The War Chronicles of a Little Demon
Set in the Diyu Demons verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic.
By Sunshine Temple
Naturally, I do not own Youjo Senki. So here's the disclaimer:
Saga of Tanya the Evil its characters and settings belong Carlo Zen, Shinobu Shinotsuki, and NUT Co., Ltd.
Previous chapters and other works can be found at my fanfiction website.
http://www.fukufics.com/fic/
C&C as always is wanted.
Chapter 9: And Kill Them Part 2
Some distance away and above, VioletBlood's Falx went off. The enemy caster fired up at her but the blast went wide. It was certainly a narrower white beam.
Tumbling, I coaxed my Zephyr. The spirits were hurt, angry, and confused. It was hard not to share in their sensations. My ears burned a bit as much of the arcane energy in my capacitors was dumped into my suit. Bearing all that, I tried to control my fall and extend my senses out and down.
The various displays in front of me flickered and many of the status runes were still blinking from red to amber. The most vital: power, communication, maneuvering, and environmental were at least green, mostly. However navigation, wards, and especially weapons were still in the amber.
It was fortunate that the BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate was robustly built. That solid design philosophy came at the cost of many pilots who were in weaker earlier iterations. Modern RP enchantments were made with redundancies and resistance to arcane assaults. Mine more than most.
I would have to thank my duchess for purchasing the Gamma Block power systems for my Polyxo. The Gamma Block used stronger and more robust enchantments for the power systems than the standard model. It was more expensive to manufacture and maintain and was not quite into full production.
It had also saved my life.
This Wizard knew her stuff, she put in enough power to shatter a BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate's wards and burn out their systems. It was my luck that her knowledge was a bit out of date and I was equipped with the latest and most reinforced mana and power distribution systems.
In the immediate aftermath, the systems went about protecting the pained air spirits within my Ritual Plate. Without my Zephyr, this suit would be nothing but a lot of deadweight, too much for unpowered flight.
The suit did have an emergency release.
That was not an option I relished having to use.
I ended up with my head pointed down as I scanned the street. And then gunfire started to arch up to me. Breathing, I started working on my wards. Small arms fire from battle rifles, even with arcane or alchemically enhanced ammunition was not too much of a risk with my physical armor, at least at this altitude.
For now.
Then I spotted a few of the surviving Crocodiles were raising their turrets. They were armed with a rather robust anti-material light vehicle gun. One that, unusually for Luxon, fired a physical projectile. The Crocodile was originally designed to be a cheap, easy to maintain, long-serving infantry mover.
This was also an easy way to tell that this was older surplus, likely pre-invasion. The last couple generations of Crocodiles, the ones in current Luxon service, used an arcane projector that while higher maintenance, and required dedicated power systems, did have more range and fire options. It was also modular in design to allow for quick field replacement of barrel projectors, accumulators, and other life-limited systems. Basically, the main wear-out parts were in a single field swappable module with the longer-lifed parts being Amory level replacement. In a way, it was similar to how Ritual Plate weapons systems were replicable components.
Still, those guns would be more than enough to cut through me, especially with my wards down.
Leveraging my Zephyr's fear and anger, I slipped to the side and started to go into a faster descent as I started to maneuver. My status runes still had too many amber lights.
"Got them!" VioletBlood said as she launched a pair of Pilums to blow up the offending vehicles.
"Watch for that wizard and enemy air power!" I cried as I searched the surface. A high level caster was a very useful asset. More than a Grenadier, a Magnus Engineer, Ritualista, artificer ,or even a Ritual Plate Pilot, a wizard was a high-potency generalist in arcane skills.
That put them on the rare end of magical talents. Up there with those who could do personal teleport magic. Which was something some wizards could do as well. They were often useful in research, precision, specialist enchanting, artificer design work, or possibly ship-board duties monitoring and maintaining advanced systems such as various teleportation runes or gateways.
Rarer still were those Practitioners who had the flexibility, speed, and power for combat evocation. In ground combat, they could be a real nightmare with a command of arcane energy manipulation or elemental powers. There was a broad range of abilities. Some were one-person artillery batteries or direct fire breakthrough units. Others could even use Ritual Plate. Fortunately, if this wizard could do that, she was not wearing hers.
I grit my teeth and, with a press of will, rekindled my wards and practically forced that status light to change. I was starting to get to an altitude where small arms were actually a danger to me.
I dumped the last of my earring's powers, the relics gifted to me by my mother Sister Clementia into my weapons systems. Pilum, Falx and Verutum all flicked over. Though the projectors of the first two were woefully low in reserve munition capacity.
Still, I had enough, as I started raking the irregular infantry with Falx fire. Most of them had done the sensible thing and had abandoned the soft vehicles and tried to pull into the civilian buildings to either side of the street. But there were enough firing up at me to make good targets.
Having to conserve my shots, I aimed at those who I could see and guarantee a hit, even if it merely wounded or incapacitated. In some situations that was enough, the cold calculus of war had wounded more valuable than dead. A dead enemy was just that, dead. But a wounded soldier was a burden for her comrades. Resources would be expended on the wounded.
In DarkStar's name, the whole reason I was in this particular mess was because when Spatha 2 went down there had been survivors. On the other wing, long term wounded would and could be brought back to fighting trim, especially with our healing abilities...
Killing or mangling, the difference was academic to me. But between the Crocodiles VioletBlood had just blown up, the attempts to get survivors out, and those trying to change position there were plenty of wailing, badly hurt people on the street; some had their wings and tails thrashing with their limbs, making them even bigger targets, while others tried to hide behind whatever rubble there was.
"Be ready for counter-fire!" I ordered VioletBlood. She seemed a bit distracted.
"Right! Didn't expect someone like her in a place like this!"
I had to agree with her; it was ominous that a combat caster was part of this column.
A white beam lanced up towards me as I spiraled out of the way. Someone in the dark bodysuit, fatigues, boots, and helmet of the other irregulars had raised some long weapon and fired at me.
It could be considered staff-like. It was long and the bulk of it was made of wire-inlaid wood. Though the ergonomics were more of a wood-stocked rifle, one with a full length fore-stock. Instead of a barrel, there was a series of interlocked accumulators and other bits of crystalline and engraved metal enchantments.
While I tried to evade, VioletBlood tracked her and sent a burst of Falx at her. But this time there was no flare of power in the wizard's attack. Instead what passed me felt like a glorified light show.
"Illusion!" I cried as the Falx bolts just hit an empty street. In fact, the whole street was now empty save for the vehicles and the dead. Even the wounded were hidden.
"I'm not piercing it either," VioletBlood confirmed.
I swore. Part of me hoped that my scrying systems were, despite their status, still down. Someone this skilled with illusion magic was worrying. I twisted and darted to the side towards the apartment buildings and the river. It was the quickest way to gain distance, but there was a risk as my scrying sensors were unreliable.
"Pulse active!" I ordered.
We both emitted an active signal from our scrying systems, but that failed to pierce the Veil. Lovely, this was a pro.
"No effect," VioletBlood confirmed. That was not technically true; some of the other data beyond this immediate battle got a bit clearer. That was part of the advantage of the scrying feeds over multiple squadrons forming a composite tactical map
However those advantages fell by the wayside against someone with great skill in Veiling.
Fortunately, we had countermeasures. I selected my Verutum launcher, concentrated, empowered, and fired a trio of anti-Veil rounds. The Verutum was an oddity for Ritual Plate weapons systems. It fired projectiles, commonly called "pebbles" by Pilots, Ritualista and Legionaries.
Its range was not the best and the munition capacity was rather low, but it held the advantage that when you needed to deliver a magical effect more complicated than simply a mass of destructive energy, then having a physical vessel to deliver said effect was vital.
The "pebbles" shot out of my gauntlet and hit the road in a rough line with crackling purple lighting as the energy within them discharged per the engraved runes on their surfaces. The energy quickly grounded and in doing so pulled away and dispersed the illusion in the bulk of the street.
Wounded soldiers reappeared, as well as those who were trying to evacuate them. Amongst them was a taller woman who had her hands out and looked like she was simultaneously marionetting a puppet show and conducting a symphony.
Quick on the draw, VioletBlood dropped a Pilum bolt onto her but the purple energy discharged against a shimmering ward that appeared over the wizard. Another met the same fate as the enemy caster lifted her sidearm.
It had a pistol-like from-factor That honestly reminded me of a more baroque version of some of the older side arms in Imperial service in my previous life, except with a solid crystalline barrel. But it was a functional way to have a "wand" one could aim and further accumulators and enchantments could be kept in the grip.
"Stop wasting fire! Evade!" I screamed at VioletBlood as I switched to a thaumaturgical paired rounds on my Verutum magazine.
The brilliant white beam came up as I fired. As VioletBlood spun off, the pebble made contact with the wizard's protective ward. Retaining the pebble's twin, I cast fire into it. The launched pebble was caught.
