Chương 33: Escalation arc

Once the battle begins, luck is a shield no company can manufacture, and twice as important. Mercenary saying The ships were slower now. Losing speed both because of the sharp turns and to allow for more sustained firepower. Mat watched the console, unreasonably annoyed by how he was just sitting in a chair. Space combat is supposed to be exciting, godsdammit. The fear didn't help. It wasn't loud, or even insistent, but at any moment, something could go wrong, and he would cease to be.

Vaporized by the sheer raw energy gun batteries could output. No second chance, no desperate last stand. Simple death, like he had a bomb in his neck all over again. Fear made him angry, and anger tended to cool into something cold. He wasn't a shouter, thank god for that. But all the same, he disliked being actively angry. The ships slid past one another again, denoted by nothing but two dots on the console. The two dots, and the thumping of gun batteries.

The shaking of the ship as their shield absorbed return fire. Even the consoles themselves, which flashed with warnings and readouts and more. But nothing tangible. Nothing immediate.

"They'll try to offload fighters, if they have them," Alena warned. Indeed, the pirate ship seemed to be slowing again, and three smaller dots emerged. Also again, they raced ahead of the ship.

"Open fire at our outer range, and calibrate the shots. Do not hit them yet. Lure them in while their ship lags behind." Tesma glanced at her captain, then nodded.

"Understood." Mat watched the console. After one, then two missed volleys, the fighters darted closer, clearly emboldened. He was starting to think that whomever was in command of the pirate ship, they knew fuck all about naval combat. At least Alena had extensive simulation training. He should have asked more about them. How long the pirates had been operating, known types of behavior, maybe footage of past battles, if those existed.

Instead he'd gone gallivanting after them like a bloodhound, uncaring for the consequences. How strange to think of your past self as stupid, despite only a few days having passed.

"Your thoughts are going loopy again," Nova muttered.

"Gotta find you some people to kill. That always calms you down." That's what calms you down, Nova.

"Oh, right. You enjoy the fight more than the kill. Boring humans with their ethical codes. We'll battle some morally acceptable pirates soon, you hesitant sociopath." Mat shook his head. The fighters had closed the distance, and he expected their own fighters to launch. They didn't. Alena waited, and waited, until the fighters were quite literally opening fire against the ship. The shields absorbed the attack, now standing just above fifty percent integrity.

"Open fire," the captain commanded. The gun batteries engaged, once more sending that vague thump-thump-thump sound through the ship. Two of the small dots vanished, and the third did an about-face to flee. They didn't get far. Tesma smiled a pleased smile, and Alena nodded.

"Very good. Full advance. Let's see if they'll stand to fight." They didn't, and just like that, the battle was over. Mat unclipped himself as the pirates accelerated away into space.

"Not to complain, but is this… normal?"

"Pirates being cowardly and stupid?" Leto asked.

"Yes. But stupid and cowardly pirates rarely have a Gravity Break, or military grade ship AIs. Something strange is going on." The captain shrugged.

"Undoubtedly. Track and trace them back to their base of operations? That kind of cargo-hauler doesn't tend to be able to operate in space indefinitely, so they will have some kind of hidden base to retreat to. We find it, we end them, and then we collect the bounty."

"I recommend orbital bombardment once we locate them," the XO added.

"But that's not my call to make. Mat inclined his head in agreement. Well, that was done. His first naval battle, and it consisted of killing hundreds of people like fish in a barrel, rushing past the enemy ship at Mach fuck-you, and then intimidating the enemy into fleeing. The stuff of legend. …did Mach work in space? Probably not. Either way, it was done.

"Can we lose them?"

"Theoretically, but once they get up to speed, changing directions is difficult. And we've let them get far enough, I think. Ratiana, go after them at ninety-five percent their acceleration, then increase to full once their path is confirmed." The navigator obeyed, and Mat tried not to feel awkward as things moved on around him. He'd just leave, then. How to make that sound official? Ah.

