Publica Section 2 Part 3

Part 3

Over a hundred hastati fighters aligned themselves forming a great organized line. Principe ships weaved through them, rotating their flak guns as they moved. Behind the great array was another carefully assembled line of triarii fighters, heavily armoured and bursting with weaponry. Harma touched his controls lightly, feeling the awesome display of a Publica Battlewing in full formation, inching ahead in unison. There was nothing more civilized than fighting a horde of barbarians alongside other great and wise warriors.

“Let the centurion’s path be paved with the bodies of a thousand barbarians,” Harma announced to his comrade in arms. Blue fires pulsed from the anti-proton drive of each ship; a micro nuclear explosion that thrust each craft forward.

There was a thin constellation of enemy spacecraft waiting for him far away. Each was a great thinking metal beast driven at them and bred only for war. The barbarians sent at them not only the dogs in the sky but beasts on the ground. Inside those living ships were humans twisted with technology far beyond the scope of morality. Harma had no intention to let any of them set foot on Porta.

“Enemy fighters have been launched, squadrons are approaching,” a voice said beside him. Harma waited for the man to continue, “I can see four hundred enemy craft moving directly into our position.”

On the display lying in front, Harma could see the enemy approaching quickly. They covered the distance at the cost of organization. It was a messy display of Federation fighters moving toward their battle lines. The Publica Battlewing moved at a snail’s pace to the fluid motion of the enemy fighters.

As the enemy slipped beyond a comforting distance, Harma gave his next orders. “Begin firing solutions,” the wing centurion ordered and within a heartbeat of his request the blank void of space was filled with the lights of a thousand explosions. Every principes spacecraft lit up the path ahead with their flak cannons.

The leading enemy fighters approached too quickly and engulfed themselves in the explosions, tearing into pieces from the shrapnel filled fireballs. Others spun upward above the line and were blown away by precise firepower from the hastati fighters. Still other Federation fighters attempted to drive down the centre and brave the flak. Soon, the sheer number of enemy fighters overwhelmed them and the attack runs began.

A tight group of three barbarian fighters swooped down upon a principes squadron and blasted them with streaks of rainbow pellets. The rain of colour punched holes through the spacecraft, tearing them asunder. Gaseous atmosphere flowed out before heat from the engines became fire in the now oxygen rich space.

Three explosions tore through the line surrounding Harma leaving only the debris of a former hastati fighter group. Federation spacecraft cut through the debris at a blinding speed, ignoring the dangers of a collision with destroyed ships. More barbarians flowed into their formations, striking down several ships before arcing away again.

With the line shattered, Harma ordered his ships into scattered formation. Flak explosions began to erupt in every direction, staving off Federation attack runs, stopping each successive attack less effectively. A stray shot struck Harma’s command ship, rolling it toward the side. He tumbled toward the side but he kept his feet planted upon the ground.

“Wing centurion, there are more barbarians approaching,” a soldier reported aboard his ship. Harma wasted no time checking the battle display to watch another four hundred Federation fighters soar out of the hulls of the waiting Fed dogs.

Almost a fifth of his number had been cut down in combat but Harma did not loose his resolve. He spoke a few words of courage to his soldiers, before continuing the battle. Harma danced his eyes about the battlefield display directing ships to maximize their damage and to protect one another. The barbarians struck from every side and slowly drew out hastati fighters into deadly dog fights.

Suddenly, another stray hit struck Harma’s command ship and a console exploded behind him. The lighting shuddered in response, blinding his eyes for only a moment. On his display he could see three squadrons bearing down on his position from different angles. Although panic flowed through his body, he kept his face still as stone and pointed to a group of principes ships. Immediately, the communications officer connected him to the pilot’s frequency.

“Fire flak on my position,” Harma requested. He could hear a slight pause in the warrior’s acknowledgement but his orders were quickly understood. Inside, Harma felt proud that his pilots were intelligent enough to guess his plans so well.

As the Federation spacecraft sparkled with the glow of weapon bursts flak detonations engulfed the command ship. The first volley struck against the back of the command ship and rent holes across an engine. Within seconds flames burst out of the machine before the crew shut it off. Blinded by the brilliant display of flak the other volleys were far less accurate, striking the ship for minor damages.