Fire from the ground forces came up at me but it was desultory, they were more focused on finishing moving their wounded.
Part of me hoped the Wizard might have tuned her shield to only block high energy attacks or high velocity projectiles, but that was a slim hope. Still, the pebble burst into flames and as I concentrated the whole dome was awash in arcane fire.
A bit of sweat came down my brow, neck, and back as the feedback and waste heat from my pyromancy caused my suit's systems to try to cool me.
The wizard's white beam cut out as the silver-orange flames formed a dome around her. If I was lucky her warding had little thermal insulation. Still her vision was impaired.
She flicked her wand and the ward dropped before either of us could fire. Another ward appeared outside of the flames and the inner one reignited, and then the two wards squeezed and my fires went out in a suffocating lack of oxygen.
Growling, I fired off the now useless pebble.
"Violet, keep on her with Anti-Veiling Pebbles!' I ordered.
As she began to run, the wizard's form blurred and the street started to shift. For a moment flying figures and anti air installations popped up. But the fantastical elements were a distraction from how enemy soldiers started to lean out of doorways with man-portable launchers.
But then, in a profligate expenditure I was going to take her to task for later, VioletBlood strafed them with her Falx while simultaneously saturating the area with counter-veil shots. Though I suppose she was far enough out that her accuracy was a bit low as one pebble hit an apartment building and another landed in an office park.
A couple of the troops did manage to launch their Alecton manufactured missiles, but I was able to intercept those and then suppressed the infantry with more fire. I was loath to use too much for fear of not being able to support the Spatha 2 survivors later. But we would have to survive this fight first.
The wizard was exposed, still with her warding up.
Feeling my Zephyr's continued ire, I snarled and shot towards the wizard on a strafing run. If she knew how low on munition power and overall power I was, she might just soak the damage.
I briefly thought I should get an award for restraint in that I simply did not try to level the nearby buildings to bury her. That I was already too low on my munitions to practically do that, and it was likely the wizard could simply evade such an attack, were mitigating factors.
Instead, I had to try a tactic that was only remotely feasible because we were, in aerial terms, at knife-fighting range, my enemy was grounded, and her attacking beam was relatively wide. And even then was a desperation maneuver. Still, it was better than having to throw a sword at her.
Even at this range, I saw the bright smile on her copper-colored face as she flicked her wand. The feed from my Gorgon Rig clarified and I could see the dark red gems adorning her ears, neck, and brow. Some of them were the size of my Preserver award. And those were just the arcane capacitors that were obvious.
I fired my Verutum before she did. The pebble arced across the sky, but it was slower than the heavy white beam.
I just barely managed to get the second shot off as I had my air spirits cut all lift and dropped. The second pebble intersected with the wide beam.
The twin that was carved from the same piece of obsidian and engraved by the same hands was only a dozen or so feet from the wizard.
A fraction of the beam's energy hit the second pebble, and a fraction of that power was transmitted to its twin. The rest went into blowing up the little projectile.
Meanwhile, the remaining pebble released all the energy that it had received. However instead of a coherent beam, it released it in a blinding, discordant blast of blinding white energy.
The wizard's shielding wards blew apart as she cried in pain and surprise.
As I plummeted, I had hoped for secondary detonations. But the distance was too far. I had to take the consolation of raking a quick burst of Falx through her torso. This time there were secondary explosions from the arcane storage crystals she carried.
I gave a satisfied smile, and then shot a counter-veil pebble just to be sure. And then gave a quick strafe of any enemy vehicles or troops that were still moving. Ascending back to a more comfortable altitude, I took stock. My power levels and munitions were getting dangerously low.
"Incoming air elements." VioletBlood sounded out of breath for some reason. I suppose she needed more endurance training.
"Those two Archers? What happened to them?" I kicked myself for target fixation. That was a sure way to get killed.
"They ran off and got backup."
I paused. My mouth felt dry. I sipped some water and with minor reluctance activated the broth system. I was hungry and while it was not exactly tasty it was energy rich and nutritious. "I see."
The whole point of thaumaturgical comms was that one did not need to send runners, or fly off in this case, to get backup. Unless the Irregulars were so disorganized or so paranoid...
I wondered whose comms systems they were using? If they were Alecton in origin, maybe they were right to be paranoid. This might explain some of their lack of coordination.
VioletBlood had pointed out a heavy squadron of Archers or maybe two light squadrons, supported by a full squadron of Yeomen. Call it thirty enemy Ritual Plate. Their tracks put them moving from the North in two formations that were crossing our paths.
The sensible thing would be for them to maneuver to an area away from both us and Luxon to provide some cover for their ground forces until they could get out of the city and scatter, or meet with other elements.
Though without reinforcements to join up with, their options were limited.
But that was in their future. Right now we were in their way and they would be none-to happy with the damage VioletBlood and I had done.
"Get altitude," I ordered VioletBlood after I sipped some broth. It took the edge off my hunger and fatigue. "We've still got distance."
I then started transmitting. "Flight Ops. We blunted an enemy advance that would have crossed the survivors of Spatha 2, but there are Ritual Plate reinforcements," I said then read off the details.
"Can you link us your scrying data?"
"Confirm," I said and linked it in. I knew they did not doubt me, but every bit would help.
"Diamond Flight support is on the way," Flight Ops said with confidence.
++++++
With VioletBlood on my wing, I blinked as Flight Ops updated me. It seemed more resources were freeing up. Were the Irregulars being squeezed enough to break?
Then a new voice came on the comm channel.
"Sorry for the delay but we've just managed to break their air support and get our people out; we're being vectored to you," Prefect Centurion Quirinus said.
I was a bit cheered by my Squadron commander's words, but scanning the map display I saw she was down a pair of pilots. Given my Flight was a third of her force, this meant Quirinus was only bringing half a dozen Ritual Plate.
Better than nothing, but not great
Then I heard the Torpedo alert chime. This time instead of another ground target blowing up I got a more vehement alert as a cone on my map display was shaded the lurid puce of a no fly zone.
A pair of Torpedoes raced in. Too fast to make out, these Fujiwara Torpedoes used a supersonic motor, which had an even faster terminal phase. They were the Skofnung variant, each of which carried twenty Vel missiles, specifically the air-to-air variant.
The Torpedoes released their missiles far enough out to get proper dispersal, but not too far to give the enemy Ritual Plate too much time to maneuver.
Forty missiles filled the sky. They cut through the enemy formation. And while the Vel only had about a six-pound warhead and a limited range and velocity, they had all been given a speed boost and updated guidance and telemetry from the Notus spirits guiding the Torpedoes.
Not all of the enemy were hit, some managed to evade or counterforce. The Yeomen fared better than the Archers in this. Some of the Vel Missiles were split into pairs with the first one shattering the enemy's wards and the second missile blasting through their armor.
The Vel was designed with a two-stage stage warhead with the intention to pierce wards and then hit the target. The missile did not always have the power to do that, especially if the target was being evasive. Two missiles were assigned per Ritual Plate for some of the enemy fliers. This gave a measure of redundancy.
Other missiles, especially those targeting the Archers were only given one per Ritual Plate. Most managed to take out their wards and then cause critical damage with the second stage of their warhead.
Then Quirinus', no longer significantly outnumbered, demi-Squadron cut through the survivors. The majority of which had lost their warding and all of whom were rattled by the sudden attack.
On the one wing, I was happy to see the enemy disposed of and I was not prideful or blood-mad enough to want to kill them myself. On the other, seeing Torpedo support in action was always a reminder of the other times when Fleet Ops decided it could not spare the expensive munitions.
I suppose this meant that the HFV
Vajra had its Torpedoes reloaded.
Things were... complicated. The Janissaries now had a foothold in the northern part of the city, complete with Anupet squadrons, Luxon's multi-role Ritual Plate model. There were also sightings of some Anker golems.
The Anker was a large earth-spirit strengthened, vaguely leonine, walker that was roughly the size of a small tank. Fast for its size and sporting some powerful arcane projectors, it was a good assault and ambush unit and had its own anti-air protection.
However, they were expensive to field and maintain. But in urban combat they had a role, being capable of maneuvering in more confined areas. Especially if Luxon had air superiority.
Typically, an Anker would be supported by a three to five Bastet golems, plus the inevitable maintenance vehicles. Having the same roughly feline four-legged form, the Bastet was far smaller, not quite twice the weight of one of our Marius Mules but about the same size, and had an anti-material projector similar to a Pilum and a forward-mounted twin heavy machine guns.
For the weight, the Bastet was rather lightly armed, as the Luxon designers went with more armor and mobility. However, they could go places most other Luxon vehicles could not go and could be good support for Janissaries, especially sent in for assaults or operating as remote patrol vehicles or fire support.
That Luxon was bringing in what could be considered specialist equipment for urban occupation was not unexpected but was ominous.
