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 26: Inclement Weather
The Onyx Institute was on fire; that was entirely our fault. The hail pelting Second and Fourth Squadrons and threatening to put our fires out was not. Despite our efforts, the SilverHold was active.
As my diminished Squadron raced to the north, I split my attention, arranging my forces as I studied the tactical plot. Soon, I expected that we would be tasked with our first attack runs, perhaps sooner than my pilots thought, if they expected everything to go per the briefing. While we were engaged with sinking those mercenary sailors, and as the Fleet girls had bombed that Elenese air base, the Broadcast Recon team had become the first of the Imperatrix's forces to make hooffall on Harp's World.
Complicating their arrival had been the presence of Jammers in all of the Institute's critical locations, including Building 37, the presumed location of our target. The plan called for Broadcast Recon to teleport to a location just outside of the Jammers' range and then infiltrate the facility from there. I was not sure how they would disguise the magical signature, but given the elder demoness JadeJavelin was presumably on the same VTOLs that the raiders had teleported from, I had my suspicions.
Broadcast Recon's target had not been Building 37 nor any other similarly flashy location. In this early phase of the operation, they had studiously avoided the SilverHold or any of the other experimental facilities, remaining laser focused on their preliminary objectives. Their designated target was the Institute's auxiliary control room for its physical plant. Places like the main scrying arrays and antennae farms would be more heavily guarded, but the mission's planners had hypothesized that security would be lighter around a redundant location like the backup control room.
Their goal had been more than simple sabotage: from that control room, they had hopefully learned all that the Institute possessed that required such large amounts of power. Any power, be it electrical, steam, or arcane, was after all traceable through its distribution network.
Based on the information Broadcast Recon had unearthed, our targeting information would be updated, and soon afterward, the main landing would then commence.
We would arrive too late to take part in all of that. I did not know if the bombardment came from the
Tarantula Hawk's small but secretive magazine or the
Desert Strix but by the time we arrived, the Institute's scrying systems, air defense installations, the Sixth River Detachment's likely barracks, and hangars for the base's golem complement were all engulfed in flames. Under the protective cover of Quirinus's First Squadron, two dozen Sarpedona ground attack RP were running constant sorties on anything that offended the Tribune's sensibilities.
Somehow, CSR's audacious madcap plan was actually working.
As the defenders reeled, the other Squadrons punching a hole in their defense, our landing craft swooped low, getting as close as possible before delivering our Forward Recon scouts, the grenadier teams, Lares and his boys, and our combat mages to the operation zone. Despite the unseasonable sleet, the small air-defense golems we brought with us were coming online.
And Building 37 itself was assaulted.
Observing from miles and miles to the south, my Squadron's channel erupted in cheers. "We better not be late!" Millie said with what I hoped was a mock pout.
I did share her desire to not be tardy, but as fast as our Polyxo were there was only so fast we could go, and while an option that could guarantee our timely arrival existed, I was not ready to use that contingency, not yet at least.
"There will be plenty of the two-faced curs left to face our wrath," Lavish declared with a haughty sniff as if tonight were not the first time she had killed anyone in anger.
I could understand my pilots' exuberance: their blood was still up after destroying an enemy flotilla, they'd seen the enemy driven away from our might, they wanted to avenge our wounded, and the SilverHold was tantalizingly within our grasp, and the call for vengeance sung in their veins. But House Elena was our greatest rival for a reason.
"Hopefully there will be some Elenese armor left by the time we get there," Melisande laughed. "I'd hate to go all that way and not be needed."
"We've gotta make it up to Pulivia's absence," RoseTalon smugly cheered. "And we brought plenty of ordnance. Be a shame to return to base with full flasks."
Just as I was about to temper their exuberance with a few carefully chosen words, another voice beat me to the punch.
"You thin-tailed, soft-horned braggarts," VioletBlood growled over the channel, her tone full of scorn. "A treed broodling who followed her sisters has more sense than you lot. One only has to look at the weather overlay to know the enemy isn't out of this fight."
"Thank you Primus Centurion," I stated.
"Prefect Countess," my betrothed acknowledged.
"VioletBlood is right," I said as I highlighted some items on the Squadron-level tactical plot. "Note that Building 37 is still in enemy hands. We have not confirmed that all enemy armor has been destroyed. More tellingly, despite the power being cut, the SilverHold has been activated, and despite our Tempestarii's best efforts, our friends are fighting in a gale right now. Taken together, what does all of that tell you?"
"That the SilverHold can be used as a weapon against ground troops?" Visha asked.
"They want to deny the sky to us," GreyDawn remarked.
"Elena is only doing this because they have a counter-attack planned," Lucia stated.
"Correct, all of you." I smiled. "They are buying space and time. If I were tasked with defending this facility I would secret away as much of my equipment as I could."
"Ahhh... that explains these vectors," VioletBlood purred as she went over the attack runs I had proposed.
"And why my Flight is running anti-air suppression," Lucia noted.
"Indeed, while Elena is not above attritional spoiling attacks, their preparations and these crack troops mean they'll only launch their counter-attack once they think they can take us out, and that includes getting enough launchers to clear us from the sky."
"Great..." Lucia crawled, "So you think we could still be facing a full battery of Loew anti-air golems?"
"Correct. Quirinus shares my concerns," I stated. Admittedly, she also thought that I was being pessimistic, paranoid, and cynical, but that was her prerogative. Besides, skepticism aside, the Tribune could not discount my worries and was an experienced enough Legion Flier to know to always prepare for the worst case scenario.
And of course, for a sky-to-land assault, heavy concentrations of anti-air tended to feature prominently in any scenario ranging from "worst case" to "abort immediately".
In an airborne raid, getting your troops down was only half of the mission. The easy half. We still had to get this DarkStar-cursed whatever it was, which had just been made more difficult by the holed-up researchers activating it, load the possibly still-functioning device onto a VTOL, and get it out of here. Not to mention extracting everyone else who set foot on this cursed colony. All of which fell under the umbrella of "the harder half".
"Our Occultia haven't detected any enemy preparations?" Lucia tepidly asked.
"It's a giant facility with over a dozen arcane test cells, many of which are built out of massive concrete blocks. And much of it is on fire, freezing or both," GreyDawn stated. "I pity the Fleet Ops boffins obliged to try to separate a smoldering alchemical plant in a reinforced bunker from a lurking golem ready to strike."
"I suppose that's why we're redlining our Zephyr," Lucia noted, her tone indicating she found tossing aside Veiling to be disquieting.
"Our time for stealth is over," I stated with more confidence than I felt. I would have preferred to keep our approach more low-profile. But all the stealth in the world wouldn't help if we arrived after the battle was already lost.
"And if we get jumped by survivors from Air Station Dola Gorod?" Lavish asked.
"Then they won't be able to interfere with the ground team or our mission objectives," I said with a cold calculation. "Volantes Centurion RoseTalon, you are a Legion Flier; you get the privileges of flaunting dashing silver flashes on your uniform, hoarding enough glory to make your mother Senator's sycophants jealous, and donning armor that costs more than the average hoof-slogger will see in her lifetime. In exchange, the Imperatrix demands that you run the risk of being blown out of the sky so those same hoof-sluggers have a chance to get back home. Such is the compact; such are your oaths."
"I know that!" Lavish tried not to bristle.
"You've done well tonight," I softened my tone and shifted to the whole Squadron. "I know some of you are new to this, and we're all new to each other, but you wouldn't be here if I didn't believe in you and would trust you at my wing."
"Yes Countess!" Lavish said, along with several other transmissions of agreement.
