Evan Currie - Heirs of Empire

Where did they assemble a force this powerful? My spies should have seen them gathering.

To Corian’s experienced eye, it most likely meant his intelligence service had been compromised from the start.

The fight was far from decided, though, no matter how the initial reports fell. The air-defense line was going to be taken, that was a given, but the city walls were still a formidable barrier, and the loyalists were on the wrong side of them to make much difference. Also, he had nearly a parity of forces, with two legions of his own in the field.

If he still had control of the Caleb Bar , there wouldn’t even be a question of the outcome.

Delsol had put an end to that, however, and he knew that even if he could spare the forces to retake the ship, it was still out of this fight.

“Direct the Thirtieth to engage the ground forces at the air-defense line,” he ordered. “The Ninety-Eighth is to maintain their position within the walls and provide artillery support.”

“Orders dispatched, sire.”

It would not be a siege, of that he was certain. Neither he, nor the rebels, were in a position to prolong this battle. The rebels were limited by their numbers and supplies. Two legions was a formidable force, and their air support was quite possibly unmatched, but they would run low of consumables in short order without a vastly larger supply train.

As for himself, well, the city had too large a population to bunker down for siege. They had, perhaps, a week’s provisions, but more importantly the political implications were potentially far more deadly than the legions he was facing. If certain members of the Senate got word of him and his forces being pinned down …

The results of that were quite simply unacceptable.

So both sides had cast their die, and the entire game was riding on the outcome of the roll.

Corian grinned slowly, showing teeth to several frightened aides who abruptly shifted to give him more room.

Whoever you are, you planned this one out nicely. However, let us see if you didn’t underestimate the force you would need to succeed.

“Kill those alarms,” Mira ordered. “Anyone who’s going to listen has already jumped ship.”

“Aye, skipper.”

She checked the status of her team. “Any signs of further resistance?”

“No, ma’am. Most of the resistance ended shortly after the abandon-ship order went out,” her comm man said. “I think the ship is ours.”

“I hope you’re right,” Mira said, walking around the command deck and snorting in amusement at the rather ostentatious “throne” that occupied the center deck. “Edvard, you pompous ass.”

“Skipper?”

“Nothing.” Mira sighed, shaking her head as she tried very hard not to laugh at the high-backed command chair. “Secure the ship, set a roving guard. I want anyone left on board hunted down and secured .”

“Aye, skipper!”

Taking the ship had been easier than she’d anticipated, likely because no one expected anyone to try something so brazen. Unfortunately she only had a prize crew with minimal training in the ship’s systems and barely enough to man the conventional flight systems. Taking the Caleb into battle wasn’t on the docket.

“Step!”

“Ma’am!” Jace Steppard answered, appearing from across the deck.

“The Caleb Bar is yours,” she ordered, checking her weapons. “Rendezvous with the Andros and take Gaston on board as quickly as you can.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Jace answered, slightly puzzled. “Might I ask what you’ll be doing in the meantime?”

She smiled tightly at him. “His Imperial Highness and I have some unfinished business.”

“Skipper, I …”

“You have your orders,” Mira said firmly. “This ship could turn the tide against the empress. See to it that it does not .”

“You got it, skipper.”

Mira nodded curtly and left the bridge as Jace turned about.

“You heard the lady!” she heard him bellow. “Stand by to rig for sail!”

The Pillar of Miogaro held back from the line of battle, riding the second-layer winds as slowly as she could perpendicular to the fighting as the officers on board watched the chaos.

Almost a third of the loyalist ships had gone down, not counting the transports, most due to tangled sail lines. The crews would mostly have survived those impacts, but they were out of this fight for the duration.

The good news, such as it was, was that each of those downed ships had brought down at least one of Corian’s ships right along with them. Since the loyalists had the current numbers edge in fighting ships, that was better than it might be, but it still wasn’t good.

Their fighting exchange was a little better, though not by as much as William and Kennissey would have preferred. They’d hoped to get close enough to hammer a few of Corian’s cruisers before they got aloft, but that hadn’t happened. Still, they had been able to get in a few licks while the enemy cruisers were climbing and rigging for battle.

Now the war of maneuvering was over, and tactical combat was the rule of the day.

There were bursts of close, fast, and furious fighting, but then it would devolve into long turns where ship captains gave their foes enough space to ensure that they didn’t tangle their sail lines as they lined up the next pass.

Baron Kennissey was using those lulls to move his remaining fleet over the capital, a maneuver that was literally being won by inches.

A roar went up among the crew suddenly, causing the officers to twist and look to see what had happened. What they saw was the black metal cruiser in the distance begin to move, and for a moment William had to admit that he felt a stab of terror that Delsol had failed.

Then he spotted the black banner of crossed weapons flying behind her as the Caleb Bar withdrew from battle under sail.

She did it. Burning skies, she did it.

“The Cadrewoman has done her part,” Kennissey said, pleased. “Let us complete ours.”

William nodded, wishing that he could be in the middle of the fighting where he’d be most effective. However, with Lydia here, his place was decided and etched in stone.

“Mira,” Lydia whispered, smiling with genuine pleasure as she watched the Caleb Bar climbing as she turned, heading off to the south, “thank you.”

As the Caleb Bar began to move, Mira strode out on deck and activated her armor without breaking stride. She reached the rail and simply planted one foot on the second rung, then threw herself over.

The city below spun for a moment as she spread out her limbs, balancing her fall, and then looked around for a good landing zone. She found what she was looking for within the palace perimeter—the skimmer field on the secure section of the roof—and angled her fall in that direction.

Unlike her earlier jump, this time the rush of air barely had time to build before she activated her projected wings and swooped in a low arc. There were guards on the rooftop, but they were watching the plasma trace lighting up the skies around the battle and never even looked up as she killed her wings ten yards off the skimmer field and swooped to the surface, dropping to one knee and planting a hand to absorb the force of the landing.

The sound of her impact got their attention, but Mira was already rising to her feet as they went for their carbines.

Her lase blaster cleared the photon shield of her armor a full second before the fastest of the guards could have gotten his gamma carbine on target. The blaster barked three times, one for each guard, and then Mira slid it back home as she walked toward the rooftop access to the palace.