LotS/The Story/Assault on the Zenith/Space Battle
Space Battle
You stand on a balcony, gazing out over Capek Major. Teams of tireless robots are laboring in the streets below while the city’s flesh and blood inhabitants slumber, working to repair the damage caused by the street battles with Fabricatrix Vespasia’s minions.
Then your gaze travels upwards, and you stare into the star-studded heavens. Out there, across the void, is the Sian Empire – the home stolen from you by the Centurians. And there too is General Rahn, little suspecting the vengeance which prepares to fall upon him.
“So you can’t sleep either?”
The Princess appears by your side. Her hair flutters in the breeze, and you realize that you’re seeing it completely unbound for the first time, free of the tight styles she always wears in public. The thought fills you with a strange feeling of intimacy.
“They tried to convince me to watch the battle from one of their cruisers,” she says. “They think it’s insane for a princess to get mixed up in a boarding operation.”
You remain silent. She laughs.
“And you agree?” she asks.
“I think it’s… unwise,” you concede.
“I told them it would help inspire other Sian people fighting across the galaxy, when they learn their princess has run such risks on their behalf.”
“Perhaps…” you say.
“But maybe I just want the pleasure of defeating Rahn, of looking into his eyes at the very moment he knows he’s beaten.”
When you head to your ship the next day, you find a man in a mechanized suit waiting for you. Its blue surface is adorned with spinning cogs and gears, making him look like the inside of an archaic clock. So drawn is your eye to this whirling crime against both fashion and pragmatism that it takes you a moment to recognize the man as Grand Fabricator Marek.
“I wanted to catch you before you joined the fleet,” he says to the Princess, after an exchange of pleasantries. “If you’re determined to take part in the boarding mission, I wanted to present you with something to help ensure your safety.”
He claps his hands, and a slender robot emerges from behind a stack of crates. Its body is a magnificent piece of craftsmanship, its golden adornments shaped with a jeweler’s care into a distinctly Sian style. Threads of jade-colored energy run through channels across the metal, making it seem almost eldritch. A beautiful yet intimidating sword with a serrated blade is attached to one of its arms, the same green energy running along its length. The fingers on its other hand each end in a sharp claw.
Lu Bu!” Princess Illaria exclaims.
The robot bows as gracefully as an aristocrat.
“I’m honored that Your Highness remembers me,” the robot says. Its voice is that of an eloquent, cultured man, one which wouldn’t be out of place at court. And the accent is most definitely of Sian origin.
“We built Lu Bu as a gift for the Sian Emperor,” the Grand Fabricator says, seeing your confusion. “The Princess helped us design him in the imperial style.”
“I thought the gesture would help improve things between TALOS and the empire,” she says. “But I couldn’t convince my father to accept him.”
“I am honored to have a chance to serve the imperial family after all,” says the robot.
The Princess walks with Grand Fabricator Marek to the shuttle that will take him to his cruiser, exchanging a final farewell. The rest of you move towards the entrance to your ship. But when you reach it, Lu Bu pauses.
“Excuse me, sir,” he says, addressing you.
“Yes?”
“This small child…” Lu Bu says, gesturing towards Telemachus. “…appears to be attempting to board the vessel.”
“Of course I’m getting on the ship,” says Telemachus. “I’m going to fight!”
“Sir, UHW Resolution 2985124, Sub-Section C, specifically prohibits the use of children, the mentally deficient, and monkeys in combat.”
“Well, that gives us three good reasons not to take him,” says Talia. Then she dodges, as Telemachus throws a kick at her shins.
“Not a bad law, far as laws go,” says Ragnar. “A damn monkey stole a job from me once. I killed him and ate him, but that still didn’t get me the money.”
“This entire mission is against UHW law,” you say. “We’re attacking a military cruiser without a formal declaration of war.”
“Understood,” says Lu Bu. “I shall calibrate my advice accordingly. Setting legal parameters to ‘scofflaw’.”
You’re not quite sure how to respond to that, so you just board the ship, the others following. A few minutes later the Princess joins you, and you fly to take your place in the armada.
The Sian Empire Strikes Back
The fleet navigators’ calculations are perfect. You emerge from hyperspace just in time to catch your prey between jumps. The Zenith lies ahead of you like a great insect, surrounded by its escort ships.