"Okay, now tighten up the excess chatter," I ordered. "We'll be in the thick of it soon enough."
My Squadron continued to fly on in silence for a few more beats as I studied the map display. The Institute had a massive footprint with many of the test cells in isolated parts of their grounds. That made sense from a practical standpoint, certainly some arcana experiments were quite energetic. Unfortunately it also made our job quite a bit harder.
It seemed that the meteorological conditions in the operation's zone had begun to stabilize, relatively speaking. Freezing precipitation was still causing havoc with the relatively warmer ground. Leafy tree branches had already broken, and roads had slicked up. Horrible weather would hurt the defenders as well, but if they had expected and trained for it, then that might give them the edge. The cloud ceiling was ominously low, blotting out the sky over the Institute with the thick curtain of the roiling storm the Elenese had summoned. The surprised complaints from my Zephyr preceded my instruments warning me of the pressure drop as we flew across the weather front.
"Flight Ops, Flight Ops. This is Diamond Actual, we are approaching from the south east," I said before adding in our precise heading.
"Confirm Diamond. Good work handling the Catalan Company. First Squadron is escorting a VTOL landing mission and Fourth Squadron is relieving Second Squadron for another assault on Building 37. Maiden Two is positioned to provide for those ops while Maiden One is supporting the Fleet Harmonia."
"Understood," I stated. I already knew much of that but having Flight Ops confirm that my map was not simply displaying nonsense was well worth it. "What of the Corvettes?"
Other than my pilots, those two
Kolibris were the "big guns" of this operation. If nothing else, that little fact amply demonstrated the laughably shoe-string nature of CSR's scheme. DarkStar's Blood, it's not like I was asking for a
Kanabo class battlecruiser. A cruiser, or even a destroyer would be enough to give us a decisive advantage.
"After the strikes on the Air Station and the Institute,
Desert Strix is husbanding her munitions. But
Nightjar is already enroute."
"Understood; we just came from there," I added the bit as a minor way to express my pique. While the
Kolibri class was quite fast, that was by airship standards. By Ritual Plate standards, my Polyxo was easily seven times faster.
"Their supersonic aerial Torpedoes will be in firing range shortly," the dispatcher replied.
And that was true. While the
Kolibri class was slower, the large missiles they carried had far greater range than my Squadron's lances. A Torpedo bomber would combine higher speed and longer range munitions, but Operation Epimetheus had not brought along any Hastas or the rumored-to-be even faster Manta Ray.
"Which means their subsonics are already in range," I noted. Those missiles could be a help, but due to their slower propulsion, it would take them longer to arrive.
"The few there are," the dispatcher agreed. "You're updated into the tactical network. You'll be alerted when a firing solution is ready."
I kept in a chuckle. Apparently, we have moved past any pretense that my pilots were necessary for this phase. We all knew that someone was going to be at the receiving end of a Lance Strike, whether or not I was on station to rubber-stamp the launch. "Confirm," I stated. Even with both Corvettes able to help, the problem was that the small airships had correspondingly small magazines.
"Flight Ops, out," the dispatcher said, seemingly eager to be rid of me and onto the next task in her queue. I did not begrudge her. While the
Tarantula Hawk was by far the largest ship in the operation, and had been modified for operations like this, it still had a limited number of dispatchers, tactical officers, arcane analysts, and other boffins to help run operations.
"The Shippies and the VTOL jockeys are fixing to help the hoof-sloggers with another push and my pride will not stand for us to be late to the party," I said to a chorus of enthusiastic agreement from my pilots.
As the celebratory mood once again spread through the Squadron, although this time sufficiently muted to not rouse VioletBlood's ire, I settled into the laborious task of watching our relative positions inch up the map display while keeping an eye on the Scrying feed. It would not do to be jumped by the enemy before we arrived at the Institute.
The tiny part of me that had grown comfortable with the idea of being the pious Countess of Larium held out a bit of hope that the bulk of the Elenese forces had perhaps already been routed and this fresh assault by our forces would brush off the determined, but isolated, defenders of Building 37 and the SilverHold would be ours.
The rest of me laughed at that deluded noblewoman's naiveté.
The analytical part of me noted that the fire missions of our Sarpedona squadrons had kept the enemy down, but had avoided simply leveling the building. If destroying Building 37 and sifting through the ruins was not an option, that meant that the SilverHold was apparently fragile. Perhaps not fragile like a piece of glass; perhaps fragile like an undetonated bomb. A sufficiently strong and fully empowered magical artifact might just explode if a building fell on top of it. Such an outcome would present both a risk to any friendlies unfortunate enough to be in the blast radius and, perhaps worse, a clear failure of our mission.
My tension grew as the minutes passed. The closer we got to the Institute, the more my stomach churned. House Elena was not stupid. They valued the SilverHold and had erected a multi-layered defense to protect it, and while our assault had destroyed many of their assets, it could not have taken out all of them.
That Building 37 was still being contested was proof enough of that. The Institute's grounds were far too large for us to get a full idea of everything that the enemy had hidden here.
The naive countess in me thrilled with a slight bit of hope when our arcane sappers took out the wards on a secondary door on the low-slung concrete blockhouse. That hope almost bloomed when our grenadiers began their breakthrough.
The Elenese counter-attack followed shortly after that.
It started slowly. A burst of concerned chatter here or there, a couple unconfirmed reports of increased activity in, a few queries about new hostile targets. It quickly exploded into something much worse, confused chaos soon consumed the communications channels in a hungry conflagration. The comms channels became a twisted mess of conflicting, unconfirmed reports and sightings, making it all but impossible to discern what had happened beyond Elena finally throwing their shit at the fan.
Soon, however, the professionals in the Fleet Ops separated the signal from the noise, and the tactical display began to organize itself. From redoubts in the western part of the base a number of golems emerged. The majority were the smaller Loew anti-aircraft platforms, but there was a troop of Baalshem combat golems and a couple of Vilna golem tanks. The scrying data also indicated there was at least a century's worth of infantry scrambling about. At least the charge did not seem to be full at strength, so our initial bombardments had thinned their numbers.
"Flight Leaders, this is Diamond," I called over the command channel. "The two-faced brainwashers have made their move."
"We're still too far out," Lucia noted, though her tone was more thoughtful than dour.
"For now, but we still have a couple tricks," I assured.
"That is if Fabia's Fourth Squadron leaves us anything leftover," VioletBlood groused. "Oh, and now JadeTalon's girls are moving to reinforce."
"Careful what you wish for, LoveBlood. And you were just being critical to the Squadron for bravado." I frowned. Before all this, Second Squadron was being rotated off the line to rearm and top off their fuel.
"That was to the rank and file, who were engaging in false bravado," the baroness clarified as if that made all the difference.
"Keep it in the command channel, then," I stated while we watched the scrying intake as the tactical markers resolved. The Elenese armored advance organized and, after a false start in the heavy precipitation, launched into an assault.
First Squadron's Harmonia were still escorting a pair of VTOLs but had split with half their forces moving to give overwatch. Second Squadron arced around and, joining with the two Svalinna, moved in to take out the enemy air defense golem. Fourth Squadron then took position to slice between the armored Elenese armored thrust and our ground elements.
And Third Squadron, my squadron, was still too far out.
While the six-legged Loew were built with their own wards, their primary defense was the racks of Kresnik missiles they carried. With a comparable range to the Vel and a somewhat larger warhead, the Kresnik was a capable munition: far more than the aging Broadheads the Catalan Company used. The Loew typically only carried that one type of missile, which was unusual for a larger platform. Despite the potential weight of fire, Lady Primus IvoryQuiver and her wingwoman of Maiden Two would be capable of running interception to allow Second Squadron to take out the scuttling battery. Everyone's performance would be degraded, given the maelstrom's horrid weather state, but Sarpedona pilots were specialists in air to ground fire in all conditions.