"Inform me once we're close, captain. Good work today."

"I can add real combat experience on my resume now." Alena turned, bowing shallowly before straightening. Her tone turned somewhat formal.

"Thank you for taking a chance with me and my staff." Mat smiled, waving at the consoles.

"A chance well-rewarded, I'd say." He turned, leaving before he had to think of more things to say. The two squads stepped aside, some in silence and others with mutterings of 'herald' this and 'herald' that. He ignored them save for offering them a nod. The Challenger was only just coming out of combat readiness as he moved through her, which meant it was busy. Very, very busy.

Mat dodged past sprinting engineers, marching soldiers and one stumbling bladeslave, who seemed to have gotten their head slammed against the wall. And not mildly. Local Omniscience reported a fracture. Mat paused, grasping the man's shoulder before he could rush off. Lightning quick, the soldier twisted around, knife already out of its sheath by the time recognition appeared in his eyes.

"Herald?"

"Peace," Mat muttered. He sent a wave of medibots through the man, and his somewhat slanted posture straightened. Mat pulled his hand away.

"Get that checked out by the doctors. Headwounds aren't to be taken lightly."

"Yes, Herald." He nodded down to the end of the hall, and the man—one maybe twice his age—scrampered off. It was still strange how many people recognized him now. And time, unfortunately, wasn't mellowing them out. If not for Reg, Tobi, Jason and Bea, it would have isolated him quite thoroughly. And speaking of the devil, the latter was rounding the corner. Bea paused upon seeing him, then kept walking anyway. Mat caught up before she could vanish. She didn't seem to really care that he was there.

"Bad time?"

"Don't like naval battles." Mat hummed.

"Quite. Terrifying yet boring, and without any power to do something about the outcome. I didn't enjoy it much myself."

"Result?"

"Thirteen boarding pods destroyed, alongside three fighters. The vessel failed to properly cover both waves of attack. The pirates fled, and we're tracking them. They appeared to have a Gravity Break." Bea frowned.

"Sloppy. Are you positive they had a Gravity Break?"

"The captain's staff was."

"Then we need to hit hard, and we need to hit with overwhelming power." Bea came to a stop, finally looking at him. He very nearly took a step back at the intensity in her eyes.

"Summon your major. We need to practise loading and offloading the troops, and I wish to take a look at her plan of attack."

"The plan is to hit them from orbit." Bea glanced at him.

"Sure." The author's content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon. They had a shielding dome. Mat stared at the image, not quite understanding how. Both Bea and Stef had raised it as a possibility, but Stef had said that it was unlikely. Anything but military-grade equipment wouldn't be worth the money, she said. But then the pirates had displayed use of military-grade technology before, hadn't they?

And now they'd used it to fortify their asteroid base, which looked much like a large number of pre-fab buildings slapped haphazardly around a landing platform.

"So we assault the base," Stef said. Noah and Reg were at her side, though neither had said much. Mat spied Jason and Tobi lurking near the exit of the bridge.

"Unless the Challenger is capable of overcoming the shield?" Alena shook her head.

"Our energy readouts say we'd need twice as many gun batteries, or specialized equipment. We have neither."

"So we assault the base," Stef repeated.

"They were stupid enough to land their ship, and seem to be in the process of packing up. Either they hoped to have more time, or their vessel sustained more damage than we calculated. Regardless, we have them." Mat was inclined to agree.

"Any objections? Bea?"

"No." Bea replied. Stef glanced at the woman, but didn't say anything. Bea shrugged.

"The landing will be hard, and we will lose soldiers. Once we make contact, the battle will be over. Stolen equipment does not make fighters out of cowards." Noah grunted.

"I agree. If they had stolen proper biomods or techplants, they wouldn't be in the middle of nowhere preying on third-rate cargo ships."

