Tyr

  30,469 AA

  Tyr traced the edge of the manuscript with his hand, the steady motion of his pen sketching faint images in the margin. His mind drifted between the weight of the present and the comfort of recording the past.

  “Lord King,” a voice broke the silence, sharp and insistent. “Were getting close.”

  “Then we best make for the command center.” Tyr sighed, closing the heavy tome and setting it aside with care before he stood.

  The young Thanling hesitated before he found his courage.

  “Why do you continue to work on that book, Lord King?” he asked, his voice tinged with both curiosity and doubt.

  “It is the history of our world, as seen through my eyes,” Tyr offered a faint smile, tempered by the gravity of their situation. “Who better to tell such a story than one who has lived it?”

  “But do you really think we can win?” the Thanling pressed, his words spilling out in a shallow whisper. “If we fail, we’ll be destroyed, and no one will read your words.”

  The doubt was unmistakable in the Thanling, but Tyr’s expression remained calm, even kind. He placed a steady hand on the young man’s shoulder.

  “You are young,” Tyr began, his voice firm yet patient. “You have not lived through the horrors that have shaped us. Have not seen the darkness from which we clawed our way. Tales of past victories must feel like myths to you, but I assure you, they are real. I am old, I have seen ninety years, and I have borne more than my share of burdens. We have faced annihilation before and emerged victorious. We will do so again, because we have no choice but to prevail.”

  The Thanling nodded, but did not reply yet seemed more resolute. He led Tyr through the great chamber’s heavy blast doors to the heart of the flag deck. The command center buzzed with a controlled urgency. His loyal Gesith and Thanes stood at their posts, awaiting his command. He walked with measured steps, his back straight despite the crushing weight of the crown upon his brow and the unrelenting burden of leadership. All eyes turned to him, their hope and fear of what would happen to Arkthol in those eyes.

  “Lord King,” Lord Hand Wulfrith Ryer Trollshield greeted Tyr with a simple nod as he approached the central holo-table. The holographic display flickered with the positions of countless starships scattered across a vast swath of space. “The hinderling knaves continue to jump to the edge of the system. We’ve managed to keep our quantum drones within range to maintain instant sensor data.”

  “How many?” Tyr asked his Hand, his tone even.

  “Too many of the foul beasts,” Wulfrith growled, her hand gripping the edge of the table hard enough to turn her knuckles white.

  Tyr’s eyes narrowed as the display updated in real time. Tens of thousands of Wergh starships filled the holo-table. Their numbers swelled as reinforcements arrived, as smaller ships launched from massive carriers. The formations spread like a dark tide across the outer system, a light day out from the star. From their position, it would have taken them four days to reach Arkthol. They had not arrived as one. Instead, starships had blinked into existence for days.

  Tyr and his forces had been ready for them. They had spent months preparing. It was only a matter of time before the Wergh responded to their acts of aggression. He had had no choice but to act. The peace treaty had bought them time, but it had been a mistake. He could not allow others to suffer for his mistake. Now, the Wergh were here, ready for battle.

  As soon as they saw the first Wergh starships enter the system, they moved for an intercept. For days they had lumbered into battle positions at twenty percent the speed of light. Now the moment was near them. All the tension of the days before was melting await as he stared at the timer counting down until they reached the enemy fleet. At current deceleration, they were a mere three minutes from positions that would begin the battle, slowing to battle speed.

  “We’ve never faced odds like these,” Wulfrith stated calmly. There was no fear in her voice. No hesitation. Just a calmness that accepted facts as they were.

  Tyr remained silent, his gaze locked on the growing enemy fleet. His voice, when it came, was calm but firm.

  “We’ve never been more prepared. We’re not alone. Allies stand with us, and we fight not just for survival, but for liberation. Mark my words, old friend. This day will be remembered. This galaxy will be freed from the yoke of the Wergh.”

  “A battle worthy of song,” Wulfrith said, but there was no boasting in her voice. She simply acknowledged the scale of the battle.

  “Let us hope it is our children who sing those songs,” Tyr replied.

  He straightened, then began issuing commands. His forces numbered in the thousands of starships. A mighty fleet forged through decades of struggles and determination. Allies from across the Orth galaxy were with them. Yet even their formidable armada paled against the sea of enemies arrayed against them. The Wergh, united under a single tyrant, a strong Alpha, sought nothing less than the annihilation of Arkthol once and for all.

