The Pulurtans - Chapter 4.50
“You do realize,” Admiral Ampere said righteously, “that you’re signing the death sentence of the navy as well as that of the Bian race. I ask you to reconsider one last time.”
“I will not change my mind, Admiral,” Queen Vulcana said to the holoimage of her top admiral. “You said yourself that in two weeks the primary minefield and buoy parks surrounding both warp points will be gone. The laser warheads the leafstalkers are using for their pods have already weakened the remaining bases and done outright internal damage to the Volcanics. The fighter squadrons of the CAP are only strong as they are because we’ve sent those based on Steel Star to make up for losses. As for gunboats only the ones on the Industrias are in use since the racks on the smaller bases are wrecked. What good is the fleet if it’s only going to stay in orbit and surrender the initiative to the enemy?”
“Rushing headlong into oblivion isn’t a plan, but suicide,” Ampere spat back. “I rather have the fleet in a holding position between both warp points and send in gunboat assault probes after the next-to-the-last wave of mine-clearing pods come through. We’ll take whatever forces are assembled on the far side by surprise. Once the true source of the enemy’s strength is determined the fleet will proceed and attack. If we’re going to die then I want to make it meaningful.”
“Die?” Vulcana smothered the word in laughter. “You shouldn’t apply such a meaningless word to us, Ampere. Obliterating the leafstalker force opposing use in Metric will give us time to finish up the carrier wings in Steel Star’s construction slips.” Her tone then turned catty. “In a way, the leafstalkers are done us a favor. Now that we have some bases destroyed there’ll be enough maintenance resources for the carriers.”
Ampere’s eyes glowed more intensely. “What made you decide to proceed against Metric instead of Measure? Did you flip a coin?”
“I divined the intent of the leafstalker king,” Vulcana said regally. “The Metric route to Industria is the same one we used centuries ago to conquer the Floggol. I believe he’s compelled to take the same route to conquer us.” For a moment it seemed her aesthetic face came to life, mocking Ampere. “No, you had it right. I really did just flip a coin.”
“I suspected as much, my queen,” Ampere said in understated displeasure. “I’ll be commanding the task force personally from the monitor Iron Gear.”
“Then I’ll leave you to your work, Admiral. I expect a leafstalker diorama as your gift to me for my birthday.”
“Nothing but the best for you, my queen. Ampere out.”
********
It was during the night shift just after the most recent bombardment that Wynja, Chief of the Naval Intelligence Office, had a brainstorm. He got the junior officers of Kulsek’s staff to create and run simulations under his direction. Only when he was satisfied did Wynja send the sleep-deprived brass-polishers away, refining his proposal for Kulsek and ultimately Lugan’s consideration.
As it stood the plan was to send in a gunboat raiding force, 900 strong, from the soon-to-be completed asteroid forts. Wynja proposed to send in the current force of 600 fort-based gunboats augmented by 300 drawn from the fleet support train as well as the fleet itself. Preceded by a wave of SMB2s, the last stock of the weapons in the High Navy inventory, the gunboats would destroy all the bases and clear the weapon buoy parks with the help of 200 accompanying advanced armed pinnaces.
Following three hours of consideration Kulsek and his operations officer Sathyl presented the plan to Lugan with Wynja in attendance. Twenty minutes and one full cup of honey tea later the plan had the king’s approval. One hour after that 2,000 SMB2s lead the way into Bios with the gunboat/pinnace force following immediately behind.
On entry the pods moved as one; at a distance of 1.5 LS they divided into two groups to orbit the warp point. Surprisingly the pods suffered no loss due to mines and the Bian CAP, having been on the opposite vector of the pod’s entrance, was only able to devote half of its strength to snipe at them. As for the other half it was focused on the 762 Pulurtan gunboats which, due to superior speed, were among the pods despite their ever-so-slight later entry. Of the 168 pinnaces that survived the mass transit they stayed on the warp point, firing transit addled weapons at the immediately surrounding buoy parks. Despite the temporary effects of transit the gunboats managed to bag a fair handful of Bian gunboats and fighters while only taking trifling losses in turn.
The reason why the mines didn’t attack was that particular route was deactivate for the approaching Mechanized Space Navy task force. Given its size there was no doubt that at least one ship, be it a corvette or monitor, would have its transponder codes misinterpreted by the mines and attacked. Only a scant 3.25 LS from the Metric warp point the task force would be at battle stations in 60 seconds and find itself in battle 30 seconds after that. Well, that was the plan Admiral Ampere was counting on.
