“An inter-bubble communication from the squadron flagship,” said Yatesh, his words reverberating through the bridge.
“Read it to me,” said Lafier.
“All ships, assume the stationary-state. Over.”
“Emit the roger-that signal. Navigator, switch the bubble to the stationary-state,” instructed Lafier.
She gazed at the planar space map. Trample-Blitz Squadron 1 had come to a halt, in a single-row formation. A number of space-time bubbles were slipping through the line of ships. It was a corps of defense ships which had been set aside until now. There also appeared to be additional forces pulled from a separate fleet.
Twin Thorns Fleet 24 was tirelessly attacking the Kemar Portal. The current stretch of battle had been pure drudgery, but signs of change were becoming apparent as of late. The curtain of fire was growing thinner — proof that the consumption rate of the ultra-long-range mobile space-time mines was exceeding their production rate. But of course, this could just be a ploy to make the Abh think that. It was possible the enemy was intentionally reducing the number of mines fired in order to portray their circumstances as more dire than they actually were.
That wasn’t what Lafier was thinking, though. She was a mere ship commander. She could ascend to the Jade Throne in the future, but the only seat of power she was given at present was a simple raid ship commander’s seat. And readiness in following orders was considered the greatest virtue of all those in her position. It was Fleet Command that needed to make the judgment calls, and the staff there had decided this was not, in fact, subterfuge.
The following barrage was also too thin. Only three mines had fused with the Flicaubh’s space-time. And that wasn’t all — there were no enemy ships, either. Unmanned mines were all they encountered.
The enemy hadn’t sent ships to planar space during the previous offensive, either. The Kemar System was more than just a mine factory — it also housed an enormous ship construction site whose capabilities were nothing to sneeze at. Given that there were no large-scale battles up to that point, they should have been able to replace any lost ships without difficulty. That being said, while a ship could be constructed in short order, they weren’t so lucky when it came to crews. Chances were high that the enemy’s overall war potential was on the wane, making the best course of action to await them in 3-space.
But that, too, was none of Lafier’s concern. What she had to focus on was very straightforward — blast the enemy on sight. For the time being, she would just see the not-so-exhilarating task of escorting the defense ship corps to its conclusion. Not that it was likely she’d even have to — there were still no enemy ships to be found.
“An inter-bubble communication from the flagship. All space-time bubbles, assume the mobile-state. Keep some distance from the defense ship corps in front. Over.”
Lafier nodded and issued her commands. And so their dull march commenced. As soon as the defense ship corps approached the edge of the spiral portal, they were once again ordered to stay put. This time it was the battle-line ship corps that came in front. They unleashed their bellyfuls of mines into the portal. After which there was still nothing for the raid ships or patrol ships to do.
A different battle-line ship corps got sucked into the Kemar Portal. Instead of mines, they were loaded with antimatter bombs. They were mobile within 3-space, but they didn’t have space-time bubble generators, making them that much smaller than normal mines. As such, more of them could be loaded aboard ship.
Lafier had her doubts as to HQ’s tactics. Was it really okay to put fragile battle-line ships on the front lines? With some anxiety, she watched the flock of bubbles enter the Kemar Portal. Then, at last, an assault order was handed to the patrol ship corps and the raid ship corps.
“Entering the Kemar Portal in five minutes.”
“This is your Ship Commander speaking,” announced Lafier. “This ship will soon shift over into 3-space. A fierce battle is likely ahead of us. Brace yourselves.” Then she ordered the engines and weapons to be inspected one last time. “All clears” filed in one after the other. The raid ship was in perfect order, and combat-ready.
“Enter the Portal in one minute,” said Ecryua.
“Start counting down from e-minus thirty seconds.”
The countdown commenced shortly. “...25, 24, 23...” Ecryua’s calm voice filled the bridge as the tension silently ratcheted up.
Lafier strained her froch organ.
“...Five, four, three, two, one, passing through.”