  Starships moved toward one another. They had reached twenty percent the speed of light to reach their position. It was as fast as his starships could reach. Internal dampers could only handle so much strain. Still, it was faster than some of their allies, slower than others, and slower than the Wergh. None of that mattered now. Battle would be fought below ten percent the speed of light. Any faster and targeting systems couldn’t keep up. Shields could recharge as fleets maneuvered back into conflict. Skirmishes might be a dance, but battle, true battles as this was going to be, were slugfests. More in common with ancient ground combat than aerial dog fights.

  “Closing on battle position,” Lord Wulfrith reported. “Two light minutes from enemy forces.”

  Tyr nodded. That left them a light minute from quantum torpedo range. Effective range, that was. Range for their powered drives to maneuver and evade before they burned out after fifteen million kilometers, reaching fifty thousand g. There was no faster torpedo in the arsenal of any warship. Only their interceptors could reach a greater acceleration while maxing their forty percent of the speed of light. Their interceptors held less range, limited to under ten million kilometers.

  At maximum sub light speed, his fleet could travel a light minute in five minutes. It would take them twice that long to reach that range. Not all his allies could match the speed of his starships, and he needed every one of them for his plan to succeed.

  They all knew how next several dozen minutes would play out. Everyone on his flag deck was the veteran of countless battles. The Wergh would shift their forces into place. Both fleets would close to a light minute and open fire with torpedoes. That exchange would continue as they closed. Corvettes, frigates, and destroyers, known as outriders, would launch with starfighters actings as anti torpedo platforms.

  Once warheads were exhausted, and their range closed to within than three hundred kilometers, they would engage with energy-based weapons. As starships destroyed one another, they would continue to close until they were merely thousands of kilometers away, where projectile weapons could be used effectively.

  Before that, both sides would shift. Counter the forces of one another. Launch their outriders, starfighter and other small craft. They were still a twenty minutes away, matching speed with their slowest allies, slowing to battle speed before they reached that line. There was still time for the Wergh to adjust their lines, allow reinforcements to join them from behind as they continued to slowly blink into existence behind their main formation.

  Tyr wouldn’t give the Wergh that much time to arrange their forces into further battle formations. Micro FTL jumps were already plotted, designed to disrupt the enemy’s cohesion before they could fully deploy. The plan had been developed and improved over the course of the days of travel.

  “Give me a channel to the fleet,” Tyr ordered, his voice cutting through the noise of those at their posts. It went quiet. His King’s Guard looked down from their workstations into the sunken middle of the command center where the holo-table sat. Where Tyr stood with Lord Wulfrith, his most important thanes and Gesith.

  “Channel open, Lord King,” his herald confirmed from the communication workstation.

  “All forces. This is King Tyr. Prepare to engage our foes,” Tyr said, his voice carried authority and fire as it broadcast across the fleet. Years it had taken to develop. “We have trained for this. We have planned for this. Today, we fight not just for ourselves, but for the countless worlds suffering under the yoke of Wergh tyranny. We will not allow ourselves to be besieged here. We must inflict such devastation upon our enemies that they can no longer pursue us. Let this be the day their reign of terror ends. Stand fast, and fight like the warrior-devils of old!”

  Acknowledgments echoed across the fleet as his Great-Marshals reported readiness. They all knew how important it was not to get trapped within the star system. If they were besieged, Arkthol could hold out for years. Maybe even decades. The other worlds under their banner would fall, one by one, and in time, so too would Arkthol. As it had before. Only this time, it would never rise again. The Wergh would not allow that to happen a second time.

  He wished they had more time to prepare, but there was none. The Wergh, though commanded by a single Alpha, had their attention divided. Their best were outside the galaxy, inflicting unknown horrors on their kin. They could not wait. They had to act. He had been forced to break the peace. To act before the Wergh could grow stronger. Before their kin were slaughtered and attention once again solely turned within the Orth galaxy. He just hoped he had not acted in haste. That he was not leading his people to their doom.

  “May our Ancestors watch over us.”

  Tyr nodded, and the channel closed.