And with our forces holding onto our beachhead and our own squadrons up in the air, the irregulars were running out of airspace.
No wonder Flight Ops was having limited VTOL availability. Doubtless some of the Task Force's Umbra mediums had been detached to moving torpedo reloads from the cargo ships to the Destroyer HFV
Vajra. Each Umbra could move four Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes.
"What about the rest of my Flight and the survivors from Spatha 2?" I asked Quirinus over the command channel.
"They got to the retrieval point and we'll be securing the landing area for the pickup," my squadron commander said before giving me a new vector.
Informing VioletBlood, and then moving to follow her, I exhaled. "Good, I sent them out while we blunted that irregular column."
"I see. Any problems?" Quirinus wryly asked.
"Not many. It was the standard mix of old Luxon surplus for ground equipment and Alecton Ritual Plate. The wizard took a bit to take care of," I then added, before switching to my Flight's channel. "GreyDawn, status? How did you and Octavia do?"
"Nominal, Ma'am," the older pilot paused. "Down to the last quarter on munitions. Had to break through a couple improvised blockades and scatter a couple mobs. They managed to keep the big truck running though the whole thing. We're doing a patrol while the truck was put down by an abandoned logging camp. We've been using passive on our scrying."
The truck would still show up on thermals but that far out so would most approaching troops. Unless they were using higher Veils. "Excellent, the squadron is coming to you."
"Ma'am? Flight Ops said we might have to wait a bit."
"Updated orders," Quirinus cut in. "Hopefully we'll be wrapping things up here."
"Understood, we'll keep you directly up to date with our scrying input," GreyDawn sounded a bit relieved, which was good.
Quirinus went to a private channel. "You split your forces."
"One pair could run escort while the other pair slowed the enemy."
"You did what you could with the limited assets," Quirinus stated. I could hear the approval, tension, and weariness in her voice.
Which... was fair. So far, my flight had no casualties, but Quirinus had lost two of the pilots under her command. I didn't even know if they were injured or dead. If the former I hoped they were able to get back to an airship, a Landing zone, or at least an easy place for a Search and Rescue VTOL to get them.
And that we would not have to deal with another Spatha going down.
"We're pulling out?" I asked her.
Quirinus paused. "Likely. We don't have the Legionaries or enough Torpedoes. If Luxon decides to occupy Ortov, we'll be here at their sufferance."
"And there's no advantage to us maintaining a force here." I said with some hidden relief. House Vualia and House Luxon were... well, not exactly fighting. But Luxon was still an expansionist power that was taking over a Vualian city.
"We were here to support the ceasefire negotiations."
"And Task Force 403?" I asked. That was our sister formation and was even larger given they had a cruiser, a medium carrier, a Torpedo bomber tender, a squadron of Kolibri torpedo corvettes and patrol carriers, scouting assets, fleet train, and a Long-Range Insertion troopship that could land an entire infantry cohort.
"They were dealing with a rebel formation to the west of us. One that was more organized." She gave a harsh chuckle. "Not organized enough. They were also closer to the shoreline and Alecto had a naval squadron in the area."
"Ah..." That confirmed some of what I supposed. "It was a coup then?"
"Queen Vualia is most upset with one of her daughters."
I sipped some water. That was how it went. Even the Great Houses on Diyu were eponymously ruled by Elder demonesses. A brutal survivor bias had ensured that the Houses that remained were ones capable of surviving.
Patronage and nepotism were a rule. Even House BlackSky with its meritocracy and social advancement had the imperial Family. I was a prime example of how an orphan could, through her own efforts and a bit of patronage, climb to the upper ranks of nobility.
The problem came if a daughter of the Imperatrix, First Citizen, High Lady, Dictatrix, Queen, or whatever the ruler was called wanted... more. Most would go on to attempt to create their own House.
Such as First Citizen RedStorm splitting from Imperatrix BlackSky, or Dictatrix Ziox from Grand Admiral Trosier. Others... would simply try to take out their mother.
"That's why these 'irregulars' have a mix of Luxon and Alecto equipment?" I asked before reminding VioletBlood to keep mixing up her formation. Formation flying was good to ensure proper coverage and mutual support, but our relative positions had to be fluid, if they got too static and fixed then we became that much easier to target.
Quirinus gave a bitter laugh. "Oh it depends on how deniable their patrons were. And which daughter was the one who couldn't organize a revolution."
"Was it even just one?" I murmured. I could imagine the higher ups in Vualian society being unhappy. The Luxon occupation had been a massive drain on their resources. I checked the map and my scrying intake. So much had been wasted here.
And a Minor House could ill afford the loss of this much military hardware, economic capability, and demonic lives.
"My, someone's curious about the cultural and political implications," Quirinus teased. "Well, you are a very thorough one."
Shuddering, I nearly fell out of formation. I almost talked myself into volunteering for the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. "Just learning a bit more."
"As you saw; we're nearly there." Quirinus paused. "I'm sure you're comfortable doing forward spotting."
"I'm not that low on munitions," I protested. I did not disagree with her. But I wanted to show I was gung ho for Frontline work, especially after my earlier slipup.
"Diamond," Quirinus's tone was warning.
'"Yes, Ma'am, understood." I then informed VioletBlood and took her to near the leading edge of our squadron's formation.
We were close enough that I could coordinate with GreyDawn and Octavia. "Okay ladies, stay sharp." I said over the Flight channel. "I know you've done a good mission and are eager to see the end of it and get back on the
Garuda for a meal and some rack time, but that's when we make sloppy mistakes."
"Understood," GreyDawn said, sounding approving.
"Yes, Ma'am" Octavia echoed, her voice was a bit distant.
"Did either of you need any Pep?" I asked. The Legions had a variety of stay-awake compounds. They were more refined and had less risk than the pharmacology stimulants the Empire used, but they were still not something to use incautiously.
On the other hand, drowsy pilots were dead pilots.
"I took a low-dose when we passed the first barricade and had Octavia take one when the survivors made it to the lumber camp," GreyDawn said.
"Good. You both had something to eat?" I asked as VioletBlood and I added our scrying systems to the scouting patrol over the downed survivors. I noted that the rest of our squadron fell into a response formation in case the enemy came up and was positioning to help secure an air corridor and Landing Zone.
Octavia groaned, while GreyDawn said they both had some broth.
"I know it's not the best meal, but it's what our suits can make. It'll get some nutrition and energy in you, and cut the edges of those Pep doses. Right, VioletBlood?" I asked while checking on my Zephyr, they had a bit of a shake tonight but seemed to be back in fine form.
"Oh yeah, I drank mine. Didn't have any stims, seeing you get fried by that wizard got me wide awake."
"Wizard?" GreyDawn's tone seemed resigned.
"Fried?" Octavia was more awed.
"Never-mind, that enemy column had a spellslinger backing them up. I'll lay it out on the debriefing," I promised.
"Spatha Two survivors, this is Diamond Flight," I said, switching to Ventus Centurion Opal's channel.
"It's good to hear you, again," Opal said.
"Status?" I asked.
"Fine now. Karena's been hopping around trying to get our wounded settled and Evadne was helpful with her wards."
I wondered if she was making a comment about their medico's leg injury.
"It shouldn't be long now," I assured. If things got bad enough Quirinus had enough in her squadron to simply have half of us pick up half the survivors and fly to an airship while the other half ran escort.
Still, getting a Spatha would be the better option. It would free up Quirinus's whole squadron to run escort. The wounded would be more stable and Karena the medico could work on them. We just had to wait for a VTOL to become available.
"Diamond Flight, this is Spatha 1," a voice drawled over the command channel.
"This is Diamond; go Spatha 1," I said, with a bit of trepidation. This was one of Opal's fellow pilots from the HFV
Syracuse. I wondered if she was upset with my performance. VTOL Pilots, Ventus Centurions, had a professional rivalry with RP Pilots, Volantes Centurions.
Ritual Plate were seen, by some in the public at large, as the more glamorous and elite. Where VTOLs were considered workhorses. We brought the fight to the enemy while the VTOLs moved all the troops, the cargo, the vehicles, and did all the real work. The Hasta Torpedo Bomber was another wrinkle in all that, as it was the only BlackSkyvian aircraft that was primarily an offensive platform.
The rivalry was professional, and no sharper than the service rivalry between the Household Fleet and the Imperial Legions. But still, when an RP Pilot went down, often as not it was a team on a Spatha Light that was sent in to pick her up. Under RP support of course.
"I just wanted to thank you for getting Opal and the others out," the voice said as I continued to check for enemy movement.
I blinked. The irregulars, or maybe rebels, were now moving to the south east, bypassing our Landing Zone but seemingly more worried about the Luxon Janissary brigade.
"You're welcome?" I tried to think. Humility seemed best. "I'm sorry that we couldn't get everyone. And all my Flight did was help move them, Opal and the others did all the work."
