The War Chronicles of a Little Demon (Youjo Senki alt)

Not one Step Further

So, given the previous two snippits were at the first of April and March.... I figured I could go for another.
Though.... we may be pushing the limit.

This is set futher into the whole Battle of Chicago.

And this time the POV is from a Household Fleet Telephe pilot
+++

Not one Step Further

The Titan was impatient.

She had grown tired of harassing attacks by the Legions and the systematic destruction of their scouts and Huntsmen. Probes had been repulsed and our forces had been able to land in good order.

Supposedly a band of Jotun had been routed by a Troop of Vestal Light tanks reinforced the Einherjar, 2 Senior Wizards, and Dame BlackStone. A human cemetery had been hit by a barrage from an entire artillery maniple after necromancy was discovered and Praetor DawnStrike assaulted it with a group of Broadcast Recon, and again Dame BlackStone was there.

As an Avalon class Heavy Carrier the HFV Valhalla held an entire Ritual Plate Group, nearly four hundred pilots. Including the Countess' Hellions, who were good enough Pilots for Legionaries.

We were the 6th Squadron of the 4th Wing of the 23rd Air Group in First Home Fleet. My Zephyr pushed me forward as my armored wings trimmed back. Scanning the ground that scrolled below us, I saw flickering fires and dark streets.

Human cities were not normally this dark. The Titan had changed that. All the power systems, electrical and magical had been destroyed in the Titan's first strike. Though with her own forces in the city, she seemed loath to repeat that tactic.

Along with our sisters of the 5th Squadron and the 8th Squadron of the 3rd Wing, we bore stolid Telephe Pattern suits. It was a legion joke that the Telephe had the best bodices of any Ritual Plate and the second most complimentary hip armor, especially the bomber variant.

The Telephe was less nimble than the Harmonia air superiority suit, but more agile than the Sarpedona ground support model which was about as close to a brawler as a high-speed enchanted armored suit could be.

Though tonight everyone not protecting fleet assets or escorting landing craft was in a ground support role. The War College Boffins and prim Librarians were not willing to write off the Enemy's anti-air capabilities. Enough of Fomor casters had ranged capabilities that could take out a suit that got too close or too slow.

And the Fomor started out the battle with an impressive number of small, but lethal squid-like fliers but, according to rumor, Dame BlackStone had rallied her own air troops to take them out. Which was mighty convenient if true.

Either way, the Boffins were only willing to strip down the fleet's protective squadrons so much to increase our ground support. There was a chance the Fomor had some sort of anti-air capability and our ships would be very vulnerable without their fighter screens.

In any case, the somewhat more lumbering Sarpedona were more than earning their keep in helping Infantry Cohorts pound Fomor ground positions. Again the Legionary Fliers were earning their keep.

In all honesty, our Telephe Ritual Plate was a heavier version of the Harmonia with elements of the Polydora all-arounder. Built with more warding and a stronger set of enchantments to have more forward thrust from the Zephyr and an increased power capacity for the evocation Lances, the Telephe was the primary long ranged strike platform.

Despite all that, we Telephe were not idle. The enemy had plenty of high-value targets: logistical hubs, command posts, arcanist spell-slingers, or simply troop concentrations that were valuable enough to warrant strafing by a strike squadron, but not valuable enough to get a Torpedo lobbed at them. Even a bombardment flotilla could run empty if the cruisers and torpedo bombers gave enough fire missions.

Our Squadron was currently circling in a large oval circuit midway between the city and the Valhalla as a ready deployment. The Valhalla was positioned well inland of the burning remains of a major airfield. A large number of the local's aircraft had gone down when the Titan had crippled the city's systems. It was harrowing to see so many large fuselages burning. Intact they must have been elegant, if brutishly large, planes.

Apparently, spare landing craft from the Valhalla and her escort ships were rendering aid, and dropping a couple engineering centuries.

Last we heard, the casters were trying to get some of the runways cleared. Either as a position in case our assets needed to land, or as a base for local reinforcements. We didn't know which way it would go. Rumor was that the indigenous fixed wing assets were incoming and Flight Ops was already coordinating.

Of the 12 of us in the Squadron, myself, Valerie, and Celeste were fitted with Gorgon scrying rigs. The joke was, since we had the largest horns, it fell on us to bear the burden of the enhanced sensor suites that clasped over our helmets and faceplates with extendable antennae and other enchantments.

In all seriousness, doctrine was to have one member of each Flight setup with Gorgon rigs. That was one thing I agreed with that bloodthirsty Legion Countess, the brass horns were dragging their hooves on pushing the next upgrade of our scrying systems. Her Demi-wing had already launched and there were rumors she was in the city's university district doing some sort of skullduggery with Broadcast Recon.

Still I made sure to make the most of our capabilities.

I had zoomed in on the dark street below, filling part of my helmet display. The eerie light that flickered closer to the shore and the low clouds of smoke had started to drift over. Fires from the airport were coming in from the other direction. Cars littered the road, so it had not been that full when the Titan released her pulse attack. I idly confirmed, that my scrying telemetry was being sent back to the Valhalla. While what I was looking at now did not seem to be any tactical value, it was good to confirm the system was working. And who knew what those clever girls could come up with.

The Gorgon's audio pickups were not perfect but it was enough to confirm the road below us was silent. The main noise was the thunder-like cracks of artillery towards the heart of the city.

That thought chilled me. That was a lot of heavy ordnance being used in a densely populated area. On the other hand we were a lot of heavy ordnance, and we had gone on three strike missions already with our suits just being refueled and rearmed.

My attention went up to the partial cloud cover. In the dark they were sullen shapes that reflected the fires beneath them and combined with the drifts of ash made it obvious how some of the Imperatrix's Daughters earned their names. My helmet Display helpfully gave an overlay of the various vessels.

The Flight Leader had more powerful, and difficult to control, Zephyr for greater maneuverability. Primus GreenBlade was not quite as agile as a Harmonia dancer, but she could take out anyone who jumped us before they lived long enough to tell the difference. And the remaining two Flight members Clarissa and Felicity carried extra lance batteries, having two more of the armored conformal flasks with their dense arrays of sullen, runes along their torsos. The rest of us only had four. Those pods contributed to the bodice comments Telephe Ritual Plate earned.

I exhaled and debated taking a sip on my drinking tube. The chatter from my Flight was subdued. We were thinking it would not be long before we were called to help put out some brush fire. Though the Fomor was starting to learn that congregating large numbers would start a timer before something heavy was set their way.

Instead, we were to be sent to strike the most High Value of targets.

++++

We had expected the Titan to attack the Svartalfheim embassy. It was a fixed position closer to the Lake and thus to the Fomor's main body, their lines of communication, and supply. It was also where the artillery batteries that had shelled the Fomor's beach landings was positioned.

The Embassy formed a lynchpin to much of the East-West defensive line. With enough defense in depth, it served as a landing zone for our largest transports ever since the initial drop. Meaning the embassy had been reinforced by many flights of Pugio VTOLs filled with armored vehicles, munitions, supplies, and Tormentas of artillery.

There were at least 2 reinforced Arachne batteries at the Embassy. They were serving as one of the main fire-support reserves. Unlike the artillery units with the Cohorts closer to the front, which had to constantly change position, these could provide persistent support and had a greater number of tubes to call upon. And since they were not moving they could have a greater number of shells to call upon.

But with the strategic risk of providing a centralized, mostly fixed asset. Despite assurances from the boffins to a lack of Fomor capability, counter battery fire was an evergreen concern.

The grapevine that quietly chattered through our dispatchers in Flight Ops back on the Valhalla even whispered a few Torpedo ground launchers might have been deployed. Which seemed an odd spending of cargo capacity, but that was the rumor.

Regardless, no sensible commander would push through and leave a fortified position like that in her rear. As long as the Embassy stood, it was a prickly firebase that could hit the flank and rear of the Fomor lines as they advanced southward and westward.

Thus there were mutters when the calm voice of the too young sounding Flight Ops in our ears informed us that the Titan came with a Fomor Host of at least 7 unruly cohorts. Though there were 5 more immediately behind that reserve, bringing to a reinforced legion strength.

We had expected her to be at the front of an attack. But not quite the target she had picked.

In the Imperatrix's name, we had fought enough House wars to guess the overall strategy. The Fomor had numbers. They had ground troops, They even had an impressive number of combat casters, about a Mage Company in support. But without the Titan they had a severe deficiency in heavy ordnance.

The Boffins, Librarians, and Legates wanted her to take the Field.

And they got their wish, but war is a Democracy, the enemy gets a vote.

I exhaled and glanced over the Display projected from my eye-lenses. Systems, enchantments, and spirits were nominal. Power was good and the Flasks for my Lances were steady.

A simple chime went off on our com channel; that indicated deployment orders, and the young Flight Coordinator started talking in a crisp, calm official voice that was far from the more openly playful tone she used when giving gossip.

Instead of hitting the prepared lines of the Embassy, the Titan was attacking from the North on the western part of our lines, far from the lake.

Her target, the 12th Legion Severitas which had been attempting to flank around and contain the Fomor's inland, and possibly northern, expansion.

The too calm, too young-sounding, she was probably only a few years out of the academy, dispatcher directed our squadron. Of course she was calm, her position was somewhere deep inside the Valhalla's Combat Center.

It sounded like the 12th Legion's Sarpedona suits were providing airborne intelligence, unless there was a Occultia Surveillance RP Suit observing. With more emphasis on veils and an Euryale Scrying system that put my Gorgon rig to shame, and less on weapons, the Occultia was one of the most expensive Ritual Plate patterns.

Which was saying something.

Moreso it took a special kind of mind, above and beyond being able to bond and manage the Zeprhy to handle, organize, and broadcast, the torrent of far-roaming data the Euryale Scrying system took in.

I could find targets, enemies, ground conditions and transmit those to the rest of my Flight, or squadron if need be, even back to the Valhalla, but that was an augment to my strike role. For an Occultia Pilot, her job was to take in the entirety of a front and pre-process the results tagging things of interest to give the Boffins a head start. It was nearly a magnitude of difference in the level of data collected.

Squadron commander Prefect Vorenta gave the order, and we dropped in altitude and started accelerating. After leveling off at a building-buzzing height, we soon surmounted the sound barrier. Other squadrons followed but I concentrated on the dispersal of ours and terrain and target tracking ahead for my Flight.

The four of us were in a diamond formation with Primus GreenBlade in the lead, myself following at her left, and Felicity and Kelly with their extra evocation capacity were on right and aft position respectively.

We were given a lopsided trajectory to follow that would allow for us to accelerate and come in at different angles and at nearly the same time.

Already supersonic, our arc would have us close in, myself, Valerie, and Celeste would confirm the targeting data, that is the Titan. We would fire our Lances and then flicking in sharp turns we would race past, our course never directly passing overhead of the target.

We could then regroup and make for another acceleration, lock-on, attack, and turning run.

Or that was the plan.

Streets, buildings, and blocks raced past us as we closed in. Operationally fighting with our air assets this close to the city was almost like fighting in a water closet. You had to be careful with your wings when you turned.

All of us had a scrying setup that gave a bit of distorted vision with the forward targets looking closer than they really were. However the Gorgon rig made it worst for me.

And that was why within less than a minute of getting our strike orders, I caught sight of a Titan taking on a Legion.

Legions do not fight in neat rows and blocks. That's just for the parade ground. House wars involve combating other succubae. Organized militaries where the basic hoof-slogger has flight, some regeneration, and at least a basic skill in magic. Not to mention that every House that can defend its territory has some form of heavy weapons, indirect fire, and air power.

Thus forces have to be dispersed when possible. Urban combat is worse than an open-field battle in that regard, given how buildings limit avenues of movement and the terrain can be even more broken and littered with choke points.

Thus it was not easy to estimate how much of the 12th Legion remained.

Furthest away from us were the shredded remains of what might have been Infantry Cohort or at least enough Nymphs, Mules and bodies. More than the distance, it was hard to get an idea as an entire group of intersections and surrounding buildings had been blown apart. Not to mention the Fomor was trying to advance, with great difficulty, through that area.

Time spiraled down. My attention went ahead of the beaten zone and spotted the Titan herself.

She was hard to miss.

Head and shoulders taller than anyone else even at this distance her beauty shone in the night. With skin of gleaming bronze, her silver hair flew behind her. Ethniu strode as demon empress, a goddess of old. One eye glinted emerald, while the other was swollen and burned an angry red.

The Eye.

The Eye of Balor.

My suit automatically tripped its heating elements to reduce the chill and my Zephyr picked up on my agitation and my thrust increased a bit as our formation kicked in that much more acceleration.

It helped distract some of my attention from what the Titan was doing.

++++

"Everyone thank Valentina for pointing her out," our Flight leader GreenBlade laconically said as I fed the targeting data to the rest of my Flight. "Lock target; Charge Lances."

I extended my arms as the runes inscribed on my gauntlets flared as the accumulators took in the power from evocation capacitors, the 'flasks" stored around my waist in armored conformal bands that made up my "bodice armor".

Massive, devastating energy transferred from their relatively stable and quiescent storage accumulators to the Lances themselves. In a few seconds they would be a roiling, ardently-flensing power ready to fire.

The Titan had support, perhaps a Century or two of the long-limbed yet bulky warriors the Fomor seemed to like and a squad or two of disturbingly-amphibious-seeming casters.

But she seemed to ignore her escort as she strode forward.

Minerva rotary cannons were not intended for continuous long-term fire. It used too much ammunition and it was better to hit a target then move to the next. Instead I saw no less than a dozen of those guns, on Scorpions, Mules, Nymphs, and Vestals lancing out constant streams of fire.

The First Cohort was double-size and populated by veterans. They seemed to have... at least the bulk of their strength. For now.

Vel missiles launched, mortars fired. Ground attack Ritual Plate circled about and lighting and fire burst out. Not to mention hundreds of rifles and dozens of machine guns. Most of the fire was controlled.

However, most of the time she was too close to a Legionary Position for Arachne to hit her. And it did nothing to slow her.

A cynic might point out that being taken out by our own artillery might be a kinder fate for the Legionaries. The titan was not always quick with her kills. Various golems had been used in a screening role as the remove combat vehicles could be more readily sacrificed and there were nearly drifts of mangled Scorpions.

I focused on keeping the targeting info up to date and sending it to my Flight and the rest of the Squadron.

"Mark the bitch, hit her, then turn. We're the cavalry, we'll get another run" GreenBlade assured.

Our of seeming frustration, Legionaries had adjusted targets and savaged her escorts. The casters tried to put up shields, their heavies tried to take some cover, but a level of fire that their Empress could laugh off scythed through them. More managed to brave the lines in an attempt to support their liege, only to be cut down.

At this airspeed the telescopic view from of the Gorgon rig was more like a collection of snapshots. The imagery rapidly flashed by each a snapshot, each a moment in the battle. It would overwhelm, or at least distract a normal pilot, but we were trained to take in, compartmentalize, and separate vast data.

Maybe not as much as an Occultia Pilot, but unlike them, we were expected to gather intelligence and fight.

The Centuries withdrew by fire team. Their mules and Scorpions were often used to cover their retreats, the remote-operated vehicles being far easier to sacrifice.

She advanced. She could only be in one place, so most got out before she could reach them. The only time she ran was when she sprinted to try and catch any groups that tried to flee instead of fighting to the last.

The Eye fired in angry beams that burned to look at, even through the Gorgon feed. Wards on one Vestal Scout tank held for a moment before popping like a soap bubble and burning through armor. The beam cut through the heavy smoke the vehicles grenades were popping off which at least got time. Releasing their own smoke, the other two in the formation had quickly reversed to behind a building and managed to continue their harassing fire.

The dispersed formation kept it from being a total slaughter. Scout Tanks, Nymphs, Legionaries, even Umbra Medium VTOLs burned. But they were too far apart, the defense in depth was too deep for any attack to kill all of the First Cohort.

The vast majority of the Legionaries managed to withdraw. It was the unlucky or the slower or the brave who got hit. They might not be able to stop the Titan, but she was not able to kill with impunity.

The heaters in my suit kicked on a bit more as we closed in. The next few seconds added more detail to the battlefield. I hoped the bowfins were learning from this. I hoped they could separate the horror and make tactical choices.

We had fought powerful beings before. We were part of a strike that took out the 6th Daughter of Grand Admiral Trosier. However, the attack against Virgox the 2nd Eldest daughter of Luxon was less successful. I had personally struck a blow to her, but she did not fall that day.

But this was an inexorable power. The blood and screams were more than even the most intense cauldron, and it was not even, yet, a rout.

"Confirm Lances are free and charged. Max power," GreenBlade stated, her voice utterly professional. Only a few seconds had passed since her last statement. The intention was to use the majority of our power in one Lance strike.

The Titan was also just the center of the battle. The 12th Legion Severitas had 7 more cohorts and they flanked the flagging First Cohort. These were Cohorts of high mobility on Medium VTOLs, more Infantry Cohorts, another light Tank Cohort, and a headquarters unit with artillery and Ritual Plate and other assets.

For the enemy, spreading behind the titan was the Fomor host, roughly 7 Cohorts. Various warbands of human, Fomorian, tentacular, ape-like and various other horrors were pressing. They had more Cohorts of reinforcements coming aright behind them

The battlefield was a quick teacher and they had learned to not group up. While their Mistress could kill any in her sight, she was in only one spot.

Naturally, the Fomor tried to follow behind her.

Across the grave of the luckless Infantry Cohort Ethniu first destroyed, the Fomor attempted an advance.

I say attempted because behind the Titan was a curtain barrage of no less than 2 Arachne batteries. The beaten ground destroyed the dead of that Cohort, but it also thinned out and shattered the Fomor attempting to back up the titan.

This made it so they have to brave that line and cross the barrage and accept the mass casualties, or flank and hit Cohorts that were not being ravaged by the Eye, or wait for the artillery to run out of munitions, or for the Titan to get to those guns.

A two-tone warning chine came over our comm channel.

We had fought powerful beings before, and their main limit was they could only be in one place, they needed conventional troops to exploit breakouts and weaknesses.

The First Cohort of the 12th Legion was dying by inches but it was costing the Fomor for every step.

And then we came in range.

Maybe a minute had passed since the target disposition alert chimed on our communications channels.

My tail adjusted as I trimmed my wings back. Ethniu was terrible and mighty The Gorgon feed made it look like I could reach out and touch her.

And then I did.

The Runes on my gauntlets spilled out beyond my fists. The lenses to my helmet automatically dimmed.

Two blue-white beams of antic power stabbed out from me to the Titan. Each as thick around as my thigh, the lances were joined by the pair GreanBlade fired and four brighter, waist-thick beams Felicity and Kelly and their more powerful evocations had launched

But we were just 1 Flight, of 4 Squadrons.

Nearly a hundred blue-white lances of pulsing destructive power were slammed into the Titan. We came in at different angles and altitudes but our coordination, and training, made it so nearly all hit her, and at almost the exact time.

One moment the Titan stood there her armor shining and her silver hair flying behind her like a banner. She was mid-stride one foot up.

The next moment she was consumed by blue-white beams. Aimed at the right spot a Lance could take out a battleship. It could rend an enemy formation, spear reinforced bunkers. A dozen could overload airship-grade warding shields. And we hit her with a hundred Lances.