  “Calabrun,” Tyr turned to the AI avatar of his flagship, the Dawn-Bringer, as its holographic figure materialized, its calm presence a stark contrast to the tension aboard the ship.

  “Yes, Lord King?”

  “Are we ready?”

  “All systems green. Starships have reported their readiness, Lord King,” Calabrun confirmed. “All marshals and their fleets ready.”

  “Then let it begin,” Tyr said. “Attack formation Catapult. All fleets prepare to jump in ten seconds.”

  “All fleets received and acknowledge,” Calabrun said. “Jumping into battle position in 3… 2… 1…”

  Everything blinked out of existence. Micro jumps were dangerous. There were too many objects within a system, even small debris could destroy a starship. Reality bent and blurred as the fleet entered FTL. It was only for a heartbeat. They reappeared a light minute closer to the enemy. Less than a light minute from the Wergh fleet, fifteen million kilometer. Within quantum torpedo range.

  Tyr felt his vision blurred. His stomach flipped, and for a brief moment he fought the urge to vomit. He steadied himself, years of experience allowing him to shake off the nausea and disorientation of the jump. A side effect that affected all. Some worse than others.

  “Contact with the enemy,” Wulfrith reported. “We have engaged the Wergh.”

  Tyr said nothing. He watched the holo-table as information was transformed into holographic images. It was not his place to lead the Dawn-Bringer. That was for its captain. A captain he trusted with his life. He had done his job. Had issued his commands. He had to focus on the bigger picture. Even after all these years, it was still hard. He was a man of action. He wanted to issue orders. Wanted to take direct command, but he held himself in check.

  Millions of quantum torpedoes launched from their starships at the Wergh formations even as more Wergh starships blinked into existence from fresh FTL jumps. Over eight thousand torpedoes came from the Dawn-Bringer alone. The Wergh vanguard moved to react quickly. Torpedo interceptors launched and then came their own quantum torpedoes.

  Tyr watched the massive barrage of quantum torpedoes. Quickly they gained speed, moving faster than his own starships at a fifty thousand gravities. Their powered drive allowed them to reach a hundred and twenty thousand kilometers a second. Maneuvering for fifteen million kilometers before burning out their drives. The first barrage would fall short, relying on inertia to continue their flight. There would be hits, few, but some. The second would bring more. The third even more. Every barrage of torpedoes would allow more hits and interceptors were used up, as ranges closed.

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  His fleets moved after the warheads at battle speed. At that speed, it would take them ten minutes to fully engage the Wergh with energy-based weapons. Enough time to fire all ten torpedo barrages each of his warships was stocked with.

  If they did not remain at battle speed, if they increased acceleration, they could avoid damage. Avoid contact with the Wergh. Both sides would only get a few blows in, most would miss. That would be fine if they were trying to flee. Fine, if they were attempting to harass a foe besieging a world or beat them down over time. They did not have time, and they were not there to flee.

  Sixty seconds after the first launch of torpedoes, a second launch took place. The first wave was still two minutes from target. Their holograms on the holo-table sailing towards the Wergh fleet in a large blob. The Wergh launched their own torpedoes, thirty seconds after his first wave. They came towards his fleet on the holo-table in scattered formations, launched from warships around their formations separately.

  The second launch of torpedoes from the Wergh were more uniform, but still dispersed compared to the launch of his own torpedoes. His warships, his warriors, knew how to fight. They fought as one. They knew strength lay with their coordination. Their timed barrages gave the Wergh too many targets, and little time to calculate for them all while his fleet would have been time to calculation interception courses for the scattered formation on the oncoming torpedoes aimed at his fleet.

  A third and then fourth wave of torpedoes launched from his fleet before the first quantum torpedoes reached the Wergh position. The vastness of space, even at the great speeds of the torpedoes, faster than anything Mann could construct, was still a void of emptiness.

  Tyr watched as the first wave of torpedoes slam into the Wergh fleet. The results came instantly thanks to the hundreds of quantum drones floating around. Explosions filled the space between the two fleets as interceptors took out torpedoes before they could reach their targets. Torpedoes flew off course to slam into decoy drones while others changed course into the void of space, confused by electronic warfare. More torpedoes were brought down by outriders and starfighters. Others by autocannons a mere five thousand kilometers from their starships. A last line of defense on any warship.