"Everyone who was alive when you arrived is alive now, you got them to me Diamond, and I just want to assure you that even though I'm taking them the last leg of the journey it was all your Flight."
I frowned, the dance of refusal of compliments was familiar to me and it could spiral out of control.
"That's nice and all but we have work tonight, ladies," Quirinus' voice cut in. "Spatha 1, I'm coordinating with your escort Flights. You are clear for Landing Zone Five."
I'll admit my stomach clenched as we kept a vigil over the little VTOL when it landed by the lumber camp and took on the survivors. That worry did not pass when the Spatha was once again in the air.
I know my concerns were absurd but... I was worried.
I was worried that if this Spatha were shot down then my Flight would once again be ordered for the rescue mission.
But that was absurd; we were too low on munitions and power.
My relief was irrational but still there when I saw Spatha 1 slip through the open landing doors on the aft centerline of the
HVF Garuda. The pilot was good. Flying directly behind an airship, dealing with all those wake vortices and turbulence. Coming between the ventral tail fins with enough relative velocity difference and relative position control to slip through the yawing aft doors without pushing through the crash barriers was a skillful act.
Even on a calm night like tonight.
Ventus Centurions may not have the speed or the high performance but they were still precision fliers, despite far heavier air frames that needed to work with Zephyr who were in propulsion pods yards away from them instead of hanging around their wings.
Spatha One was sent to the
Garuda for a simple reason: it was the largest vessel in our little Task Force, twice the size of any other, and thus had the most expansive medical facilities.
"Diamond Flight, you're first back on the ship," Quirinus ordered.
"Understood," I would have protested, if only to show my keenness, but our power levels were getting to the zone in which it would be imprudent to not swap out our fuel cells.
I switched to the Flight Ops channel and went specifically to my assigned ship. "
Garuda Flight Control, this is Diamond Flight."
"Go Diamond Flight," came the calm, almost reassuring, voice of a Fleet Flight Controller. One wanted a steady voice when you were a pilot, of either type, trying to land onto an airship that was floating in the sky.
"Requesting landing for four Ritual Plate."
"Confirm Diamond Flight." the voice paused. "You are clear for starboard Ritual Plate landing approach."
Based on the Virtus Medium twin-hulled design, the
Garuda was a Phoenician class Long Range Insertion Troopship. Like others of its hull design, the class had several access points for landing and launching.
In the bow were two catapults for launching Ritual Plate Pilots. In the very aft of the embarkation deck that linked both lifting hulls, was a centerline landing bay for VTOLs. A bit forward amidships, on the port and starboard were inclined launch bays for VTOLs to exit under their own power. There was a massive ventral opening in the embarkation deck that worked as a big open well deck large enough to accommodate Heavy VTOLs or a
Venture Scout airship.
And forward of that were a pair of flared tunnels that worked as landing ramps for Ritual Plate Pilots.
A pilot could slow down and match the airship's speed and go into an open hatch and land on the deck. And functionally that's what the landing ramps were. They were simply more convenient and skirted the forward sides of the embarkation deck.
The landing ramps gave enough length that a pilot could slow down to match velocity without having to do a crash deceleration, and if she failed to stop then the far end of the tunnel was open so the pilot could continue flying and come around again.
Though such misses were rare, save in rough weather or other extreme conditions. They also worked as another way to deploy pilots. Yet without the initial speed a catapult imparted, they were very much a supplemental or backup procedure.
But unlike the launch tunnels with their catapults, the landing ramps had little weight cost.
Making contact with the squadrons doing combat air patrol on our little Task Force, I had my Flight form up to the starboard of the
Garuda.
"Diamond Four, you are clear to land," Flight Control said as the lights to the landing tunnel flashed green. One of the main roles of Flight Control was to make sure various takeoffs and landings did not cause collisions. Ostensibly, the approach angles were made to provide clearance, but caution was prudent especially with various VTOLs and Ritual Plates in the air.
In some ways
Garuda's Flight Control had a simpler task. It carried a third of the Ritual Plate of a
Mellona Medium carrier, at two Squadrons instead of six. However it had to deal with carrying four Umbra Mediums.
Octavia angled her vector and flew towards the double-hulled airship, came in on an oblique angle and, already decelerating, went through the wider opening flare of the landing tunnel. The landing lights went amber as she entered and came to a stop.
Once she was clear and out of the tunnel, Flight Control called in GreyDawn to repeat the process and again with VioletBlood.
Finally, it was my turn. The data from Flight Control overlaid my display and I could see a slightly angled cone expanding out of the mouth of the landing tunnel. There were also velocity notations.
I adjusted my position and vector to match the centerline of the navigation cone. The landing aides were not required, a pilot was expected to be able to land without them but that was for emergencies.
Landing went much faster, and with far greater safety, with the route marked out. The
Garuda rapidly went from a large airship ahead of me and to the right, to something that dominated my vision in front of me, to just a big dark wall that loomed up out of the night sky and which was about the same color thanks to the airship's camouflage.
Instead of focusing on the big curved wall that dominated my peripheral vision, I put my attention on the navigation display and a grid of lights. The middle vertical and horizontal row were orange and stayed lit.
A three by three box of blue lights was somewhere on the light grid. Where that blue square was indicated where a pilot was relative to her landing trajectory. The ideal was to get the blue box centered where the orange lines crossed.
The borders of the grid could also change color: red was wave-off, purple was too fast, green was correct speed, and yellow was too slow.
The system had its faults, but worked as a supplement and backup in case the navigation uplink failed. And when one was in a suit of flight armor and flying into an airship making sure one did not hit the side of said airship was very prudent.
I made sure to keep the blue square centered and the border in the green. That required a steady reduction in velocity. Though I was still going at a reasonable clip when I was swallowed by the sides of the tunnel.
From my perceptive, the landing tunnel quickly became narrower as the sides came in, the floor rose up, and the ceiling came down. My concentration was on staying in the center of the tunnel as I had my Zephyr flare to reduce my speed.
The floor, walls, and ceiling of the tunnel were painted in black bands repeating every seven feet or so. Though after a point, they changed color from black to red. If they got to red and the pilot had not stopped yet, that was a sign for her to up her speed and fly out the tunnel to try again.
My relative speed went to zero well in the black bands and my boots fell onto the deck with a clunk. I exhaled and tried to get my balance. For a moment it still felt like I was flying.
One of the flight officers came out from a door in the side alcove and offered an arm. Without much pride I took her hand. It was better to get out of the tunnel as quickly as possible, to keep it clear and ready.
After a moment, I would regain my airship legs.
My stride became more sure after a few paces, which meant I could walk on my own feet and not have to have my hand held by the much taller officer. I went through a hatch and down a corridor. The rest of my Flight was not far ahead of me. They too walked with the oddly floating, but ponderous, movements that came with a grounded Ritual Plate suit.
Soon, we were in the maintenance bay, and I heavily sat down in my arming chair. Connections and probes were clipped and plugged into my armor as my Ritualista swarmed over me. I lifted my facemask and nodded to my maintenance chief.
"Been a long night," Optio Gibbs noted as she scrolled through the glass diagnostic display she held.
I sighed. I had just gotten off a routine patrol flight before we had been given the order to support landing operations.
"Might not be over. I want my Flight refueled and rearmed. Do what maintenance you need to but I expect to be on Ready Standby."
"Yes, Ma'am," she nodded as one of her team undid the side latches to my helmet while another disconnected my Gorgon Rig. The disabled helmet was then pulled off.
I rolled my neck and breathed the metal and incense-tinged air of the maintenance bay. The burners to all the censers were flameless which mitigated the fire hazard. They were also bolted in place and kept clear of the various welding equipment, cutting torches, fuel cells, munitions, inflammable bottles, and even caustic chemicals for etching work. And given the ritual in Ritual Plate and that spirits of air were the critical component such offerings had their place.
The Ritual Plate maintenance bay had some major fire suppression tools and training. On par with the VTOL hangar, the main power plants, the Teleport Rune navigation and energizing chamber, it was one of the more at risk areas of fire on an airship.
I looked over and saw VioletBlood had managed to get a large sausage and a sourdough bun and was chewing thoughtfully.
I was about to ask where she got that when a slight figure, made somewhat more imposing by her armor, stepped over to me. Primus Wencesla was several times my age but was only slightly taller than I was.
She was carrying a metal basket, well more of a bucket, that was full of steaming loaves of bread and cool dry sausages. I noted Octavia was already slowly eating while GreyDawn was miming their earlier actions, using a bun and a sausage to mock dogfight and say disparaging things about the enemy. Octavia laughed.
Good, I would have given Wencesla a private word if she had fed me and Violet first and not the rest of my Flight. Nobility were not supposed to get favoritism in the Imperial Legion, at least not obviously.