Each beam flickered out for less than a second but delivered enough energy to cover her in blinding light as the street boiled around her.

The beams that missed cut through the ground gouging trenches that radiated around her in a flaming starburst. There were a few burned out vehicles and even an overturned truck behind the Titan.

Our attack angles had been set so that any missed shots would hit the Fomor lines instead of ours. The handful of near misses from our attack rendered two Century's worth of Fomor supporting the Titan into smoking ruined meat. Some had used the vehicles to take cover. Some had held a bit further back and tried to use some of the smoldering buildings as cover.

The Lances burned through all of that.

The lucky ones were consumed into charred husks, the unlucky had only parts of their bodies hit by the Lances, leaving burning flailing remnants that slumped the ground.

The Titan herself staggered. Her upraised foot quickly went back and she stumbled as the Lance-light faded revealing metal skin that pinged and shimmered from the heat. An attack that had set the asphalt roadway and concrete sidewalks aflame left her form pristine, save for a drop of blood that trickled down one nostril.

"Break, break, break!" GreenBlade shouted. Zephyr shrieked as our Flights snapped in their turns and started accelerating away from the Titan.

+++

Screaming in affront, another few drops of blood trickling down from her nose, Ethniu raised her gaze. The Eye sliced through the sky.

The 12th Legion's Ground Support RP launched their own attack in an attempt to distract her and cover their infantry's withdrawal.

Our formations spread out and each Flight and took a different vector. The venomous hateful crimson beam scythed through us, as we maneuvered and jinked, but better a handful of Ritual Plate than entire Centuries.

My suit chilled as I and the other Gorgons fed telemetry to the Squadrons. The Eye's path of destruction was overloaded with a flared cone showing the areas of most risk.

There were a few screams on the line as some Pilots were unlucky enough to fall under her immediate gaze. To even see us at this distance in such an awful night showed impressive far-seeing as she tried to knock more of us out.

The beam might be all-powerful but we had fired at maximum range which meant the Eye had a massive half-hemisphere of sky to cover to get all of us. And with every moment we got further and further from her.

The Titan then whipped her head and the Eye flicked towards us.

My heart pounded. "Incoming," I intoned pinging the lower port octant the Eye's attack was coming from.

The Titan's gaze was not a flexed thing, she twitched and adjusted her gaze in response to our maneuvering. Zephyr flared and wings twisted.

I idly noticed the Arachne Artillery had started hitting her directly, but the Titan could not be dissuaded.

Kelly was still in the aft position of our dispersed formation. She suddenly pulled her wings in and dropped beneath the Eye its power just burning her tail. We has spread out so that the Titan should not be able to get all of us, and even if she could the other Flights would make it out.

Felicity followed and twisted but the Eye lifted and speared right through her.

Her scream was shortly lived as her flesh and armor cooked and the psychic backlash from her dying Zephyr hit us.

The imagery and sensations burned into my mind as I rolled over and pushed my Zephyr until the air spirits screamed. Flicking up a wing I rolled over and shifted.

The coldness of my suit suddenly turned to fire as my left wing caught the force of the Eye's Wrath. That entire side was baked and my arm blistered within the armor and the remaining two-thirds drained evocation flasks automatically discharged.

I screamed and the displays went off as my enchantments flicked and I started to fall.

Looking over I saw the Eyes' beam rise up attempting to go after GreenBlade. And then the flasks detonated.

They gave a couple flat thumps that knocked the air out of my chest. I tried to exhale and concentrated. My right arm went to my throat and flicked the armor under my pectoral to hit the manual restart.

The good news was that I could feel my Zephyrs had survived the hit.

There was a hum and the enchantments started to power back up. I concentrated on the spell and the growing line of runes at the bottom of my field of view.

Only then did I look back down to confirm how much altitude I still had.

The dark city rushed up.

Wincing I slowly spread my right wing and started to catch some air. Angling my tail to the left side kept me from entering a spin, but it would be enough to slow down.

Not with half of the joints to my left wing simply gone and the remaining membranes cut to ribbons. Fortunately, I was a Ritual Plate Pilot.

The first thing a pilot had to be able to do was bond with and direct air spirits.

And my Zephyr, while shaken, were alive.

After confirming that my collection of spirits could slow my airspeed I started to look for a landing spot.

Several buildings below me still stood. There was a variety of sizes. Alas I was a bit too far south of the lines and I could not see any friendly forces within range.

Upside, a hard restart was all my Gorgon rig needed to be restored.

Striking a balance between defensibility and observability and egress I quickly evaluated the available landing areas.

And I aimed for the largest flattest roof I could see.

Time was short, and my Zephyr were already bleeding off speed and helping my remaining wing nudge me along. They pushed to slow me down, but increasing thrust was another factor.

The mercantile building was between twenty and thirty stories and had a broad roof with several heating and cooling structures atop. To one side was a round VTOL pad marked with an H.

I ended up landing near the edge and my knees bent taking in the weight as I leaned forward.

Air blew around me and I exhaled. It took a moment to get used to the feeling of ground beneath my armored boots.

I focused on the emergency landing procedure. After checking my perimeter and seeing that I was secure or at least isolated I then took stock.

My wounds were not crippling; I could mostly use my left hand, but I was flight ineffective. Having only one wing did that And there was a fair bit of pain along my torso where I had an explosion go off near me.

Once I was as reasonably sure I was not bleeding anywhere under my armor, or at least not heavily bleeding, I took an injection from the suit's medical pack. The numbing from the targeted analgesics was distracting but far less than the flensed wing, sheared bones, and bruised ribs.

Physically I could be better, even after I regrew my wing, my suit would need to be fixed.

And of my suit, I had no evocation flasks for my Lances, but I had my suite of conventional close-in and stand-off weapons. The Gorgon rig was already functional and my Zephyr were present if upset.

I sipped some water from the drinking tube and snapped open my helmet. Cold, smoky air brushed my face and nostrils as I opened a thigh compartment and started munching on a ration bar.

The helmet had a nutrition tube too, but compared to that "broth" even the most worn old chocolate wafer bar or bland jerky was far more palatable. I chewed thoughtfully, crushing a sugared energy gem between my teeth, thankful my maintenance crew stocked the good stuff as I checked the rest of my suit's systems

The Ritual Plate looked worse than it really was. The outer armor was scorched and there were dents and gouges in the matt grey material and dark blue steel brushed filigree, but the enchantments were solid enough. The biggest problem was that it, and myself, were down a wing.

I was not mono-focused. Getting lost in a status display on the battlefield was an easy way to get killed. Fortunately, I was a skilled multi-tasker, even by Pilot standards. And that's when the trouble started. It was one thing to look out over the ashen, deadened cityscape.

It was another to let the sensation of millions of terrified minds. My hands clenched, armored gauntlets starting to power up as I flexed my knees, the suit responded to my greater tension and I exhaled. This city was insane. It was huge, without power, without magic. Plunged into a nightmare of an unexpected invasion.

I focused on the Gorgon's systems. I could control that feed. There was less... emotion. Less leakage from all the poor people dumped into a battle to the knife, a world of tooth and claw.

I swallowed my snack, took some more water, and looked at the next part of the check list.

All that was left was to check my communication array. I flipped the channel and sending a ping to my Flight Coordination I wondered if the rest of my Flight had made it...

My shoulders shook as I remembered Felicity's screams and relived the echoes of feeling her die. I exhaled. It was not the first time we had lost people. I concentrated. "This is Volantes Centurion Valentina Orbez, 6th Squadron, 4th Wing."

++++

This voice from Flight Ops sounded a lot older to my ear. "This is Valhalla Flight Control, we read you. Condition?"

"Grounded, medically stable, position reasonably secure," I stated as I scanned around the roofline. It couldn't have been more than half a minute since I was hit. The battle was still going on. RP Squadrons were crossing the sky.

"I'm reading that your Gorgon is functional; can you resume telemetry?" There was a pause and before I could answer she came with another question. " Valentina can you confirm your location?"

"Yes Valhalla Flight, sending telemetry now." I then read off some map coordinates based on the building I had landed on.

There was another pause. "Can you get eyes on the Titan?"

Well. So much for getting a Spatha dispatched to pick me up. Yes the local airspace might not be the most safe environment, but if the Titan could be avoided...

But no, I had a mission. "Affirmative," I replied

I crouched a bit further down and made my way further north on the roof. Key was to get a comprehensive view but not silhouette myself. I was high up, but anyone with the right eyes could see someone if they stood on the edge of a roofline.

The Titan was impossible to miss. I was closer than the majority of our strike mission, and I was relatively stationary. Getting a lock on a titanic figure in the midst of combat was trivial.

She had advanced maybe halfway down the block and was now midway between intersections. At the moment no one stood before her, which meant the rain of artillery and Ritual Plate had intensified. It was enough to have her put the Eye's gaze skyward, but she was still advancing, and our forces were pulling back mostly behind lines of concrete debris, burned-out vehicles, and shattered brickwork that had been piled up.

The Fomor behind her had tried to keep up with her but their effort was desultory. The retreating First Cohort had created a concavity in our lines. And beyond the Titan's spearhead they had been unable to advance on the flanks.

I automatically split my focus and had the Gorgon Rig gaze further afield. The Svartalfheim embassy was eastward closer to the lake. I could see the flash of artillery in maniple strength as 4 Arachne batteries rotated through targets. Something that had to have been a ground launch torpedo shot into the air, and was followed by a storm of smaller Vel Missiles.

Interesting. Were the Fomor marshaling their remaining air-assets? Beyond the Embassy, to the North and even closer to the lake was where we estimated the Fomor had their main reserves and logistics support.

It was certainly where they had made landfall, and had dedicated a lot of troops to securing a cordon and lines of communication back to the beach. They had expended a lot of manpower to try to brave the beaches and move equipment and supplies across that zone.

More of my focus returned to Ethniu

I could not be the only one with a visual on the Titan. I suspected that there was likely at least one Veiled Forward Recon team in a dedicated spotter role. And there had to be at least one Occultia Pilot up there. The Valhalla had an entire Stealth Surveillance Squadron. And one Flight of that were Occultia.

But, if we were all at different orientations, and different altitudes... then the War College boffins and Librarians could triangulate and cross-check our data.

The First Cohort was pulling back under cover of the Arcana Engineers setting up a ward and swelling up the breastworks raising the height of the stone cover. The Eye had a cooldown period, but that only bought time.

The Engineer's portable Wards were intricate, expensive bits of kit designed to provide protection from air assaults and artillery. They only delayed the Eye slightly before their warding shields failed, but it was more time.

Though, in all technicality, even the thickest earthen barrier the geomancers raised up was merely concealment and not cover. So, far nothing had been able to stop the Eye's power, only slow it down.

By then the Fomor were starting to catch up and the Titan resumed her advance.

She bounded atop the concrete rubble barricade as two Centuries pulled back while their Marius Mules on remote control with Minerva rotary guns opened up. It did little to slow her but it was enough to allow several squads of Alpinum in their ceramic armor to advance.

Assigned to the 12th by BlackSky herself, they were the Legate's personal guard and advanced troops. That the 12th's commander was not there, and instead the attack was being commented by a willowy-ripcord-thin, flat-eyed Tribune wielding an equally slender sword did not speak well for the Legate's current condition.

Seeing the troops, the Titan smiled, her ethereally beautiful features twisted in cruel pleasure. "Finally! Enough running! You half breeds are abandoned. This is not your-"

And then a Vestal scout tank's main guns hit her in the chest and neck.

She let out a howl of anger, more upset at being interrupted than for any impact of the enhanced armor-piercing rounds on titanic bronze. She then jumped down and raced through the withering fire of the Alpinum Guard from across the street. "Then die, you rude Swine!" the Titan screamed with such volume that I did not need my Gorgon rig to hear her.

"Keep focus," Flight Ops said in my ear.

And then in a teleport flash followed a blinding arc like the first rays of the rising sun shot across the titan and her supporters. As smaller flashes flared around her, a tall pale figure with glossy black hair, curling horns, gold wings, and a black armored gown slammed into the Titan at just the right angle to knock her back onto the barricade.

The imperious figure was slimmer than her mother, but retained much of her regal bearing as she took the Tribune's long sword. The steel lit up, the entire blade glowing with a bright golden light as the air around it shimmered with heat.

Behind the figure, the minor flashes had revealed the matt-black light-armored figures of the Broadcast Recon troops. who had teleported in with the Daughter.

Ethniu looked down at the demoness with mocking grin. "Finally. I thought your breed were nothing but cowards. Who stands before me?"

The black-haired demon gave a thin smile. "Praetor Peregrinus DawnStrike. Before your father imprisoned you, I was conquering worlds at Mother's side. This petty host, this tantrum, goes no further. You will not advance."

++++

Sizing up DawnStrike, the Titan laughed. "Bold words." And then the light of the Eye shot out.

Instead of consuming the Praetor, there was a golden flash as she swept her sword, stepping inside of the beam's arc. Sunlight lit up the battlefield like a barrage of star-shells and the Eye's wrathful crimson power gouged through the golden ward raised in the sword's wake.

But by then DawnStrike was past the attack.

The Titan turned her head and the Praetor continued to turn, to the larger woman's side and slashed up with the tip of the luminous incendiary blade.

Moving with an even quicker blinking speed, Ethniu still screamed as the empowered sword kissed the side of her hip, leaving a flaming line of bubbling blood.

"You!" she screamed.

"Ah, well I was told someone with sufficient divine, or infernal, power could wound you." DawnStrike gave a little salute with the sword. "Let us see which I am."

Behind the Praetor the First Cohort continued to... evacuate. Broadcast Recon troops that had arrived with DawnStrike were helping teleport others further out and rebuild lines. The barrages on the Fomor Cohorts intensified making sure no one could get to their Mistress. It was all a continuation of previous retreats, but with more resources and organization.

And with a Daughter taking up the full attention of the Titan.

Ethniu had screamed and pounced at DawnStrike, the sword almost opened up her arm but she turned nearly gabbed into the demoness the Eye burst into ravening light and -

DawnStrike vanished in a golden flash.

She reappeared behind the Titan and yanked her hair back and down and tried to spear through her neck with the sword tip.

The blade creased the Titan's neck as she twisted, her sliver hair trying to tear out of the Praetor's hands. Turning, the Titan crouched at the knees and grabbed one of DawnStrike's arms and twisted. The was a snapping sound as she tried to backhand her away.

Yelling, DawnStrike smashed the sword against the taller woman's face, on the side without the Eye of Balor. There was another sunburst and the newly half-blind Titan tried to grapple the shorter woman but there was another flash as she teleported away.

"Coward! You are all callow and craven!" Ethniu screamed, seemingly trying to sight with the Eye itself.

While snapping her arm back into place, DawnStrike appeared to her blind side and tried to stab through the Titan's torso. Her green, mundane, eye regained focus and Ethniu flickered back as the sword just missed her.

"You are too slow," the Titan crowed as she stomped forward. The Eye flashed again and DawnStrike dodged and brought up the blade's light.

This time the golden ward shattered and the sword was immolated, for a bare moment turning into a lightly enchanted Legate's blade before it boiled away.

As the Titan tried to grapple with her, DawnStrike's tail went up slicking long fingers for the taller woman's trouble. Claws extended and both hit as DawnStrike tried to go under the floating ribs on the back of side far from the Eye, and the Titan simply flicked her wrist, the blade of her hand slamming into the Praetor's torso,

A bit of blood sprayed out DawnStrike's lips as she teleported further back.

"You lack commitment. If you had stayed you could have cut me deeper." Ethniu smirked and rubbed the small scratches on her side.

"And where in your sad life of imprisonment did you learn that?" DawnStrike laughed.

Ethniu charged her and the Eye of Balor burned. DawnStrike managed to evade but I gasped as her right wing just barely avoided the blast. The Fomor cohort a block behind DawnStrike did not far so well.

"Do not lose contact with the Titan," Flight Ops ordered, her tone clipped and urgent over the transmission.

"Mother knows the depth of my commitment," the Praetor said as the Titan tried to close and land another blow with immense fists.

"Where is your precious Mother? She abandons you like this!" Ethniu kicked out and managed to connect and there was a crunch in DawnStrike's midsection. More blood came out as DawnStrike caught Ethniu's right wrist, twisted and, using her entire body, turned it over and bent her hand back. With a burst of strength that flashed golden light down the street, she snapped it.

Ethniu screamed and held the broken wrist.

"Pain is new to you. Is it not?" Gasping, DawnStrike smiled.

"You will suffer. I will wear you down and when you can't run, when you realize your precious Mother sent you out here to die, then you will have oblivion." The baleful gaze from Ethniu's green eye was almost as hateful and intense as from the Eye of Balor

Looking behind the Titan, confirming that the Legions had withdrawn, the Praetor laughed. "I pity you, you have no one behind you. No one to trust. So much pride that you have to do everything yourself."

Ethniu charged and the Eye flashed.

DawnStrike teleported away, and then a 3 tone chime came over my communications channel.

The one that meant incoming Torpedo strike.

+++

The Fujiwara Aerial Torpedo was one of the main forms of power projection in the Household Fleet. Squadrons of Mace Torpedo Destroyers guarded the troop and armor transports and fleet cargo ships. And every RP carrier larger than a Mellona Medium had at least a few Torpedoes.

But the bulk of those 2.7 ton, 26 foot, missiles were dedicated to fleet defense with some for ground support. Which in light of the Fomor's negligible airborne and anti-air assets meant those munitions were basically dead-weight.

And while most of the Valhalla's torpedoes were for Fleet Defense; as an Avalon class heavy carrier, she had 48 torpedoes. Which gave plenty of space for ground support and other strike assets. The Battlecruiser HFV DarkStar was also lurking about. It had participated in the initial shore bombardment and rumor was that the DarkStar was using its stock of Madhu's Trident aquatic torpedoes and compliment of Torpedo Boats/Bombers in an anti-submarine warfare role.

Not to mention Landing Fleet had a Bombardment Flotilla with 2 Maul torpedo Cruisers in the fleet, each with 40 torpedoes and a Pike Torpedo Boat Tender that carried half a squadron of the quick, lethal craft.

Part of the barrage was too fast to follow. Even the Gorgon rig had a hard time getting a visual lock on something with a terminal speed over thrice the speed of sound. I managed to get enough data to tentatively identify one set of torpedoes. The other set was traveling far slower and was easier to identify.

Four supersonic shipkillers detonated just above the Titan. The Ascalon was a standard dual-purpose 700 lb warhead designed to pierce capital ship wards and puncture armor. The alchemically treated explosives were lensed foreword into incendiary jets as the backwash from the torpedo's detonations leveled the city block around their impact site.

The Titan was consumed as massive explosions shot through her and turned the area she stood upon into a crumbling crater.

The other torpedoes were slower and instead of hitting one target spread out along the entire line of battle. The Gae Bulg was a nasty bit of ordnance. A subsonic Torpedo, it exchanged reduced range for increased payload capacity. Instead of a single warhead, it carried over 150, 2 lb barbed sub-munitions. Though that was only half of the anti-infantry damage. The bomblettes were released just Surtalogi fuel air torpedoes also detonated. in incendiary clouds.