  Shields flashed from the close impacts, particles slamming it them. Others flared as some quantum torpedoes go through the defenses to explode against the energy fields projected by all starships. Starships took damage, unlucky to be hit more than once. Small outriders doing when they did, protecting their larger motherships even at the cost of themselves.

  His own fleet launched their countermeasures at the incoming threats. His formations, better arrayed and prepared, fared better, bring down more of the staggered salvo from the Wergh. What torpedoes got through, damaged shields and little else. His larger starships could handle such threat better than the smaller but faster Wergh warships.

  The second barrage of torpedoes slammed in the Wergh formations, a third, fourth and fifth coming behind them. A sixth being prepared to fire. There were more hits, but few starships damaged, but he saw what he needed to see. He saw the Wergh starfighters and outriders in front, charging forward to strike the incoming threats, doing what they were meant to do. They left the mass of Wergh starships, a void emerging between them, and their motherships.

  “Launch Outriders and starfighters,” Tyr commanded.

  From the bellies and hangars of his warships, hundreds of thousands of smaller craft emerged, Light Frigates, Heavy Frigates, destroyers, and millions of starfighters. They were freed from the cooldown limitations of larger starship jump drives. They surged forward, their mission clear, shield the warships and inflict maximum damage.

  His outriders acted as a screen, aiding the torpedo defense. More than that, the smaller starships, with their smaller crews, had a simple goal. Keep the warships alive long enough to do their job. It was a cold reality of war that they, like starfighters were designed to die, so warships could survive. Those losses could be replaced far quicker than any warship.

  Tyr watched as the middle of the two formations filled with millions of projectiles as another barrage of torpedoes was launched. Then he saw the gap. The formation of the shifting starships created a gap in the damping field. A gap caused by damaged starships. The gap he had been waiting for.

  Every starship had a damping field, fields that prevented micro jumps within close range of them. Such fields also prevented starships from escaping to an FTL jump. No starship could jump within a damping field. It just wasn’t possible. Tyr had learned from the Skanes in his own galaxy, though. Starships couldn’t jump within them, but starfighters could. They were small enough that they could squeeze through the cracks in the field. It just took mad warriors willing to risk life for death to perform such an action.

  “All starfighter,” Tyr said, his voice cold. His command would condemn millions to their death. “Jump. Attack run Shield Breaker.”

  There was no acknowledgment. As one, millions of starfighters vanished from the holo-table. Their smaller frame enabling them to bypass the Wergh’s damping fields. They reappeared an instant later in the heart of the Wergh formation, swarming like a furious hive. The starfighter split into small formations, too many to keep track of. Half targeted the enemy starfighters left as a rearguard while the others went down on the nearest starships, getting in close and dancing along the hull several kilometers off and unleashing relentless fire and plasma torpedoes at close range.

  Tyr watched as chaos engulfed the enemy fleet. He was all too aware of how many he had sent to their death. Small blips of explosions appeared across the enemy formation. Explosions of warheads against shields. Impacts on armor plating and sub systems being destroyed. Starships being brought down by the combined fire and his pilots, dying by the hundreds. Every time a blip disappeared from the holo-table, it wasn’t a starfighter, it was a unit of starfighters.

  “The galaxy will remember this day,” Tyr said firmly, his hands clenched behind his back. He was no pilot, but part of him hated himself for not being there with his warriors.

  Starfighters on both sides exploded in dazzling bursts of light, but the Wergh starfighters were outnumbered, their numbers thinned by the advance to strike against the incoming torpedoes. The true danger was to the Wergh warships. Thousands of tiny starfighters swarmed them like a plague, overwhelming their defenses. The Wergh retaliated with countermeasures, firing autocannons and beam cannons designed to target the nimble craft. Yet, the chaos of battle bred its own hazards. Each missed shot often struck nearby friendly ships in the densely packed formation. The results were devastating: shields crumbled, hulls ruptured, and warships detonated in fiery blooms.

  On the holo-table, Tyr watched as the carnage unfolded. Losses were reported in real time thanks to their quantum drones. Wergh starships were falling, but so were his own fighters, by the dozens and hundreds. Yet they achieved their purpose, allowing more quantum torpedoes to slip into their ranks and crash into the large warships. They soften the enemy’s defenses for the next stage of the assault.

