Юн Ли - Raven Stratagem

They had only another six minutes of shield protection left. Khiruev had set up new waypoints and handed them over to Janaia and Navigation. “Communications,” she said, “get me Commander Gherion.” Tactical Group Two.

Gherion responded immediately. “Sir,” he said, unable to hide his worry.

I don’t know what the fox is up to, either, Khiruev thought. There was no point offering an explanation she didn’t have; it wasn’t her place. “Commander,” she said, “I’m detaching Tactical Two. I’ve tagged the moths Hafn Swarm Two appears to be guarding. Your job is to put pressure on them, including shooting them to cinders if you can get through. I believe the tagged units are auxiliaries, but your approach will undoubtedly bring you under heavy fire. Take whatever measures you deem necessary and don’t concern yourself with the rest of our swarm until I recall you.”

Gherion saluted. “Naturally, sir.”

“Go to it,” Khiruev said, coldly aware that if there were any ugly surprises out there, Tactical Two would run into them first. But someone always had to go in first.

“Sir,” Weapons said, “shields going down in three minutes.” Indeed, the shields’ decay was manifesting as a lace of silver-blue light, like fractures in a hollow ellipsoid containing the swarm.

The Hafn had not been idle. Scan was reporting a storm of incoming kinetics, which blistered the shields at the points of impact. Slugs of dead metal hammered themselves into hot coins, ricocheted. Hafn Swarm Two’s configuration had, if anything, flattened. Khiruev wasn’t sure what that meant, nor did Doctrine have anything for her.

Khiruev said, “All tactical groups”—Gherion would know this excluded him—“reform into Mountains Never Whisper. Time the modulation to allow Tactical Two to pass through.”

Tactical Two was breaking formation. The rest of the Kel moths were maneuvering to reposition themselves in compensation. Judging from the pyramidal leading element, Khiruev guessed that Gherion was going to use Winter’s Eyes to punch his way into the enemy.

“Our turn,” Khiruev said.

“Over or under, sir?” Janaia asked.

A trap either way, but she couldn’t go in head-on. She’d run the calculations. That Hafn rupture attack would spit them if they did it that way.

“Under,” Khiruev said. More waypoints. Janaia suggested an adjustment. She accepted it.

Hafn Swarm Two reacted with dismaying alacrity when they saw the cindermoth angling itself down in relation to the plane of their own movement. The Hafn moths performed a beautiful maneuver, splitting diagonally to either side in two lattices, each headed by a projecting spike. If you drew rays from the two spikes, they would intersect at a point just ahead of the Hierarchy of Feasts.

“Cancel!” Khiruev said. “Wheel the swarm—” She didn’t have time to work out exact coordinates. Instead, she traced out the curve on tactical. Janaia translated this into the necessary evasive maneuver. The moth commanders’ acknowledgment lights flickered on the panel. “Doctrine,” she added, “hurry up and stab some equations until they tell us what that thing does.”

Doctrine had a harried look. “Yes, sir,” she said without looking up from her terminal.

Tactical Two had peeled away safely. Khiruev wished them well, but she had more immediate concerns.

Hafn Swarm One was practically breathing down Minang Tower’s neck. Scan confirmed that the tower had ignited its shields. The issue was not the shields’ fuel source but the fact that they would decay rapidly under any sustained barrage. A small note on one of Khiruev’s subdisplays informed her that Minang Tower was continuing to forward its scan observations, not that it had a whole lot to add about the current situation. The tower’s magistrate had not called for assistance, but this was consistent with her earlier behavior. Khiruev appreciated that she wasn’t making a distraction of herself in the middle of a battle. Khiruev didn’t think Minang was in serious danger anyway. Hafn One was going to swipe at them in passing, a last attempt to draw the Kel away from Hafn Two, then give it up and move in for real.

The Kel were partway through the wheel when Khiruev had the sudden rattling intuition that she’d done exactly as the Hafn general desired. She was just as convinced that she didn’t want to stay where the spikes were pointed. That was the proper way to pin an opponent anyway, with equally terrible options.

Later, when she reviewed the combat logs, she figured out that she hadn’t realized that the trap had snapped shut until nine seconds afterward.

“Formation break,” Scan said sharply, while Communications reported the same alert from the commanders of Tactical Three and Tactical Five.

Khiruev knew that from the sudden disintegration of the formation’s protection. Doctrine was saying something after the fact. Moot point.

“Following units are not responding to orders—” Communications, with the list. Khiruev checked it for numbers. Fourteen bannermoths were now lit up on the tactical display, marked with the crashhawk glyph. She’d never seen so many of them at once, even in a training exercise.

It would have been one thing if the Hafn attack had knocked those moths out and the interface had glitched the representation. But those moths had rolled and were now flying directly toward the Hierarchy of Feasts . Moreover, the crashhawks had organized themselves into what resembled a Hafn configuration, not a Kel formation.

“All moths,” Khiruev said, forwarding the list Communications had handed her. “The following units are to be regarded as hostiles. Tactical Five, prioritize their destruction.” They were now down to a skeleton formation. Any more losses and she’d have to step down to a formation with a smaller number of keys. “Other units assist as opportunity permits.”

Tactical Five interposed itself between the crashhawks and the command moth, and opened fire.

Considering how bad it was to have fourteen Kel commanders go rogue on you (irony aside), Khiruev felt dreadfully calm. It wasn’t fair. She was dying anyway. It was one thing for her to be unperturbed, but she should at least have some reaction on the swarm’s behalf.

Khiruev’s attention was caught by Janaia’s hands clenching and unclenching, by the rigid way she held her head. Khiruev would not have expected it of her. Usually Janaia was hard to rattle. “Commander,” Khiruev said quietly, and when she didn’t respond, “ Commander. ”

Janaia wouldn’t meet Khiruev’s eyes. “What if they can do it again, sir?” The edge of panic in her voice was unmistakable.

Khiruev barely escaped hissing an oath through her teeth. Everyone was thinking it, and the question of how to avoid another such hit was important, but that was no reason to speak your fear out loud. Janaia should know better. Even a common soldier should know better. Of all the fucking times for the cindermoth’s commander to have a fucking breakdown.

“Pull yourself together, Commander,” Khiruev said. If Janaia could be calmed quickly—

“Sir,” she said, her voice rising in pitch, “they’re coming after us again, none of us are safe —”

No luck. Khiruev’s fault for misgauging her: always proper, always the perfect Kel, of course she’d be the most vulnerable to a breakdown. “Commander Janaia,” Khiruev said, willing Janaia to meet her eyes even though she needed to be watching the scan and tactical readouts, “you are relieved of duty. Colonel Muris, you have command for the duration.”

For a suspended second, Khiruev was afraid that Janaia would freeze and that she’d have to have someone escort her out of the command center. Then Janaia rose, saluted, and walked out, her face white.