That was, at least, the plan.
Shockingly, the Loew golems withstood the intense Pilum fire, enduring the withering projectile hail as if it was just more sleet pouring down from the sky. Improbably, most of their wards countered the arcane blasts with the same resilience as they did the hail. Two unlucky Loew blew apart when the Squadron switched their tactics to concentrate their fire, but that still left the bulk of the battery functional and more than willing to fire back.
"Perfidious swine," VioletBlood groused.
"So they
do have a Stone Coat with them," Lucia dryly noted. The "damn her eyes" part of that comment was left tactfully unspoken.
"It looks that way," I sighed. "And instead of enhancing their armored golem, their golem wrangler is enhancing their anti-air assets."
Forgoing the increased range of a larger missile, the Loews simply invested in cavernous magazines supported by a capable scrying suite and solid warding, and that was before their protections were enhanced by a specialist arcanist. A veritable swarm of Kresnik missiles burned through the air, angling at Second Squadron. It was only due to the intervention of Maiden Two's Svalinna that the Sarpedona force escaped instant destruction.
Over on the Squadron Commander channel, I heard Quirinus bark orders to JadeTalon. "Julia! Pull back. You're already down two pilots. You started out on fumes and you don't even have enough Pilum to go around for another try."
"Confirm," JadeTalon acknowledged through gritted teeth, growling out an order for her remaining forces to cede the airspace. While the intense storm hurt the maneuverability of both Ritual Plate and missiles, the latter were expendable, and each Loew had considerable magazines.
The display updated, the overlay changing color as Flight Ops grudgingly bowed to reality and admitted that part of the airspace over the Institute was contested. For the moment, the Elenese defenders had, by combining weather-conditions, arcane enhancement, and a local air-defense network, created a small region of hostile airspace.
"We have other assets that'll take them out," the Tribune growled out as if chewing nails.
Fabius's Fourth Squadron had ground down the counterattack's momentum to near nothing, or at least their fire had forced the Elenese forces to remain cowering directly under the anti-air umbrella provided by the Loewes. The shoulder mounts of the Baalshem combat walkers were firing up arcane beams; they did not hit, but they did keep Fourth Squadron on their toes. Icons representing Sixth River Detachment commandos advanced with their armored support.
My stomach churned when I caught a flickering icon on my display that indicated a Sightless Specter assaulted the ground team's flank, one met with a symbol indicating Auxilia Scouts. I wished Lares and his boys the best as they faced their Elenese rivals.
The Sarpedona had slowed the Elenese assault and bought time for the ground team to reposition in the process. Much of the heavy guns of the Baalshem and cannons of the Vilna were intercepted by Maiden Two as the Svalinna pilots dove down low to project their wards.
The action helped keep the hoof-sloggers largely alive as they retreated to an adjacent facility across from Building 37. However, while it may have bought some time, the Svalinna only had a limited number of charges on their ward projectors. Our Marius Mule-mounted launchers lobbing their own missiles purchased more, but ultimately both were stopgaps, not solutions. The VTOLs on approach were waved off, with half of First Squadron sticking with them. Unfortunately, speedy solutions were something we were in short supply of. Fortunately, I had a way to provide a more timely one of my own, though it came at a bit of a risk.
"Tribune, this is Diamond Actual," I transmitted. "I have a request."
Quirinus's voice was a bit harried. "Countess, I'm trying to convince these Shippies that they can either have their reserve Torpedoes for a later disaster or they can watch the mission fail right now and that bloody Lady Legate is being cryptic about emergency assets. Which as much as we all trust our CSR friends, I doubt they have anyone who can arrive in time. So Unless you have a way to get your pilots here even faster... ah."
"Yes, Ma'am that's exactly what I'm asking for." I had looked at the map, checked and rechecked the calculations myself, and found that it could work. It would be costly, and had its own dangers, but given our tight time constraints, it was a rational decision. It was not like anyone else was coming to save us.
"We are going to get a Torpedo strike. Even if the corvettes complain their cupboard is bare, the Lady Legate is not stupid; there are contingencies-" my commander caught herself. "That is to say the
Tarantula Hawk has..." she sighed. "You'll be gambling with your pilots' lives."
"We're flying headfirst into life-threatening danger either way, Ma'am, that's part of the oath we took to the Imperatrix. Besides, what if that Stone Coat has some Fire Talkers to help her or they pull out some other trick and manage to shoot down the Torpedoes?" I shrugged, "I'd much rather my girls arrive while we still had friends to lean on, than after we'd already burned the last card in our hand."
Quirinus pondered for a moment. "Do it. But tell your girls they
must drop back if their systems start to overload."
"Confirm, Tribune." I clicked the channel off and exhaled a heavy breath. And went back to the Flight Leader channel and added GreyDawn. I wanted my
Signifier to provide a sanity check. "You've all seen the disaster unfolding. Our firepower is urgently required. Which means we'll be bending the rules, the Tribune has authorized this."
"We're pushing Zephyr beyond redline then?" Visha asked.
"My remaining pilots' suits are to spec," Lucia offered.
I took a moment to weigh the risks and, more importantly, to be seen weighing the risks. I'd already thought the matter over well beforehand, it was a foregone conclusion in my mind, no matter how distasteful. However, showing such clear consideration on the part of officers conveyed the message that their soldiers' welfare was of great concern, boosting morale at the expense of a few seconds.
That wasn't to say that the dangers were at all imaginary. The extra fuel burn, increased stress on power distribution networks, greater wear to propulsion enchantments, and near certainty of Centurion Gibbs yelling at me when this was all over were all notable downsides. Ritual Plate models had a max thrust rating for a very good reason. However, that was the governed "max rating" that MuArc Amalgamated included as a way of maximizing a suit's lifespan and minimizing the odds of malfunction. It was the highest thrust the manufacturer was confident the suit could do safely under most conditions, but it also meant there was a little bit of a margin for someone willing to push the envelope if it meant wearing out their suit faster or risking an arcane or mechanical failure.
And I did have every confidence in the skills of the Ritualista in my command when it came to handling the increased wear and tear.
"We can go fifteen percent over, but only until we cross into the Institute's airspace. That shouldn't be too long to stress our systems or have us go bingo on fuel, while leaving us plenty of time to throttle back and let our suits cool off," I said, concluding that the exchange of extra wear for increased speed would be worth it. Adding in all the increased velocity relative to our current rate we'd arrive in about three-quarters of the time. "Besides, by the time we get that close we'll be worrying about firing solutions."
"The Squadron can just go through a cloud bank. That'll be plenty cold," VioletBlood joked. Or at least I hoped my baroness was joking. Not that we would have a choice...
Shoving my curiosity aside, I turned back to the topic at hand. "Clouds aside, I want all of you to make it very clear to your pilots that they are ordered to cut back power
immediately if their systems or spirits can't handle the extra strain. I swear by DarkStar that if anyone gets themselves killed thanks to an overclocking failure, I will personally drag their souls from the afterlife and bind them to heat my coffee pot."
"Our Veils should be powered off," GreyDawn added after a beat's pause. "Pushing our power systems to that level will be enough of a strain."