  The Wergh damping field began to wavier as starships took damage. Pockets formed in the midsts of the enemy formation. It was a few at first, then there were more. They grew larger as starships took damage to vital systems or were forced to transfer power, weakening the range and power of the field. His outriders were close to contact with the Wergh outriders and starfighters out in front of their fleet. Then the pockets in the damping field emerged large enough.

  “Outriders,” Tyr said, his voice calm, but blood hot with the thrill of battle. “Launch micro jump. Attack run Shield Bash.”

  The outriders jumped to FTL before contact with the oncoming Wergh forces. An instant later, they reappeared in the Wergh main formation. Energy weapons slashed out without care from all angles. Projectiles launched from mass drives, railguns and autocannons. Torpedoes no longer launched in barrages. Whatever tubes were loaded fired, and they fired at such range that they found their targets almost instantly.

  His outriders took damage. Surrounded by larger starships, many fell to fire from multiple warships. They didn’t long stay within the formation. Their speed propelled them forward through the Wergh ranks. Several starships collided, others maneuvered to avoid the threats to reach the rear of the Wergh formation, where they could harness them from behind and jump on the Wergh starships as they blinked in one by one.

  There wasn’t much time for Tyr to watch the outriders or starfighters. They continued their hull dancing, inflicting damage. The Wergh outriders, committed, came at his main formation. The smaller starships and starfighters engaged his fleet. Energy weapons fired on them, and they fell by the dozens from combined fire.

  Few Wergh outriders and starfighters reached his starships. Those that did were quickly fallen upon by his reserve starfighters, light starfighters without micro jump drives. They fell quickly. Hundreds of corvettes, frigates, and destroyers fell. Thousands of starfighters in seconds. Millions of Wergh perished. Few escape pods launched. All while torpedoes continued to launch from his starships.

  Then the left flank of Tyr’s formation smashed into the Wergh line with brutal efficiency. Thousands of warships traded blows, their shields collapsing under sustained fire as armor plating was shredded and hulls vaporized in explosive eruptions. For every one of Tyr’s warships lost, three Wergh ships were obliterated.

  It wasn’t enough. On average, the Wergh starships were smaller. There were more of them. The Wergh attacked in massive formations, relying on sheer numbers over quality. One on one, his starships were better. It had been proven in countless engagements over too many years. Their losses, however, like the outriders and starfighters, could be replaced quicker.

  Starships came within range for beam cannons, plasma cannons, and then lance cannons to add their fire to the fray with deadly accuracy. Closer and they could add their mass drivers and railguns to the fray. At that range, there would be little time to avoid fire. It would be a slugfest. Torpedo tubes would continue to fire, and they would be too close for interceptors to do their job.

  Then the right flank engaged, followed by the center, where Tyr commanded from the Dawn-Bringer. The battle devolved into a chaotic melee as millions perished in the void of space on the outskirts of Arkthol. Every starship destroyed was thousands of dead. Some starships carried tens of thousands. On the Dawn-Bringer, over two hundred thousand served, a quarter of them on starfighters and outriders that no longer existed.

  Escape pods occasionally launched, but few survived the maelstrom, destroyed by debris or stray fire before they could reach safety. He had to fight to take his eyes off those losses. To issue orders to his fleet commanders.

  “The flanks are being pushed back,” Lord Wulfrith reported, her voice calm despite the grim news.

  Tyr studied the holo-table, frowning as he saw the Wergh reinforcing their lines. Fresh FTL signatures appeared in scattered formations. A trickle of starships joining the battle. His center pushed forward, but his flanks struggled to hold.

  His starships, though still pushing forward, had long since slowed to what was considered a crawl in space. They plowed forward, but their speed was reduced greatly to allow for weapon systems to target their foes. For both sides to trade fire with one another. Both sides were getting pounded. His front lines, as damage was inflicted on them, slowed, allowing undamaged starships to take their place before they could be destroyed.

  “Keep up the pressure,” Tyr ordered, his tone resolute.

  “Lord King,” Wulfrith said, her voice quieter now, laced with a rare hint of emotion. “The Frost-Star is taking heavy damage.”