"Then we assault the base," Mat decided. Stef nodded, and even Reg gave a small nod. The man didn't much like those preying on the innocent, clearly.

"Stef, I'll leave moment-to-moment tactics up to you. The plan remains unchanged?" She looked back at the screen, then nodded.

"An asteroid base without oxygen, as expected. Three groups, and I'll need you and your team with the main assault. The more you kill, the more their morale will suffer, and our own will rise. Lead by blood, Herald." Lead by blood. The phrase kept bouncing in his mind as they left the bridge, then made their way towards the transports. Twelve larger models, alongside six smaller. Group after group of Ironblade soldiers marched inside, and for most, it would be their first real battle.

After the uprising, there was a surprising lack of nerves. Bladeslaves, insane to the last man. Mat counted himself in that, because even as some of Nova's war droids joined in his transport, even as his own team did final gear checks and Bea almost insistently double-double-checked their breathing equipment, all he could think about was that phrase. Lead by blood. The transport rose, and that finally shook him out of it.

Behind, Jason was tapping his fingers on his leg, back and forth, back and forth, silent but with a grin on his face. Tobi was twirling a moleknife between his fingers, seemingly uncaring how one mistake could cost him several of those very digits. Reg was a tranquil statue, managing to project serenity even armed and armored for war. Bea seemed to be fading into the wall, unmoving in a much, much more menacing way than Reg was. And Mat was hungry. Hungry to walk the razor's edge again.

To fight and overcome anyone who would dare to stand in his way. There was no moral ambiguity here, as Nova had pointed out a few days ago. No consequence as there had been back when dealing with the governor. Up until now, he hadn't considered himself a violent man. Not really. He did what was necessary, first to survive, then to be free. Now, now he felt like a violent man. Like those who had taken up the club eons and eons ago, waging war against their neighbors clad in fur and fury. He could almost hear it.

The birthright of humanity. The blood and its endless call. With a mild shake, the transport cleared the ship, and Mat reached up to grasp the handhold. The stabilizers weren't nearly as good as those in the Challenger itself, but he'd known that. This felt like actual flying. Like movement and progress. The transports flew silently out of the Challenger and into open space, and then all hell broke loose.

Massive, silent streams of energy tore into space, which Mat only noticed because the transport violently jerked aside. He was nearly thrown to the floor, and Tobi lost his grip on the handhold. Mat snapped out without having to look, stopping the man from slamming against the wall.

"Oh fuck," Nova muttered. His droids remained silent.

"They had hidden surface-to-space guns. What the fuck kind of pirate base has hidden surface-to-space guns? One of the small transports is gone. A few others were hit. The Challenger is being brought to bear to provide cover." Cover, apparently, meant opening fire on the base. How that provided cover Mat didn't know, but the transport swerved again, and he realized the intended landing point was fucked. It was just his own team and a dozen of Nova's war droids here.

If they weren't landing where they were supposed to, then what? Down and down they went, but not for that long. Forty, maybe fifty seconds in all. Then the transport landed, almost slamming down into the stone. The door opened, and after a moment, the ship's artificial gravity wore off. Mat clicked his boots together, and the Theocracy-made gravity suction kicked in. Mag Boots, Yon had called them. It had been almost nostalgic to be under the man's instruction again. They didn't stick him to the floor.

That would have required much more practice, and gave a much worse effect. They were amplifiers, rather, linking the wearer to the biggest gravitational object around. In this case, the asteroid. It was like walking on a planet. Mat had expected to be fascinated. Instead, he rushed out the transport the moment the doors opened, ghosting between Nova's war droids to do so. A ping to the Challenger failed to return more than static. How scattered are we?

"Very," Nova replied. Mat stared at the lifeless, bumpy ground in front of him. He couldn't even see the pirate base.