Scarcely believing her luck the surviving senior gunboat wave commander sent the order for just such a contingency. Instead of attacking the bases the gunboats went after the task force. Bian jamming buoys spun up, denying the Puls their datalinks only to have their CAP squadrons denied theirs as well. One out of eight Pul gunboats carried a jamming pack powerful enough to knock out starship datalinks though that didn’t matter all that much. The assault the Bians had planned was so precise and tedious that weapons and active defenses were locked until the ships were within 1.25 LS of the warp point. Even ship speed was regulated, preventing the small ones from speeding ahead and thus freeing themselves from their self-imposed handicaps. Admiral Ampere had decreed these restrictions so as to prevent the despondent and fatalistic of his officers from jumping ahead on their own initiative and thus spoiling the assault. True, it was a suicide mission but Ampere wanted at least some semblance of dignity and discipline at the end. Facing the wave of gunboats that was right in front of him he knew even this was no longer possible. Thus he ignored the urgent pleas of his subordinates to abandon ship and sat in his command chair, removing a pipe from the pocket of his tunic. Having no lungs he was unable to smoke it, but he lit the crushed impacted leaves just the same as the Iron Gear was removed from the universe.
Every ship, save the Heat Lightnings and the Neons, had gunboats on their racks and thus depriving Bios Prime the last of its organic gunboat strength. A key part of the assault was for the task force to make a mass transit into Metric and release gunboats upon entry. So of course those gunboats carried the maximum amount of firepower in the form of anti-matter close attack missiles. After taking their drubbing from the CAP and inflicting the same with internal lasers the Pul gunboats had all-but obliterated the task force. Only sixty Neons remained, either barely moving or stopped stone-cold.
Hurt as they were from earlier bombardments the 120-odd Volcanics opened up on the pinnaces at the expense of the closest set of pods. Handfuls of the craft went down, fulfilling a secondary role of diverting fire from the gunboats. Firing back with laser-armed standoff missiles the pinnaces took down five of the bases and sent one of their number back to Metric.
The first set of pods had been programmed to engage any Promethia-class bases within a range of five light seconds. As for the second set they were tapped for the Volcanics. Firing their loads, the last of the SBM2s revealed that their missiles had a newer generation of laser warhead, inflicting 50% more damage than previously experienced. Bases large and small alike went up like gas-soaked tinder as their ravaged frames couldn’t deal with fresh damage, but that still left a considerable number to be dealt with.
Save the jammers all the Pul gunboats still had one or two volleys of close attack missiles on their rails. With lasers flailing at their pursuers the gunboats piled on the Volcanics, turning that patch of space into a massive debris field. It was expected that the larger Promethias would fire on the gunboats with everything that could reach them. What was not seen until now was the firepower of the six even larger bases. From a range of 7.5 LS the accuracy of the capital anti-fighter missiles wasn’t all that great, but out of 240 fired and 150 lock-ons the Puls lost 40 gunboats. Another was lost by an incredible long-range hit by one base’s spinal force beam.
Now freed from the ravages of the Volcanics the Puls only had to contend with the continued long-range fire from the Promethias and Industrias. Only one additional minute was spent in Bios and only then for the purpose of shooting down more fighters, gunboats and buoys. Then as the group the Puls left, leaving behind the agitated defenders. For them the wait was only sixteen minutes. Three thousand pods emerged, losing their allotment to interpenetration, divided into three practically-equal sized groups and moved out into the depleted minefields. One headed directed to the Promethias with the other two moving slightly away and then turning back on parallel courses. The defenders surrendered to karma and attacked the central pod group. Along with defense pods there were a number of SBM4s that were tasked to fire on fighters and gunboats within one-fourth of a light second with CAMs. From the bases’ perspective it was like watching a string of firecrackers advancing as pods and fighters alike went up in fireballs.
It all came to a glorious end that no Pulurtan eye witnessed. Having been at the receiving end of a new generation of laser warhead the Bians were dubiously blessed with a final technological upgrade. The CAMs in the SBM4s had the new directional charge (some wags in R&D called it shape charge) modification that increased damage output by 50% while slightly reducing accuracy. What CAMs that missed were more than made up by the ones that hit, resulting in total destruction of the Promethias with 20% overkill.