Nearly two dozen of these ground support weapons fell along the Fomorian lines. Much of a cruiser's loadout. There were also Log Mor anti-vehicle torpedoes. Like the Gae Bulk, the Log Mor had a heavier payload, but instead of a mass of smaller bomblettes, it only released 2 dozen larger Plumbata penetrators. These were designed to pierce armored vehicles and had independent targeting.

The Fomor did not have any such assets. I supposed the Notus spirits guiding those munitions went for whatever large or high value targets they could hit with extreme overkill. And because the Fleet Ordnance Department were pyromaniacs, the Log Mor also had an incendiary over blast.

Dealing with mortars, artillery and Ritual Plate had given the Fomor some experience in the importance of dispersion and dealing with air attacks. But even an Arachne battery pummeling your lines is a pale comparison to a heavy Torpedo strike.

It was like watching a few grid squares on a tactical map being swept clean.

The street was utterly obliterated as the Fomorian host had its heart ripped out and most of its lines cut down. Their reserves, as those further away from our lines, got some of the worst of it and were hit by overlapping firestorms until a crater similar to the one that had buried the Titan had formed.

And then the 12th Legion's entire Arachne maniple resumed firing at the Fomor that had managed to survive the Torpedo bombardment and had decided to move in some way.

"COWARDS!" the Titan screamed as she clawed her way out of the crater. It looked like her wrist had healed. Once at the crater's lip, her eye swept in a low arc as she circled her gaze. The First Cohort had used DawnStike's fight to pull to a safe distance. They might not have been out of range of the Eye but they were out of Torpedo range.

The Fomor Host shattered. Some with maddened fury or bleak resignation tried to charge the 12th, but more simply fled. Both were hit by the might of a Legion with full support. Ritual Plate Squadrons took out Lance attacks on larger concentrations and Sarpedona used conventional evocations to burn the Fomor. The RP squadrons left the largest groups for the occasional Torpedo to neutralize.

The smart ones stayed put, or moved to the nearest cover and hunkered down.

I shivered and focused the telemetry on the Titan. But I wondered where DawnStrike had gone to. For that matter where was BlackSky?

The three tone notice chimed again.

"Face ME! You COWARDS!" The Titan's frustrated anger threatened to break the heavens. And then the Eye tried to track the sky, there was an explosion above her followed by an overlapping crescendo as more ordnance fell upon her.

Even if she could take out a Torpedo, it would be very unlikely she'd be able to hit a Mothership. Not only were our larger fleet assets kept at standoff range for that reason, but Torpedoes could be launched from Hasta Torpedo Bombers or the Kolibri Torpedo Corvette. Not to mention that the large aerial munitions could take an indirect path to their target with dog-legs and other evasions.

Each detonation was smaller but the Torpedoes were harder to track, these were the
Gungnir which was a stealthy shipkiller that came in under a powerful veil. That stealth capacity came at a great expense in components and took up mass, reducing the warhead size Maybe the Eye could see those coming in, maybe not.

They still hit the Titan.

Alongside those was a series of teleport flashes a bare handful of stories above her that immediacy tuned into explosions. The Hrunting was an even more expensive "shipkiller" that had a high-accuracy, short-range, one-shot teleportation enchantment. The fiscal expensive of this strike was breathtaking. The teleport runes inscribed into the torpedo's body allowed the weapon to simply avoid most of the target's defenses, and simply appear as close as possible, at full velocity.

For the Titan's face this was, in missile terms, right next to her face.

++++

The entire block was now a blasted moonscape resembling the more desolate parts of Lantia.

The Fomor had just lost roughly a Legion's worth in casualties, about seven thousand various troops. Maybe half were dead, but the survivors had lost all cohesion and organization as fighting formations. Most of them were wounded and showed. And if they did not move quickly they would not get the chance to get organized, or into cover.

I idly wondered how many Torpedoes the Fleet had left. This many war shots had to have at least dented our ground support capability. Even a Bombardment Flotilla would be rapidly breaking out reloads from their supporting cargo ships.

Though I supposed with a dearth of enemy air assets or capital vessels we had plenty of shipkillers to lob at the Titan.

It was massively expensive, but so were squadrons of Ritual Plate or Cohorts of Legionaries.

Ethniu stood at the bottom of an uneven crater marred by collapsed tunnels and conduits. Dirty water had begun to flood into it in sprays and gurgles

The Titan was incandescent with rage as she stomped and splashed out of the crater once again.

As she neared the lip she hesitated and for a moment I wondered if the Titan would take cover. Instead she stood up and, proud as could be, she regained purchase on what could generously be called "street level".

Which nicely silhouetted her.

A full block away, DawnStrike appeared to her side and a golden beam of light shot down the broken avenue. The rubble lit up in sharp morning light, casting harsh shadows as the beam shot to the Titan.

Ethniu dodged but there might have been a weariness to her motion. And the beam adjusted, hitting the Titan in the chest and pushing her back.

She stumbled and one step went back past the lip of the crater and she started to stagger down the broken slope.

"You DARE mock ME!" Ethniu screamed and the Eye blasted out its hateful ray.

The Praetor vanished and reappeared to the other side of the crater and tilted her head. "Not from any great effort."

Ethniu gave an inarticulate rage-filled below and leapt across the crater trying to grapple with her.

Quirking an eyebrow, DawnStrike and gestured with her hand as if she were ordering in a wine bar and the clouds above thickened and a massive pillar of orange fire shot down slamming the Titan back into the crater.

The Eye shot up and raked over the lip of the crater in a circle. Buildings blew apart in a rough arc.

There were blasts of fire to the South that reflected off the clouds making them seem aflame. I could make out the hazy motions of Nyx stealth scouts and saw long lances of fire clearing an entire road of stalled vehicles. From my vantage point, I could barely make them out a couple dozen blocks or so, but CloudFire was among them. Another Daughter of the Imperatrix had arrived. Her eyes burned and her flaming hair billowed behind her with the magical bleed-off of the fiery pillar she had summoned at her sister's order.

The wards on the Lavin tanks shone as they raced down the road spreading their formation. It was not a stealthy approach, but given the smoldering fire to each warding shield I supposed CloudFire was trading stealth for protective power.

"You will NOT deny MY due!" The Titan screamed. "You interloping half breeds are nothing! You stand between me and a reckoning with the pitiful dregs of this world's divinity"

DawnStrike's green eyes turned flat. "You simpering Child. This is War. You bring your army to kill, to seize ground, to destroy your enemies. Here you ravage and pillage and offer no quarter. And you dare whine when we draw blood? When we refuse to treat this as some game?"

Racing up from behind our lines, the 23rd Legion Behemoth and its Battle Tanks were moving in to support the 12th Legion. I was not sure what even two dozen Lavin heavies would do against the Titan, but 24 tanks with their wards enhanced by Censor CloudFire? Plus their scouting vehicles, artillery, Ritual Plate, and Infantry support. That would at least slow the Titan down. Slow her enough for BlackSky and our allies to strike?

The Titan stomped back up the slope. The Eye glowed but did not fire. "You-"

DawnStrike cut the Titan off. "If you say cheater, I will be quite cross."

"Yes, you would hate to lose a bet, Dear Sister," a deeper resonant purring voice said as CloudFire appeared far down another street.

Her flaming orange and yellow hair was pulled back to where it flowed down the back of her armored gold and bronze dress. She stood with her immense hooves braced on the top deck of a battle tank that shimmered with intense wards and had a lowered ramming dozer blade. Three more tanks rumbled behind her in covering positions.

The Titan looked between the two Daughters.

"No you petulant child, you will not advance," DawnStrike patiently explained.

++++


Smirking, Titan stood to her full height. "You think these toys can stop me? The most you can do is bury me in rubble."

As her tanks raced around, CloudFire' laugh echoed over the broken landscape. "We can delay you; we can buy time. "

She gestured and the tank troop she was leading, plus three other quartets, a full Tank Swarm, that had gotten into position opened fire. The Lavin's 124mm shell was about 50 lbs. And 16 exotic armor-piercing enchanted variants hit the Titan in a storm of antic light and lashing flames that turned the ground into ash.

Half of the crater slumped apart into a fine heap of gritty sand that blew apart in a gritty cloud.

The battle tanks immediately revved their engines and withdrew leaving a gasping Titan scrambling as sparks and flames flickered over her metallic skin. Half of her silver hair had been melted off.

"We're not the ones afraid of morning, afraid of what will happen when Mortal Authorities arrive." DawnStrike's hands started to glow.

"But where is your mother? You fight here while she cowers..." The Titan paused and turned her head to the North-east.

My gaze went in that direction as the Gorgon rig locked onto a large teleport flash followed by... hundreds, no thousands of flashes. All along the Fomor's lines of communication back to the lake where the Fomor had their reserves and supplies. At least three thousand individual teleports.

A mass teleport. In theory sufficient skill could enable one to arrive and, using their own observations and the sensor feed from a whole cadre of ground and aerial scouts, teleport entire Cohorts of troops, vehicles, and support equipment. And to place each fire-team, rotary cannon, and tank in the exact spot for maximum devastation. And to do so while artillery and torpedoes launched supporting attacks.

It would take skill, coordination, and raw power on an unbelievable scale.

BlackSky had arrived.

And she had personally brought six cohorts with full support in a mass ambush the Fomor didn't see coming, an ambush they couldn't conceive of. One that could encircle the enemy, or at least cut off their line of retreat.

Contrary to her claims, the Titan's host was not an occupying force. For the Fomor this was a raid. And the most important part of a raiding mission was being able to break contact, exfiltrate, or at least retreat.

DawnStrike's smile was cold. "You wanted Mother's attention."

Ethniu screamed.

The Eye flashed towards Dawn. She teleported away; the clouds above coalesced as CloudFire summoned another fiery pillar that struck down. The Titan was briefly illuminated inside the roiling inferno. And then there was another three-tone alert.

My Gorgon rig was able to track these subsonic torpedoes. And from their giant monolithic explosions they were likely Galatine torpedoes. An inexpensive option, the Galatine eschewed most stealth, evasion, and advanced propulsion systems. Instead, it was a mere delivery system for over 800 lbs of high alchemical explosives.

Though expense was relative, for all the Torpedoes, Ritual Plate, Cohorts, and Armored Troops we might as well have been dropping pallets of millions of aurei on the Titan.

Some of the Lavin Battle Tanks, and their attendant infantry riding in Nymph light transports and Triarii IFVs had moved to support the Cohorts of the 12th Legion. The 23rd's LRI Cohorts were also arriving; Umbra Mediums deploying Infantry Centuries right to the battlefield.

Most of the 23rd's tanks were apparently the Lavin Mark 2 which had 2 Minerva rotary cannons in addition to a Metis heavy rotary cannon coaxial with the main gun which could also fire anti-infantry canister shot. With plenty of Infantry and RP support the shattered Fomor Formations were facing withering anti-infantry fire.

Even in the nightmare that was urban combat, without the Titan, the Fomor would have to count on an especially strong, brave, and creative sorcerer to even have a hope of slowing a Lavin.

The tanks advanced. And it seemed that the Fomorian inventory was light on anti-armor weaponry.

The third Torpedo barrage cleared. I wondered if the rotating through the types was testing to see which had the most effect on the Titan or was some commander dealing with the Fleet's finite supply of the heavy munitions.

DawnStrike had appeared further back closer but not quite near to her sister. Neither wanted to have both be able to be hit by the same blast from the Eye.

She simply spread her wings behind her and gestured "come forward" with her open hand.

The Titan's metal skin was no longer pristine; it had a rainbow patina that many metallic sheets got after an improper temper. The Titan took a step then a note of hesitation, of caution, crossed her face.

"Dither if you wish," the Praetor said. "It is not our forces who have daybreak as their enemy. Let Mother extinguish your minions, your allies, your supplies. I'm sure they'll accept such a betrayal with magnanimity."

"What do You know, Coward!" the Titan screamed. "You are interlopers here! This is not your world. They do not respect you."

Ethniu froze at DawnStrike's small smile.

Maybe. Maybe the other Accorded Nations did not respect us. But they knew how to use an opening. The Fae were another force of respectable skill in misdirection. If the Queen of Winter could not make use of an angered enemy myopically focused on another target that insisted on a harassing retreat, drawing the Titan further and further from the center of combat...

But it was not just faerie. It was said that the White Council's Wizards needed time for some great arcane working. And the Embassy was showing, only a fool would challenge the Svartalves on ground they had prepared.

And then there was Dame BlackStone. She had appeared time and time again; this was her city.

++++

Calculating the battle before her versus the one behind her, the Titan set her jaw. "Fomor! To me!" she screamed as the Eye's ravaging beam sliced across the battlefield.

There was a maddened howl as the remaining Fomorian forces launched themselves towards the Titan. Hordes of long-limbed muscular shaggy creatures, short be-tentacled ape-like things, amphibious Fomorians, and human levies all broke away from our lines and moved towards the Titan.

Their casualties were heavy. Seeing a force concentration, the Arachne barrage had intensified, which made me hope that Legion Behemoth also brought more artillery shells.

DawnStrike seemed perturbed while CloudFire simply cackled.

The pillars of fire slammed down from the sky as the Armored vehicles of 23rd Legion Behemoth advanced supporting the reinvigorated troops of 12th Legion Severitas. Keeping a clear dead zone they avoided pressing to the Titan.

The three-tone chime alerted and the Fomorian reinforcements were blasted by shipkiller torpedoes intended for the Titan. The monolithic high alchemy explosives blew through the enemy troops.

They may have been less efficient than with a dedicated ground-support weapon, but the results were devastating.

But then Ethniu was already gone.

"Valhalla Flight, this is Centurion Valentina the Titan is retreating," I gasped and paused to take a sip from my water tube. "Repeat. The Titan is Retreating."

There was a pause. "Understood," the young technician said her voice a pleased purr. "Do you have a bearing?"

"North-east direction. Contact track is highlighted. High ground speed," I transmitted as I had the Gorgon Rig follow the tall form as she ran down the blasted street. Some of her retainers tried to keep up, but they were quickly left in the dust.

"Understood," the crisp voice replied. "Keep visual as long as you can."

"Confirm." I zoomed out the scrying intake from the Gorgon rig. "She is rendezvousing with support elements. Estimate may reach BlackSky's area of operation in zero-four minutes. Longer if she abandons all support."

Though I wondered how long BlackSky and her cohorts would be there. The bit of attention I could spare to that part of the battlefield indicated things were winding down. Unless she was planning to ambush the Titan herself, BlackSky could withdraw in good order.

As Ethniu made it to what seemed to be a stacked concrete parking lot the Fomor had used as a staging point between their main supply dump and their line of attack on the 12th, The three-tone trill sounded.

And the entire building was blown to rubble. I gave a sharp grin as I transmitted that set of footage. If we had to burn the city to save it from the Fomor then so be it.

It was doubtful that that would kill or even wound her. But that was not the point.

The Titan had put much in her inevitability, her invincibility. That none could stand athwart her.

With that arrogance she had boasted to the Accorded Nations, announced her plans to invade, and hurled herself at the Legions.

And it was Ethniu who had fled, bloody and battered.

I drank some more water. And split my attention between tracking when the Titan dug her way out and the 12th and 23rd Legions' assault on the remaining Fomor.

Maybe now Valhalla Command could spare a Spatha VTOL to pick me up.


End "Snippet" 3.

Special thanks to especially preier for checking and reading over this. For ch13 I have over 4,500 words written and hte combat scene is going well.

 

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
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/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 13: Command, Control, Reconnaissance, & Revenge


We were outnumbered.

Our Polyxo Squadron of twelve Pilots, commanded by Prefect Centurion Quirinus, faced a heavy squadron of at least sixteen Zioxan Pilots. About two Flights of their Satori ground strike models and two of their Tjardu air superiority.

Making the situation worse, the Zioxans were supported by a network of Villeneuve golems that could fire Toulon anti-air missiles. The launchers came from House Trosier but were operated by the Diluvians. After all, the Diluvians had been the ones who had courted the support of the Great Houses of Ziox and Trosier for their struggle against minor House Crocelli. Proxy or not, the Diluvians remained the nominal enemy we were here to fight.

The worrying part of the current situation was the level of apparent coordination between this batch of Zioxan mercenaries and their Diluvian allies. Even a slipshod degree of active communication between the opposing forces would hand the squadron commanded by Samoth Rodswor control over a zone of airspace where they could operate freely and we would be hampered by missile barrage. With a proper level of communication, that already unpleasant situation worsened precipitously.

Fully integrated comms would enable the Zioxan forces to provide constantly updated targeting and guidance data for the salvos of Toulon missiles. From what information I could recall about Trosic weapons systems, their targeting systems should be fully compatible with Zioxan Ritual Plate scrying and sensor suites. The two Houses were strong allies and shared a mutual a fear of BlackSkyvian Ritual Plate, which had informed the development of their own systems.

The Tjardu was the fruit of this inter-House cooperation on weapons development. Based on the Rochefort, House Trosier's own air-superiority suit, the Tjardu retained the robustness of the ancestral design while improving on the efficiency and performance to a near-peer level with the Harmonia suit. Admittedly, the cost in materials and enhancements represented by each Tjardu made them very expensive, even by Ritual Plate standards, and the Tjardu had an infamously steep learning curve for Pilots, but it was nevertheless san example of multi-House cooperation made manifest.

That cooperation was at the root of this proxy war. And, plausible deniability aside, House Ziox had increased their commitment. And it was up to us to deal with it and keep our own House informed. Quirinus had finished updating Flight Ops and my Display updated.

According to Command there were now two Occultias in high altitude orbit over the theater. One of the most expensive and rare models feilded by House BlackSky, the Occultia was a reconnaissance specialized Ritual Plate equipped with advanced and powerful scrying systems. An Occultia pilot had to be skilled in operating, collating, and distributing the data intake on top of all the other qualifications. A Pilot entrusted with one of the House's greatest weapons, information gathering required great skill.

Air combat was more than just who had the most weapons, the greatest thrust, or the most maneuverability. Though those were all useful things, accurate and up to date information on the tactical and strategic situation was equally if not more important. Information the Occultia suits specialized in providing.

Compared to the Computation Jewels of Visha and I's previous lives, fighting for another empire, Ritual Plate was bulky, expensive, and maintenance-intensive. It required a far more involved logistical backend in skilled support staff, parts, power systems, munitions and the like. And all for a system that had less maneuverability and reaction in the low-velocity regime.

Yet all that expense resulted in a combat platform that had a greater altitude ceiling, velocity, power distribution, operational radius, weapons options, and of greater concern to those with actual skill in battle theory: communications and data sharing.

It was an amusing synchronicity; in both of my "next lives", I had been strapped into advanced magical flight systems and sent off to act as an artillery spotter. And now, once again, I had been put back into the old familiar role of a spotter.

Except it was technically not artillery we were spotting this time, and our targets weren't grounded like a marching column of unwary infantry.

I would have preferred to simply have a Fleet Airship, or a Torpedo Bomber just fire a mass of Vel Missiles at the enemy. However, Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes were large, expensive, and effective, and thus were in high demand.

And yet, the assets we had did allow for something... close.

The Telephe Ritual Plate was House BlackSky's strike model. Their primary weapons were Lance batteries, extremely high power, relatively long-ranged weapons that could take out capital ships and other large assets. Their energy release could also be tuned to take out convoys as was done earlier tonight, but at a cost in efficiency.