I thanked her and took the food while one of my Ritualista gave me a canteen. "I heard you and the rest of RavenSnow's girls had a night," I asked after tearing into the bun. Oh there was a bit of melted butter inside and some honey drizzled on top. Behold civilization.
She nodded. "Busy, yeah. Casualties were.. well, are they ever light? Bekka was recovered, her suit will need a bunch of time to recover." Bekka SableTail was her wingwoman.
"I kept mine together," I said a bit quietly. I did not want to brag. I knew that the rest of my squadron had taken two casualties. I was not sure if they were wounded or dead. The truth was that a Flight, even a Squadron, was a small enough unit that every loss was acutely felt.
"Don't you get survivor guilt on me, Countess," Wencesla's tone was mocking, but her tail was loosely swishing and she seemed to be being comradely .
"I'm not," I guzzled down some water. I could not tell her that I had written plenty of condolence letters to the families of troops under my command. It was a part of war. That was what war did, it spent lives. Though the 203rd and Salamander had an impressively low casualty rate.
Wencesla tilted her head, her green eyes seeming to look through me. "Huh. Anyway… From what I heard you got Spatha 2's survivors out while the rest of us were dealing with the shitshow, even blunted an enemy column."
"You heard a lot of things." I chewed the dried sausage. It would have been better sliced up, maybe put into a stew, or at least with cheese, but was a quick and easy meal. And any time to eat Household Fleet food instead of field rations was a good thing.
She shrugged.
"How are you doing? One Primus Flight Leader to another?" I asked. Networking with your peers was always good.
"I'm waiting until I can get cleared to take off this suit, then find out when my next rest period is and range for some recreation with a convenient and available Decanus looking to make this mess go away for a few blissful moments," she said, her tail flicking about.
The short woman blinked and coughed. "Um that is..."
"I'm underage; I'm not ignorant. And as long as you're not breaking the fraternization rules, it's not my concern. You are a professional and I know Prefect RavenSnow runs a tight squadron." I shook my head. Crazy demons. Though in this they were not that different from humans. Young soldiers were always ruled by such things, especially when their own mortality was shoved into their faces.
The Fleet and Legions were sensible enough to realize that banning venial sins would only cause problems, especially given so many young demons grouped together. It was better to provide a controlled place to indulge in things like drink, gambling, and… other forms of recreation.
Depending on what was used to make the brew, an illicit still could be a health hazard. And even if the product was pure, it was a fire hazard. Underground gambling was less of a risk but could still produce debt and predatory lending. Transparency was intended to lessen such risks, which was how I knew GreyDawn was someone I would have to be careful with if I ever had to bluff her.
"Right." Wencesla shook her head. She looked behind me to the aft end of the maintenance bay and smiled. "Well, I've got to see if anyone needs any food; you have fun with your visitors!"
"What?" I asked, but she was already off and distributing food to any pilots and Ritualista who wanted it. Which, Legionaries and sailors being who they were, meant her bucket quickly went empty.
I twisted my neck to see two people coming up towards me. Both were pretty beat-up with their armor covered in dust, grime, and blood. One had relatively light armor over a flight suit that had harness points and connections. That made her a VTOL pilot. Her short white hair was a mess from the helmet that was somewhere else. Her wings were a dark grey with white accents and a matching thin long tail swished behind her as she walked up.
Next to her was a remarkably well-presented woman in dark casual business-wear: bodice, skirt, jacket, under a set of legionary lorica armor. With magenta skin, her bangs were evenly cut and her hair was pulled back in an efficient, neat orange ponytail. She wore slim gold-framed glasses and a cigar of all things was tucked behind one pointed ear.
Both were eating pita wraps that had been put into foil cones to keep from dripping.
"Venus Centurion Opal, Librarian Evadne." Instead of saluting, I bowed my horns to them to show my intention to have this be an informal event. "It's wonderful to see you up here. How are the others doing? I know Medico Kaena made sure herself and the two other wounded were stable."
"She did, and they're with the doctors now," Evadne said, she gave a cautious optimism but there seemed to be more behind those glasses.
But she was right. With our healing abilities and regeneration, if a Legionary could make it that far then they had excellent odds of making a full recovery. Physically that is.
The key job of our Medicos, of any medic really, was to do triage. Then those who could be kept alive were kept alive until they could be ferried back up to an airship or some other key facility. It was a fact that the majority of the Household Fleet and Imperial Legion's missio causaria, honorable medical discharges, were due to non-physical wounds. There were programs and counseling to help with Trauma Accumulation but for some situations a discharge was the kindest option.
Meanwhile Opal seemed to be surprised. The VTOL pilot tilted her head and looked me over. "Oh... So you are that young noble... wait... I did hear something... about a young noble who earned her Ace status against a Ziox War Mistress and an entire squadron?" She glanced to the Librarian for confirmation.
"I'm guessing you're not a fan of cinema? Don't read many broadsheets?" the Librarian asked as my Ritualista busied themselves with checking my suit's status. Gibbs, my crew chief, seemed amused.
"Mostly just the gladiatorial sections," Opal shrugged as she and the Librarian moved to stand in front of me, to make it easier on my neck.
"Well," Evadne gave a bright smile. "This is Primus Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust."
"It was not a Squadron: two Flights, not Three," I corrected, taking an angry bite of the sausage.
Opal absently bowed her head. "Still, I wanted to come up and thank you all," she looked around and waved to the rest of my Flight.
"We're all on the same team," I agreed. I would have preferred a less risky team-building exercise but esprit de corps was vital. And in that light I asked about something related to her specialty. "Did you see if the Umbra Mediums had taken up the hoof-sloggers? I heard we were pulling out of the Resort Landing Zones."
Opal nodded. "Looks like they went all in and have a Squadron's worth pulling up the two Centuries and their heavy equipment, such as it is."
"Yes, our brave women are doubtless getting out, enjoying being in the air again, stowing their kit, and then going onto to whatever places to engage in some sort of minor soothing vices," the librarian absently tapped her cigar.
I had some curiosity as to what information or mission a Palace Librarian had that would justify her presence here and require pulling out in such a manner. I wondered if it had to do with CSR's reconnaissance of Ortov and the areas around the city, or maybe to do with the ceasefire talks, or perhaps the coup that was behind all these "irregulars" scrambling about when their plot to overthrow Queen Vualia exploded in their faces.
I was curious but my curiosity did not exceed my desire to avoid further entanglements. I could see from the Librarian's little smile that she was gauging my reaction.
I shrugged. "The smoking lounge is up one deck, aft two frames and on the starboard."
Librarian Evadne laughed. "Why, thank you Countess."
"I'll show you the way," Opal said. "It's not far from the wardroom, I'm going up there to have some brandy myself. I know the stewards often keep a bottle stashed in reserve."
"Oh, I must confess I got a taste for fleet gin in my younger days," Evadne said as they walked off.
Optio Gibbs stepped back to me. "Smarter than you look, Primus," she murmured in a bare whisper only I could hear.
I raised an eyebrow at her as my tail curled up. I could respect a non-com giving quiet advice to her superior. "Oh?"
"Most young nobles would jump at the chance of getting in good with the Palace Librarians." My crew chief's eyes darted to VioletBlood who was chatting with Octavia.
"Give me some credit, Optio. I know that's more trouble than it's worth."
"Well said, Ma'am," Gibbs replied as she started checking my environmental and navigational systems.
++++++
Listening to a warning coming over the Primary Circuit to make the ship ready, I stood at the forward observation deck of the
HFV Garuda. I wore a set of my dress blacks with the Preserver Order pinned at my neck. A mug of coffee was in my hand as I looked out at the formation in front of me.
Out here, with just the sea and the sky, the collection of airships looked almost peaceful. With no references to compare their motions against, the airframes looked graceful instead of lumbering.
Task Force 402 was also flying closer than normal. Not the "close enough that the airships were going to crash into each other" that popular media portrayed Fleet actions as, but closer than an ideal based on proper ranges for mutual support and scouting.
"You handled the service well enough," GreyDawn said, sipping her own coffee. Her amber eyes looked me over. She was by far the most experienced member of my Flight. Not that that was saying much.
"I just said a few words. It was the chaplains and the Squadron commanders and group trooper commanders who said the most."
"Sure, but that was all the standard patter. We all know what a Volantes Prefect Centurion says when she loses members of her squadron," GreyDawn looked at her black coffee. "I'm not saying they lack sincerity, but we've heard it all before."
"Including Octavia?"
GreyDawn's tail swished. "Ma'am, she has lost squadron mates before."
"I know that, it's just... I see her as the most inexperienced. The green member of the Flight." I looked at the orange and red-haired woman.
GreyDawn chuckled.
"My age isn't an issue for you, is it?" I held up a hand. "I'm not accusing; you can speak freely. My situation is unusual, I want to make sure it does not become a problem."