For the next six hours smaller waves of pods carrying mine clearance charges, guarded by CAM-firing SBM4s and defense pods, finished the primary minefield barriers as well as the three rings of weapon buoys. One minute after the last wave five Mansion assault carriers and an Explosion minesweeper entered, releasing gunboats from their holding racks and turning to their exit vector. They found no CAP and only 41 buoys out of the original 3600 greeted them with pathetic violence. Strangely the six large bases were gone, though they had never been targeted by pods. As the Mansions launched their strikegroups and left the Explosion stayed and ventured out, tactical scanners mapping the minefield remnants and sweeping with contemptuous ease. All six of the Toggle Switch bases were in their original place and easily dispatched by incoming waves of High Navy missile ships.
After transiting and falling into formation the Combined Fleet moved in-system. The mystery of the missing big bases was solved. Six Magnet tugs, having sat motionless out of definitive scanner range of the Pul gunboats, had moved in once the assault wave gunboats and pinnaces had left. They’ve been pulling the bases towards Bios Prime for almost six hours but were still overhauled by the fleet as it went to max monitor speed. Only Spears and Mangonels engaged, targeting the Magnets with CBMs equipped with the directional charge modification. With the tugs gone there was no need to engage the bases, so they were left where they were, to eventually fall apart from a lack of maintenance material. The force in Measure was ordered through the communication network that reached back to Industria to stop pod bombardments. What bases that were left guarding the warp point to Measure were going to be allowed to fall apart as well.
King Lugan had his four offspring in the fleet join him on the Armor of Fendala’s observation deck. The only other attendees were four of Lugan’s knights, including Gyco. From there they witnessed the final space battle of the war. 500 SBM3s, the last of the pods from the fleet train, was sent in against Steel Star. Escorting them were over 2,400 fighters, primed to self-defense thanks to fighter decoy missiles. This was the Pulurtan’s trump card, making a mockery of the Steel Star’s enormous missile battery. The Combined Fleet moved to within CBM range just as the pods achieved optimal range. Distant fire and the missile tsunami made the centuries-old structure disintegrate, leaving only 100-odd fighters to achieve petty revenge by shooting down 32 Pulurtans fighters before dying.
Taking orbit the fleet crossed into Bian’s dark side. Like previous machine worlds there were only a handful of intense lights on an otherwise coal-black background. They even saw Steel Star debris enter the atmosphere, much of which survived re-entry only to hit ocean expanses or great wilderness areas. “Once we’re through it’ll still be a habitable environment,” said Lynaca. “Those megacities will only require a handful of nukes to neutralize.”
“I’m thankful we’re not going to invade,” said Dusan. “We had enough problems reclaiming our worlds they’ve occupied.”
Coryn scratched her right-front antenna. “Have they attempted to surrender? This is after all the last bastion of their race. We’ve destroyed the outposts they’ve established in the outer system.”
Dusan scoffed. “Like we’re going to accept their surrender now. It’ll be akin to a computer opponent conceding a game of chess.”
“Odd that we haven’t started the bombardment,” Qavas stated blatantly. “We had more than enough time to fix the location of the population centers.”
Lugan turned to the outspoken princess. “I had wanted to enjoy the view just a few more minutes, but to ease your impatience I shall accelerate the plan.” He turned on a private comm. “Kulsek, initiate the fire plan I approved.”
“Yes, your high majesty,” the admiral replied respectfully.
Second later the first fireballs appeared on the surface of Bios. Multiple antimatter-armed missiles hit the targeted cities to create overlapping zones of devastation. The last missiles had the directional charge modification so as to pulverize the foundations, crushing multiple sublevels and whatever shelters the machine men happened to hold themselves up in.
A few minutes past, the fleet moving back into daylight. The pattern was repeated with cold efficiency. Linked to her ship via a datapad, Lynaca noticed an oddity. “Father, according to telemetry data we only destroyed one-third of the cities on the planet. Also the fleet has been issued an order to stand down.”
Lugan took on the aire of a parent stating the obvious to an oblivious child. “Of course, daughter. There’ll still be enough population to suit the needs of the Kingdom.”
“You’re going to invade?” Dusan said credulously. “Father, we only have 50,000 army troops with us. They’re only here to conduct sweeps to eliminate survivors. We don’t have the supplies for a sustained campaign in an urban environment. If we had learned anything in recovering our worlds is that the Bian soldier is at his best in city fighting. Go ahead and throw in the marine contingents from the fleet, but we’ll still be hideously outnumbered.”
Lugan’s antennae twitched. “Yes, we are going to invade. We’re not such much conquering a race but subjugating a huge warehouse full of ill-programmed hardware. They will be made to serve us.”