The downside of Lances was that given the sheer level of specialized arcane energy required, a Telephe only had a handful of Lance shots. Not to mention the breathtaking energy density of the Lance's power flasks, or the expense in enchanting them with even a modicum of safety. Polyxo Advanced Multi-Role suits could be configured with a Strike Package which gave near parity, at the cost of a slightly reduced capability. Meanwhile, the, less capable but less expensive, Polydora Multi-Role had lower power, range, and capacity when it was configured with Lance batteries.

Quirinus had taken her squadron to the Vihn Garrison to provide ground support fire. She had two Flights of ground-attack configured Polyxo and one Flight in strike configuration.

Lances were not the most efficient way to go after most ground targets. But as I told Quirinus when I was just a Cadet and she was my instructor: a Lance strike makes for an unforgettable ground support run.

Flight Ops was vectoring in support and our House Crocelli allies in Vihn Garrison had some fixed-wing assets, mostly Barrister ground attack craft, and some Archer Ritual Plate suits, but the former were extremely vulnerable to the Zioxans and the latter were dealing with defending the Garrison itself.

Quirinus had three Flights to play with. My Flight was the one with the best scrying equipment, and I would argue also at least the second best Flight in terms of combat skill. Given First Flight's presence, thought, there wasn't really much question about how Quirinus would use my Flight.

Going in low and fast, my Flight came in with more power to our Veils. The heavy rain made for a greater challenge and power consumption, but the longer we could obfuscate our targets the better.

Our path was going to put us in line with a grain elevator to the east of the town. Past it was a concentration of Diluvian infantry, a mortar formation, and a cluster of their air defense network. The enemy concentration was a textbook target.

Having a Flight of ground-attack Polyxo scout, strafe, and provide targeting data for a Flight of Strike Polyxo, despite facing superior enemy numbers was the type of aggressive posture, bordering on contempt, our enemies often expected of us.

We flew into the teeth of the Villeneuve air defenses and a waiting heavy Squadron. As the range decreased it would get harder and harder to conceal our approach.

House BlackSky had a reputation for bellicosity. Among the service branches, the Imperial Legions had a esprit de corps reflecting their role as airborne shock infantry. And of the Legionary specializations, the Volantes Centurions, the Ritual Plate Pilots, had the most speed and personal firepower.

A degree of recklessness and arrogance would be expected for any Pilot. Now, consider a young countess Legionary Flier who got that title for taking out nine Zioxan Pilots from the Second Assault Infiltration Wing, including the War Mistress in command.

Would said War Mistress' sister be surprised when she sees the countess' Flight, at a close enough range my wings will be rather identifying, charging into battle? Samoth knew I fought alone at eleven when outnumbered nine to one. My Flight versus her Squadron was still four to one.

Would she think I was that conceited? That I was another BlackSkyvian war-maniac young noble?

I hoped she would.

Samoth struck me as arrogant, and if she was half the woman her sister was, she would assume everyone else was as arrogant as she was. Breathing and checking my telemetry, I reflected that this plan required us having the superior psychological profile of the enemy commander.

"GreyDawn, VioletBlood! Pull in, increase your speed," I said over the Flight channel. They had been flying in at a proper distance. Not the one prescribed by the book, but the correct covering range given our situation. I did not want proper, I wanted them to look gung-ho, to look aggressive.

Based on the composite imagery from our Gorgon Rigs' passive intakes and the various active scrying feeds, it looked like a Tjardu Flight was moving towards us. Both enemy Flights of Satori were a bit behind them to provide support and the last Tjardu was on a central higher altitude overwatch post.

Their positioning lacked the fluidity of a truly well-trained squadron, but at least they were not holding static positions. A fault many Pilots with poor experience had was that they would hover at a given location, take a fixed following distance, or move in some other predictable pattern that made them easy targets. A Pilot had to juggle many critical things simultaneously, and it was easy get into the habit of not thinking about one's actual flight maneuvers.

In this case both Tjardu Flights were reasonably placed to respond to anything a smaller BlackSkyvian formation could do, and they were taking advantage of the anti-air missiles on their side.

If anything, they had a bit more distance and were retaining more of a reserve of energy potential being at a higher velocity and altitude, as if they were worried about facing Harmonia, and not RP suits with less velocity and high speed maneuverability.

They were playing to their perceived relative strengths. Lighter and with greater turning capability, they were worried about Air Superiority Polyxo, which like the Harmonia had greater maneuvering and overall speed. Granted the Harmonia was a bit better in those regards than either model, but it showed an expectation on the part of the enemy.

I was thankful for the Occultia support, as the Tjardu was supposedly an easier platform to Veil, which with their overall lower power systems did make sense. Without the additional scrying support we might have missed them until we were much closer.

"They seem to be skilled enough," Visha noted on a private channel.

"At forming up and flying low-profile," I replied. But she was right, the Tjardu had a steeper learning curve than BlackSkyvian suits. Part of that was that it was a cobbling of two different House's design philosophies, arcana, and parts.

Their whole concept of making the Tjardu to fight the Harmonia reflected institutional biases and how doctrine should be limited to what a polity has the resources to invest. The Harmonia was actually the less expensive suit. This both came from advantages of scale and experience. House BlackSky simply produced more Ritual Plate suits. MuArc Amalgamated constructed more suits in a month than all of House Ziox produced in a year. And MuArc was just one firm that made Ritual Plate.

And when it came to Harmonia versus Tjardu production numbers, technically House Ziox had not built any of their air-superiority Ritual Plate. They purchased the core enchanted components, essentially stripped suits, from House Trosier. Not to mention, they had a far smaller pool or Pilots and Instructors for their Ritual Plate corps. Part of that was that House Ziox used a large number of more conventional airframes in many roles that House BlackSky used Ritual Plate for.

I gave a forced grin. "Uplink check," I transmitted on the command channel. My Display had the symbol for a valid connection with Flight 1, but it would have been sloppy to not verify.

"We are getting telemetry from all four of you," Quirinus replied. "We're seeing a lot of good ground targets."

"And more?" I asked as I had my Flight go even lower, again, into a textbook ground attack run.. We were practically skimming over the rooftops of Vihn now.

My feathered wings tingled with the stress my Zephyr were under as they pushed me forward. The ground-attack mode for the Polyxo sacrificed velocity, climb, and high speed maneuvering for more weapons systems, protection, and low velocity capability.

Which meant that even though the Tjardu cost more than a Harmonia for what I evaluated as the inferior suit, it was still an air superiority model that by the basic stats could fly circles around my own Flight's equipment.

It was one thing to say how overall the Tjardu could compete with the Harmonia, but only at a far greater cost in resources, logistics, and Pilot skill, and thus that on a given campaign my House would field more air-superiority Ritual Plate than House Ziox.

But that ignored that House Ziox made use of fixed-wing assets, both piloted and golem craft Which did have advantages against Ritual Plate, provided one was willing to be limited to airbases or large naval carriers. Also Zioxan strategy depended on having allies to support them in any major action against a larger enemy.

But more importantly... on the tactical level. House Ziox planned to use concentrations of force and focus on enemy Ritual Plate when they had local superiority in numbers and capability.

Such as this exact situation.

"Sprint Mode. Sprint Mode, Prepare for Ranging Fire" I stated and then pushed my Zephyr to what would seem like their max. "Violet make sure you don't actually get out of formation," I cautioned my most... excitable pilot.

The four did what seemed like a redline thrust, especially given how our emissions shot up. It would also put a spotlight on how the four of us were in a ground attack configuration. Our formation spread out as it looked like each of us was rushing and we were about to lose cohesion.

It was something that a stereotypical, or at least hidebound, Flight Instructor would twist the horns on her students if she caught them making such a sloppy formation. However... a sensible Volantes Centurion would note that we still had mutual support in both angles of fire, scrying, and maneuverability.

And given the Instructor I had as a Cadet was my Squadron commander... well I doubted a fellow bearer of the Honor Name "Magnus" would be upset with me.

Especially since Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus was the one who came up with this plan and approved of my adjustments to my Flight's part in it...

On my Display, the four markers of my Flight raced towards a series of roughly concentric lines that represented various ranges of the Toulon missile. My vision was assaulted with a nearly overwhelming amount of visual data from the view out my eye lenses to the display projection with its status board, overlays and maps, targeting data, and ancillary rear views.

Much of Ritual Plate design theory involved finding ways to reduce visual clutter while allowing for quick reference and managing to keep things informative. Not to mention battle-hardening the various spells projecting the illusions.

It all melted back as I no longer saw the display and simply took in the data holistically and integrated it with the suit, my Zephyr, and my Flight.

The closer Tjardu Flight pushed their own air spirits and dove down making use of what standard theory told them was a superior position and moving to make use of it. As the faster air superiority suits moved in to intercept us, the two Flights of Satori suits split into two wedges. One took position flanking the Tjardu, gamely attempting to keep up, while the other held back over the rough center of the enemy ground position.

We were outnumbered three Flights to one, two to one if you were optimistic.

And then all Villeneuve anti-air golems opened up and the sky filled with dozens of the light, quick Toulon missiles. Ah, and on the way up they snap-changed their vectors after the initial climb. It was likely that the Zioxan suits had full coordination with the missiles.

I grinned. Perfect.

The telemetry was a bit overwhelming. The warning indicators were suddenly quite insistent. Fortunately, all the telemetry data was still being transmitted.

My estimation of Samoth increased slightly. I had expected her to gloat over the open channel. Maybe she was being cautious as my Flight was still far enough that we could reverse and fight a retreat.

She might not have been in that forward Tjardu Flight, but she was somewhere up here.

"Lance Strike away!" Quirinus stated as she and the three other Pilots in her Flight opened fire.

There was a brief window where a more cautious Zioxan force would have been on alert. Quirinus' Flight had just released a quartet bolts of extremely energetic long range evocation magical attacks. However, the Tjardu Flight was moving in to take out my Flight and the Satori were guiding missiles.

Besides, Lance Strikes were for large air targets or ground formations. And at that range, it would be hard to target individual Ritual Plate suits.

Except, my Flight was very experienced at providing targeting data.

"Eyes!" I ordered over the Flight channel; this was going to be very close.

As the Lances shot in, someone in the leading Tjardu Flight realized the mistake and tried to maneuver, but it was too late. And the long-range bombardment detonated among the enemy Ritual Plate formations.

Lances were very intricate high energy arcane creations. As a way for Ritual Plate to carry strike-capable armaments, the detonation mechanism was a major component. A Lance was designed to be able to pierce, or failing that, weaken wards, burn through armor and then detonate, or explode in an airburst above a target.

On first blush, it was a terribly inefficient use of limited firepower. Even with Occultia and Gorgon Rig targeting only three of the enemy Ritual Plate were hit. I was not a fan of waste, but a vicious, predatory part of me found it gratifying to see.

A Lance was designed to punch through the defenses of a capital ship. Even taking a fraction of the Lance's power, a Ritual Plate's Wards stood little chance. It was like using a sledgehammer on a grasshopper.

It was hard to hit such a small and quick target, but if you could... they would be destroyed. And three Pilots were caught in the center of the giant blinding white orbs and the twinkling afterimages of the strikes.

Taking out a single Tjardu and two Satori were merely the largest casualties of the strike. The Lances had been set to air burst. Thus several more RP were damaged as well as a fair number of Toulon missiles. The missiles were further out, but they were entirely unshielded.

Most useful for my Pilots however was that the three Flights caught in the energetic blasts had their scrying arrays overloaded. It was maybe a bit much to hope that the Zioxan Pilots were blinded. RP Suits were supposed to have reactive eye slits, but either way they would be disoriented.

The trio of Trjardu kept formation, but given one of them had been deleted from the sky and another was sparking as her low-visibility systems failed it showed they were taking a moment to react. Sprinting at our actual full speed, my Flight dove in to deny them that time.

"Grey, Baroness, hit the straggler!" I ordered as the four of us fired our Pilum Projectors.

Visha and I each fired once on the two least damaged Trjardu while the fully visible one was hit by one anti-armor grade weapon and then another. The first shot might not have gone through her wards but the second ensured it.

The luckless Zioxan blew apart. And now we outnumbered the air-superiority fighters two to one.

The remaining two Trjardu recovered and used their agility to survive the attacks Visha and I leveled. They twisted and shot towards us. And then GreyDawn and VioletBlood went after the trailing fighter who twisted up to avoid them and went into a sharp climb.

Which allowed me to take the last Zioxan fighter with my wingwoman at my side. "Visha clear any missiles that get on us!" I ordered, knowing that GreyDawn would be similarly protecting her wingwoman.

The Trjardu might be faster than us, but we had already closed in. They could run, but they were outnumbered and bolting might expose them to parting fire. As we eviscerated this air superiority flight, Mercy's Flight pounced on the Satori. She was outnumbered three to two, but two of the Zioxan Multi-role suits were in bad shape and they were split between defending themselves and guiding anti-air missiles.

They could fight Ritual Plate that were fresh and had the edge in performance, or they could spend valuable time reacquiring connections and controls with the remaining Toulon missiles.

Or they could pull back and have the Villeneuve golems launch more missiles, but that was when Quirinus' Flights launched their remaining two salvos and took out much of the Diluvian ground assets.

That left one uncommitted Trjardu Flight, and while Quirinus' flight was down to their backup projectors, the dirty secret was that a BlackSkyvian Strike model Ritual Plate suit was functionally an interceptor in performance and could work as a fair air superiority platform.

Distance meant that even with their higher speed the strike Polyxo would take a bit of time to get to the remaining Trjardu Flight but that they were vectoring in preventing Samoth from freely committing her reserve.

My wings ached as I did a snap roll to avoid incoming fire; this Trjadu Pilot had mostly gotten out of her stupor and was trying to reunite with her wingwoman. Meanwhile, Visha was doing her part to help us threaten and limit the enemy's maneuverability as well as take out incoming missiles.

The Toulon was a light weapon, a single hit was unlikely to score a kill against a warded Pilot, hence they mostly worked by swarming enemy Ritual Plate. Its main role was as a relatively inexpensive air denial asset, but with airborne target spotting, the Toulon could be used in a more active role.

GreyDawn and VioletBlood were similarly pressuring their enemy and, by outnumbering a single Zioxan in a close range fight, had limited the Trjardu's advantages. Their low observable systems were less effective the closer one was.

Rolling, I adjusted my Pilum-fire giving careful shots with the projector. Already slowed down, one of the orange bolts took down her warding and roasted the Pilot's pale blue wings. That this Pilot had refrained from reacting meant she was either not Samoth, or that Samoth had more self control than I thought.

"Visha!" I shouted as I slowed and switched to using Pilum bolt covering fire to stave off the remaining missiles.

Visha had been flying a bit higher and faster in a flanking position and had a perfect angle. "Enemy down," she stated after taking a perfect shot.

"I got mine too!" VioletBlood said over the Flight channel after a few more seconds.

I glanced at that part of my display. VioletBlood had taken them out, and Mercy's Flight had gotten the better of the enemy Satori. Mostly by picking off the most damaged Ritual Plate and then conservatively harassing the three remaining survivors while warding off incoming fire. "That's great Baroness, but not time to rest on your laurels. There's still a contest to be won!" I cheered in my motivational tone and the four of us took off to the rest of the enemy formations.

"Diamond Flight, good work," Quirinus stated. "My Flight is also maneuvering to the remaining Trjardu Flight. Ground Fire is still an issue."

I quickly studied the map on my Display. There were marks for airborne assets other than the deep purple of House BlackSky and the dark blue of House Ziox. "What about the Garrison's Archers and Barristers? With us taking out these 'mercenaries' their Ritual Plate can be moved out and as long as the Barristers have some rockets left..."

The Barrister was a rugged and cheap fixed-wing aircraft that could takeoff and land on fairly short and rough runways. Another Alecton export, it mostly worked as a platform for carrying wing-loads and a belly-full of minimally guided rockets. Though the Barrister could also carry bombs and more expensive munitions, if their operators could afford them. The weakness of the Barrister was that just about any Ritual Plate, or fixed-wing fighter would have a fairly trivial time taking them out, but that was why their rockets had a fair range and they escorted if possible.

Quirinus took a moment to ponder. "I'll call it in," she stated.

My eyes widened, if she thought I was some gung-ho maniac who would rather engage in air to air duels than obey orders and do critical ground support missions... Being assigned tasks more suited to such a mentality would be the least of my worries. "I just think it's the most sound use of all our resources!" I quickly assured her.

"I'm well aware you're not unduly worried about your little bet; now let me talk to our local allies."

At least Mercy's formation was closer and providing support to her was entirely valid.

Seeing they were about to be hit by another Flight, the remaining Satori tried to reposition themselves and used their remaining missiles to cover it. I had to give them credit for not breaking and stil maneuvering under control.

They were also trying to reunite with the Trjardu Flight. Not even two minutes had passed since the first Lance strike and the four air superiority Ritual Plate were nearing their remaining allies.

And Quirinus Flight was still a bit out, but the Archers and the Barristers by the Garrison were moving. It was now a race.

One that we lost.

The Trjardu Flight reunited with their beleaguered allies, and now without the pressur,e the guidance on the Toulon missiles improved. One of Mercy's Pilots was hit. She took out most of the attacks, but enough missiles got in to take out her wards and damage her armor, and a pair of Ziox air superiority RP destroyed the Polyxo.

In that instant I did not know who it was, I hoped it was not Octavia. Trjardu fighters moved in and tried to split off another Polyxo while the others were forced out by the missiles. Another Pilot was hit as her suit was briefly engulfed in flames and she slowed and started to descend. One of the other Pilots went to cover her, which left just one Polyxo remaining free to move. This was the weakness of the Flight as a combat unit. After the first casualty, any further combat losses would render the Flight combat ineffective.

And then my Pilots came in and fired a Falx salvo, and what had been a moment of Zioxan numerical superiority and defeat in detail turned back into a BlackSkyvian advantage.

Or at least we could get time. With some space we could get it to be at least seven versus seven. And Quirinus would not be far behind.

"Mercy Flight, check your wounded, and get-" I said over the squadron channel, there was a chance Mercy had been killed or incapacitated.

"I'm okay!" Octavia assured with a cough, "I've got my suit rebooted." To her credit she was flying better and the flames were out. Though one leg was bent in a way that indicated she would not be walking anytime soon. But if she survived the battle, the medicos could get her good as new... if.

"Yes, Diamond, you can take the Trjardu fighters, we'll finish off the Satori," Mercy gritted out; I could feel her anger. It took professionalism to set aside one's personal vengeance to the benefit of the unit.

But that was why we were the Imperial Legions and not the armed rabble of some warlord. Or a War Mistress.

It was interesting that no one in either Trjardu Flight used an overpowered attack similar to the ones the late Zaphania Rodswor was using. Though Samoth was the younger sister.

I was tempted to use the open channel, but I held back. One only got one chance to make a first impression, and I wanted to make my introduction special.

The Trjardu were gaining altitude and pulling to open a range advantage. That was expected, it played to the advantage of faster, yet more fragile suits. However, they could not leave, not if they wanted to support the remaining Satori

Who I had to admit were "fighting like angels". And having met an archangel, I can't say the idiom is wrong.

I ordered my Flight to go to Pilum projectors, we were running dangerously low on them, but they had the furthest range of the weapons we had. "Curve around to the following vector," I then said over the Flight channel.