“The device is working,” says a voice over the communication channel. “Their ships aren’t making any transmissions.”
“Just them and us,” says Talia.
The TALOS ships waste no time. They hurtle into the fray, laser weapons flashing across the void. The Zenith’s escort vessels move to intercept them, and fighters begin to pour from its hangars.
Your thumb reaches for the button at the top of your control stick, as you prepare to pick off the approaching Centurian ships.
Space Ace
“What are you doing?” growls Ragnar, gazing in something like horror at what he sees through the window. It seems that being a passenger in a space battle, unable to attack or defend himself, disturbs the usually boisterous and cocksure Niflung.
“I’m flying the ship,” you reply. “And it’d be a lot easier without you leaning over my shoulder.”
“You’re getting too far from the others!” he says. “There are five ships coming right for us!”
“That is a lot…” mumbles Telemachus.
“If we engage them,” says Lu Bu, “I estimate our chances of survival as being no greater than 4.391%.”
“That’s because you don’t know what the captain is capable of,” says Princess Illaria. Her hand clasps your shoulder, and it’s as steady as a surgeon’s.
No Escape
At your side, Ragnar stares dumfounded as explosion after explosion fills the view. He gawps at the window, his mouth opening and closing like a fish’s.
“Whoa…” gasps Telemachus.
“Calculations adjusted,” says Lu Bu. And somehow even the robot appears shocked. “I apologize for the error.”
Behind them Talia laughs. Then she points at something on one of the display screens.
“We have a runner,” she says.
She’s right. One of the fighters is heading away from the battle. If it’s a long-range ship, capable of entering hyperspace, it’ll be able to summon reinforcements. You have to chase it down…
Clipping its Wings
“Nothing like hearing a ship explode,” says Talia, as the fleeing ship dies under your guns.
“Hearing?” says Telemachus. “There’s no sound in space. In space, no one can hear you scream. I think I read that in a schoolbook or something.”
“Aural implant,” you reply, as you turn the ship and head back towards the battle. “It interfaces with the brain, and provides sounds for the things you see out there.”
“Yeah,” says Talia. “They say pilots who spent a lot of time in space combat used to find the silence psychologically disturbing. But I think they just decided that explosions sound cool. Where’s the fun in blowing stuff up if you’re not going to hear it?”
As you scan the battle through both the window and the display readings, you see that the Centurian fighters are getting the worst of things. Many of them are already littering space as debris, and every second more explode. TALOS’ robot pilots possess deadly accuracy. But something on the scanner catches your eye…
“The Zenith,” says a voice over the communicator. It’s Grand Fabricator Marek. “They’re throwing their hyperspace engines into overdrive. They’re trying to make a jump!”
“That’s suicide,” says Talia. “They’ll tear themselves apart.”
“We need Rahn alive,” the Princess says.
“All unengaged ships, converge on the Zenith,” says the Grand Fabricator. “Cripple their engines.”
You swoop towards the cruiser, weapons blazing.
Zenith's Defenses
They’re not going anywhere,” you say.
On one of the monitors is a three-dimensional image of the Zenith. A glowing section of the model represents its hyperspace engines. As you watch, the glow fades away. They’re inert, useless.
You soar above the cruiser, weaving through the webs of laser fire which race around you.
“There’s the hangar,” says Telemachus, jabbing a finger towards the window.
Enemy fighters continue to pour from a glowing slot on a raised part of the cruiser’s hull. The energy field which seals it ripples as each one emerges. A one-way polarity barrier, as anticipated. All the ships in your fleet have been equipped with a TALOS beam weapon, capable of reversing it – allowing your ships into the Zenith’s hangar. But to do that, a beam will have to be turned on the hanger entrance for several seconds. And below you the cruiser’s defense turrets are firing their crimson beams. As you watch, two TALOS ships are pierced by the lancing red lasers, and burst into flames that are quickly swallowed by the void – leaving only a scattering of ruined metal to mark their passing.
“Need to take out those ships and turrets,” you say.
The sparking wreckage of destroyed turrets dots the cruiser’s surface, flaming wounds. From your ship, and from half a dozen other TALOS craft, luminescent beams zap through space, and strike against the energy field protecting the hangar’s entrance.
After a few seconds its color shifts, and a cheer comes across the communication system, from dozens of throats.
“The way is open,” says the Grand Fabricator. “Good luck.”