  Tyr’s eyes narrowed as he found the starship on the display. Warning indicators flashed red and yellow around its representation. His jaw tightened.

  “It’s not falling back,” he said, his breath growing heavy.

  “She’s like her father,” Wulfrith murmured.

  “Get me a channel to the Frost-Star,” Tyr demanded of his Herald.

  “Channel open,” his Herald confirmed.

  “Valfreyja,” Tyr said, his voice taut. “Pull your fleet back.”

  “Father,” came the reply, sharp and defiant. “If we retreat, the left flank will collapse. We are barely keeping them from getting withing out ranks.”

  “I am your king, not your father!” Tyr snapped, anger seeping into his tone. “Fall back now. The Tortar Fleet will cover your retreat. Your ships are needed elsewhere, return to Arkthol for repairs and rearmament. If this battle turns, we’ll need every starship to save what we can.”

  A tense pause lingered before Valfreyja answered, her voice cold.

  “Yes… my king. Ninth Great-Fleet withdrawing to rearm.”

  Tyr watched as the formations shifted, the battered Ninth Great-Fleet withdrawing to be replaced by the fresher Tortar Fleet. The Tortars with their more powerful shields and hulls, absorbed impacts, protecting the withdrawing starships.

  There was no reserve. Their reserve was the damaged warships which fell back. Yet, the flanks continued to falter under relentless pressure. He clenched his fists, slamming them onto the holo-table.

  “We must push the center,” he declared.

  “Lord King,” Wulfrith uttered, her tone measured but firm. “If we push too far, we risk encirclement.”

  “We must break their line,” Tyr countered, his voice rising. “Create a hole for our forces to exploit. Make them fear attacks coming from their sides and rear once we are within their formation. If we hesitate, we lose everything.”

  “It’s a gamble…,” Wulfrith nodded reluctantly. “We haven’t come this far to falter now.”

  Tyr felt a rare flicker of gratitude for his Hand. Though she should have been commanding her own fleet, there was no one else he trusted more at his side.

  “This is King Tyr,” he announced, pressing a control on the holo-table. “To all Arkthol forces in the center. We push!. The Dawn-Bringer will lead the charge. Full speed. Clear a path and force destruction on our foes!”

  The famed ghost ship surged forward, spearheading the assault. Thousands of supporting warships moved with it, weapons blazing. Lance beams sliced through starships, mass drivers punctured armor with deadly precision, and plasma cannons unleashed orbs of searing energy. The Dawn-Bringer forged a fiery breach in the Wergh line, its legendary reputation well earned. Wergh starships erupted in explosions.

  But legends came at a price. As the Dawn-Bringer pressed deeper, the Wergh concentrated their fire, battering its shields and piercing its armor on the massive starship. There was no bigger target in his entire fleet. No larger starship ever constructed in this galaxy or his own. Tyr’s stomach tightened as he watched his flagship endure blow after blow. Shields fell here and there. Blasts damaged the armored hull plating.

  The Dawn-Bringer rocked violently under the assault, but its escort ships swarmed to its defense, intercepting incoming fire at the cost of their own lives. One by one, they fell, leaving trails of destruction and debris in their wake. Yet the breach widened, and the Wergh formation fractured. His thanes and marshals, on their own flagships, exploited the breach.

  Tyr allowed himself a grim smile, adrenaline coursing through him. This was the thrill of battle, the high of victory against impossible odds. The blood lust that made them warriors. Feeling that only those who had fell foes beneath their rifles, quantum-blades or fist had known. It made him feel alive, like nothing else in all the galaxy could.

  “Prepare to…” Tyr’s command was cut off by a sudden alarm.

  “Sensors detecting FTL signatures,” Calabrun reported. “New starships emerging from FTL.”

  Tyr’s heart sank as fresh enemy signals appeared on the holo-table, first a few, then dozens, then hundreds. The Wergh had sprung their trap. A reserve force hidden outside range of their quantum drones and he had not seen the scouts jump away to inform them the time to strike was there. They kept coming and hope within him crushed. A lifetime to end like this. He always thought he would die in battle, but not like this. Not in failure.

  “Those ships…” Wulfrith murmured, her voice uncharacteristically hesitant. “They almost look… Dralan.”