"Do it," I agreed, confirming the order. It was a sensible call; right now, with us at the nominal maximum speed, our Veils were at a low setting that did provide some chromatic camouflage. Once we overclocked, that camouflage would cease to provide any real utility. "That's why I want time to get them rekindled once we arrive." I looked over the Squadron status indicators on my display. "By my read everyone's suits can handle this; does anyone know otherwise?"
After this stunt, all our suits would need a full examination and testing to recertify our power systems. In addition to earning Gibbs's ire, each suit would likely require replacing dozens of components, their fragile internals weakened by the power they were forced to conduct.
I waited until all three of my Flight Leaders gave their assent. I felt a small pang of the isolation of command as I heard them sound off one by one, but I pushed it away; practicality far outweighed sentimentality in warfare, and if my Primus Centurions knew their pilots and the condition of their suits better than I did, that was simply part of their organizational purpose. The resulting distance was the unavoidable price of being an officer.
"Good," I said, acknowledging the confirmation. "Go and pass the orders to the girls with my compliments."
In many ways, an RP pilot was much like her Zephyr, most critically in how both hungered endlessly for speed. Even my own spirits burbled with excitement. It was not since the sky over Narvos two years ago that I had pushed my suit this hard in combat. Though there were times over the Crocelli jungles that came close, dipping above the officially rated power was a handy trick, but one that a pilot could only do so often before the odds caught up to her.
And it was due to my spirit's influence that I flicked the safeties and let my Zephyr loose. The distant roar of the thrust that had long since faded into the background surged again as my Zephyr all but howled with glee. I pressed yet further into the cushioning of the suit, feeling the strain across every inch of my body as the Polyxo shot past the redline and raced ahead of the formation.
I was sure Visha would chastise me for my showboating, and GreyDawn might even have a quiet word in private, but for the moment, I luxuriated in the thrill of acceleration. To my Squadron's credit, they did not lollygag about in shock but instead copied and rocketed to catch-up.
Knowing it would not be long before Flight Ops chimed in my ear to demand an explanation, I preemptively called in to make my order to exceed the redline on my squadron's suits official. A Volantes Tribune's approval would cover many sins and dropping Quirinus's name was more than enough to smother any complaints. Besides, if there ever was a time to profligately burn fuel and risk our suits, it would be in responding to an emergency just like this.
It did not take long for the excitement to wane and slowly be replaced by mounting dread as every instrument tasked with monitoring the arcane energies flowing through me slowly climbed higher and higher over the listed
do not exceed values, some of the dials had literal red lines which the indicator needles had moved past. I did have to give MuArc credit: Other than the tooth-rattling vibrations, a fluttering from my Zephyr that bedeviled the auto-pilot, the ward projectors frizzing once we entered the SilverHold summoned storm clouds, and a slowly growing number of alerts in my power system, my Polyxo held up magnificently.
Which is to say it entirely failed to detonate under the pressure of the overclocked forces throbbing through its conduits.
The strain on my wings grew to a dull ache as the spells and my Zephyr fought to keep them from being ripped off. If not for those spirits shaping the airflow around me, the drag would have torn my suit and body apart. The slipstream also started to chill my tail beyond the capacity of the suit's heating elements, an increasingly distracting detail. I could feel the growing toll it was taking on me, body, mind and spirits, and the discomfort was starting to bleed into genuine pain.
"Aren't you all thankful for the endurance training now?" I transmitted to the rest of my Squadron, momentarily distracting myself from the misery blooming within me.
They gave pained laughs, but each one of them was keeping up.
"Keep it up and the drinks will be on me when we get back to the
Tarantula Hawk!" I encouraged while scanning the abbreviated status alerts. Our suits were not in great shape, but neither was the situation truly bad. There was a variety of small warnings, but there was nothing that made me order anyone to drop out. Instead, all ten of us continued our profligate fuel-burn.
On top of considering my own survival, and on top of keeping an eye on the Elenese armored-assault, dread over what I was missing began to fill me. The forces defending the Institute had assembled and launched a strong counter-offensive, but it was incomplete, lacking… A diversion?
Where was the Elenese air power? Surely we couldn't have taken it all out in our initial assault. If any of their air-assets had survived the attack on Air Station Dola Gorod, this was the moment they would appear, ready to exploit the localized disputed air control.
Perhaps I was being needlessly pessimistic; perhaps we truly had managed to take out all of the Elenese planes and Ritual Plate… But no, not even my internal optimistic countess could find it in herself to truly believe that much. House Elena had prepared well in advance for hostile actions and had exhibited an unflinching willingness to stand in defense of the Institute. Whoever was commanding them wouldn't have been so foolish as to keep every air asset tucked away into the same hangers. There had to be some other reason to explain the delay. That they were playing for time before Elenese Fleet assets arrived was a nightmare scenario.
I sipped some water and ordered my Squadron to hydrate and keep a close eye on their fuel burn and aetheric pressure gauges. A sudden surge in burn, above the already high rates, or a spike in pressure in the fuel or munitions flasks would be signs to immediately drop speed.
"Flight Ops, Flight Ops, this is Diamond Actual," I transmitted.
"Diamond you are..." the dispatcher paused, seeming a bit distracted. "Ah yes, that explains your velocity."
"Correct, Flight Ops. Requesting firing vectors for my Strike-Suits."
"You're still well outside of Lance Range and haven't even entered the Institute's air space."
"Given our velocity is closer to twice the speed of sound than not, I want to ensure we are lined up on the correct heading and get this on the first pass. I am reading the enemy anti-air battery at the following location." I managed to keep my voice controlled as I read off the coordinates.
"That is correct Diamond Actual, but the
Strix has already launched a quartet of Georgius Light Torpedoes," she explained, seeming a bit harried. My anxiety spiked, a nervous dispatcher was a bad sign.
Like the Hordwulf, the Georgius was another supersonic member of the Konoe Light Torpedo family. Unlike the Hordwulf, the Georgius did not have submunitions; instead, its warhead was a single hundred and twenty pound charge. The Georgius was intended to be used against heavily-warded targets that were too large or too well-protected for normal submunitions, but too small to be worth a Fujiwara Heavy Torpedo-sized ship-killer missile. Under normal cases, a Georgius would be overkill against a target the size of a Loew, but with a Stone Coat increasing their warding efficiency, I could see the logic.
"Ah, then if all goes well, I'll need to be given the data feed on the survivors of that bombardment or secondary locations. There are plenty of enemy targets worthy of DarkStar's wrath."
There was another pause. "Understood, Diamond Actual, transferring targeting data to you."
I blinked as my display updated. The current assignments straight from the
Strix's fire control team were an admittedly passable bombardment pattern. The defenders had dispersed pairs of Loews fairly far apart, which indicated a strong Stone Coat and was a defense against an attack just like this. That Flight Ops was only sending four Georgius Torpedoes indicated that they were worried about running low. Still, they had aimed the missiles where they could do the most good and should be able to cripple the battery's strength which would allow for a follow-up force such as that slower group of Light Torpedoes they had launched to mop them up or strike at the other golems.
"I see the targeting locations, Flight Ops. I'm sending you my Squadron's planned strike vectors," I explained after modifying the flight-paths a bit. It would be nice to take out more of the Elenese armor fighting for control of Building 37, but there were two Squadrons of Sarpedona who could do as much, once that anti-air battery was destroyed.
"We have your vectors, Diamond, and intercept times," the dispatcher said with a bit of renewed confidence. "Vectors confirmed. We are giving you the live telemetry on the Georgius strike and the follow-up bombardment."
"Will Maiden Two be available?" I asked.
"Maiden Two is running low on ward charges," said the dispatcher, before trailing off for a moment, hissing through her teeth, before adding that, "Maiden One has been rotated in to relieve them."