"Closest transport is fifteen hundred feet north-north east. Stef has grounded all vessels, so you're on foot. I'm trying to work past the radio jamming, but at least it doesn't seem to affect me." That part he'd already figured out. Mat glanced around, found the other four on his heels, and turned in the direction Nova pointed out. He pushed, and the Mag Boots fought against his unnatural strength. Mat shot forth, and the war droids thundered after him. Regroup, then attack.

The longer this dragged out, the more chances the pirates got to get lucky. At least they were stuck behind their shield. Anyone who set a single foot outside of it would be atomized. He hoped. It didn't stop them from employing mortars. The explosion went off a few hundred feet to his right, but there was no fire. No wave of pressure. Just force and violence and shattered rock, and Mat tried his best to ignore their existence.

There was nothing he could do about them except to gather an attacking force and assault the base. Uneven ground impeded him, but his enhanced balance and strength meant he could leap over most obstacles, and Local Omniscience told him exactly where he was placing his feet. So he ran, and before too long, found himself coming up on another transport. Transports. Two of them. One seemed to be smoking, and he could see nine bodies littered around the site. Nine dead, just like that.

Mat forcefully slowed his breathing, inhaling deeply through his mask one last time. He came to a stop in front of their lieutenant. The woman stared at him, then snapped to attention. Mat tuned his radio to hers with a thought. At least they still had short-ranged communication.

"You and your men are with me, lieutenant. Leave the transports." He turned, expecting her to obey. That was one of the central keys of command, Bea had once muttered. The expectation of obedience. And the lieutenant did indeed obey, but her people weren't as well kitted as his own group. The pace slowed, and the army was scattered wide. What a fucking shitshow. Then the drones came out, streaming over the asteroid like angered bees, and Mat watched them hone in on his group like suicide bombers.

Which, he realized, they might very well be. And the Challenger could hardly shoot them, not when the things were so mobile. And of fucking couse the pirates have drones. Bea raised her sidearms, opening fire at a dead sprint. Reg and Tobi joined her, but Mat himself didn't bother. Neither did Jason. He'd never hit a damned thing, but the host of drones began shrinking in size. And it was so silent. No air, no noise. The logic made sense. But here, it rubbed him wrong.

Something his mind hadn't adjusted to, and it demanded that crashing drones should thunk and clash. That guns should bark and scream. They found the second transport being assaulted by more drones, and this time Nova's war droids rushed forth. They slammed to a halt on the small ridgeline overlooking the soldiers, and opened fire with heavy, repeating energy weapons. More soldiers collected, more to find. Mortars continued to rain down like waterdrops, and drones filled in the airspace like a wave of locusts.

With more soldiers, they weren't as much of a threat. Gunfire tore through them easily enough. In return, he watched his men die as metal hunks rammed into them, some exploding and some not. Ten chaotic, adrenaline-spiking minutes later, Mat decided enough was enough. A hundred men, and their attack split into four rather than two. His own was the smallest force. It would have to do.

"We're moving to attack. Keep low and spread out. Don't give them easy targets to bomb."

"To blood and slaughter," a woman crowed. Another soldier, some man he'd never met, laughed over the radio. Then a third, and fourth, before officers forcefully cleared the channel. The first woman snorted in amusement, apparently a lieutenant herself.

"We are the red tide, Herald. We are—" Her words cut off, and Mat turned to find her head having turned into red mist. He glanced down, and found her phase shield active and on her belt. Overloaded in a single shot, which then still carried enough power to kill her. Sniper. The soldiers reeled back, then boiled forward in anger. Mat led them by necessity more than desire, because if they had a sniper set between the rocks, anyone could be next.

A moment later, another explosion nearly blinded him, and Nova reported the sniper's atomization. Despite the mad scramble this entire assault had turned into, they still had orbital superiority. Another wave of drones came, thicker this time. Mat cursed, but continued running anyway. Forward. One step, then two, then four. Always forward. Forward, and into the base. Then the pirates would be out of stolen advantages, and his Ironblade soldiers could do what they did best. Create rivers of blood.

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