Rapidly, the range that Lafier’s frocragh could perceive expanded. A whole world popped into her perception. She felt slightly dizzy, as was always the case when transitioning from planar to 3-space. She didn’t dislike this sensation. However, she hardly had the time to be indulging in the aftereffect of returning to 3-space.
It was as terrible as she’d feared.
There was no correlation between a given point on the planar space side of a portal and any point on its 3-space side. They never had any idea where on the portal, which looked like an orb in 3-space, they would emerge from. Even if they meticulously lined up their ships before entering the portal, the ships of that formation would end up getting separated on the other side. Without all the luck they could ever ask for, it would be impossible to liaise with consort ships.
Meanwhile, the defending side could arrange well-organized formations in advance. They could even line up multiple mobile space strongholds. This was more of a hunt than a battle. But that only made things more exciting.
While the mines fired from planar space and the homing missiles fired by the battle-line ships did wreak some damage, the tides of battle were not necessarily on their side.
Lafier tried to calculate the route toward the meeting point, but then she realized this wasn’t the time for that. Dozens upon dozens of unidentified objects were hurtling toward them. They were probably nuclear fusion shells fired by EM cannons.
“Dodge them!” she cried.
Arbohf’s control gauntlet-equipped left hand moved. He uttered not a word in reply, but Lafier obviously had no intention of taking him to task for that. Instead, she said: “All hands, brace for irregular acceleration.”
Jets of flame erupted simultaneously from the starboard thrusters, causing the ship to skid. Groups of mobile turrets were intercepting enemy shells that weren’t taking no for an answer.
A tremendous explosion ripped in the immediate vicinity, shock waves rocking the Flicaubh’s hull.
They may have pulled through the first attack, but they couldn’t afford to stop for a breather just yet.
“Three ships approaching. Likely enemy ships!” reported Yatesh.
Lafier tried to grasp the situation. The battle-line ship corps was having some success, but at the same time, it seemed the damage the ships had taken was substantial. The remains of ships both allied and enemy were making things complicated, to say nothing of the clumps of antimatter that had yet to fully scatter. Lafier closed her eyes and focused on her spatiosensory perception. Within the four-dimensional space floating inside her brain, a path to the meeting point presented itself. Should she trace that path without delay, or should she disperse the three enemy ships using her single ship?
The enemy ships seemed to be boriac (guard ships). Bereft of space-time bubble generators, they specialized in 3-space battles. The Star Forces rarely ever deployed such ships, but using them in great numbers was a distinguishing characteristic of the PSSU. The Abh (who regarded planar space as the main battlefield and weren’t preoccupied with the defense of star systems) differed thusly from those who conceptualized landworlds as the center of everything.
Moreover, they were heavy-class guard ships equipped with EM cannons. Their armaments were almost on par with the raid ships’, differing only in that they had no bubble generators, so their maneuverability was that much higher. In 3-space, bubble generators were liabilities.
Annoyingly, a three-on-one battle was a losing battle. And yet if they tried racing toward the meeting point, they’d just get surrounded.
There was no time to ruminate. Everyone on the bridge was awaiting Lafier’s orders.
“Arbohf,” she said, “fire a salvo. You needn’t aim with precision. Then race for the meeting point.”
“Roger.”
The main engines and attitude control system roared. The Flicaubh’s bow turned toward the enemy ships.
As a gunner, Arbohf wasn’t thrilled he didn’t have the time to aim properly, but he pulled the trigger anyway. Nuclear fusion shells launched from the raid ship’s EM cannons. The enemy had also sent in its second and third death machines, but Arbohf’s do-or-die piloting came in clutch, and they managed to steer clear.
The enemy dispersed in order to evade the Flicaubh’s attack, by which time the Flicaubh had turned around and initiated maximum acceleration toward the meeting point.
“Can we information-link with the flagship?”
“The EM wave noise is too loud,” reported Yatesh.
“Can we contact them at all?”
While they may not be able to conduct the voluminous exchange of data that was an information link, perhaps they could simply communicate verbally. A slight amount of background noise wasn’t going to bother Lafier’s ears.
“I’ll try.”