"Thank you. Diamond Actual, out." I swapped back to my Flight Leaders' channel and walked them through the updated plan.
"Understood," Lucia promised with a slight chatter clipping her words. "We'll clear the path for you."
"Anything Maiden One misses," I assured.
"Of course. And we're not easing off on the thrust?"
"No," I said, explaining that, "even if the Torpedoes hit, I want to give the enemy as little react time as possible."
"Even if?" VioletBlood asked, catching the caveat.
"Have any of you fought a Stone Coat?" I asked, knowing the answer.
"No but we have been briefed..." VioletBlood growled. "You think they're hiding their true capabilities? That would just be like those false-faced betrayers."
"I'm saying that there wasn't even supposed to be one here at all," I replied levelly. "Who knows what other tricks they have lying in the shadows?"
"The Stone Coats are one of House Elena's most secretive Arcane Sisterhoods," Visha noted.
"See, they are secretive by Elenese standards. I want you to be ready." I glanced over the color-coded indicators of my status board. "How are your pilots taking this?"
"Oh, they're thrilled with the extra speed," Lucia replied.
"They're puffed up with unearned noble pride," VioletBlood grumbled.
There might have been some light chuckling at that.
"Keep an eye on them, unless you want to help me explain to the Senior Senator of Belum how we let her daughter blow herself up."
"Well, mine are worried about their Ritualista yelling at them afterwards," Visha said.
There was some more tension easing laughter at that.
"Good," I said, relieved that morale in the leadership cohort at least remained high. "Now go brief your pilots and check on their suit status; we're two-thirds through this and will be able to drop below the redline soon enough."
Letting my Flight Leaders go about my work, I checked back in on the overall tactical picture. The Elenese armored assault had finally bogged down, and they had lost a couple more golems.
The Baalshem, for all its weapon, armor, and warding, was still vulnerable to enough concentrated firepower. Unfortunately, as our Sarpedona were limited to providing fire support in a way that was not suicidal, that left the Elenese ground forces a freer hand. As a fast, implacable combat walker the Baalshem was designed as a breakthrough asset; one that was ultimately expendable. Worse, the Elenese commandos practically had the Legionary ground team by their tunic belts and were fighting over the various support structures surrounding Building 37.
If not for the anti-air battery, our Sarpedona could have closed in to provide some extra close fire support, but that was impossible with the Stone Coat on the field. One upside was that with the Stone Coat busy keeping her Loews operational and the Sightless Specters seemingly driven off by Lares and his boys, the ground team was facing
only Sixth River Detachment commandos.
Said commandos were still supported by armor. Even with that advantage though, they were fighting relatively conservatively. This could indicate they had sustained heavy losses in our initial assaults and that they were husbanding their resources. Alternatively, perhaps they were simply pinning our forces to buy time for reinforcements.
Which was why I was more than fine to let the fleet try and bombard the anti-air battery. If it worked, it would free my Squadron to take out the rest of the defender's heavy assets.
If it worked.
As the four Light Torpedoes began to approach their targets, I switched over to the channel used by the
Strix's Telum officers.
"Flight Ops. Flight Ops. Torpedo Package Seven is accelerating on terminal sprint. Systems are solid, targets are locked in, veils are up. Package Eight is in the air," the Torpedo wrangler said in a crisp, familiar counter-tenor.
"Confirm," the Flight Ops dispatcher replied. "We have you on-
"Missile launch! Missile Launch!" another dispatcher cut in. "Kresniks are in the air. All Loew platforms are launching."
"Torpedoes Evading! I don't think they've got our heading yet."
"Active Scrying sweep! Lock down that location! Send something to hit that emitter!" the second dispatcher cried.
"Kresnik missiles adjusting course," the missileer stated, her voice tight. "Torpedoes evading. Miss. Miss. First group overshot the torpedoes!"
"We've got another sweep! New location. Send Fourth Squadron, at least knock out that Scrying platform," Flight Ops cried.
"Oh, Hallowed Lady..." the missileer gasped. "Second and third missile groups have bracketed our Torpedoes. Intercept! Intercept! Intercept!
The channel went silent for a moment.
"Final Gregorius is headed in. Course correcting... correcting. Evading... We have Detonation!"
"What is your assessment, Telum Prefect Calmius?" Flight Ops asked.
"Collating feed. We have a hit! Single. One Loew destroyed. Its partner is intact but their ward emitters seem damaged," the Prefect Centurion stated.
Being finally close enough to watch with my own suit's Gorgon Rig, I felt my blood pressure spike. I felt a slight apprehension. I knew this Centurion; we had both been tutored by the same prissy etiquette and elocution instructor at the capital last year.
"Flight Ops, this is Diamond Actual. Our feed confirms. One, repeat, one platform destroyed."
Sometimes, I loathed being right. I could at least take some solace in the fact that my worst case scenario hadn't come to pass; as far as I could tell, there weren't any Fire Talkers helping this Stone Coat. That was something, I supposed. We all knew a Stone Coat could enhance the performance and capabilities of a direct combat golem, including their wards. Using that ability to protect anti-air platforms was an unpleasant trick, but not entirely unexpected.
That they could apparently also enhance the guidance of their anti-missile counter fire was a new and unpleasant surprise. I did not know if the Stone Coat was directly guiding the missiles or merely improving their native interception capabilities. Perhaps those extra scrying pulses were her doing. Personally, I doubted that was the case. So far, the Stone Coat had sensibly kept her head down, so her throwing up such a large arcane flag would be a major break from her operating style to date.
Still, as unpleasant as this development was, there were counters. Even with magical help, that barrage had still cost those Loews a lot of their stockpiled missiles, and they had still managed to only intercept three out of the four Light Torpedoes launched. A massed barrage would get several more through, or maybe a Fujiwara Heavy Torpedo with more countermeasures could obliterate the area, though for redundancy multiple would have to be fired.
The only problem with these supposed "counters" was that none of them were actual solutions for us. Either option would almost certainly require more munitions than the Corvettes had on hand, especially if they wanted to retain anything for fleet defense. This was the cost of CSR's hubris in trying to run such a risky operation with relatively small Fleet assets. The margin for error was almost nonexistent, and we had just about hit that limit.
I saw the flashing status light and the slowing suit on my display just as VioletBlood called. "Diamond Actual, Flight Two Actual here. Centurion RoseTalon is throttling back," she stated all business.
"Confirm. Does she have to turn back?"
"Her Plate's stabilizers are having an overheat issue; she reported it before it got too bad," VioletBlood explained, a bit of wonder at her rookie's prudence clearly audible in her voice. "I'll monitor her status in case it doesn't stabilize once she's no longer overloading."
"Good work, keep me up to date."
"Understood," VioletBlood said with pride. "Flight Two Out."
I switched channels. "Flight Ops, Diamond Squadron is still on approach; we are down to five Strike-RP."
"Ah," the dispatcher coughed. "Good. I'll see about routing some Harmonia to run interference for you after they refuel and rearm."
I doubted they would all be available. Flight Ops would only indulge in exposing their Combat Air Patrol for so long. Also left unspoken was that while anti-air missiles could not intercept a Lance's massive arcane energy beam, those missiles could take out Ritual Plate. Perhaps the Stone Coat had a limited capability to enhance her golems, but I was loath to put my hopes on the theoretical limitations of the enemy.
"Appreciate it," I stated, forcing my tone into the easy, confident Imperial Heroine. "I will hold you to Maiden One's help. I also require one other thing."