The Centurion took a long drink and pondered. "You've got real potential, Countess. I'll be honest; I expected you to be a bit more like your wing-woman, the baroness."
I glanced back at the hatch into the compartment. "VioletBlood is exuberant."
"She's the more typical kind of noble cadets I've seen as new Ritual Plate Pilots. Eager like a puppy, tail wagging about. Might have started to sink in for her when she was at the service and sipped from the chalice before saying her goodbyes."
One of the Household Fleet chaplains was a member of the Sisterhood of Our Hallowed Lady. And given I had a small speaking role in the service and was a known member of the Church of DarkStar I ended up volunteering to hold the chalice when the ashes and holy water were mixed together.
There were other devotional ceremonies as part of the service. House BlackSky was remarkably pluralistic. Perhaps even faddish when it came to taking in a plethora of faiths. Then again who was I to talk? One of my mothers was a nun who venerated a granddaughter of our Imperatrix who died over a millennia ago.
Everyone of the faith had taken a sip and then had a quiet contemplative moment.
The service was taken at the front end of the well deck. About three hundred feet long by ninety feet wide, the giant ventral opening at the bottom of the airship was a place for transporting oversized cargos, a docking bay for Venture scout airships and heavy VTOLs, and had a set of overhead cranes that could move more conventional cargo.
Provided the conditions were safe enough for an airship to approach the ground.
It also gave a rather striking venue: rows of seating faced two columns of fluttering House BlackSky Banners. They seemed to hang in the sky and far below them was the waters of the Guardia Sea.
The wreaths that went over the railing seemed to fall forever before vanishing from sight. Fortunately, the battle did not yield too many fatalities, and only a subset of those had their bodies recovered.
There was the lost from Spatha Two and an unlucky RP Pilot from the Light Damocles carrier Syracuse. A Hathor anti aircraft gun managed to take out her wards and rumor has it fire from a Horus artillery piece just happened to intersect with her flight. It was a one in a million shot, I doubted the artillery crew even knew their big arcane cannon hit someone.
I knew for a fact that in war acts of the most horrific bad luck could happen. Even to people who weren't the plaything of cosmic entities like Being X. Needless to say, there was nothing left to bury of that Fleet flier.
Furthermore, the majority of the remainder were having their bodies shipped back home to Bovitar with us. That did leave two members of Imperatrix BlackSky's Imperial Legions who were... well technically they were being buried at sea.
Part of the job of the Ritual Plate squadrons doing defensive air patrol was to keep an eye on threats from the ground, or sea. Earlier today, part of their job was to make sure there were no nearby ships. To ensure that nothing... jettisoned during the ceremony ended up being an inadvertent projectile.
"Two nights ago was the first time she had even a fleeting crossing with mortality," I noted as I stared out onto the sea below us. The days since the Battle of Ortov, well skirmish, had Task Force 402 nearly exclusively doing air operations, mostly Scouting at that.
Luxon was also making noises that their occupation of Ortov was temporary and there were some proof as to that; while they did conduct operations in the city they had been targeted and their forward base remained to the northern side.
The latter was sensible enough given terrain, resources, and time. But there were indications that Luxon was not willing to invest, at the moment, in gobbling up another city. At least one that was so far from the current border of the Occupation Zone.
"Fleeting, that's about right," GreyDawn noted. "Tell me, did she make Ace?"
I shrugged. I had been through a debriefing with Quirinus, RavenSnow and the other Flight Leaders yesterday so I knew the answer to that. "Is it really all that important?"
GreyDawn gave an approving nod. "For some it is, Countess."
"It's only five air-to-air kills."
Snorting, she shook her head. "Some of us don't manage to get that with a sword." She sobered. "But that reputation, all the propaganda… It can have an effect, especially on a young former cadet who wants to prove herself to her lost and noble parents."
"I know VioletBlood's tendencies; I'm keeping her grounded."
GreyDawn gave me a weary expression that made me realize just how much older she was than she truly looked. Gauging age could be tricky for our kind. There were some tells around the eyes and a certain poise and certain experience that came across in an emotional reservation.
"I really appreciate your work in mentoring Octavia and helping with VioletBlood." I tapped my mug. "And, well, dealing with two nobles."
GreyDawn shook her head. She tried to not loom over me, but the height difference was hard to ignore. "Could be worse. At least with just two of you I don't have to worry about intrigue and squabbling power plays."
My first instinct was to downplay it. My second was to agree with her. As Great Houses went, House BlackSky's nobility could have been a lot worse. Instead, I shook my head. "I wonder if Ortov was the result of a squabbling power play."
GreyDawn was pensive. "We were on the edges. That daughter princess..." She paused.
"Ursula"
"Right, her. She was a provincial governor right on the western part of the border of the occupation zone. A frontline position, a trusted position." GreyDawn sighed.
"A position where she could try to build forces and court allies."
"Not enough," the older centurion's wings twitched. "I wonder if she thought too much about the amount of Alecto and Luxon 'surplus' she was getting."
I shrugged. "Those Alecton Marines were quite helpful in finding Princess Ursula and directing Queen Vualia straight to her. Not to mention the help Task Force 403, specifically their Infantry Cohort and their Torpedo bombers, had in taking out the eastern flank of Ursula's forces."
I stared out at the sky and water. Even though she ruled a Minor House, Queen Vualia was still a powerful elder demoness. Her problem was that one's personal power mattered less and less once your domain reached a certain size.
Yes being an elder demoness of vast arcane capabilities and experience made for a combatant that was functionally a strategic asset, but there was only one of you.
Having daughters, or other close allies, helped but they were also a limited resource. And as Ursula showed, one that could turn on you. To get real power a House needed robust institutions, military professionalism, strong logistics, and an economy capable of supporting those structures.
"I suppose your Librarian friend could answer those questions."
I shot GreyDawn a look.
Her amber eyes turned away. "I wouldn't dig too deeply into what she's up to. But I'm just a line pilot."
I exhaled. "But I'm a Flight leader?"
GreyDawn snorted. "Ma'am, we know there's more than that."
I put down a tiny bit of ire. This was a private moment and she was not being directly disrespectful, and I wanted to encourage advice from experienced people. Yes there was a fleet officer working a scrying station helping with air traffic monitoring, but she was on the other side of the compartment and engrossed in her work.
"Go on."
"You're still a couple months shy of your thirteenth birthday and you're already a Flight Leader. You're a countess. And unlike our VioletBlood you achieved yours from merit."
"My duchess gave it to me when she adopted me."
"Due to your efforts and with the endorsement of the imperial Family. Primus, we both know you won't be satisfied with staying a Flight Leader for what... nineteen years? Eighteen? However much you have left. Assuming you don't sign up for another term."
I had to give a slight nod at that.
"And if I were a betting woman-"
"Which you are," I lightly noted. GreyDawn was a fair dice player, among other games. A skill that involved reading the other player more than any luck.
"True, though I'm sure no one would take a wager on whether or not you'll end up in Squadron Command. It's well known how you finished your cadet training."
I exhaled. Being in charge of three Flights was not too onerous. "But Wing command?"
GreyDawn's wings shrugged.
"Tell me, are there wagers on if I'll make Volantes Tribune?"
"I would not be surprised if there were, but I can't say for certain."
I gave a tiny smile. "And such a wager would be a long-term one. Not exactly appealing action for bored Legionaries and Fleet crew looking for some coin to change hands."
"I would not argue with that assessment."
"And in light of this, you think I should have asked the Librarian for more information?"
"I can't say, that's above my pay grade."
"But it might not be above mine. At least in the future." I sighed.
"Ma'am," she stated in that tone of an experienced non-com agreeing with plausible deniability.
"Keep this up and I'll put you in for more commendations. Quirinus knows me; if I emphasize you and Octavia having the most critical role in the rescue of Spatha Two she'd be happy to go along with it."
"Ma'am?"
I smiled, showing my fangs. "Technically Librarian Evadne was in the warzone as a civilian. Therefore you, and Octavia, can qualify for a Preserver award. Now, I won't be so crass to try to put you in for a Crown grade award. However, I do have a bit of pull with those who decide when a Preserver award should be given." I tapped the gem at my throat.
GreyDawn shook her head ruefully. "I probably shouldn't get in the way of Octavia getting some rewards.'
"Do you think she needs it?"
"Needs? No. But she's still at the age where she'll appreciate it on a sentimental level."
"My, you are a cynical one." I might have had my tail swish at that remark.
GreyDawn gave a mock salute with her cup and then took a drink.
It was obvious that Quirinus had put GreyDawn into my Flight as a minder. Which I did not take as an insult given Quirinus had been my cadet instructor and specifically asked for me for Flight command in the squadron she had been given when she returned to a combat billet.
Doubtless, she wanted to keep an eye on me and to make use of my talents. I did not begrudge her for that. Prefect Quirinus had spent roughly a year instructing me, if she could get some return on that effort she was entitled to it.
