Episode 102

"All work ships, haul ass toward the Fortress immediately! Everyone else, combat stations! The bad guys are coming to play!"

Taro screamed into his headset while yanking his seatbelt so tight he could barely breathe.

"Marl, how long until we’re actually ready to shoot things?"

"I just have to reroute the power from the scanners back to the guns. Give me two minutes!"

"Roger that. Koume, status report. Give me the combat stats."

[SYSTEMS ARE ALL GREEN, MR. TEIRO. HOWEVER, THE SHIP-BORNE CRAFT CONTROL SYSTEMS ARE CURRENTLY IN A STATE OF EXISTENTIAL UNCERTAINTY DUE TO RECENT UPDATES.]

"Yeah, yeah, close enough... RS1 to EAP2. We’ve got a massive host of hostiles inbound. Please tell me you have a plan that doesn't involve us dying."

Taro barked the request toward the EAP Allied Fleet’s flagship while his own crew scrambled. He sat there, ear pressed to the comms, waiting for the bureaucratic geniuses at EAP2 to say something useful. He waited. And waited. Finally, he just repeated the report, louder this time.

"This is EAP2. Our wide-area scan is as empty as a politician's promise. Are you sure you aren't just seeing ghosts?"

Taro slowly turned his head to look at Etta. She noticed his "are they serious?" stare and pointed a finger at a completely blank spot on the radar screen.

"If they're coming from there... RS1 to EAP2. The enemy is approaching from EB2993. This isn't a ghost, it’s a goddamn invasion. I repeat: massive hostile force incoming from EB2993!"

Silence again. Taro slumped back into his seat, propping his chin on his hand like a bored student waiting for the bell to ring.

"This is EAP2. Again, the wide-area scan shows nothing. We suspect your sensors are buggy. Please recalibrate your—"

"Shut your damn mouth! If I'm right and you’re wrong, are you going to pay for our funerals?!"

Calling the EAP "cautious" was the polite way of saying they were spectacularly incompetent. Frustrated, Taro snapped at his tech expert. "Marl, do your thing."

"Way ahead of you! The interference is a nightmare, but... Bingo! Got the bastards!"

Marl pumped a tiny fist in the air with a triumphant yelp. Taro took one look at the directional scan results she’d dug up and jammed the 'Send' button to EAP2.

"We’ve got Drive Particle signatures all over EB2993. I’d bet a million Credits they'll turn into Space Reservations any second now. Move your asses, seriously!"

Taro made a face like he’d just sucked on a lemon. He knew the EAP would take ten years to process a simple "we're being shot at" form, so he ignored them for a moment.

"Alan, Phantom, you guys still alive over there?"

Alan was busy wrangling the Third Fleet, while Phantom was playing babysitter to the Fourth—the Battle School Fleet. Both were currently hovering near Taro’s First Fleet. The heavy hitters of the Second Fleet were currently off with Bella, stuck playing escort to the EAP1 main force.

"This is RS3. We’re locked and loaded, but I need a few more minutes. Some of my work ships are still out there playing tag with the mines."

"This is RS4. Aside from the students looking like they're about to vomit, we’re good to go. We’ll swing in from the left wing. Fall back to the coordinates I’m sending and let’s group up."

"RS1, copies all... Got the coordinates. Alan, there’s a lot of them. If things get hairy, just grab the crews and let the work ships go boom."

Taro kicked the Plum II into reverse, heading for the rendezvous. Outside the viewport, a shimmering haze of gas began to coat the ship—Koume’s way of saying "welcome" with a fresh batch of Anti-Drive Particles.

"Did you tell the other companies to start spraying?" Taro asked.

[I HAVE ALREADY SENT THE REQUEST, MR. TEIRO. WHETHER THEY ARE SMART ENOUGH TO PRESS THE BUTTON IS ANOTHER MATTER.]

"God, you're efficient... Hey, EAP2! You guys done filing your paperwork yet or what?"

Taro groaned, pacing in his seat. Marl looked at him with a confused shrug, and he just threw his hands up in a "don't ask me" gesture.

"There are twelve different companies here! How are we supposed to win a war when nobody knows who's driving the bus?"

He squinted at the radar screen. There were nearly a hundred warships out there, a disorganized mess of corporate fleets. Some companies had brought two specialized minesweepers; Rising Sun had brought a twenty-four-ship parade of destruction.

"This is EAP2. Assuming you aren't hallucinating, we’d like to keep this sector safe. You’re in charge of sectors 270 and 45. Coordinates incoming. Try not to break anything."