The idea was to force the Trjardu Flight to choose between supporting the Satori where they would be pinned between my Flight and Quirinus' or abandon their allies.

It came down to timing. Would Quirinus get in first? Would the Barristers get into range to launch their air-to-ground missiles? How many anti-air missiles could the Villeneuve golems get off before getting hit? Would the Satori pilots be able to take out another one of my squadron-mates using their superior directing of those Toulon missiles?

How many Archers could the Garrison dedicate to this fight? What about the reinforcements Flight Ops was sending? How many of their Cadiz Ritual Plate would the Diluvians send into this fight?

The Diluvians had been repositioning for another attack on the Garrison but with their "mercenary" allies committed to fighting us instead of knocking out House Crocelli's air assets.

The map display was getting even more dynamic and crowded with icons. And this was a relatively small squadron-level event.

Fire came in from the Trjardu Flight. They each picked a member of my flight to hit, which was likely more suppressive in intent. They moved for a quick fly-by and were going too blast past us to reinforce the Satori.

"Focus to wingwomen," I transmitted on the Flight channel. highlighting the two trailing members of the enemy formation.

We were slower but had heavier weapons and more protection. Our two formations scissored through each other in complex screwing and jinking maneuvers as each tried to hit the other. It was still dangerously close by Ritual Plate combat standards, but as spread out as we were there was no chance of us physically hitting each other, let alone being within sword range.

Zioxan energy blasts hit my wards and warning lights flicked on all over my display before the wards cut out. I grit my teeth as the status alerts went off for GreyDawn and VioletBlood. Neither was as bad as I was but my most experienced Pilot was having bad luck today.

Though the Trjardu Pilots had it worse. While everyone in my Flight had taken a bit of damage, VioletBlood and GreyDawn had managed to cleanly take out one of theirs while Visha and myself had burned through the wards of another.

I was splitting between rekindling my own wards and directing those two to take out the straggler. And then the sky got very busy and many things resolved at once.

Escorted by Archers, the heavy, canted-winged Barristers had gotten into an attack run as they neared the range and were about to and disgorged their load of Advocate air-to-ground missiles.

Like the Barrister, the Advocate was a basic, inexpensive, and unsophisticated option for ground attack. It was heavier than an energy-based system with a far larger footprint, but given they were intended to be launched from fixed wing assets that was not considered an issue.

The Advocate missile and the Barrister ground attack craft made for an appealing option for a Minor House looking to pummel ground forces on a budget, especially as House Alecto had many financing options.

Flipping over, there was an instant as the heavy rain pattered directly against my suit and helmet. For a moment it was like being in a trench with a sheet metal roof. I could almost smell the mud of the Rhine.

Knowing their air defense systems were at risk, the Diluvians launched all their Toulon missiles, the Villeneuve running empty as they extended their internal magazines. The heavy cloud of sprinting little anti-air missiles went up in the direction of the Barristers.

Even with Archers providing an anti-missile screen, the Diluvians had a chance to take out a number of Barristers before they could reply in kind. But instead of keeping their vector, the bulk of the Toulon missiles twisted, and now rocketed in towards us.

The Zioxans still had direct control!

Not to ignore a better chance at survival, the Barristers disgorged their missiles and twisted away, hoping their escorts could protect them. I had an instant to appreciate the Diluvians cursing Zioxan perfidy as the realization hit.

The Toulon missile direction had been quite good but this action seemed personal. "Samoth's in one of the Satori!" I stated over the Squadron channel as my wards flared back. There was no reason that Samoth Rodswor's expertise had to lay with air superiority combat. We had all made the same assumption that of course she would be flying an air to air fighter.

Our Ritual Plate forces were in a big intermixed canted-column that stretched over the battlefield. Quirinus' Strike Flight was diving down to blast through the Trjardu and Mercy's depleted Flight had pulled to a more defensive posture and was engaging in anti-missile suppression.

"Quirinus, Mercy requests your Flights cover mine, mine's in the best position to charge the Satori!" I ordered as I had my Flight increase our power to slice to the remaining Zioxan forces.

It was then that I realized that if my theory was right, Samoth would be directing the majority of the missiles she had usurped to cross my vector from as many angles as possible in order to limit my maneuvering and saturate my defenses.

Sometimes I hated being correct.

"Visha, Violet, I'm going to clear the road; you two take any stragglers. GreyDawn trail position and fire on the Satori I highlight when I tell you with the weapon I tell you!" I ordered as I went to a near vertical corkscrewing dive.

The remaining Satori multi-role suits were below and an arcing cloud of Toulon missiles came between us. They rose up and came in at different angles and all focused on me.

I pulled my lips back, there was something to be said for brute force as I flipped to the open channel. "Samoth! Is this the value of Zioxan oaths?" I asked as I started Pilum bolts as fast as my targeting system could allow as I spun and twisted.

Exhaling, I went to active with my Gorgon rig and focused on the remaining Flight or so of Satori. One of the Pilots had dark feathered wings, another had a long ruffled tail, one might have had hooves. And one.... one was lean and had her wings spread out and was maneuvering a bit stiffly as if she had an extra load splitting her attention.

"You are no mercenary! Even a basic sell-sword knows not to betray their client in such a debased manner!" I declared as missiles began to explode around me and on the ground the Advocates reaped their cost as the air-to-ground warheads cut through the Diluvian air defense, mortars, and vehicles.

That pilot might have flinched in her suit. She might have tilted her head to look up as she, and the rest of her Flight had rotated up and more missiles came in. It was a thin thing to identify a target on, especially if Samoth might have acted nothing like her sister.

But it was what I had. Still firing, taking the brunt of near misses that Visha and Violet had blasted that got past me. Pushing my Zephyr as far as they could go I pushed the targeting data to GreyDawn.

Above us Quirinus' Flight took on the remaining Trjardu.

I could not spare any attention for that bit of air combat. The good news was that it seemed we had found Samoth. More good news was that nearly all the pressure had been taken off Mercy's survivors which enabled them to clear out some of the anti-air missiles that had been targeting them and the rest of our Squadron. They even started to pressure the enemy directly.

This all came at a cost. A lot of Toulon missiles had been fired. Thanks to the fire support from the Garrison's air assets the amount in the air was all that remained, but there was still a large amount.

Fortunately, they were directed at one target which meant that a layered defense could be enacted. Mercy's Flight gave some sporadic but useful fire as, at the moment, they were closer to the enemy RP directing the Toulons.

And with less concerns about their own anti-missile defense, Visha and VioletBlood could give an interlocking Falx fire that was quite efficient. GreyDawn was also contributing but her fire was more offensive. For the moment I had her making careful shots of what was normally a short ranged weapon system. Dozens of missiles were taken out of the sky before they got anywhere near their target.

That being the bad news. I was left with an intensifying amount of incoming ordnance. The Toulon's main advantages were also its limitations. It was a small, specialized missile designed as a defensive anti-Ritual Plate system and given its size an individual Trosic Naval Infantrywoman could have a launcher with multiple missiles, and the Villeneuve could fire over a dozen before reloading.

I could argue that the larger, and more flexible, Vel Missile House BlackSky used was the superior weapon system. But facing a swarm of Toulons I had neither the time nor the inclination.

My emitters, runes, and inlays flared as I fired both my Pilum and Falx Projectors. It was a profligate waste to use anti-armor grade weapons against missiles. But it was better to spend them now than die with an ammunition reserve. I even used my relatively short ranged Veritum launcher to lob explosive spells at anything that got through the other barrages.

As it fired an unguided, unpowered projectile, Veritum was a limited weapon system. Most Ritual Plate Pilots saw it as an auxiliary weapon system. Useful for specialized ground bombardment or anti-mage roles. The small size of the "pebbles" launched lack or propulsion, and that the energy was stored in a physical projectile made it harder to detect than other munitions.

Despite various management systems sweat had started to pool. Which given my inverted angle meant that it was trickling up my neck seal. Missiles exploded around me as I flicked and maneuvered. But like my scrying systems, I could not focus solely on air defense. This mad dash had a purpose.

More than being a missile magnet.

Visha and VioletBlood did their best, and GreyDawn continued her careful, precise firing solution.

Sweat dripped off my chin and my display flickered with a series of blasts that hit my wards. The status board of my suit blinked from mostly green to a lot of angry orange as many fault alerts went off. My gaze went over the board and was relieved that my Gorgon Rig and the data uplink were still functional.

"Prideful, parasitic countess, did you really think you were strong enough to challenge a` Rodswor?" Samoth purred over the open channel.

Just a bit longer. Various lines had almost started to intersect on my display.

"GreyDawn, would you kindly?" I ordered over the Flight channel.

Samoth's words continued, missiles blew up, and I curled into a ball. "Maybe you took in a bit much of my sister's pride and n-"

The Blue Daisy pebbles that GreyDawn had seeded the sky with detonated. The heavy rain was some benefit as it provided a bit of back scatter to help obscure the unpowered, tiny projectiles. Not to mention Samoth was busy managing a lot of missiles while doing air-to-air combat and evading all while in a very busy sky.

Maybe her scrying systems missed them, maybe they were not seen as a priority. Munitions designed to clear trees and make landing zones blew up among the Zioxan Flight. Well a handful did, most had drifted too far away in their flights, but enough were in range.

The Veritum Launcher was a limited system. Given the maneuverability of Ritual Plate, it would take a rare circumstance to have the enemy not simply fly out of range. However, imagine you were diving on an enemy. That helped mitigate the range issues. Provided the enemy wanted to stay in roughly a known area.

But that would require being able to goad the enemy into meeting one head-on. And even then... well someone had to focus all their scrying capability on providing targeting data.

Still firing against the incoming missles, I smirked over the view of two of the remaining Satori being critically damaged by the Blue Daisies and the dazed remainder jumped by Mercy's Flight.

Then my wards failed.

Samoth might not be able to direct the enemy incoming, but the dumbly loyal Toulon still came in. Curled into a ball, my display cut out for a moment, and I felt the armor on my leg get blasted apart, a side of my torso take a hit that bloomed with pain and a sickly wetness that now started to flood down my neck. I started to tumble and what had been a dive turned into an uncontrolled fall as my Zephyr reacted to my pain.

Something slammed into the back of my helmet. Maybe a bit of debris or a small fragment, it could not have been that big of a deal, as I was still alive. The medical system made it obvious given the warnings it was flashing and the analgesics and coagulants and other injections.

The status board had turned all sorts of ominous colors. It was interesting that one could become lightheaded when head down. I thought all the blood would pool towards the brain. I could see plenty of blood headed towards me.

I still had my Pilum Projector and one Falx, but something must have happened as my accuracy was wrong, even without full display support I should not be this sluggish or... floaty.

Oh good, LoveBlood was still taking out the last of the missiles, and Visha was flying far too close to me for regulations. Odd, I knew all the Flight Ops alerts and all the suit alarms, but I was not familiar with one that was just a long steady ring. It was really hard to hear anything else.

I then laughed at the altimeter. I wondered which would drop surface altitude first, that instrument or the falling suits of Samoth and her Pilots.

Comforting my Zephyr, I noticed something coming over the command channel but it was hard to hear.

Then Visha grabbed me. I would have to reprimand her for breaking formation, but things were starting to grey out. At least my wingwoman stopped me from spinning uncontrollably, though I still had an embarrassing level of vertigo and wondered if my instruments were broken, as they were getting all burry and... bendy.

At least my Zephyr were happy to be near Visha's. I made a note to do more training with our air spirits, to give them some more intellectual stimulation. After that it got very hard to think.

++++++

A downside of my species' healing capabilities meant that I was rotated back to Forward Operating Base EmeraldInferno with worrying speed. Granted, I did have a couple days to enjoy the facilities of our main base in House Crocelli, and I got to spend some time with Octavia and Primus Caenis, Quirinus's second in command.

There were also very polite conversations with medicos specializing in Trauma Accumulation over multiple days before we were sent back. Without us the 5th Squadron was down to two Flights. Though there was no bringing back Antonia FlashTalon.

Our flight back to EmeraldInferno was on a resupply Umbra, at least we had a good escort. Still part of me was anxious at being a passenger in an aircraft. At least this time there was no expectation for me to jump out in midair.

When I returned, I found my Polyxo had also been repaired, but my Ritualista team had a few more things to check out. Tests that could only be done with the Pilot inside the Ritual Plate.

Thus I was back in the hangar annex, wearing my Polyxo, and my crew chief Optio Suzette Gibbs was up to her forearms in the interior of the lower parts of the right leg of my armor.

"Ma'am, there are limits to how much damage the maneuvering and power systems are supposed to take," she stated in that polite but firm tone all mechanics used when they were talking to pilots who had abused their machines.

"I'll note that the next time I'm being deluged by missiles," I stated, trying not to cough at the incense one of her assistants, IvoryTail, had lit before she started working on my helmet's systems, which had a bright spot in the back where a dented plate had been removed. The white haired Ritualista ran an emerald-tipped probe down the engravings on the inside and outside of my helmet. Her green eyes narrowed in focus as she checked that the enchantments had been repaired.

A golden-haired, pony-tailed blonde, Flavia, was setting up a casting for my power and weapons systems, complete with the working circle over the power cell and cabling to the various parts that would simulate feeds to propulsion or wards. Only a bit taller than me, and probably only due to her dainty hooves, Flavia was setting up an evocation to make sure the suit's energy distribution artificing was solid. It was only a low-power test. If the suit passed that, then Flavia would do another full power test, in an isolated, shielded part of the hangar, without me in it.

My Flight Armor had already passed a full power proof test yesterday, but I did not object to another test. It was prudent and part of the procedures. The fourth Ritualista on my crew, Laurentia whose cobalt skin contrasted somewhat with her powder blue braided hair, was using a Legion issue wind chime, ostensibly more robust than a civilian version, to commune with my Zephyr to make sure they were happy and comfortable. The actual flight tests to make sure they could provide the necessary thrust and maneuvering would come later.

Gibbs snorted and adjusted a few struts and went to the lower part of my boot. "How's the fit?"

"It feels like I'm wearing high heels." I flatly stated. "You know I had my calf muscle blown out?"

"You're fine, Ma'am," Gibbs stated. "That's easy to grow back. Do you know how much of your suit's power systems I had to redo? The other Ritualista complained about me taking too much from our parts stores to do it."

I gave her a flat look. I knew she was just venting; no Ritualista would spend limited parts to fix one heavily damaged suit when the same parts could repair three lightly damaged RP. Triage was applied to more than just physical injuries.

Though that was just an example as not all parts were not fungible. Despite work on making commonality of components to ease maintenance and logistics, Ritual Plate were still extremely complicated weapons systems.

My team continued to fuss and test over my Ritual Plate. It was soothing and comfortable to be back into my suit. The familiarity and power was back and I found I wanted to get back into the air.

"Impressive work," I said after reviewing the diagnostics for myself.

"It's a good thing you've got the best Ritualista team in the squadron," Gibbs confidently said. "Realigning your Falx and Pilum emitters is normally a four hour process. I still recommend a live-fire test."

"Good job," I said, praising my crew and trying not to cough at the incense. The Zephyr did like it so I would endure.

After a few more tests, they undid the various latches and let me out of my Ritual Plate. Flexing my wings and stretching my tail, I then rolled my shoulders and adjusted my flight suit.

"We'll have everything ready for when your Flight gets on Standby status," Gibbs assured, gesturing to three suits in addition to mine.

I bowed my horns to her and the rest of the maintainers and stepped out of the annex. Outside it was another sweltering day, at least it was just lightly raining, no more than a drizzle, and the overhead camouflage netting gave some shade.

Going around the hangar I found the quiet spot, which had a metal improvised roof now and a few scavenged seats in addition to the bench. Lares and GreyDawn were back there watching out over the mortar pits and the artillery positions.

The hulking Forest Person sat in a chair that was made out of a pair of pallets and some ropes. It was large enough to fit his frame. GreyDawn sat on the bench. She offered me her canteen.

"Good to see the local boy from Eastern Province is doing well," I said after taking a swig.

Lares shrugged. "Good to have you back."

"Oh, was there trouble with me gone?" I looked to GreyDawn.

"Of course not, the baroness was a shining example of BlackSkyvian noble virtues," GreyDawn dryly said taking back the canteen and having a swig of her own.

"And Visha?" I asked, glancing up. A Spatha Light VTOL was coming in for a landing. I did not recall any Recon Patrols were coming back at this moment. Wait no, that was not one of the Spatha assigned to EmeraldInferno.

GreyDawn shrugged. "Everyone likes Visha."

I sighed. "I'll talk with LoveBlood."

"Among other talks?"

"Quirinus has gone over the action reports with us." Caenis and myself had actually helped draft some of them while we recovered, which were supplemented by the actual combat recordings and the work Quirinus and Mercy were doing. I nodded to the older woman. "We did good. You did good."

"I heard it got pretty heavy out by Vihn," Lares noted. "Not just Ziox suits but actual Pilots too.

"Yeah, Ziox decided to commit forces," GreyDawn said.

I wangled a finger, my tail swishing. "Those were technically mercenaries. Samoth Rodswor tendered a formal complaint to her Dictatrix and is operating independently on a personal vendetta."

"Against your squadron?" Lares asked.

"Against me, for killing her sister," I added.

The big shaggy yeti stared at me. "That thing from when you were twelve, in all the cinema newsreels. That's what this is all about."

I shrugged. "It's an excuse. I guess she sounded mad and tried to taunt me, but that could have just been to get plausible deniability."

"It could be personal, too; I mean how would you feel if some kid in an unarmed cadet suit killed one of your sisters?" he asked.

I glanced to GreyDawn who flicked her tail noncommittally. "Given my older sisters are far better Pilots than I am? Pretty impressed."

Lares raised his heavy brows. "Your mother is Duchess SilverFlight."

"One of them," I cheerfully said.

"The rest of our Flight are in the barracks," GreyDawn said.

"Together?"

"Well no, Visha's in her rack reading, and LoveBlood was catching up with Octavia in the mess, at least that's where they were when I left out here."

I bowed my horns to her. "Thanks, we'll talk more later."

Trying to do my best to stay behind the visibility barriers, I went to the low-slung prefab and then sandbagged the building complex that made up most of the barracks. Samoth was right in that it would not take too much in terms of intelligence operations to look for a Ritual Plate Pilot with a rare wing style and coloration. Especially one who was part of a Squadron of a somewhat rarer Ritual Plate model.

The barracks themselves were clean enough, and were cooler than the outside, though the humidity was bad. Still the living conditions, and the food, made FOB EmeraldInferno on the upper end of postings.

Which was more of a sign of how bad military postings could be, instead of a suggestion that this was a comfortable billet. I saluted the guards with a tap on my neck and ducked through the doorway, making sure to use a side entrance to avoid the mess area.

I wanted to talk to my wingwoman first.

As Centurions, the Pilots got slightly nicer accommodations. Though out here that meant to the dozen, eleven now, of us were split into a couple rooms. The fifty or so Ritualista were also split up. The other squadron was similarly split up.

This was the classic issue of centralization versus decentralization. Having all your Pilots, and their maintainers, in one area meant that a single strike could take them all out. However spreading them out meant they were harder to defend and it might be easier to slip in infiltrators or other attacks.