I suppose I was content with this arrangement largely because I approved of her as a Squadron Commander. It was a mutually beneficial arrangement of such sensibility that I was certain strings had been pulled with my assignment.
After the events prior to my twelfth birthday I had come under considerable attention and had gotten plenty of... patrons.
I looked at the formation of airships. It seemed a bit closer and the Ritual Plate formations were drawing in. Plus the fleet officer doing air traffic work was getting busier. It would not be long now.
And that was something I had objections with. Not the patronage exactly, but that it was used to put me into a combat assignment, one balanced to help me grow and learn. Not just as a Ritual Plate pilot, but as a commander.
My intention to enlist in the Imperial Legions early was to maximize the time I spent in training roles. But due to a bunch of well-meaning, but warmongering, officers instead of spending at least a couple more years in training, I was already commanding pilots in battle.
No wonder the gossipy scuttlebutt took it as a certainty that I would make Squadron Command.
There was a knock on the door. After a moment the hatch opened and VioletBlood stepped in. "I'm glad I'm not late!" she said carrying a bucket with some more rolls and a bit of cheese and a small cylindrical bottle of Fleet issue gin. Perhaps not ideal, but a fair example of scrounging.
"And Octavia?" I had tried to be painfully clear that she could be here if she wanted to. And this was not an "invitation".
"She's talking with the Baha'i Chaplain. There was a bit of a line."
"Understandable, she's a member of Vanis Reformed, correct?" I had the luck of being at the head of the line talking to the DarkStar Church Chaplain. And all I did with her was go with some of the prayers I learned at my mother Clementia's side while the chaplain blessed my earrings and locket.
I would have preferred to avoid the rigamarole but I was already there, and being reminded of one of my mothers was some comfort.
I would have to talk to Octavia again. In a way it was reassuring she was seeking some comfort and guidance. Not just from her faith but she had talked with myself and Quirinus. Her concerns were just that: concerns. Talking about combat was healthy.
Nothing that made me think I had to pull her off active duty. In a way, it was reassuring. She was still grappling with the ethics of war. Meanwhile, of the rest of my Flight GreyDawn was a cynical lifer who was inured to all this. And VioletBlood had come to us with a bottle of liquor to celebrate with. Which more than anything showed the bloodthirsty side of BlackSkyvian nobility.
VioletBlood shrugged. "I know she doesn't drink, but plenty of people are teetotalers for non-religious reasons."
I gave her a dry look. It was true that the Church of DarkStar only prohibited drunkenness. My official religion was not a reason why I did not drink.
"I mean you're still a bit..."
"My age is not a factor either," I stated.
VioletBlood looked down at the gin bottle with a frown.
And there it was; it was easy to talk in the abstract of letting a bit of venial sins slide, especially when under supervision. It was another to let a fourteen-year-old girl drink. Still, this way I could keep her under my eye. Besides, she had earned it.
"I will let you toast beforehand, but next time..." I gave a smirk. "I expect you to find something better than Household Fleet rotgut. Think of your pride."
VioletBlood pouted and looked to GreyDawn. "You are a legionary," my senior-most pilot noted.
"And a noble," I added.
"Fine, I'll get some pear schnapps in Bovitar and sign it into the Squadron's Liquor Stock."
I nodded while GreyDawn finished off her coffee.
I could not be certain but it looked like all the patrolling Ritual Plate had pulled into their mother airships. After about two hours of charging the teleport runes, Task Force 402 was at its most vulnerable.
At least all of our
Venture Scouts had their own teleport systems. Engraving the runes in critical locations throughout an airship's structural frames was a considerable cost. Not to mention adding in the lines and arcane power systems to connect them as well as all the navigation controllers.
Many of the smallest airships were simply built without teleport capability. They were fast enough that in many ways it was more efficient to have them use conventional propulsion on Diyu. And if they needed to be moved offworld then they could dock into the ventral well deck of a larger airship.
This cost savings did limit their utility, but for airships that were intended to do local fleet screening an argument could be made for their utility. Especially given the vast numbers of
Venture Scouts and
Kolibri patrol craft in the Household fleet. When you had about fifteen hundred and a thousand ships respectively in those classes, cost savings were alluring.
The teleport system had its limitations. It required a long charge up before teleport, and a cooldown afterwards to let the arcane equivalent of waste heat bleed out of the runes. There was also a tradeoff between range and accuracy in destination.
One could teleport on the same plane, that is by more skipping than fully breaking through reality, but only up to a bit over four hundred miles with the upside that one had even odds of appearing within about five miles of your destination.
Meanwhile a teleport that fully broke out of a given plane had a much further range, literally to other worlds, realms, and planes, but you were lucky if you appeared within eight hundred miles of your destination. It also took far longer to charge the teleportation runes and had a longer cooldown time.
Having a beacon at your destination could dramatically reduce the inaccuracy of your emergence point. However... it was a beacon, and thus something the enemy would be well aware of and an easy location to track. Jammers could also interfere with the emergence point, though a Jamming ward large enough to deflect an entire region would be quite energy intensive.
Transiting between here and the moons of Lantia or Emuria was in between as it was a deeper "skip" that was between two concrete realities. And gave a rather good even odds of appearing within eighty miles of your intended destination.
Taking advantage of that quirk in the tradeoff between range and accuracy was why House BlackSky kept the Third Primus Fleet stationed at Lantia. House Andromache liked the tangible commitment one of their strongest allies had to their defense.
And House BlackSky liked having the ability to drop a full fleet with air power and Legion Landing Flotillas anywhere on Diyu and beyond at a moment's notice.
I admired the coup it gave us, and the strategic options and how it fit into our overall doctrine of power projection. But this was the exact kind of bellicosity that made the other Great Houses concerned about House BlackSky.
The shortest range teleport had some limitations that, given the range and mean time between teleports of about three hours, gave it a functional velocity of 140 miles per hour. Which was still 50% faster than the official fleet speed of the Household Fleet.
It would not be the first time I had served an Empire beset by enemies afraid of the sharpness of our sword.
The Primary Circuit came on via the overhead speaker. "Teleport Warning. Teleport Warning. All hands prepare for Teleport. Secure all equipment and safe all arcane systems," the cool voice said.
The fleet officer in the compartment called in to confirm her status and that of the compartment and the part of the sky she was monitoring.
I motioned for VioletBlood to open the bottle and pour a couple fingers into GreyDawn's mug, then a couple into her own.
I looked down at the last bit of coffee in mine.
We waited for a bit longer. A formation of Airships would typically synchronize their teleport navigation systems. That would allow them to arrive at their destination at roughly the same emergence point. Thus if we could not ensure an accurate Teleport, the Household Fleet could ensure a precise one.
The Primary Circuit came back on and started counting down. Everything started to get a low hum as the runes inlaid thought the
Garuda started to become critical.
I lifted my mug and we all took a drink as the airship shivered and golden light overtook us before bleeding into a purple shadow that slowly faded.
We were over four hundred miles closer to home.
Unfortunately, since we were still over the Gaudia sea and out of sight of land, the view did not change very much.
GreyDawn had a bit of mirth at VioletBlood's tail-drooping disappointment. To be fair the baroness looked so forlorn, I let them both have another shot.
++++++
Tail flicking, I paced the concourse. I had managed to keep my composure throughout this plan: from the correspondence in the Journal on Air Combat, to arranging to get transferred to support Legion stationed in Eastern Province, to coming up with an excuse to my family as to why I was being transferred thousands of miles across the length of House BlackSky, to using the gossip back channels to find out when and where the Legionary components of Task Force 402 would be landing, and finally to arrange to be off duty when that happened.
Months and months of work had gone into this.
All to reunite with someone I last saw a lifetime ago.
Someone who terrified me.
I could just imagine her criticizing me for picking this moment to meet her, instead of waiting for her to get settled in and when our schedules lined up.
My tail and wings drooped as I looked around what was a glorified, if expansive and efficiently-built, waiting room. Beyond a set of doors to one wall was a set of landing pads, taxiways, and other accoutrements to allow for the landing, unloading, loading, and servicing of VTOLs.
The closer ones were built for Spatha and Umbra sized models. Further out were larger ones for Gladius and Pugio heavy VTOLs and a bit beyond those were yet bigger ones that could accommodate airships small ones, Kolibri patrol sized and smaller.
Picking up on my nervousness, some of the other Fleet and Legionaries gave knowing looks.
Which was hardly an unreasonable assumption, as wrong as it was.
I was not some lovelorn pilot waiting to reunite with her mate.
We had a role to play. I had been born ahead of her, before she was. Guilt flittered over me, was I supposed to have made things ready for her? Prepared things for her in some way?
I pushed that aside. I would have been four when she was born. And even the White Silver was over twice that age when she first went into battle and was nearly thrice that age the second time around.