"Yes, Diamond Actual?"
Taking in the map, I ran a couple of calculations and nodded to myself. "Telum Prefect Centurion Landgrave Camilus, I'll need you to delay that Torpedo Package Eight and synchronize it to my Squadron," I added, mustering all my noble hauteur.
+++++
Trailing contrails of melting hail, Third Squadron of the 78th Infantry Legion's Epsilon Demi-Wing slashed down into the airspace of the Onyx Institute. On my order, the unit began to throttle down, holding our formation as we gave our Zephyrs a moment to catch their second winds.
The storm also seemed, if anything, a bit lower in intensity now that we had arrived. With our own instruments reading the temperature and pressure, things seemed marginally improved. Either the SilverHold had limitations that the defenders were not willing to push, or the Lady Legate and her Tempestarii were finally able to counter the weather magic.
Alas, we couldn't stay on the same heading, not with wakes that practically lit up the storming night sky as we cut through the heavy clouds on howling Zephyr. As one, ten Polyxo kindled our Veils and shifted into a sharp turn. It cost time, speed, and distance, but the evasive actions were vital.
I would not have my Squadron approaching on such a predictable, obvious, direct line attack vector. Such would be little better than flying my girls straight into the enemy guns. Diving and bleeding altitude made up some of it, and we still had much of the extra speed from our mad-dash to the North.
"Welcome to the Institute, Diamond Squadron," Quirinus transmitted.
"Apologies for the delay, Tribune. We had to help a few lost sailors find their way!" I said, my reply brimming with false cheer as my suit's environmental systems finally had a chance to stabilize the internal temperature. Between the weather, the lack of Veils, and the excess thrust, the last part of the dash had been marked by hellish temperature swings.
"Well, now's your chance to make up for lost time. Since everyone is here. First Squadron?"
"Aye, First is in position," Caenis said, politely omitting the Flight she had set aside to baby-sit the luckless VTOLs that were patrolling out to the east. Her Harmonias would be the beaters to try and spook the air defense battery so they would flush their missiles. They had been conducting harassing sorties that, while dangerous, had kept the Loew golems and the Stone Coat mistress on their toes. It wasn't much, but in times like these, every little bit helped.
"Maiden One?"
"We shall protect," came the reply in the cultured tones of Lady Primus GoldLeaf, one of the Svalinna pilots.
"Second Squadron?" Quirinus inquired.
"Yeah, we're back and full to the brim," JadeTalon confirmed. Her Squadron had been able to slip out and managed to get to
Desert Strix before they fully ran out of fuel or munitions. I was almost jealous; the
Strix was close enough to the Institute that their time spent on that evolution was fairly low. My Squadron, meanwhile, had been forced to refuel over the sea and then immediately fly hundreds of miles up north to be present and accounted for in the next operational phase. Their better warded suits would be the Wall of the formation, breaking the enemy's wards with their heavier Pilum projects in a torrent of arcane fire. Unfortunately, for all that firepower and shielding they weren't quite so quick on their wings, and the reduced high-speed agility could increase their odds of further losses.
"Third Squadron?"
"Our suits are a bit worn and low on fuel, but we've got five Polyxo Strike suits and four more to guard us in," I stated with more certainty than I felt. Even with our suits having a bit of time to recover, our systems had taken some damage, including our ward projectors not being at their full strength.
"Fourth?"
"We'll keep the Hoof Sloggers alive," Fabia promised grimly, as if that was all they could do. A glance at the display showed the truth of it. The green Legionary Fliers of the Fourth Squadron had proven their worth by managing to keep the Elenese armored forces at bay, despite having to, in turn, keep their distance from the enhanced anti-air assets. Yet, at the same time, they were being pushed to their limit just managing that much against fierce resistance.
"Telum Centurion Camilus?"
"Four Dagda Light Torpedoes are moving in; approach has been adjusted to account for simultaneous arrival in the target area," the missileer announced in his resonant voice. "Telemetry is solid and we are fed good scrying data."
Each Dagda carried a trio of Plumbata anti-armor submunitions. Normally that would be more than enough to penetrate a Loew's wards, but with the Stone Coat lurking and the Dagda's slower engines, those munitions used on their own would just be wasted. The solution we'd come to, however blunt, was to use more firepower, if more coordinated this time. With all these attack vectors combined at once, we had a solid chance to pry open a crack for the guided munitions to lever the Institute's anti-air shell wide open.
"Flight Ops, all elements are ready," Quirinus said.
"Confirm, Epsilon Actual," the dispatcher acknowledged dispassionately. "Commence attack run."
"You heard the lady, Epsilon Wing. Execute. Execute. Execute."
Sensing the intensifying focus, my air spirits rallied. Lucia's Flight Three accelerated ahead of us and dropped a bit lower in a guarding position to Visha and VioletBlood's abbreviated Flights. The Lantian Primus, and her Flight, would run interception on anything that slipped past Maiden One.
The simple pleasure my Zephyr felt when flying with purpose helped raise my own spirits. It was heartening to see the flexibility and discipline of Legionary Fliers with, Fleet support in reaction to enemy action.
However, despite relishing the sight of dozens of pilots moving in sync with the demands of an intricate plan, I remained burdened with a single remaining concern. Namely, that this was yet another excellent opportunity for Elenese air assets to appear and absolutely wreck our lovely, oh-so-delicate scheme. If things went according to our plan, it would be about their last opportunity to push us back. If they realized that, and they were half as competent as I thought they were, that meant they had every reason to commit all their reserves to this critical moment.
The map display blurred and refocused, zooming to the mere extent of the Institute's expansive grounds. There, represented with glowing icons, four Ritual Plate formations raced into the teeth of the enemy air-defense battery. Alone and forlorn, Lavish's suit lagged behind the rest of my Squadron. Her suit's status was currently functional; the green-horn Pilot would catch up to us, but not before this attack run.
Glancing at the map, I could see the defensive battle the Legionaries were waging against the Sixth River Detachment and their armored support across the battered structures around Building 37. From the readouts, the Broadcast Recon team and our Scout Auxilia were putting the distraction the battle provided to good use. Brief reports and flickers across the tactical display sketched the shadow-war that danced and wove around the bonfire of the intense fighting at Building 37 as the Auxilia used their superior stealth and mobility to harass the Elenese commandos and even score the occasional mobility kill on the golems.
Of the air components, first to arrive were Caenis and JadeTalon's First and Second Squadrons. The Loews shifted on their thick legs and a brilliant cloud of Kresnik missiles rose into the air on burning motors.
As the air filled with munitions, the Harmonia shifted and, along with Maiden One, started thinning out Kresniks from the sky. With the guidance provided by the Stone Coat, those missiles were just as much of a threat to my Squadron as any other.
"Increase forward wards, veil up and start evading," I transmitted. "Flight Three, clear the road. Flights One and Two, charge Lances." The heavy precipitation was making a hash out of our scrying intake, but thankfully the Occultia flying overwatch helped reduce the interference. Reconnaissance and battlefield intelligence were major force multipliers, and losing either pillar entirely at this crucial moment would be disastrous.
"Dagda are on final approach," Telum Prefect Camilus stated. "Kresniks are altering course. The Stone Coat knows something is up."
"Intercepting," Primus Centurion GoldLeaf, lead pilot of Maiden On, chimed in.
"Thank you. Submunition separation in. Three... two... one! Good separation!" The missileer's satisfaction was justified, as the sky went from having four Light Torpedoes to crowding with a dozen Plumbata anti-armor penetrators.