Drawing on their experience the Legions went for a compromise solution. Which given to a Forward Operating Base has a limited footprint to begin with was unavoidable. Still this meant that while I shared a room with five other Pilots there was at least some semblance of privacy, if cramped conditions. At least we all had our own rack, so there was no need for hot-bunking. Not that too many of our kind minded that. Communal sleeping arrangements were quite common.

I shook my head, crazy demons.

Entering the small bunkroom I saw that Visha had it to herself at the moment. Which was not unexpected as the room consisted of my Flight and Octavia and Mercy Gabinus from Second Flight.

Visha had already rolled over so she was sitting up on her bunk. "Primus! Uh, how did everything go? Is your suit ready?"

"Everything is good," I sat down across from her.

She smiled, the tip of her tail flicking.

Our knees were almost touching, I patted hers. "Thank you, for saving me."

She gasped. "I couldn't just let you fall!"

I smiled. "It's still appreciated."

Visha nodded. "You took a lot of risks."

"I was best positioned and it allowed you to take out missiles while GreyDawn could help target the enemy. And I had the most skills to act as the final line. It was the logical play."
Visha put her hand over mine. My tail froze. "You've always been a good commander."

"Careful..." My heart sped up; if it got out that we were reincarnations that would raise our profile. Questions would be asked. There would be complications. Maybe I was being paranoid, but I had plenty of reason to be concerned.

"I will," she bowed her head. "It's just you can push yourself too hard."

"With good reason. Given the fight we just survived."

She looked into my eyes and we were silent for a moment.

"Quirinus is a good Squadron commander. This isn't like an... earlier command." I stated. While it came with many downsides, I was largely free to run the 203rd how I liked in our previous lives. An independent elite command had its advantages but came at the cost of being deployed to take care of the worst messes the Empire faced.

"It could be, or.." Visha turned my hand over. "There is... um... your future."

I nodded. Unless I died or screwed up in some other way, Squadron command was inevitable, long before my twenty year term in the Legions ended. If I was lucky I could get promoted to Tribune and have some desk or adjunct job supporting a Volantes Legate. There was also whatever that archangel wanted out of us, but if he objected to me having a few years in a safe rear-echelon posting...

"Don't worry, I'll make sure you'll be at my side," I assured Visha as I lifted our hands.

"Countess," VioletBlood said as she barged into the room. "GreyDawn said you were here-"

The baroness looked between us with a little frown on her face as her tail still.

I slowly let go of Visha's hand and turned to her. "Yes, LoveBlood?"

VioletBlood blinked. "What? But... I wanted... you said you were waiting..." the noble whined.

Exhaling, I pinched the bridge of my nose. "What do you think is going on?"
"You're holding hands with that Islander commoner," VioletBlood stated. "The one you've been flying with!"

"It's not like that," Visha assured. "There's nothing to be jealous of."

I wondered if the baroness would believe her. Her green eyes looked between us, then her wings ruffled and she seemed somehow even more pitiful.

"That makes it worse!" Wailing, VioletBlood's tail drooped. "I could understand being beaten by someone who is a more experienced Pilot, and you do fly well and it's not like Tauria marrying a commoner would be that scandalous, especially if you keep getting honors at the rate you do.

"But Countess, aren't you thinking at all about your future? You have a county to run, a future to prepare for, heirs to raise. Yes, you're not likely to inherit your mother's duchy unless something horrible happens to all your sisters, but you do have a duty to the House."

Feeling out of my depth, I looked at Visha.

"She's not wrong. There are responsibilities that come with your position," Visha said.

I felt a headache coming on. "LoveBlood, Visha. I'm barely a teenager. This can wait."

"That's what you said last year!"

"Yes, and I'm still right," I growled. Crazy demons.

I looked between the pouting women. "You are Ritual Plate Pilots; Centurions in the Imperial Legions; you are professionals. Or was I wrong?

"You're not wrong, Ma'am," Visha stated.

"And do I need to inform Prefect Quirinus that I need her to approve a transfer?"

"You do not need to, Primus," VioletBlood gave a rigid salute.

I returned it and kept in a sigh.

"Don't be too worried," Visha assured her. "Just have patience. I'm sure it will work out for you."

VioletBlood gave a slow blink. As she looked from Visha to me and back, her tails started to swish. "Oh... so that's how it is?" she asked, her haughty smugness returning.

Visha gave an oh so innocent little shrug.
"What?" I asked, not at all frantically. "What are you doing?" Their feelings did nto make sense. Yes LoveBlood seemed to be covetous, plotting, and worse, but Visha was not like that. I was confused.

"Don't worry, Primus," VioletBlood purred. "If you need patience, then... that's a small enough request."

This time Visha's smile did not reassure me.

VioletBlood sat down. On my other side. I was flanked! "Countess, when we get back we may need to make a few arrangements."

I glanced to the door. Part of me hoped for an interruption, but I knew articulating that desire would make things worse: it just might be granted.

The baroness shook her head. "Not like that, just some lessons. Deal with some of your rough edges."

"Deportment classes are very common for young officers. Especially nobles like the both of you," Visha stated as her tail flicked. It was nice to have someone helping me who knew how to wrangle headstrong, bloodthirsty noble Pilots.

My tail twitched as I tried to keep a firm emotional mask. "You are correct that many do take such lessons."

VioletBlood bowed her horns to Visha before turning to me she put her hand on her knee which nearly touched mine. "It's good that you're taking this seriously. We will have an image to maintain, a standard we will be measured against."

I stared at her. We were in a muddy Forward Operating Base in the middle of a jungle hell and had just gone through a running ground support and air to air fight in the pouring rain where one of our squadron mates died and many were seriously injured, including myself...

And she was talking about the need for us to take lessons in which spoon to have soup with and how to tell the maid which doilies were proper? Propping my hands on my knees I exhaled.

"It might make things easier for you," Visha said as she put her hand on mine.

"We are looking out for you," VioletBlood added, mirroring the gesture and capturing my other arm.

I was trapped. I needed a way out.

There was a knock on the door.

"Enter!" I eagerly barked, going to my feet and folding my hands.

One of Quirinus' Ritualista saluted us. "Ma'am, the Prefect wants to speak with you."

"Of course," I nodded. "May I ask about what?"

"Can't say, Ma'am, but she's got someone else who flew in with her."

Feeling disquiet I nodded and followed my escort out. I was not sure if that was because I was worried about the meeting or worried about leaving Visha and VioletBlood alone with each other.

++++++

The briefing rooms in FOB EmeraldInferno were nothing special. There were some Display capabilities and communications that could be set up, but really they were just a room with a table and some chairs.

Quirinus was already there, as well as a Centurion I did not recognize. Tall and striking, she had ivory skin even paler than mine, long black hair and grey curled horns. Her wings had black feathers and she had jet-black, silver-trimmed, hooves. She was dressed in standard Legion lorica that had what looked like normal wear and tear.

Outside the briefing room waited about half a squad of Legionaries. Their gear was similarly standard. And they had the expected modifications making the lorica a bit more breezy, carried more water, and the other minor equipment adjustments of Legionaries in a jungle posting

They looked like a light, somewhat undermanned, Recon patrol and their patches bore that out.

However my suspicions were raised the second I sat down in the briefing room and the door was closed behind me, and our visitor took out a small forked crystal and tapped it, setting off a privacy field. My horns buzzed a bit with the baffling signatures it generated.

"Ah, the countess has arrived; you can call me Centurion Nihilus," the black-haired demon said, her grey eyes sparkling.

A Centurion was often in charge of a Recon Patrol. However....

She smiled. It was warm but there was an edge to it. "Your commander can vouch for my bonafides, right Artemis?"
That casual attitude with someone who was her superior. Technically Centurion Nihilus was the lowest ranked person in this room, but she was not acting like it.

"Yes, Invidia," Quirinus sighed. "This woman is who she says she is."

"Ah, I'm not saying any such thing," Invidia smirked.

I kept in a sigh but gave my commander a look.

Quirinus nodded

"I take it you are a Reconnaissance specialist then?" I asked.

Invidia bowed her horns. "One with a broader remit."

Quirinus shot me a warning look, but then nodded.

Managing not to swear; I kept my emotions in check. Wonderful, Invidia was an agent of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance. CSR was one of the main military intelligence branches of House BlackSky.

One advantage they had over the various Imperial intelligence organs of my previous life was that CSR took the "Cultural" part of their name seriously. Much of their effort was spent on understanding the culture, industry, ideology, society, factions, arcana, history, transport, and commerce of other Houses and polities.

Given the layers of proxies and catspaws in the House Crocelli's Eastern Interior Confederation, I would have been shocked if CSR was not active here.

"You sure can find them, Artemis," she remarked with a smile. "Though even for you to have a protegee get the Crown of the Preserver is quite the feather in your cap."

My tail flicked. "Is this about the late Rodswor sisters?"

"Obviously." Invidia's wings ruffled. "You made quite the impression."

I sighed. "Please tell me this was not actually some sort of revenge plot."

The spy's lip curled up, and I could fee the contempt come off of her. "No. While Battle-Lady Samoth Rodswor would happily kill you to avenge her sister's death, she was not terribly fond of Zaphania."

Snorting, I shook my head. "It was all a pretext to pretend that these weren't Zioxan regulars we killed?"

Quirinus gave a tiny sigh.

"Confirming that is not why I am here, Countess," Invidia smirked.

My tail stilled. Was this about my past life? Or was it something about my mothers? Did my Duchess do something illegal? Or did Mother Clementia get in trouble with the Church?

"Oh, you didn't do anything wrong." Invidia's laugh was cold. "Other than passing out before your girls could finish the job."

I narrowed my eyes.

Invidia murmured smugly.

"She's alive?" The first thought that hit me was this would really complicate the wager I made with the rest of the squadron. It would be easy, but bad for morale to come out and say "We failed. Nobody wins." I would have to come up with something.

"Using the combat footage, telemetry and standard analytical methods, we both confirmed which enemy pilots were killed and worked with local allied assets to recover as many of the Zioxan Satori and Tjardu suits. That is after Garrison and House Crocelli's Jungle Hunters cleared out Vihn."

"Ah, I was not available for that operation," I stated.

"You weren't," Invidia agreed with false cheer. "But we did what we could. The Diluvian retreat was not the most organized, but they did manage to pull out some assets and many of their wounded. However there was much they could not recover."

I pinched my nose. "Samoth was not among the dead."

"About a Flight's worth of Suits were not accounted for." Invidia shrugged. "Obviously, that does not preclude the possibility that the Pilots the Diluvians recovered were not already dead nor that they died from their wounds."

"But that's not a prudent assumption to make," I stated. I had personal experience with how badly one could get wounded and still survive, provided one got medical attention.

"It is not." Quirinus agreed.

"Does this mean now I've got some Zioxan noble after me?"

"I wouldn't say that," Invidia corrected.

"Oh?"

"Well, not the revenge part." Invidia waved her hand. "Yes Samoth might not take her sister's death personally, but she might take the loss of her squadron-mates as more of an affront."

I blinked. "Wait... what are you disagreeing about?"

"The Rodswors are not nobility."

I thought back to Samoth's parasite comment. "I see."

"That is part of Zioxan rhetoric against the nobility of our House and many other Great Houses," Quirinus said.

"But Samoth was set to take the command role of her older sister, and they are ruled by a Dictatrix," I stated.

Invidia flashed her teeth. "Yes, but they see it as authority coming from Ziox herself bestowed to those most worthy. As opposed to the hereditary structures of our system, ones separate from our Imperatrix."

"And I suppose reminding them that I was born a commoner and was elevated due to killing her elder sister would not dissuade such hate." I shook my head.

Invidia gave that cool haughty laugh. "On the contrary! It underscores how the merit advancement for our nobles is soaked in blood. They make the same argument for those who are elevated for industrial, academic, or developmental achievement, that it all is part of serving our war machine."

Which is not entirely wrong, I admitted to myself. "And what is she going to do keep throwing Ritual Plate at me until one of us dies?"

"That would be an expensive proposition, especially for a 'mercenary'. Revenge is rarely profitable," Invidia playfully stated.

"And if she's subsidized by House Ziox?" Quirinus asked.

"That is why I am warning you. It is not just our little countess who may be targeted, but your entire squadron Artemis."

"We are Imperial Legionaries, risk is part of the job," Quirinus stated. "Though being aware of such risks is an advantage."

I made myself nod. Combat risks were one thing, but having someone with access to Ritual Plate with a personal vendetta was a new level. CSR had warned me about this months ago, but that was a theoretical, now the risk of Samoth was far more likely.

"And this is why my Office exists," Invidia bowed her horns to me. "Now Countess, what can my associates do for you?"


End Chapter 13


I'm sure Tauria doesn't need to worry too much about her career, especially with fellow Legionaries there to help her.

Special thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead , WrandmWaffles, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.

And apologies, I posted this early before all of Readhead's changes were in. Thanks again for going over the chapter I think it really helps smooth the flow and sharpen things.

 

The War Chronicles of a Little Demon

Set in the Return Verse
A Saga of Tanya the Evil fic thingy.
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/


Other website Temple of Ranma's Senshi Seifuku
http://fukufics.com

C&C as always is wanted.

Chapter 14: Verbum Vincet


My toes sank into the sand as small waves splashed over my legs. As I tried to keep my wings dry and clear of the lapping water, I looked across the sea towards the north. Across the bottle-green expanse of the Guardia Sea was... my home.

Eastern Province and Bovitar were about two thousand miles away from the beach I currently stood upon. That said the islands off the coast of Cape Niflhel, the closest part of House BlackSky were only about half that distance away.

I let my tail dip into the pleasantly warm water. Out in the sea, between the horizon and I and blocking my homeward view across the waves, was an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser, accompanied by a BlackSkyvian Jarngreipr class Frigate.

At about four thousand, five hundred gross tons the Jarngreipr was closer to the frigates of my first life than the vessels of my second life. But funnily enough, the Jarngreipr was the largest surface combat vessel House BlackSky could call its own. Officially a part of the Household Fleet, the BlackSkyvian Navy was more of a strange offshoot of an airship-dominated service rather than coequal force all its own. But even the air power-focused House BlackSky had thankfully realized that there were some roles that a surface, or subsurface, warship filled for more neatly than a swarm of Ritual Plate units would.

I inhaled the salty air. It was nice to be out of the jungles for once.

Despite being called a frigate, the Jarngreipr was more heavily armed than a Mace Torpedo Destroyer airship. It carried two Spatha Light VTOLs, as opposed to the Mace's single unit. The highly agile aerial airframes were useful for resupply, anti-submarine warfare, and a multitude of other support roles. The heavier armament included more Fujiwara Aerial Torpedoes, more Vel missile launchers, two RP squadrons compared to the Mace's one squadron, a Tormenta's worth of four 4.9in guns, and a suite of conventional aquatic torpedoes.

In light of the fact that, despite being longer, the Mace was a tenth the weight of the Jarngreipr, the difference in armament was understandable. One had the buoyancy to float in air, the other had the buoyancy to float on seawater. Of course despite its relatively modest armament, the Mace Destroyer was the far more mobile platform and relied upon speed, standoff capabilities and wards for armor.

Relatively powerful though the Jarngreipr class was, the nearby Howe cruiser had nearly three times the displacement. The Howe was amongst the largest of House Alecto's surface combat ships and was certainly the largest model produced in significant numbers. In addition to the Howes, the Alecton Navy also retained two squadrons of heavily refitted fast battleships, some battlecruisers that were more of pocket fleet leaders for colonial patrols, and enough amphibious assault ships to move a respectable quantity of Alecton Marines and their equipment.

I gave happy a sigh and stepped deeper into the water. It was becoming increasingly difficult to keep my wings dry and safe from the waves. I knew it was a struggle that could only end in the inevitable, but I sought to put that dire end off for as long as I could; after all once they got wet, my feathers would become a magnet for sand.

House Trosier had taken a slightly different view on naval power and doctrine than their rival House Alecto. The Trosic Armada worked to minimize their surface assets by two methods: first by fielding smaller and faster surface ships, and second using more submersible assets, including some impressive submersible RP carriers. Though, as larger submarines, they were a bit nosier than stealthier, and much smaller, BlackSkyvian equivalents. The Armada still had a core of capital vessels and airships then they operated in force.

All three Houses made use of submarines. Both airborne RP carriers and submarine launch platforms were made practical by the lightweight nature of RP and the relatively small resource footprint required to field Flights. Considering the damage a hit-and-run attack by a submarine-based RP Flight could inflict before retreating back below the waves, submarines were an essential part of all three Houses' fleets.

The clouds moved overhead, stealing my sun and leaving me in their shadow. The Trosic Armada's doctrine was largely influenced by having to counter both the BlackSkyvian Household Fleet and the Alecton Navy. Where House Alecto could count on the massed air fleets of House BlackSky being allied or at least not a threat.

The shadow grew deeper over me. I knew I was not alone on the beach. "Primus?" Visha asked. A hand waved in front of me.

"Is she okay?" the baroness asked as she splashed up next to me.

Visha looked to me and then back out to ships far off-shore. "Ah, she's distracted."

"Is our countess thinking deep thoughts again?"

"We are near Usang, which is a major Alecton city," Visha mused.

"And naval base," I added automatically. "It's the home port of their Fourth Central Fleet. Interestingly, the Fourth has a larger than expected complement of Hammerhead Attack Subs and Kraken Missile Submarines."

"Yes?" Visha asked. The dark blue swimsuit she had on was quite nice, if a bit daringly cut with thin straps around the shoulders and hips.

Stamping a foot in the water, VioletBlood sighed. She wore a rather fancy silver suit that I wondered if she had packed as part of her kit. "You're encouraging her."

"Combined with the two Ruyter class amphibious assault ships stationed here, plus a cruiser squadron and a fleet carrier complement, the Fourth's composition speaks volumes about Alecto's intentions to close the Guardia Sea to House Trosier," I explained.

VioletBlood took my arm. "Tauria... we're on leave."

"We are in a very important part of the world," I countered and started gesturing. "One of the southern tips of Diyu is a thousand miles that way. We're in one of the larger coastal concessions of House Alecto, behind that is the Minor House Crocelli, and yet further south is their Eastern Interior Confederation."

"We are all aware of that. How many months did we spend in that swamp keeping the peace?" VioletBlood demanded.

"I would not exactly call that a peace keeping mission. You see, our role was more along the lines of protecting a strategic asset while the actual counter-insurgency work was carried out by our... local allies."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes at me.

"Now who's encouraging her?" Visha teased.

Flicking her tail through the water, VioletBlood harrumphed. "Maybe we should have had her wear a hat. She might be getting too much sun."

"I am not getting too much sun!" I stamped my foot, ignoring how petulant it must have looked.

"Maybe she's dehydrated. Primus, do you want a drink?" Visha asked.

"I suppose..." I turned away from the sea and looked back up the beach. The rest of our squadron, and our maintainers were here. Roughly a light century's worth of personnel, all told. And the Immunes century of combat engineers a bit further up the beach were also enjoying themselves. This part of the coast was a private beach belonging to the resort facilities Alecto had leased to House BlackSky for the purposes of R&R. Which of course meant that the resort required a fair amount of security. Which explained the Yew coastal boats out the water and the RP on overwatch.