“It’s pointless,” Qavas added belligerently. “We don’t need their labor.”
Gyco stepped forward, putting himself by Lugan’s side and speaking passionately. “Losing blood and life to living beings is one thing. To lose to a machine that thinks it is alive is something else. By destroying the Bian race now will only prove that we were the weaker and acted out of fear, unable to bring about the obedience of machines by our strength and intelligence. We will not give them the satisfaction of extermination, dying as they lived, indulging in decadence and sloth.”
“Forgive me for saying this, brave knight,” Coryn challenged, “but you’re speaking from personal bias. Far more of the Kingdom will have the Bians as radioactive slag that have them made into servants. We won’t tolerate another Isset-styled rebellion.”
Lugan’s visage fully conveyed his righteous indignation. “Gyco not only spoke his conviction but of mine as well. I will have this race labor for the benefit of the High Kingdom, and insurances made to keep them subservient, most of all of having them confined to this planet. This is my will, and by extension the will of the Fendalen race.” He gave Dusan a glowering. “We will be invading just one city, their capital Mechanopolis. They are a shallow, vain people. After inflicting enough damage with our troops and kinetic bombardments they’ll surrender, if only to save their precious possessions and wealth.
“Go to your troops and prepare, Dusan. As for the rest of you return to your ships. The freighters will be releasing the kinetic satellites shortly and assign ships to control the various subgroups. We’ll be landing troops this time tomorrow. That is all.” Turning his back and accompanied by his knights Lugan strode out into the corridor every bit the royal conqueror.
********
Like all Bian cities Mechanopolis had a ten-kilometer wide clear zone that sloped from the outer edge to the untamed forests. A preparatory bombardment tore up this immaculately maintained real estate, destroying hidden defense pits and detonating mines. Under the constant cover of kinetic strikes the first assault shuttles disgorged troops and armored vehicles, moving in a straight line towards the center of the city. There were no subtle maneuvers or clever stratagems, only an advancing wedge of destruction heading directly for the palace at the center of the city.
The fighting started in the Bian suburbs, and as the High Army troops moved forward they encountered increasing signs and remnants of ever-more expensive dwellings. Nothing was spared, so even a solitary sniper in a house would bring down a kinetic projectile fit to level a neighborhood. Android troops, some even without the benefit of optical camouflage film, fell in job lots as their officers lead them in reckless charges or ill-conceived retreats. Not one civilian raised a hand to save themselves, hiding in their basements that for some became their tombs.
Only when the creeping barrage of devastation had chewed its way into high-rent residences that surrounded the palace grounds did the Bians call for a cease-fire. Lugan asked for a clarification and resumed the bombardment. Two minutes later the call came again, this time announcing their surrender. Had they waited thirty more seconds then a kinetic round would’ve blasted the ornate main gate.
An advance team composed of Prince Dusan and his troops, the 511th Infantry Company, went ahead and scouted the main pathway that lead to the palace’s entrance. He reported his findings to his father. “I don’t like it. The trees and thick brush lining the path could be hiding any number of hidden weapon emplacements. Those narrow slits on the main face shout sniper holdouts. Are you sure you want to accept their surrender in person?”
“Every fiber in my being demands that I must be there to accept it, my son,” said Lugan righteously. Speaking from a field command post, Lugan looked at a side screen. The palace was an octagonal affair with a massive dome in the middle surrounded by eight much smaller ones. His eye was drawn to the southwest wall. “However, I will go through an entrance of my own choosing. It is, after all, now my palace.” He spoke to an officer off-screen and returned. “This will but take a moment, son. I’ll be right with you.”
A barrage of shells tore up the palace grounds that lead up to the southwest wall. Immaculate flower beds and hedges were atomized by kaboomite rounds, followed by a huge percentage of the southwest wall itself. High Army officers announced to the startled palace staff that such a thing was done to ensure the safety of the king and to dissuade anyone with less than noble intentions from acting out.
With thousands of troops waiting outside and a like number of kinetic satellites ready to punish any treachery the royal contingent went inside the palace through the newly-created entrance. Lugan was flanked on his right by his son Dusan, still clad in full field gear but adorned with his princely headband. Behind him were Coryn and Qavas, the princesses also in fully-functional field gear that was painted in royal platinum and gold. Admiral Kulsek and High General Polobus were between the two, not clad in armor but in a full officer dress of metal forearm and shin plates. To the left was Gyco, resplendent in his accented armor and knightly crest on his shoulders. The other three knights of the realm were assigned one each to the royal offspring. Behind them was Dusan’s platoon, veterans of the fighting on Spice. Having proven themselves in the bitter fighting on that planet no-one could accuse Dusan and even the king of playing favoritism by selecting them. They carried the flags of the High Kingdom, the royal household, the High Army and High Navy along with video equipment to capture the historic event. Princess Lynaca, the oldest and designated successor, was in orbit in case of betrayal perpetrated by the Bians.