"Battery launching... missiles...?" Camilus's confusion was also justified, as for a moment the enemy ground-to-air fire seemed... uncertain. Then she yelled, "The battery is splitting their missiles in three parts!"
"Highlighted Kresniks vectoring in our direction," Lucia stated, implacably calm. "Intercepting." Ballista projected arcane energy picking off the missiles that started to get close. The four Polyxo were making good work of it, but the numbers started to tell.
I set my teeth as I checked the display. What did the Stone Coat fear more? A dozen air-to-ground anti-armor missiles or half a dozen Strike RP?
"Confirm targets," VioletBlood ordered her pilots. "I will personally flog any one of you who strays and leaves one of those hard-shells intact."
"Plumbata in terminal targeting," Telum Prefect Camilus stated. "Enemy missiles are intercepting."
Smiling, I chuckled. It was a natural reaction to focus on the nearer, more immediate threat, and right now anti-armor rockets were closer. "Maiden One?"
"We are crossing your path Diamond. Be ready and keep your wards up," the Svalinna pilot stated.
Light filled the night sky as, once again, the Svalinna pilot and her wingwoman activated their potentia ward projectors and plowed through dozens of the Kresnik missiles.
"Adriana, mind your sector!" Lucia ordered as Melisande got ahead of the others. It looked like a bout of target fixation as she went off, chasing missiles to intercept. A group of Kresniks that had gotten past Maiden One bracketed the pilot and blew up.
Unfortunately, I had to delegate that for the moment. Though Melisande's continued screaming and forward velocity likely meant she was still alive. "Targets will be in range in Three. Two. One! Weapons Free. Weapons Free!" I ordered.
There was no time to get fixed identification from our own Gorgon Rigs, which was all the more reason our heading took us parallel to the Legionary ground team so that any Lance fire that fell short or went long wouldn't hit friendlies.
A dozen lances shot out. Even with most of the Loews only getting a single beam, it was still gross overkill. The wards flared and for an instant, dread filled the pit of my stomach. A few missiles vectored to intercept, but the Kresniks simply blew apart when they hit the beams of evocative energy.
But the BlackSkyvian Evocation Lances turned out to be stronger than some Stone Coat's will. The massive beams of bright arcane energy shot out and gutted a wide frontage. It was one thing to disperse your forces to avoid conventional counter-battery fire, it was another when dealing with ship-killer grade munitions. The ground lit up with massive explosions, and for a moment, the hail east of Building 37 ceased.
When it resumed, the storm seemed to be sullen and sapped. I had seen enough combat climatology to know that this was Tempestarii taking advantage of a sudden shift in air pressure to get their metaphysical claws dug in deeper.
"Hits confirmed!" the Telum Landgrave cheered. "Directing Plumbata submunitions to anything still moving."
"Clearing remaining Kresniks," Maiden One transmitted.
And then my Squadron shot past the burning wreckage of the anti-aircraft battery, my heart pounding in my chest. "That's a clean sweep, girls. Move to Rally Point Two. Status check?"
"Adriana has lost a hand," Lucia said on the command channel, unstated was that her weakened wards would have contributed to said appendage's loss.
I kept in the string of obscenities I wanted to blurt out. Third Flight was having bad luck tonight, though Second Flight was a close runner up. At least Lavish had nearly arrived, which softened the blow somewhat. "Understood. Figure out how critical the situation is, get an honest appraisal. If needs be, order her back to the nearest airship, but..."
I left unspoken that we were already down two pilots, three including Lavish's damaged suit. We were edging to the point where each loss would build on the preceding, the point when a Squadron ceased existing as a collection of distinct tactical elements.
"Confirm," Lucia said, with a bit of trepidation, as our Squadron bled off some speed to wheel around and rendezvous with Second Squadron.
JadeTalon's mob was moving to intercept Fabia's Fourth Squadron, and between the two Sarpedona Squadrons were the remaining Baalshem walkers and Vilna tanks. And without their enhanced anti-air protection, the golems were about to face the full wrath of upset Legionary Fliers.
"Good work Diamond Squadron," Quirinus said. "Fabia, Julia don't hesitate to use the Third to take out any hard points. We're on the clock and I want these golems destroyed. After that-"
"
HFV Tamora has detected Elenese air assets!" Flight Ops called on the override channel as a collection of new returns appeared on our scrying input. I only had the vaguest ideas where the smallest of our Fleet assets was lurking, but doubtless, that scout airship was hiding somewhere and quietly watching our northern flank.
"Ah," Quirinus sighed. "Two squadrons of Marzanna RP and a flight of Kupala light bombers. Could be worse."
That all our pre-mission recon had missed these bolt-holes indicated they must have been dug out weeks ago and left untouched until tonight. Which, given the ground assets they'd hid on the Institute's grounds, was not too hard to believe. Especially since, while costly, it was not too hard to hide some extra Ritual Plate suits.
"I wonder what their delay was," Prefect Caenis mused, absurdly calm for the circumstances.
"We did just destroy their airbase," I answered, eyes dancing over the crowded tac board. "I imagine it would be hard to coordinate a response."
I had my own questions about the timing, but this was likely the best that Elena had managed to scrape together. The distances between the Institute and their supporting elements worked against both us and the enemy.
"Caenis, I want you to take First Squadron, Maiden One and one of the Fleet Squadrons and intercept this force," Quirinus ordered. "Tauria, you continue to help the other Squadrons, I'd bet a Legate's baton that our Stone Coat friend survived and that means those cobble-heads and their tank friends are about to get a lot tougher."
"Confirm, Tribune," I replied before going to my Flight Leader channel. "Okay girls, we've taken out the anti-air threat and now can help the hoof-sloggers get that damn SilverHold out of here."
"And once Legion Fliers are cleaning up Fleet Pilot's slipshod work," VioletBlood grumbled.
"Baroness!" I chided.
"Hmm... She
does have a point," Lucia not-so reluctantly admitted. "Yes, the earlier fleet strikes destroyed that Elenese air base or at least much of the facilities and hardware there. However, it's clear to see that the pilots and their ground crew survived. The job's only half-done."
"And for this delayed response, it must have taken them time to relocate to their secondary, distributed launch locations," Visha added. "Hopefully this is all they've managed to scrape together."
"If it wasn't, they would have waited and launched a single strike against us," VioletBlood countered, then her channel went momentarily silent. "Ah... good news, Countess! Centurion RoseTalon has caught up and is in formation."
"That is good news! But about that strike, let's not get too optimistic," I cautioned. The attack our Harmonia Squadrons were racing off to blunt should account for all of the Air Station's Marzanna RP and most of their Kupala missile bombers, but what if our estimates were wrong? Ritual Plate's small footprint yielded many advantages, including manifold tactics for concealing a suit's true strength.
Glancing at the map, I saw that the poor VTOLs who had been caught in the sky when this mess had started were now moving back towards us. One moved with a speed and purpose that made it obvious without even looking at its icons to confirm that it had been drafted into a medivac pickup run. It was a bit reassuring that, shoe-string as this entire operation was, the Lady Legate had still set aside some VTOLs for critical tasks like evacuating the wounded and search and rescue. To do otherwise would have been a betrayal to every hoof-slogger down there.
"Look alive Flight Leaders, it looks like we've got some dropships coming in for a landing."
"We're burning the candle at both ends," Visha stated rather bluntly. Which, I suppose, was a tactful way to mention that our casualties were starting to mount. "Our Fleet assets are also exposed. There's hardly any CAP watching the airships."
"Agreed. The Brass Horns are pushing us to finish up, recover some lost time, get the SilverHold, and get out of here," I gave a slight chuckle. "Though Flight Ops may have cleaned up those orders."