I sat down on a wooden bench and composed myself.
In the time since I learned about
her, I had pushed myself. I increased my skill and volunteered for more flight time and training missions. I was always a good flier but good would not be sufficient, not if I wanted to fly by Tanya's side.
I had studiously avoided looking out the windows whenever an Umbra or a Spatha landed. If I had, I knew I would stare helplessly as I looked over the disembarking passengers to see if I could spot her.
I'll admit my hope and tension rose each time the doors opened and a fresh crop of Fleet and Legionaries came through the doors. It was not just the
HFV Garuda or the rest of Task Force 402 that was unloading personnel.
While not the largest base, Castra Bovitar was still a busy facility.
The doors slid open again and another group of people walked in.
Perking up, at a tingle to my horns, I scanned the crowd but while they were Ritual Plate Pilots none of them were here.
One in the front was about her height, but the reserved woman had green eyes and black horns and was far too old. She was also a Household Fleet Pilot.
My hope curdled, but the tension remained as I slumped back onto the bench.
Then the group of pilots parted.
And I saw her.
She was as I remembered. A prim uniform bearing select, high decorations. Slight and misleadingly delicate-looking with intense blue eyes and wild blonde hair, parts of which seemed to bob about as she talked. Even at this distance, she exuded a commanding presence.
Yet, there were changes.
I expected the obvious: curling white horns, feathered wings, and whipping spade-tipped tail. But seeing her flashing her fangs in an only mostly guarded smile with the young woman next to her was surprising.
Maybe a year older than her, the other pilot was in her early teens. She had crisp aristocratic features and pale skin that had a hint of periwinkle. Her fine dark red hair was in drill-like curls, and while she did not bear as many decorations she still walked with a casually bloodthirsty confidence. She made pushing a luggage cart laden with duffle bags seem like a task to be taken with the utmost respect
Tail still, I found that I had gotten up and was already walking towards them. Towards Her. My focus was on the young imperious, lethal little noble officer with blonde hair; the one I knew.
I knew I was plain, especially in coloration with just brown hair and alabaster skin. My wings and horns were nothing too exotic either. I was older than them, but even my figure was rather typical.
Tanya swiveled her head and the tingling in my horns grew as those blue eyes looked up at mine.
Blinking, her tail flicked and swished.
I could imagine her brilliant logical mind taking in every detail and inexorably coming to a conclusion. Getting even closer, I flexed my hands. This was the part I could not plan for.
"Apologies I'm bad with names..." She looked onto my uniform to confirm rank and specialization. "Volantes Centurion, I'm sure we've met, maybe at a training exercise or a lecture?"
"Or the ballet?" her companion said with careful high-class enunciation to her Silvan Latin. Her lime colored eyes sized me up.
"Yes, perhaps."
I swallowed and bowed my horns. "I'm Centurion Victorious Shadow, recently transferred from Opalescence Bay. We've had some correspondence in the Journal on Air Combat, but I was not using my full name in those letters."
I could feel her reserve locking down as her blue eyes darted to the other pilot. "You had some fascinating ideas." She gave a smile. "We must catch up then. You know myself so I think we can skip full introductions."
The other pilot's tail flicked and she gave a disapproving look.
"Fine." There was a sigh. "I am Primus Volantes Centurion Countess Tauria Magnus DiamondDust, and my companion, and stickler for protocol, is Volantes Centurion Baroness VioletBlood."
"Charmed," I bowed my horns to the little baroness.
"Now, Baroness," Tauria gave a smile. "Can you give me a moment so I can catch up with an old friend?"
The baroness eyed me but her stance became meek when Tauria's attention turned towards her. She saluted and pushed the cart away, her tail low; its tip twitching.
"Crazy demons," Tauria quietly murmured as she directed me to the side of the concourse.
The waiting room for travelers had a fair-size commissary so that Fleet and Legionaries could pick up various small items to supplement their kit just before boarding their airships.
There was also something vaguely similar to a Commonwealth pub, or a Low Provinces beer cafe. Despite being part of a military base, there was some attempt to add a homey feel. It helped that much of the furniture here was wooden and even a whitewashed vaulted ceiling helped give a good atmosphere. The style here was a blend of Alecton and Condani
Condanium was a city in the northwest of House BlackSky's mainland holdings. Near the border with Elena and positioned where a river emptied into a massive bay, it was a port city. Unsurprisingly, there turned out to be a fair degree of fish on the menu.
We seated ourselves with Tauria practically perched on the fairly high booth we sat in. Hair bobbing, she looked over the menu with a frown. I knew she was not a fan of things that were fried and greasy.
"We can um... go somewhere with lighter fare?" I offered.
"That was clever of you," she noted, paging through the menu as she shifted her wings to try to get comfortable.
"I'm sorry?"
"Using an academic journal to sound me out. We exchanged several rounds of correspondence and I never..." She put the menu down. "I didn't even think you were here."
I put my hands up but... instead of reaching across I folded them in front of me on the table. "I don't know how it happened. After there was... well you could call it a dream. Maybe it had to do with that battle; the last one. Your last one."
Giving up on trying to position her wings, she let them fold down as if she was trying to minimize the giant collections of gleaming white feathers. "That's what he said... when he had others to take care of..." she quietly murmured.
"Tanya?"
"How... were..." she gathered herself. When challenged she had two ways of reaction: cold logic or intense violence. Or both. "What do you remember?"
"The Rhine. The 203rd. It becoming Salamander. Fjords and deserts. Operation Revolving Door. Singing after strafing the capital of the Russy Federation. Operation Götterdämmerung ," I shrugged. "What do you remember?"
She stared at me. "That was too grandiose of a name, and far too revealing of intention," she grumbled."
"Tanya?"
"Careful with that name. We can't all be as lucky to have the same nickname, Visha."
I smiled despite myself. "You remember then?"
She gave a little nod. "Weiss got you back home? Those that survived."
"Yeah, after that the war was..." I exhaled. "That's not important."
She gave me a critical look as a waitress with long white hair and deep blue wings slipped up to us. I ordered water and Tauria took a coffee.
The silence drew out as she looked into the cup and took a sip.
"I'm willing to entertain that you are who you say you are."
"Good?" I sipped the water. At least she was not in her Ritual Plate. That was... some comfort.
"I would prefer not to report you as a spy, or as a madwoman. The paperwork and questions it would ask would be burdensome," she said with utterly frank seriousness.
I blinked then, despite the tension, laughed. That, more than her making Ace before her twelfth birthday, was strong evidence she was who I thought she was.
I ran a finger over the rim of the cup. "So... um... we did win right?"
"The war? How would I know that?"
"No, not that. You know how it would have gone…" I kept the ire out of my voice. It was not at her anyway; she had known from the start that we would not win against the world. It was not fair. It started with us being invaded on multiple fronts but, as Tanya would note, fairness had nothing to do with it. "I'm asking about your last fight. Our last fight."
Her trepidation vanished as she gave a toothy smile. "That was a success."
"Really?"
She reached out and patted my hand. "Our world, our past world, was freed of a great evil. You could say we took out the trash and got rewarded for it."
I looked at her little hand on mine. I could feel her sincerity, her satisfaction.
"Someone talked to you... after you died?"
She gave a little smile.
I squeezed her hand.
Tauria looked down. "We have to be careful, Visha."
"We do?"
She lowered her voice. "If it gets out that we were reincarnated, certain parts of the Imperial government would be interested in us. Do you want to be poked and prodded? Best case they confirm our stories and we have to be tested and examined, worst case they can't find any magical signature or whatever and we get declared mad and drummed out of the Legions."
"It wouldn't be that bad," I protested.
She waved me off
"But we're both here for a reason."
"I agree." She looked me over. "I'm still getting over the shock."
"Yes, you're quite rattled," I dryly noted. I knew her coping mechanisms. She would be making theories, building contingencies.
Still holding my hand, Tauria sipped her coffee. "You sought me out. Amber Island is thousands of miles away. And, from the dates we started corresponding, you started it not long after I fought the War Mistress. I suppose that propaganda push had some upside."
"Now what?"
She let go. "Well, we can let Baroness VioletBlood unpack and organize my kit and hers and sort my Flight's admin paperwork alone. That will give us some time before I have to get back to my wingwoman."
"And what will we do until then?" I asked, trying not to frown at that. I was once her wingwoman.
Tauria picked up the menu as if she could will it to produce an option suitable to her tastes. "You are right, we do have a lot of work to do. And no reason to not discuss things on an empty stomach."
End Chapter 9
There we go. Took longer than originally planned, but got the Battle of Ortov concluded and have Visha reunited. I plan to have ch10 open with Tauria's POV on Visha reappearing into her life and her thinking about how this influences her future plans and obligations.
Thank you so much for all of you who have read and commented.
And special thanks to especially to DCG, Ellf, Green Sea, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.