Taro let out a breath he didn't know he was holding. Finally, an order! Then Koume spoke up, her voice as dry as a desert bone.

[MR. TEIRO. THE COORDINATES THEY SENT ARE IN THE DEAD CENTER OF A MINEFIELD. I SUGGEST THAT ATTEMPTING TO REACH THEM WOULD RESULT IN A VERY LOUD AND EXPENSIVE EXPLOSION.]

Taro’s cheek twitched. "Go back to the drawing board and try again!" he screamed into the comms. Right, EAP command is officially useless. I'm on my own.

"Sectors 270 and 45... that’s front-left, low. They want us to hold the flank while they take the center, but they’re idiots. You can't do a pincer move when you're surrounded by space-claymores!"

He grumbled the complaint and sent it to EAP2 anyway, hoping that maybe, just maybe, someone with a functioning brain cell would read it.

"Teiro! The big black ones are coming! And a bunch of little white ones!"

Etta sounded genuinely worried. Taro felt his stomach drop. This was it. "Open the turret bays! Let's give 'em a warm welcome!"

"They’re here, Teiro! Massive Space Reservations! I’m counting... eighty ships!"

"Got it!" Taro yelled back, though he paused. Eighty? That’s it? That’s practically a light snack for a fortress. "...Are they splitting up, or is this just the first wave of a Wave Attack?"

He scowled, trying to think like a villain. If he were the bad guy, what would he do to make Taro’s life a living hell?

"...Wait. Both?"

The realization hit him like a physical blow. He scrambled to check the sensors, but Koume beat him to the punch.

[MR. TEIRO, I HAVE UNPLEASANT NEWS. A SPACE RESERVATION HAS JUST BEEN LOCKED IN OUR REAR. EXPECT COMPANY SHORTLY.]

Taro hissed through his teeth. He was a second too slow. They were supposed to be safe back there; other fleets were supposed to be clogging the area with Anti-Drive Particles. But the enemy had Warp Stabilizers—the high-end stuff. They were performing an Overdrive jump right into their tailpipes.

"RS1 to NY1! Move your asses! 180-degree turn, now! Full throttle!"

The eight ships of Taro’s fleet pulled a frantic U-turn. Engines roared to life, nuclear fire spewing from the thrusters as they charged toward the incoming warp signatures.

"EAP2 to RS1! Why are you breaking formation? Stop doing your own thing and—"

"Shut up, you moron! If we stay here, we’re the meat in a hostile sandwich!"

Taro cut the line. He wasn't in the mood for a lecture. Shields were great for soaking up beams, but if an enemy ship warped in behind them and shot their engines, all the armor in the galaxy wouldn't save them.

"RS4 to RS1. We’re moving to intercept the warp-in. Honestly, your commander is a joke. My students could coordinate a lunch order better than this guy."

It was Phantom. Taro couldn't have agreed more. "You sure you can handle this, Phantom? Your kids haven't exactly seen a real scrap yet."

"At point-blank range, skill doesn't matter as much as who pulls the trigger first. They’re weighted down with Warp Stabilizers, so pound-for-pound, our ships are meaner. We’ve got this."

Taro checked the BISHOP display. The Drive Particle levels were spiking. The graph looked like a heart attack in progress.

"They're dropping in!" Marl screamed.

Taro stared at the radar. Blue streaks of light solidified into cold, hard steel.

"2, 4... 34 ships. Frigates, destroyers... Crap, they brought a cruiser to the party."

The radar screen turned into a chaotic mess of blue and red lines as the shooting started. Taro’s fleet was still closing the gap, and RS4 was lagging behind.

[NY1-4 IS MODERATELY DAMAGED. NY1-6 IS... ACTUALLY, NEVER MIND, NY1-6 IS GONE. NY1 HAS SUSTAINED LIGHT DAMAGE.]

Koume’s clinical voice made Taro’s blood run cold. He bit his lip, mentally screaming at the engines to go faster.

"Dammit! The New York President just bought that ship! He was so proud of it... Distance?!"

"We’re almost in range, Mr. Teiro. But if we use beams now, we’re just as likely to hit our friends as the enemies."

"I know! Load the railguns! Launch the ship-borne craft the second the slugs leave the barrels!"

Taro was shouting at the ceiling now. He didn't need to yell—BISHOP translated his thoughts directly—but his adrenaline was currently through the roof.

"Teiro! There's more! So many more!"

Taro looked at Etta, then back at the screen. "You’ve gotta be kidding me!"

The radar screen was lit up like a Christmas tree. New Space Reservations were appearing everywhere. He stopped counting at a hundred.

Well, Taro thought, this is going to be a long day.