"She's doing it again," VioletBlood sighed as she leaned in and stared into my eyes.

"Maybe we should get her some lunch," Visha pulled my arm.

The smell coming from the converted drum grills was enticing. And there was a fair amount of beverages, and not just alcoholic ones. "I should get my share..." I allowed.

Given Samoth's probable survival, I had decided to give the whole squadron a consolation prize and covered the consumables for this particular outing.

Being in House Alecto's territory did mean that it was fairly easy to purchase such supplies.

"You got her that fancy suit and she didn't even swim yet?" GreyDawn asked as she lounged in a beach chair, her crimson hair pulled back in a rough ponytail. She was sipping a glass of ginger schnapps over ice and was nibbling a pita with some sort of savory meat filling.

"She keeps plotting," VioletBlood pouted.

"We think she's just hungry," Visha said, leaning close to me.

"At least you got her into the swimsuit," GreyDawn noted, taking a long sip as she stretched her wings out to better catch the sun.

"It's fluffy," I growled, refusing to look down at the ruffled and bowed confection I was wearing.

"It's fuchsia, and I gave you options," VioletBlood said.

"The other one was pink! And a bikini!" I growled.

"You didn't have to wear anything."

"It's not a nude beach!" I retorted with another highly mature foot stomp.

GreyDawn slowly blinked at me. "She hasn't seen her Ritualista has she?" the older Pilot asked VioletBlood.

"What is Gibbs up to?"

"Not her. The little blonde one, Flavia."

VioletBlood rolled her eyes. "Of course she's naked. It's her suit that the Countess is borrowing."

"What? I didn't think to pack swimwear into a war zone." My tail flicked. My Ritualista volunteered to have me borrow this swimsuit. However... if she was going to be a nudist why did she even bring a suit? It's not like I was not going to give this back to her.

"Come on, let's get you some food," Visha put her arm through mine and pulled me along.

On the way up the beach we stopped and had a few quiet words with Octavia. She was taking the loss of her flight-mate rather well. Sofia had been a gregarious pilot with amber skin and short black hair. She had been with the Squadron for quite a while, and had originally been a member of the Flight I had taken over. And now, she was another casualty in our House's long-term "assistance" in stability, peace-keeping, or whatever they called securing our resource interests in this part of the Home plane.

Despite having been close to Sophia, I was not very worried about Octavia. I had more concerns about how Primus Mercy Gabinus was handling it. Octavia was the replacement of her last KIA.

It was no fault of Mercy's, but when you only had three Flights in a Squadron it only took a bit of bad luck to have one Flight get disproportionate casualties. And from there it was a short distance to getting a reputation as an "unlucky" Flight.

VioletBlood nudged me along. "Come on, Countess."

My tail whipped around and might have hit her. Which... glancing around at the horseplay, catch, and general recreation probably would not have been considered remarkable.

The smell of the grill was getting very enticing. Maybe my flight was right about me being hungry.... Sausages and kabobs were not my normal fare, but Quirinus was using a brush to spread various sauces that smelled great over the cooking meat. Not to mention whatever was in the improvised smoker. And Caenis had rigged up a pot of simmering oil and was frying bobbing bits of dough and had another pot full of cinnamon and sugar.

"Countess," Quirinus bowed her horns to me.

I somehow kept from smiling. Her floppy sun-hat was practical but it did slightly detract from her gravitas. She also had a full length black apron over her own teal bikini.

My squadron commander had no such limits and chuckled at my getup.

"I have been told I need to eat."

"Running on empty is bad for a Pilot," Quirinus stated soberly.

"I've got plenty of filling zeppole," Caenis said as she used a slotted metal scoop to fish out some of the frying pastries, gently shake them, then dump them into the sugar bucket.

VioletBlood's tail swished eagerly at that.

"That does sound good, and it's nice to be able to get Alecton food," Quirinus noted as she bowed her horns to me.

"We can still get local supplies to supplement our rations in the Interior," Caenis shrugged. Local supplies were always risky when you were part of an occupation. Yes, FOB EmeraldInferno was in an area rather far from Diluvian tribal lands. The Forward Operating Base was picked to give defensive depth to the mines and refinery that were the main reason House BlackSky cared enough to garrison troops here.

Still, it was a risk to pull in local supplies. It was a vector for sabotage.

"It's getting more expensive, no?" Visha asked between the happy noises she made over the grill.

"Some farmers in the Interior are having problems," Caenis said. The Eastern Interior Confederation had a fair number of areas that could support a lot of plant growth such as jungles.

"Poor harvests?" VioletBlood asked as she was given a bag full of warm little fried and sugared pastries. "I heard rumors of some Alecton overflights over agricultural regions friendly to the Diluvians."

Caenis' gold eyes shimmered. "Defoliants? That's a bit obvious, no?"

VioletBlood tilted her head as she started eating the zeppole. I frowned at her. "What then?"

"Well, clearing all that land is hard, what if other things were... seeded from the air? To encourage growth, but the wrong growth."

Quirinus gave her second in command a look as she filled a little carton with sausages and kabobs before going over to the smoker.

"Like invasive species?" VioletBlood made a thoughtful noise as she fed me a pastry.

I chewed and enjoyed the fluffy sweet pastry. If true, that could be diabolical, deliberately sowing things like kudzu, eucalyptus, or even just fast-growing weeds into enemy fields would increase farming difficulties. Weeding was hard enough in the Interior.

Slicing some smoked brisket she had pulled out of the smoker, Quirinus gave all of us a quelling gaze. "Such rumors are unfounded. And you all need to be a bit more careful when it comes to discussing any dirty deeds done by our allies." She handed the carton to Visha. "Be more like Centurion Shadow. She knows when to be silent."

No matter the species, messing with their food supplies was risky. Famines can break civilizations. And not being civilized was a stigma on Diyu, it was part of what separated the Great Houses from the Minor Houses, the Minor Houses from the city-state and tribes, and those from the savage, barbarian broods.

"Thank you Ma'am; it smells delicious," Visha bowed her horns to Quirinus.

VioletBlood's tail flicked and I could feel her desire to roll her eyes. I suppose she wanted to continue to gossip about "perfidious Alecto". They were an ally of House BlackSky, but they did have a reputation.

That does not mean that the other Great Houses were above such "dirty tricks" either. Though I suppose that was why the rumors were adding weeds. Unlike introducing rodents or blights weeds were a problem that could be surmounted, maybe with a few extra goats. I could see the rationale, the more energy and resources put into food production, the less the Diluvians could spare for combat.

Though, I suspected our questionable operations branch, the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance, had a whole variety of creative ideas when it came to sapping the Diluvians' will and capability to fight.

I had spent the bulk of my career in the legions trying to avoid the attention of CSR and after meeting with Centurion Nihilus I felt my instincts were correct.

"I'll get our drinks," I said, going over to the stamped aluminum coolers. I opened one and found it was full of chilled wine bottles and a good fraction of the Squadron's liquor stock. I went to the next double-walled cooler and found some bottles of sparkling juice, mostly pomegranate and citrus blends.

VioletBlood, who was still eating the occasional zeppole, frowned at me.

"Do you really need to drink?" Visha asked her.

"That ginger schnapps GreyDawn got seemed really enticing," the baroness pouted and looked to Quirinus.

Our squadron commander chuckled as she closed up the smoker and added more sausages and pierced some more of the bits of lamb, onions, peppers, and other vegetables to make more kabobs before putting them on the grill.

A few Ritualista from First Flight had ambled up and were being given more food. I averted my gaze as a couple had decided to go topless. Fortunately, Visha was helping me back to the towels over where GreyDawn was lounging.

Though by the way LoveBlood was smirking and swishing her tail, she had also noticed my discomfort. "You are such a bashful, Countess. You're in the Legions, you know how showers are in the barracks. If you wanted fancy things like privacy you should have gone into the Fleet."

I snorted. Conditions on fleet airships could be a bit more spacious, at least on larger airships. Lighter-than-air craft were limited by mass more than volume. Smaller airships however... were cramped in both mass and volume. Either way, a Fleet Airship was still a military airship and was not going to be exactly luxurious when it came to crew berthing. "It's not that."

"We were also cadets together and in the ballet troupe," VioletBlood gave a little smirk to Visha, to show off what the baroness presumed as her knowing me for longer.

I sighed. For her part, Visha did seem a bit jealous. Which did not make any sense. Unless she was being really committed to the false history we had agreed on, that is the lack of history.

"Really, I'm not sure why you're worried about the bathing suit. Given the leotards you've worn up on stage."

"That's different," I pouted.

VioletBlood looked to Visha for clarification.

"Our Primus has her quirks," Visha stated as she put the carton down and shook the beach towel free of sand.

GreyDawn looked up and took a sip of her drink. Which had somehow been refreshed while we were away getting our own food and drink. Idly, I wondered when she had gotten up to get more ice.

"You're just buttering her up," VioletBlood said, eating another pastry. I noticed she had already eaten a quarter of the bag's contents.

Visha tilted her head. "Why would I want to do that?"

"Because you want to play double's Liar's Dice with GreyDawn after lunch."

GreyDawn nodded. "That would be fun, those Combat Engineers up the beach are ripe targets."

"This is what happens when no one in the squadron wants to play against you two," I noted as I sat down. Even with the towel as an insulator the sand was warm. It felt a bit odd to have my tail go out onto the beach and swish.

"They won't play for serious odds, Ma'am," GreyDawn said to me as Visha handed her a kabob.

"It's still fun to play, you really get to know people when you have a bit of dice or cards with them," Visha said happily as she sliced open a buttered sourdough bun she had gotten from somewhere, slid a sausage into it, and offered it to me.

I bit into the sausage in a bun and chewed. Visha was always very skilled at bluffing and reading people, and GreyDawn could calculate odds and strategize betting. They made a very effective team.

"They can go off and play some games." VioletBlood smiled at me. "We could go flying or maybe for a swim."

Visha shrugged and gave me a kabob, ready to be consumed as soon as I finished my first nosh.

"I'm not in any great rush." I shrugged as I finished off the little sausage. It was not too spicy, but the mix of herbs added to the meat blend had given the link a zesty kick.

"We could just relax," Visha offered.

"And later today we could go out, maybe see a play. There is a theater here. It would be in Bantish, but it should be a bit civilized."

GreyDawn seemed amused at the baroness' antics.

"The Prefect might have something planned for tonight too," Visha reminded.

"I was thinking before that!" VioletBlood said, a bit petulantly.

I bit into the lamb. It was moist and delicious with a light spicing. Our squadron commander had a surprising variety of skills, one of them being cooking. Lamb was so lean that it was hard to keep from drying out, especially over coals. I wondered if she used a special marinade or some other sort of cooking method to keep the meat nice and juicy.

The other vegetables on the metal skewers were perfectly handled, cooked without being burnt. If she wanted out of the Imperial Legions, I was sure Quirinus could easily get a job as a chef -and I'd be happy to write a recommendation to that effect if she ever asked.

Sadly for the hypothetical restaurant's customers, I doubted Prefect Volantes Centurion Artemis Magnus Quirinus, as a career centurion, had any plans to leave the Legions in the foreseeable future.

I would not begrudge her choice. She had been a good instructor when I was a cadet; as far as commanders went, she was thoroughly acceptable, and did not lack in any regard. Besides, it was impossible to ignore that she had take me under her figurative wing. To a degree, I guess that was expected, considering my young age and lack of previous seasoning. So, as good of a cook as she was, I had a vested interest in Quirinus staying in the Legions for as long as she could to continue to watch my back.

Since it was an open secret that I would have a squadron command of my own within a couple years if I did not get myself killed, that selfish desire was happily in line with the best interest of my organization. After all, being a sensible Legionary, Quirinus would want to make sure I could handle such responsibility before she left the service to prevent any post-retirement tarnishing of her sterling reputation.

I ate more of the kabob as my tail swished happily.

I appreciated the attention on her part. I would rather my superiors carefully have me grow into the command position made inevitable my own reputation, skills and noble ties, especially when the alternative was jumping me two grades and giving me a command I would have to scramble to staff, equip, train, and deploy.

Still, part of me did think that Quirinus had missed her calling by not becoming a professional chef.

I wondered if that part of me was just projecting my own concerns and how I was counting down the years and months until my term of service finished onto my current commanding officer.

"She's doing it again, Visha," VioletBlood pouted as she poked me with her own kabob.

"Am not!" I growled.

"Then what were you thinking about?" VioletBlood asked. "Some sort of bold tactic or flaw in our enemy's air power doctrine?"

"I was thinking about what I would be doing if I hadn't joined the Legions," I sighed.

VioletBlood blinked.

Right, she had wanted to be a Ritual Plate Pilot since before she could walk, let alone fly. She had also got her guardian to funnel a portion of her inheritance into Ritual Plate lessons.

"What would you have done?" VioletBlood asked before daintily chewing on a sausage. "I'm guessing you don't mean like the Fleet or an Auxilia. Maybe a Guild position? Your mother does have her own mercenary squadron, though most mercenary Pilots are veterans..."

"Maybe you'd do more ballet?" Visha suggested as she ate.

"Maybe. I could have gone professional with ballet," I joked, taking some of the fried sweets before LoveBlood ate them all. Being a ballerina was not that bad of a job. It came with travel and some status, and was fairly safe, if punishing on your feet. Demons with hooves did have an advantage. Yes, the costumes were humiliating, but it was just on stage.

"That is an elegant and cultured vocation," VioletBlood approvingly said.

"Maybe you can start doing it again, if it means that much to you!" Visha happily suggested.

Tail stiff, I stared at her.

VioletBlood frowned. "We did have to resign from the ballet troupe when we got assigned to Quirinus' squadron. And there really hasn't been much of a chance to practice out in the jungle."

I gave a little exhale.

"Maybe when we get rotated back to Bovitar," VioletBlood said.

Looking out over the water, I chewed my lip. "Maybe," I allowed before turning back around to look at the rest of the squadron. They were enjoying themselves. The revelry was still rather contained.

I had enough experience with soldiers to know that partying could get quite hardy. I was a bit surprised no one had hired any entertainers. I was sure the resort would have a roster of trusted providers. Maybe Quirinus had put out a quiet word that there would be none of that today. At least among her and Mercy's Flights.

"Have you ever visited Alecton territory?" VioletBlood asked Visha.

"There was a family vacation when I was younger," Visha said as she sipped her drink.

"And how was it? This seems very nice but I have heard their more northerly areas can be a bit... dreary."

"Oh, they're pleasant enough!" Visha assured the baroness after giving me a look. House Alecto had some similarities to the Allied Kingdom but with some of the low countries mixed in. Which in our lives were part of the Empire on their border to the sea with the Francois Republic.

And while some parts of House Alecto were rather temperate, such as their northernmost enclave on Atalia Island or their enclave on the southern part of Minor House Mergera, many of their areas were far warmer such as the territory we were in which was across from House BlackSky's southernmost point.

Though the Alecton home island was just a bit south of Amber Island, where Visha grew up, and about the same latitude as Bovitar so I suppose it was temperate enough.

"The currents and jet stream from the Curae Sea would make things warmer, I gather," I said after having another sausage.

VioletBlood shook her head at me. Did I really have a reputation for woolgathering?

"Yes, that is true," Visha agreed with me and I found my plate was refilled.

"I guess we have gone on a tour of..." VioletBlood paused. "Five Houses?" she asked, giving Visha a sly look. My wingwoman had missed out on our adventures in Andromache, RedStorm, and Vualia.

"Join the Legions, see the world," VioletBlood then laughed.

"You should be grateful, Baroness," I made a sweeping, imperious gesture. "Look at the lovely beach bestowed upon us by our Imperatrix."

VioletBlood and Visha smirked.

"We could go for a swim," VioletBlood offered.

I looked down at my suit and frowned and then pushed some sand with the fins on my tail.

"Don't worry about your wings," VioletBlood assured.

"I'm not worried about them!"

The baroness rolled her eyes and looked over at Visha. "She's very particular."

"She is," Visha agreed. "Maybe remind her that you have experience with feathers."

I glanced between the two.

"I have a cousin, who has dark blue feathers," VioletBlood assured. "I asked for a bit of advice and got some special shampoo and she did warn me about sand."

"Shampoo?" I knew how to groom myself. And that included my feathers. Normal soap and water was sufficient.

"It will add some more luster to them," VioletBlood reached out but held her hand inches from my wings. "They could be so very shiny."

I eyed the baroness who had, after months in a jungle FOB, put her hair back in her preferred drill-like curls. I could not begrudge her a little primping - we had all gotten cleaned up after all, as soon as we left the jungle. Besides, as a species we tended to be rather fastidious and vain, as well as gregarious and aggressive.

Even I had spent more time than was strictly necessary for purely hygienic purposes in the showers after we left the FOB, thoroughly washing out my hair before pulling it back into a ponytail. While far from VioletBlood's elaborate curls, the ponytail was better than the lank mess an perpetual helmet-hair of the last several months. Not that I would prioritize hair care over helmets, of course. While helmets played havoc with hair, I would take a good helmet over pristine hair any day of the week. Helmets as standard equipment was something that I had argued for, and gotten, for the 203rd. That and goggles.

I would not want to pilot a Ritual Plate without the helmet and face mask. Not just for the physical protection and environmental control but also the communication and data display systems.

VioletBlood smirked. "Are you thinking about fluffy wings or some bit of Legion kit?"

I glared at her.

"We can finish up our lunch and then go for a swim," Visha offered.

I shrugged.

"Or we could just take a nap on the warm sand on this nice towel," VioletBlood countered. "You know, be rested for tonight's entertainment."

I snorted. And had to keep from laughing at how the baroness seemed to droop.

"I think the Prefect will have a great night planned for all of us," Visha said.

"Yes, but our baroness was trying to make it sound salacious," GreyDawn drawled.

"Indeed, she was," I agreed.

VioletBlood pouted.

"You did mention wanting to visit, maybe get some Alecton culture?" Visha asked as she took the bag of pastries to give to me.

"There was that idea to see an opera." VioletBlood shrugged. "It's better than trying some R&R in House Crocelli."

"That is a larger security risk," I stated. "Well... depends on where you are."

"The Crocelli outside of the Interior Confederations is almost, um... more civilized," VioletBlood admitted.

I sighed at her.

"They are superstitious," the baroness haughtily said. "Maybe it's due to living out in the jungles."

"As opposed to the very urbane Eastern Province?" Visha innocently asked.

VioletBlood sniffed. "The Diluvians and the other tribes warn their children to not go out at night, to cover up their windows."

"Those jungles are full of predators," I reminded.

"Do you think the Navish are real? They're just a bedtime story."

I eyed her. "We use invisible spirits all the time. Zephyr can be powerful and the Notus spirits guiding our Torpedoes can be vicious."

"That's different. I'm not saying there aren't vicious spirits or predators out in there in the jungle somewhere, but that doesn't make every primitive superstition about lurking monsters true too."

I shook my head. "It doesn't really matter if the Navish are real or not. The Diluvians believe they stalk their villages, and... they're afraid of vengeful, predatory forest spirits..." I trailed off.

"What?" VioletBlood asked.

"Just thinking. Fear is powerful. And there are rumors..."

Visha looked at me.

I shook my head. No need to tell VioletBlood about the rumors of Alecton meddling and something CSR might be doing to help House Crocelli keep order.