Great paintings and other treasures that dated to even when the Bians were primitive flesh-and-blood beings lined the great hallway leading to the throne room. When the party came into view two palace androids opened the double doors, gold in luster and very likely made solid of the material. The walls of the great chamber had appointments made of diamonds and gemstones as large as fists, throwing rainbows of such number as to make one think one was walking through painted air.
On the dais was Queen Vulcana, standing and attended by six of her governmental ministers. As always, she wore black, floor-reaching fabric that only left her expressionless and nearly featureless face exposed. Her only adornment, an opulent blue stone set in gold attached to her chest. A rich, red carpet ran from the throne behind Vulcana all the way to the doors. “King Pulurtan Lugan,” she spoke in accented Fendalen, her voice drenched with the disapproval found in old societal ladies, “there was no need to ruin a perfectly good wall. I wouldn’t jeopardize the remainder of my race by killing you.”
Lugan strode forward with his entourage following. He wore the same set of battle armor he used during the Civil War and Isset Rebellion. All the dents and stains were left in place with only the gold detailing restored to its full luster. Under his left arm he carried his helmet while his right hand carried a platinum scepter surmounted by a green ruby. His crown glinted in the light like so many diamonds. Thirty paces from the bottom step he stopped. “You will, of course, pardon the modification I made to this grandiose structure. As the front door wasn’t to my liking I made one that was appropriate for the circumstances.” He raised the scepter and pointed it at her. “Queen Vulcana, before the diplomats arrive with the official documents I will have you swear fealty to me on behalf of your race.”
“Having read your racial history I expected this from you,” Vulcana said haughtily. “However I will only submit to your admiral or general as they are far more deserving.”
“Explain your impudence,” Gyco said on Lugan’s behalf, hand resting on the hilt of his sword.
“Earlier in the war,” the queen continued in a smug manner, “I was privy to captured records found on worlds my soldiers conquered. The ones found in the safe of the governor of Spice were most enlightening.” She expected a reaction from Lugan but was unable to read his face, so she chopped it up to the fact that he was a big bug. “The paper in question had contingency orders written on it concerning the Gyst loyalists and the recovery of the Diamond Scepter from said loyalists.”
That disclosure caused some uncertain shuffling in the group but not Lugan. He was absolutely still. “Yes,” Vulcana said, oblivious to the significance of Lugan’s statue-like stance, “I see the purpose of this theatre. You want me to be proxy for something you wanted for decades. Well, I shall not oblige, Pulurtan Lugan.”
“You will oblige,” Gyco glowered, hand tightening on the sword hilt. “You will swear fealty to the king or die.”
Vulcana pointed at Lugan like a prosecuting attorney. “Again, I will offer it to your admiral or general or even one of your foot soldiers. Lugan may have the Diamond Throne, but lacks the Scepter that is the true symbol of legitimate authority. What he has in his hand may as well be a stick with a piece of candy at one end. I will not surrender myself and my nation to a userp…”
It happened so fast, Lugan moving so quickly that Gyco only reacted once it was done. The king dropped the scepter and pushed off with his hind legs at the same instant. He wasn’t going directly to the machine woman but just off to the side, enough space for him to draw and swing his straight sword. The same sword he used more times he cared to remember in the Civil War. Vulcana’s head was cleaved from her body, falling to the floor and fracturing the left side of its porcelain face. The six Bian ministers had stepped back in shock, finding the leafstalker king right in front of them. Behind Lugan was Vulcana’s still-standing body, the finger and arm still pointing and accusing but now at empty air.
Gyco stepped up to be by Lugan’s side. Sheaving his sword, the conquering king held out the finger adorned with the royal ring at the prime minister. “Now that the queen is gone you’re the highest official on the planet. Swear fealty for the entire Bian race to me and I shall rule with a firm but fair hand. Refuse, then I shall continue until I find one among you that will agree.”
The Bian bowed over Lugan’s hand and, despite lacking lips, kissed the ring. “I swear fealty to you, King Pulurtan Lugan, sworn rightful ruling of the Fendalens,” he said in a smarmy manner.