With combat gone awry, Harma did his best to salvage the remainder of his fighters. It was not until Hasitus’ voice did his desperation halt to grow. The centurion ordered his slow retreat and even as the words were spoken, barrage cannons from the capital Publica ships opened fire. The great fireballs that raced out of the ships gave pause to the Federation fighters.

The shells thrust toward their targets leaving only a trail of plasma behind. They moved so fast it was difficult to watch them with the unaided eye. They swooped into their ranks and past, flying beyond their Publica fighters and the barbarian fighters. In that moment of confusion, Harma pulled his ships back and ordered flak to be fired behind their line to slow the quicker Federation fighters.

In a fearful dash, they pushed toward the capital ships. Even though Harma let no fear show on his face, he was deathly afraid of the chasing menace. Barbarians showed no mercy and knew no bounds. Still, fear had gripped the enemy far stronger than it did them, and they halt their advance to rejoin with the Fed dogs being bombarded.

“The barbarians overwhelmed our lines,” Harma reported to Hasitus as he approached the ships.

“Yes, yes, just combat land on the carriers,” Hasitus replied in quick manner. The capital ships were already retreating behind the two gas giants they had sat between. Harma landed his limping command ship on Hasitus’ galley as quickly as possible conducting a combat landing as requested. The ship hit the ground with a loud bang and a shower of sparks.

Harma brushed as much dust and ash off of his armour before standing to as the hatch opened. An impatient Hasitus stood outside alongside a pained Posydin. Harma slapped his fist to his chest before stepping out of the craft.

“Centurion,” he said, before nodding to Posydin. Hasitus mumbled some inaudible response before breaking into a brisk walk to the command deck. The centurion wasted no time in returning to the battle. As they approached the holographic display, Harma could see every Arma ship in retreat. “We fall back?”

“Not quite yet,” Hasitus replied.

Posydin walked around the display before slapping his arm across Harma’s shoulder in a painful manner. “He’s got a plan. Lucky you survived it so far.”

Hasitus pointed out his hand toward two heavy barrage ships. “These two,” he said pausing to allow Posydin to adjust the communications, “Unload all of your munitions into space.”

“Centurion,” the captain paused. “The Fed dogs are not so foolish as to fly into this hasty minefield.”

“Yes,” Hasitus responded exasperated. “Just release the damn munitions.”

“With haste, centurion,” the captain replied.

The fleet dispersed behind the gas giants, waiting for the advancing barbarians to overtake their position. Harma was content that Hasitus never wasted lives but he rarely divulged his plans after advice was given. So, he waited for the centurion stratagems to work themselves out.

“Where’s that damn Serpen pup,” Posydin cursed as they waited.

Harma looked upward at the loose tongued man. “Perhaps we should be more concerned with the time of arrival of additional forces.”

“We will have to keep alive for several days,” Hasitus replied. “However, I do suspect there’s a reason for an overly large force to attack a practically undefended recon outpost.”

“Gladius does appear to be a curious target for such attention,” Harma replied.

Posydin coughed aloud his discomfort and voiced his opinion in the roughest manner. “Curious target? It might as well be a scared Grandeur tree of uselessness. I want to know how they slipped a force of this size behind our defensive lines to this system. They can hit half a dozen Publica worlds from here.”

“If the Practica were to join this conflict, the Publica’s flank would not be exposed as such,” Harma said.

Hasitus made several noises that Harma could hardly attribute to a centurion, but he had been under the command of the man in far too many campaigns to find it wrong any longer. “Yes, well, they won’t be coming to help us right now. We will have to stave off the Feds for some time with what allies we have now.”

Posydin gave a short laughing grunt, “Fighting alongside barbarians to beat the barbarians at the gate.”

Silence came upon them as the barbarians came upon the hastily formed minefield. A single Fed dog struck a barrage shell, detonating it. A ball of fire burst from the container burning a massive hole through the hull of the beast. The barbarian craft’s yaw tilted violently spinning into another round, detonating a series of explosions that left only half a ship left. Fires spilled out into space as the ship’s atmosphere was heated by plasma and explosions.

The other spacecraft were quick to realize the dangerous corridor between the gas giants and immediately dispersed themselves around it. They flew above, below and to the sides of the mined area. Harma could see now the mistake the barbarians had made. Their force had scattered around the mines while Hasitus kept their ships concentrated. Superior Federation technology mattered little if they wasted every advantage they held.