VioletBlood chuckled. "Right, so you'll talk about crop sabotage but you're worried that we, I'm sorry, our allies might have dirty hands?"

I snorted. After talking with Invidia, I would not put much beyond the will of the Office of Cultural and Strategic Reconnaissance.

"Have we heard anything about the replacement for Mercy's Flight?" Visha asked.

VioletBlood gave a slight smile at the attempt to change the subject.

"With my luck, it'll be another noble cadet pilot," GreyDawn said as she sipped her schnapps.

VioletBlood bristled.

"Yeah, it would be bad if our squadron got a reputation for handling young pilots."

The baroness gave me a hurt look.

"I would much rather have our cadets spend more time growing their skills and maturing before being sent into a combat posting."

"We did fine!" she huffed.

"Yes, but the point of the cadet program is to find talent early and give them extra training with Ritual Plate and then command lessons. Sending all those cadets into field postings defeats the purpose."

"It's like eating our seed corn," Visha added as she ate a kabob.

I nodded to her. "Exactly. Activating young Cadets robs future years of a crop of older and more experienced Pilots."

VioletBlood sighed. "I suppose you're right. It's just odd being some of the youngest Pilots in our entire Wing."

"House BlackSky does not, as a general rule, prefer child soldiers," I reminded. "We're exceptions."

The petulant pout to VioletBlood's glare underscored my point. She was a capable Pilot, but she was also a war maniac who got a bit too gleeful when it came to killing the enemy.

Visha nearly choked on her sausage as she laughed. After all, this was the second empire we had lived in that was willing to... bend the rules when it came to putting younger airborne mages into combat slots.

"Well, I could go for a swim," VioletBlood announced as she stood up and stretched out her wings. "Anybody coming with me?"

Visha gave me an interested look.

I pondered. Mostly I wondered if VioletBlood really wanted some younger little proto-Aces she could bully well... mould into followers. I would have to keep an eye on her, especially as one day LoveBlood would make Primus and have a Flight to command herself.

"Come on, Countess, I can see your wings twitching in anticipation," VioletBlood teased.

I finished off my lunch and then stood up and flicked my tail. Visha followed. Looking out I could see that a lot of the squadron's Ritualista were already swimming and, dare I say it, frolicking.

I gave a little smile. I should have done more with the 203rd when I had the chance. But given my age and my authority as the unit commander myself playing out on the beach with them could have undermined things. My age was less of an issue here, and I was just one Flight Leader.

Visha slipped into position. VioletBlood saw me tensing, but she reacted too slowly as I shoved her.... into Visha's arms. My wingwoman spun her lightly but I was already sprinting down the beach and had a head start.

I put out my wings and with a flap went airborne and coasted over the start of the water and gained just enough altitude to slip into the bottle-green water in a shallow foot-first dive. I was pretty sure that the water was deep enough that far out, but I wanted to be cautious, and not risk hitting my head on a rock or something.

Popping to the surface, I looked around to see that LoveBlood was about to land onto me, she had not been so cautious and was coming down head first. At least her arms were held in front of her.

There was a tangling ugly splash as we spun around before bobbing back up, Visha had swum up to us and shook her head.

I freed myself from the pouting baroness and paddled over to a bit of open sea and rolled onto my back. Wings and other limbs out, I looked up into the sky as I was carried by the waves. It was almost peaceful. I tried not to think too much about the airship I could see up in the sky. It looked like a civilian model. Probably shipping fast-moving supplies across the Gaudia Sea. Or maybe it had a destination further inland.

Visha and VioletBlood came over to me.

Both were smiling. That seemed rather ominous. Them working together was more harmonious but seemed to bring me more trouble.

Fortunately they merely pounced on me and, using her wingtip, Visha declared me "it" before she and VioletBlood then swam off.

I had a moment of shock as I rolled over to tread water. The two had even split up. Fine, if they wanted to make a challenge of it, I would show them. Kicking, I darted after VioletBlood.

Visha was taller and had longer legs and wings, and from her stories of growing up on Amber Island she had far more experience swimming.

VioletBlood tried to go fully underwater to escape me but that was folly. I quickly caught up to her and after a brief tumble I managed to tag her back. Next came the hard part: I had to escape.

Like air, water is a fluid. However, it is far denser and far more viscous. This is why aquatic combat and aerial combat, while having similarities, also have key differences. To my luck, VioletBlood went with her trained instincts and maneuvered as if she was in the air.

As she wallowed, I managed to dart away, and made a mental note that I needed to request some aquatic and diver training for my Flight.

Fortunately for Visha, VioletBlood had target fixation and focused on chasing me. I made a note to make this tag game a bit more complex. Swimming, I twisted around and led VioletBlood closer to Visha. Then with a gleeful burst, the Baroness took the bait and swapped targets, trying to tag the Islander Pilot.

My competitive edge began to wane as my feathers grew increasingly waterlogged, making them less effective and less maneuverable than the Vs'.

It did not take much longer for Visha to surge ahead on points. Though mildly disappointed at how handily I had been beaten, I took it as a lesson and added more aquatic training to my mental list.

VioletBlood was the first one to ask to get out of the water.

I hardly objected as I was more than willing to get out as well.

Despite carefully tracking across the beach to our blankets, a lot of sand did stick to my feet and legs and a bit was kicked up by my wings and tail.

GreyDawn had fallen asleep under her parasol. Moving around the squadron who were mostly playing and relaxing, Visha had run ahead to get some more food and refreshments.

She was already sitting down on the towel by the time I had so carefully walked up. VioletBlood for her part was following at my heel.

Kneeling down on the towel, I found Visha helping me stretch out and lay down. That was pretty comfortable, especially when she had more of those fried pastries.

VioletBlood for her part started cleaning my wings and using a special brush to preen them and remove any sand that had gotten in around my wing roots. It was oddly relaxing and reminded me of when Mother Clementia would help brush my hair and wings.

I might have yawned and Visha helped provide a place for me to put my head down which would give VioletBlood a better angle to work. It was nice to, for a small time, be able to put aside my concerns.

++++++

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you are entering restricted waters, prepare for boarding, reduce your speed to 10 knots and change your heading," the navy dispatcher said over an open channel in Silvan Latin before giving a course. She then repeated herself in Bantish and then Paymi.

My Flight and Mercy's, still down one, were configured in Strike mode complete with Lance projectors. Quirinus' Flight was configured for air superiority and acted as our escort.

One could argue that a Ritual Plate squadron was rather heavy air support for one supposedly merchant ship.

And that was right. The Legions had loaned us to the Fleet for this joint operation. A Household Fleet Jarngreipr class Frigate with a couple Mulberry Fast Attack Crafts were closing in. They would all stay at a respectable distance while the Spatha Light VTOLs on the Frigate deployed the boarding party. Each Fleet vessel had their own Ritual Plate Combat Air Patrol up just in case.

Which allowed us to act as a dedicated strike package.

Nearby an Alecton Navy Howe class Fleet Missile Cruiser lurked. Their role was less in case the freighter tried to run, or fight, and more in case someone else came in to try and defend it. A squadron out of the cruiser was doing anti-submarine warfare with an admirable degree of paranoia.

"Paymon-flagged freighter, you still need to change course," the dispatcher stated before going to the two other languages.

"They do know they're not going to make it to port, right?" VioletBlood asked over the Flight channel.

"Patience," I cautioned her. I then pushed to her the coordinates of some small ships that had been on station near the port which had moved out. The Crocelli coast guard and revenue ships were a mix of BlackSkyvian and Alecton surplus and were thus a bit smaller than the Mulberries.

Still, it was enough to show the freighter that they had no chance of sneaking in. Now, it was a question of when the freighter's captain and her crew would notice.

It was doubtful that they noticed the pair of Venture scout airships and the single Kolibri shadowing the freighter. The Kolibri patrol airship was configured with a pair of Spatha VTOLs. The Kolibri would provide a backup group of Legionaries to land on the freighter.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze this is your last warning, change your heading and maintain speed," the dispatcher said with only a tiny bit of irritation. After she repeated herself in the other languages, there was a pause.

I noticed the freighter was still trying to make for the port.

"Primus, ready fire solution." An exasperated voice cut into the Flight command channel.

"Target, Tribune? Quirinus asked.

"Single Lance Strike over the bow. I want their attention, but I don't want them sunk, yet."

"Confirm." Quirinus replied. "Tauria, you can have the honor."

"Yes, Ma'am," I automatically replied. I could see the wisdom in having me take the shot, as opposed to someone like VioletBlood.

I went to my Flight channel. "Okay girls, I've got orders to make a statement. Check your fire, this is a solo warning."

I made sure to get acknowledgment from all the members of my Flight. And then had them follow me as I changed heading to cross the target.

On my display, I mapped out the heading of the Freighter. As my Lance batteries charged, I double-checked the lead. My goal was to get close enough to make a statement, but not so close that I damaged the ship's bow.

"Commencing Strike," I transmitted as I adjusted my aim and checked the location. The composite data from my Gorgon Rig and the various other scrying systems in this task force made the freighter rather clear.

Lances charged, my gauntlets locked, and I fired.

An antic beam shot out and raced down towards the freighter. However it fell short and the massive evocative energy hit the water and blew up in a massive burst of water. It was like a giant depth charge went off just ahead and to the starboard of the freighter. A wave of water went over the ship's bow.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze the next shots will sink you. Change course and prepare for boarding," the dispatcher stated.

I kept in a smile. At about five hundred feet in length the Sunset Breeze was on the larger end of a midsize freighter. Officially, it was set up as a dry bulk carrier and would normally carry grain. However, it had some conversions and several of its aft holds could be converted to containerized cargo. It was a less efficient use of tonnage than a dedicated container ship, but it gave some advantage in being able to supply some smaller Minor House Ports.

This was an overwhelming amount of firepower for a single commercial ship.

Which was the point.

Slowly, very slowly the Sunset Breeze changed its heading and started moving away from the coastline.

A few more minutes passed and the Paymon freighter reached the instructed heading and held to it.

"Paymon freighter Sunset Breeze prepare to accept an inspection teams. Continue course and speed," the dispatcher said.

I sipped some water as the Spatha Light VTOLs took to the air and started to approach. It wondered if there would be canine units on the inspection teams. Or maybe there would be a clairvoyant with short range remote viewing or maybe a spirit caller. There were a lot of places to hide items on a ship the size of the Sunset Breeze.

"DiamondDust, I want your Flight to do a flyby before the inspectors land," Quirinus ordered.

"Ma'am?" I said in a respectfully questioning tone.

My squadron commander laughed. "Tauria, the inspection teams have Sarpedona running escort. I want you to rattle their bridge windows."

"Understood," I said and then went to my Flight channel and passed the orders down as I outlined a flight path.

I cynically wondered if this was a way to test if the Sunset Breeze had air defenses. A pass by my Flight would also get some up-close telemetry and we were faster than the escort RP force.

VioletBlood was eager while Visha and GreyDawn were more reserved. The latter seemed downright suspicious of this whole mission. I could not blame her, a healthy sense of cynicism was a vital survival trait in the Legions.

We accelerated and dropped altitude. The freighter started to get closer and my breathing became regular. The scrying telemetry from our Gorgon Rigs came into even greater resolution. There were a couple crew out on the wings port and starboard of the bridge. They did not seem to be carrying any weapons and were merely standing watch. Which admittedly meant they had to rely on their night vision.

I had our speed top out and we were over mach one. Which would help give an impressive display as we flew over.

"I told you she's still a ballerina at heart," VioletBlood mock whispered to Visha, while pointedly transmitting over the Flight channel.

I pushed down the irritation. "If you have time to joke, you have time to mind your sectors. The brass horns and the spooks have a reason to think this freighter is worth the effort. If you eat a missile because you're distracted, I will be very cross."

"Yes, Ma'am," VioletBlood stated.

We blew over the freighter not much above its antennae and funnels. And true to my Prefect Centurion's wishes our sonic booms made an impression. I was not sure if the glass in the bridge's windows actually rattled but our passing was obvious.

It was all rather heavy-handed. Minor House Paymon was on very good terms with House Alecto. Hence they were the velvet glove while we were displaying the mailed fist. My tension grew as I did not see any weapons installations or threats. I expected them to make a fight of this.

After buzzing over the freighter I had us take to a higher altitude. Quirinus had my flight doing an overwatch of the freighter while the other two Flights in our squadron were further out watching for other threats.

The Spatha and their Sarpedona escorts came closer.

"Polyxo Flight this is Spatha Flight 6," a VTOL Pilot drawled.

"Greetings Spatha Flight, this is Diamond Flight," I transmitted.

"Really? Good to finally meet you," another voice cut in, this from the commander of the Ritual Plate escorts. "Word is you've done some solid ground support for some multi-role jockeys."

"We may have to do more work, but at least we get paid the same," I joked.

The Pilots chuckled. "Well said, Diamond." the VTOL pilot noted. "I'm looking over the scrying intake, including that latest flyby. You really believe this thing's just a defenseless freighter?"

I studied the composite intelligence from various sources and played back over time. "My gut says no. But I can't see any data backing up them being armed."

"A Paymon freighter tends to run with escort, at least near House Trosier," the VTOL pilot noted.

"We are a bit far from Trosic waters," the commander of the two Sarpedona Flights sighed. "Given what it took them to change course, I don't think these are simple merchant sailors who got a bit of comms trouble."

"I'll still drop off my girls then," the VTOL pilot noted as the formation continued its intercept path with the freighter.

"We'll be doing overwatch."

"That's great, the inspection team will be thrilled to hear that if things go bad the freighter can be sunk around them," the VTOL pilot chuckled.

"You'll only need my girls if your Sarpedona jockeys can't quite cut it," I said with mock levity.

"How generous," the VTOL Pilot noted. "You two can work out your tail-measuring contest. I've got some Legionaries to land."

The Sarpedona escorts spread out into formation that covered the length of the freighter while keeping them from moving into a full-blown hover. Speed was energy and was useful for defense and mobility.

However, the light VTOLs had to reduce their speed to match the freighter. There was a fairly flat spot aft of the bow-mounted island that held the bridge and much of the crew quarters. The Spatha crossed the freighter on a perpendicular angle and without landing slowed and dropped to a quick low hover.

They stopped long enough to drop off two inspection teams plus a quartet of large canines. Ondani shepherds were energetic, large grey and black working and scent dogs that had some Spitz in their lineage but were a bit shaggier and heavily built.

They were amiable creatures. Though I was fond of dogs in general. I put some more of my attention to keeping an eye on the inspection teams. They immediately split up with one going forward and up to the bridge and another aft and down to the engine room.

They soon got out of sight. Fortunately, I was able to ask the escort RP Flights and get patched into their communications channel. For its size, the Sunset Breeze had a small crew.

Though some of the anxiety was that the freighter might have a surplus of passengers.

Once the ship was secure and the freighter's crew was accounted for the centurion on the scene called in the second set of Spatha Lights and reinforcements were called in.

"If they were going to fight they would have already done it," VioletBlood noted. "Tried to shoot down the VTOLs before they could land troops."

"Maybe they think we won't be able to find whatever contraband the spooks think is on it," GreyDawn said.

"Maybe they're just innocent merchant sailors?" Visha said.

"It's always a possibility. This could all be some misunderstanding." I chuckled. I checked the channel the inspection teams were using and my mirth waned.

"Primus?" Visha asked, noticing my silence on the Flight channel.

"The freighter's full of anti-aircraft weapons. It wasn't even hidden all that well. Mostly Trosic kit. They haven't found any Ritual Plate so far, but so far there's enough missiles and parts to provide air defense for a brigade or a Legion."

GreyDawn gave a low whistle.

"That's a considerable investment on House Trosier," Visha noted.

"The Diluvians have fired a lot of Toulon missiles at us. No wonder they need more," VioletBlood stated. "I wonder what'll happen to all this hardware?" she mused.

"We'll likely have House Alecto confiscate them and sell them to House Crocelli."

GreyDawn chuckled. "Crocelli is hungry for arms and Alecto can offer them a great deal."

"While giving us a cut," VioletBlood murmured.

"Do we get prize money for seized goods?" Visha asked.

"It's complicated," I said. The tradition was more among the Household Fleet, but we had played a role. "We could qualify for shares of the sale price, but I wouldn't make any big purchases."

"You're saying you won't get a big slice for being the ones who got the freighter to change course?" VioletBlood asked.

"I'm merely a Ritual Plate pilot following orders. It was House Alecto with that mighty cruiser who provided the big guns," I stated. "Clearly they deserve the lion's share."

As my Flight gave a little chuckle. I checked with Quirinus. We were to keep providing support for the Sarpedona Ritual Plate escorting the inspection teams.

I felt my tension ease a bit. I worried that someone might have the ship rigged to blow up. Also my concerns that we might have run into withering anti-air fire was true... in a way.

Despite all that, the crew seemed to be docile enough. Which was understandable. House Alecto was close with their smaller neighbor House Paymon. It would require an inquest to determine what laws had been broken and the culpability of the crew.

And there was always a chance that House Alecto could repatriate them to House Paymon. Especially if the mercantile Great House wanted to make a deal with the Minor House. Alecto was very interested in keeping Paymon in their sphere of influence.

Suddenly, dozens of missiles launched several miles to the north out of an anonymous part of the sea. They skimmed over the waves and rapidly accelerated. Alarms began to sound. Markers came up onto my display and Flight Ops started giving out alerts.

VTOLs and Ritual Plate were already being routed to the launch site but the missiles were already in the air. Still, they might be able to drop charges on the enemy submarine.

"General Quarters, General Quarters. All hands to battle stations. Set condition Zeta through the ship. Incoming, incoming. All pilots be advised, anti-missile systems are Weapons Free," came the overriding voice of the task force's commander before the comms channels devolved down into control by individual Flight Ops directors.

The Alecton Howe class missile cruiser and our Mulberry Fast Attack Craft were under attack. And per the alert's words, the counter-missile fire from the naval assets was going to prioritize saving their ships. Woe to any RP Pilot who got between launching an incoming missile and a weapon system trying to intercept it. The counter-missiles would try to avoid friendly fire and our comms and IFF was rather solid, but their concern was protecting the more expensive, and more populous, ship.

It seemed the Trosic Armada had at least one submarine, more likely two, shadowing the freighter and it objected to our actions.

"We have incoming enemy Ritual Plate," one of our Pilots who had been on anti-submarine patrol stated her voice calm and crisp. "Multiple squadrons of Baptiste strike RP escorted by Rochefort air superiority."

I took a moment to study the map display before we got our orders. The Trosic missiles were the first wave. The Ritual Plate was the follow-up wave. And about half of them were vectoring toward the Sunset Breeze.

I exhaled and put on a grin. "Squadron command, this is Diamond Flight, request permission to intercept."


End Chapter 14

The beach episode, and really the pilots have earned a bit of a break.
Thanks to DCG , ellfangor8 , Green Sea, Readhead, and Preier for checking and reading over this chapter.
Special thanks to ScarletFox for the wonderful omake series that has some great character growth and covers much of this same R&R and beach relaxation.

I hope to have the next chapter of the mainline Return Story (ch5 of Book 6 Bonding Allure) out soon, I'm editing that as we speak.

There's also some wonderful fanart waiting in the wings.