Admiral Ieuno of the 43rd Fleet of the Republican Navy. Please identify, and state your business in our area of operations."
Leedan gave a brief salute, amusement playing through his voice as he spoke. "Admiral, this is the Republican cruiser Stormhawk. We were supposed to be making a rendezvous at these coordinates."
An expression of bemused recognition spread across her face. "Leedan? What the hell are you doing here? No one told me you were the one in charge of this crazy mission!"
Leedan smiled, sardonically. "That's odd, I always remember you as being the one who was so keen to take the crazy ones."
Ieuno grinned. "Still the same, Leedan. Just like you."
Marnos cleared his throat. "I hate to ruin your reunion, Admiral, but we're in the middle of a battle."
Ieuno turned to Marnos, her face now icy, disdainful. "You must be the Intelligence operative we're escorting. I see they managed to send the usual toad."
"Captain Marnos is right, Admiral." interrupted Leedan. "We were supposed to rendezvous with Task Force 317 for escort to the frontier zone."
This elicited a black look from the Admiral. "This is TF317; we dropped out of hyperspace twenty minutes ago to find an Imperialist force attacking the outpost. Looks like a carrier group: four destroyers, approximately twenty frigates. We've got them outnumbered, but they're pretty tenacious - your assistance is appreciated."
"We'd be happy to assist, Admiral." Leedan's voice soothed the air of tension. "We're currently engaging a Raptor-class destroyer; we need some backup to finish them off."
Ieuno nodded. "I'll send a bomber squadron and a couple of frigates. Once the destroyer's taken out, move against their flank; a bit hit now and they'll crumble."
"Thank you, Admiral. Leedan out."
The screen faded to the starry background once more, leaving Marnos to stare at the devastation around them. The Stormhawk moved upwards, over the destroyer, ion cannons at maximum angular elevation stabbing down at the Raptor. Mass drivers rained a constant hail of explosive darts towards the Imperialist vessel.
"Ops, what's our fighters' status?"
"They've had minimal fire directed at them, sir. Vulture reports moderate damage to the destroyer's engines: could be some damage to fuel lines, looks like she's having trouble turning."
"Helm, get us behind the Raptor - strafe her sensor array as we pass her, then focus on the engines as we come about!"
"Aye sir!"
Roaring over the destroyer, engines flaring with blue light, the cruiser's mass drivers pinpointed the enemy ship's dorsal sensors: battered by the impact of the high velocity bolts, a couple of the raised spines snapped, spinning off into the void as the Raptor tried desperately to turn, to face her opponent.
"Reinforcements have arrived, Captain! Two ion frigates off the starboard side, no fighters though."
"Captain? Transmission from the frigate commander."
"Put it through."
"Captain Leedan? This is Captain Vicara of the frigate Skyhammer. We're here to provide support; compliments of the Admiral."
"Thanks for the assist, Skyhammer. Focus your fire on the destroyer's engines, we're trying to disable her."
"Aye commander, targeting the Raptor's engines now."
Slewing around, the Stormhawk turned to face the rear of the destroyer, ion cannons pulsing into the Imperialist's engines. Bombers and interceptors weaved through the melee, mass driver rounds sparkling through space like chains of rubies, plasma bombs a string of pearls, flaring into great orbs of icy fire. Bright as miniature suns, they rendered the whole scene in monochrome as they detonated against the Raptor's hull.
Two Republican heavy cruisers, striped green and black - the colours of the 43rd - pounded away at a formation of Imperialist frigates, who retaliated with a withering hail of fire, tiny explosions dancing across the Devastators' thick hulls as mass driver shells ricocheted from the thick ceramic, or penetrated to cause havoc within. Wings of Republican strike craft enveloped the Imperialist carrier in a swarm of buzzing insects, their stings individually insignificant but collectively deadly. Elsewhere, Republican frigates slogged out a battle with a pair of Imperialist destroyers, the Raptors supported by a squadron of Interceptors that danced between the sleek lines of the Ion Frigates with deadly grace.
Insanity, insanity; black space turning red with fire and blood as the two fleets crashed together, mountain ranges thundering into one another in a cataclysmic conflict that rendered irrelevant everything, everything except the moment, survival or death the only choices in a world without rules or boundaries. The battle ran like fire through Marnos' veins; alive within the devastation, he felt a jolt as the dark panorama was lit by brilliant light; one of the Imperialist destroyers exploding in a shower of sparks, burning debris hurled through the emptiness as the ship tore itself apart in one ecstatic moment of stark finality. Marnos felt the deck vibrate beneath his feet as the Stormhawk's main guns fired once more at the Imperialist destroyer. Battered by the Jaguar's guns, the Raptor wilted, armour boiling into space as ion beams raked its hull. Mass drivers tore at the engines, gouts of plasma guttering from myriad holes in the blackened carapace. Slowly, its gun ceased firing as they lost power or were destroyed by the strafing runs of Vulture squadron's bombers.
"Cease fire!" Leedan's voice rang out across the bridge, and the Stormhawk's guns fell silent. The silence seemed deafening, imprisoning - Marnos suddenly felt the need for more, more noise, more of the scents and sounds and sights of battle.
"Ops, tell Lieutenant Urnai to prepare his marines for a boarding operation."
"Aye sir."
Marnos put a hand on Leedan's arm, who turned towards him. "Yes?"
"Captain, I intend to accompany the boarding operation."
Leedan looked puzzled. "Why?"
"There may be information on board the ship as to why we were attacked; how the Imperialists knew we were going to be here."
Seeing the determination in Marnos' eyes, Leedan nodded his agreement. "Very well. I'm sure having a more senior officer along wouldn't do Lieutenant Urnai any harm; neither he nor his troops are the most experienced at this sort of operation. With your seniority, you'd obviously be in command of the mission."
"Thank you for your… cooperation, Captain."
Leedan nodded again, his ascetic form inscrutable. "We'll drop off two assault shuttles, then move in on the enemy flank; once the battle is over I'm sure the 43rd will be sending a skeleton crew over to take command of the destroyer - make sure you've taken control of her by then."
Marnos twisted his lips into a grim smile. "I'm sure you won't be disappointed, Captain."
With that, he stood and left the bridge, a forbidding light in his eyes.
<< Ravens By Starlight: Chapter 5 <<
>> Ravens By Starlight: Chapter 7 >>
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