"Diamond Actual," my comms squawked, "this is HarrowFang Actual: I've got a golem I want you to kill for me."
"Eager to help," I transmitted in reply as the coordinates were updated.
The last two of the Baalshem were trying to back their way toward Building 37, attempting to consolidate their position. Despite the rime of ice on the ground, the pair moved with a surprising nimbleness for twenty-ton war machines. The ice was far from the only factor complicating their footing; the Elenese forces were firmly pinned between the bulk of Building 37 to one side, and the harrowed terrain that had been ravaged by over a dozen Lance strikes on the other. Brutalized buildings that were little more than shattered concrete foundations and the twisted stumps of skeletal steel frames had their insides scattered into flaming wreckage. The remains of the Loew battery's munitions and alchemical fuels had been scattered, and what had not gone up with the initial strikes were strewn about feeding into a massed conflagration. An entire wooded grove had been flattened to matchsticks.
In the desolate no-man's land there was cover, of a sort, but nothing for anything larger than infantry. Not that the Sixth River Detachment were trying to flee. They might have lost their anti-air battery, but they still had some armored elements. And while the Baalshem's shoulder mounts had some capacity to fire in a counter RP role, it was very much a secondary purpose.
Much of the terrain had also been covered in debris, forming an impassable scree that was scattered with boulder-sized concrete chunks. A few of the Vilna golems had been knocked to their side or gotten stuck in the newly formed obstacles. Even golems getting themselves unstuck were opportunistically targeted by Second Squadron. In the shock of the anti-air collapse, the Elenese armor force and defensive cordon were whittled down.
"This is a bit much for half a dozen Strike-suits," Fabia said with a mock apology. "But both the Tribune and the Lady Legate are sick of seeing armored golems in their Institute."
"Their Institute"? I nearly rolled my eyes at the sheer chutzpah of the comment.
Talk about counting your chickens…especially when they aren't the ones bleeding for it. Well… hopefully they're not doing some foolhardy thing like leading from the front. But I do have my concerns, what with JadeJavelin helping our weather mages.
"Confirm. Mind introducing my Flight Leaders through with the Centurions on the ground?" I asked. When in doubt, Sarpedona pilots had the best rapport with ground elements.
"I can do that," the gruff Squadron Commander said approvingly.
Having more capacity to move on mixed terrain, the Baalshem fared somewhat better. One even managed to almost get back up after being knocked onto its back, but not before being cored by Pilum fire. All those luckless reinforcements, however, were not what concerned Fabia.
Instead, the two golems worrying her had already closed with Building 37 and were busy putting their heavier firepower to good use. Dragging a lamed left foot, one lugged a heavy mortar which would have made life miserable and short for the Legionaries, save for a somewhat low rate of fire, maybe due to a depleting magazine. Honestly, that cobble-head seemed to be more interested in using its arm-mounted rotary cannons to keep the Elenese commandos from being flanked. I had seen more wasteful methods of achieving suppressive fire, but not many.
Its partner was a slightly more heavily armored Baalshem that bore the twisted wreckage of a back-mounted Kresnik launcher cell that still hung from its left shoulder pylon by a single warped bracket and which flopped with every thudding step. I suppose one of the explosive bolts failed due to all the hail. Instead of a mortar, its heavy weapon mount was a crystalline-cored anti-armor projector.
"Visha, VioletBlood we've got another run. Lucia, watch our backs; the threat level for this run is lower, but Elena has proved that they've still got airborne assets in this fight," I said, glancing at the map icons showing First Squadron and the Fleet Harmonia racing to intercept those Marzanna RP and their missile bomber support.
My subordinates keyed their acknowledgment. "We're cutting it pretty close," Visha noted.
"That Stone Coat knows we won't bomb Building 37 or our own troops, so she's pressing in close," I explained. "She's also smart. She survived that lance strike by not making herself a target and instead puppeteering those golems from someplace protected."
"Meanwhile, the cobble-heads can use anti-tank guns against our Legionaries," Lucia growled.
She was correct; that Baalshem's heavy evocation projector would have been a devastating weapon if we had landed any armor. That wasn't to say that the weapon didn't cleave through any poor hoof-slogger who got caught in it, but compared to the rotary cannons in each arm that could do the job just as well, it was even more of a waste. Like using a warhammer to kill an ant. At least the mortar its partner had was an indirect fire tool.
With wards that burned with a greasy iridescence, both golems were standing up to a fair degree of Pilum fire. Clearly, the Stone Coat had survived. And unfortunately, they were rather close to both the SilverHold and the Legionary ground teams.
The few Marius Mules that had survived were still lobbing the occasional Vel Missile; though instead of going after the Elenese armored targets they were being used in an anti-personnel role. Between them, the grenadiers, and the anti-infantry Falx fire from the Sarpedona, the Elenese infantry were not in the best of situations even with their armored support. There was also a renewed attack on Building 37 itself by the combat mages and Lares and his team, who were using their heavier weapons in an attempt to assault a side entrance to the fortified structure.
"The key part will be the angle of attack," I stated as I called out courses of fire. "The steeper we fire down, the less overshoot there will be, but the V formed between our forces and Building 37 will determine our attack vector-"
And then, an alert came in on the override channel. "This is Flight Ops to all available Ritual Plate."
My stomach tensed as the map updated.
"Occultia elements have detected four Zoyra heavy fighters taking off. They are rendezvousing with a Yarla recon bird. There is an unconfirmed but high probability they are supported by a Squadron of Volos high-veiled air-superiority suits," the dispatcher said, her voice utterly flat.
I barely managed not to swear as I took in the map. The Zoyra had taken off from hidden one-plane hangars that were adjacent to roads that could act as improvised rough runways. They were far to the south of the Elenese air station, which put them much closer to the Institute. Perhaps the delays were deliberate to try and draw away our force. Or maybe the Elenese were having trouble coordinating simultaneous counter-assaults while their bases were being blown up. Maybe it took them longer than expected to get to those hangars and warm up those planes.
Elena's newest air-superiority RP, the Volos, was derived from the Marzana, so it was even possible that some recon boffin had confused the suits captured by aerial imagery, maybe they were kept completely hidden as an ace-in-the hole, or maybe they just arrived today.
I couldn't know, and it didn't matter, not now. Not when some of the most dangerous Elenese predators of the skies had taken wing, and my girls were practically exposed to their fangs.
I swore through my teeth, but the map refused to change. How many air assets had Elena hidden here? We were exposed. Even if they didn't have their own airborne threat, First Squadron was out of position to intercept, and if we withdrew, we'd leave the Institute just as exposed as if we did nothing. Meanwhile, there were a couple of Flights of Fleet Harmonia and the Svalinna Flight, but they were all that stood between the enemy and our venerable legionaries or airships.
"VioletBlood. It's just going to be your Flight doing fire-support." I ordered. "Try to be precise."
"Confirm, I have the coordinates," the baroness replied. "Good hunting, my countess."
"Good hunting, my baroness," I said, feeling my stomach flutter with nerves as I switched channels. I knew exactly what I had to do, I just hated every moment of it. "This is Diamond Actual, I have two Light Flights over Building 37 that can respond."
End Chapter 26
Well.... that escalated...
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, @Readhead, ScarletFox , afforess,
metald
ragon868 ,Wyrme and
Larc for checking and reading over this chapter.
Thanks to StarletFox and MetalDragon for their help with the chapter titles for this arc.
Chapter 27 is being edited and Ch 28 stands at over 3,500 words.
