The Lost Fleet Beyond the Frontier Invincible

The human battleships opened up with their hell lances in a staggered series of volleys that slashed through the remnants of the shields on the superbattleship, then into the armor and every place where weapons had been detected. The bear-cow shields collapsed completely, the superbattleship’s hull itself now glowing with the heat of the hell-lance beams slamming into it.

Amazingly, the surviving Kicks kept firing, pumping out shots from every weapon still working in a frantic attempt to repel the human attack.

“Wow,” Desjani breathed.

“It’s an astounding amount of firepower aimed at one target,” Geary agreed.

“I was thinking of the fact that the target is still there and still fighting in the face of that firepower,” Desjani said. In her voice, there was grudging respect for the enemy standing firm against those odds.

The fire from the superbattleship fell off rapidly, becoming erratic, then finally ceasing as the human assault picked off every weapon almost as fast as it fired. The human barrage continued for another several seconds, then also halted except for a final vindictive volley from Dreadnaught as she, Orion, Superb, and Splendid closed in with the other human battleships.

Captain Armus appeared before Geary again, looking satisfied but not jubilant. Geary suspected that Armus had never worn a jubilant expression. “The external defenses of the alien warship have been reduced,” he reported.

“Very well. Excellent job, Captain Armus. Keep your battleships in position, ready to engage any attempts to fire on the Marine landing force. Take out anything that fires as soon as it opens up.”

Armus nodded in measured approval of his orders, saluted once more, then his image disappeared.

“General Carabali,” Geary ordered, “you may begin your attack.”

The four assault transports broke free from the mass of the fleet, Tsunami and Typhoon approaching one side of the still-slowly-revolving superbattleship and Haboob and Mistral coming in on the opposite side, the transports matching the rotation of the alien warship so that all five ships moved together like partners in a stately dance.

“Why is Carabali splitting her forces?” Desjani asked. “Isn’t that a bad idea when we don’t know much about what’s inside that Kick can?”

“It’s partly because we don’t have deck plans,” Geary explained. “Carabali didn’t want to run into bottlenecks, places where she couldn’t funnel too many Marines through too small an area. By coming in from opposite sides, she helps prevent that from happening.”

General Charban had come onto the bridge unnoticed, taking a break from the ongoing efforts at communication with the spider-wolves. His eyes were shadowed with fatigue as well as emotion and memories as he watched the Marine assault begin. “Isn’t she also complicating the enemy defense by hitting them in more than one place?” Charban asked.

“Yes. That was the other reason.” Geary had wondered whether to let Charban, himself a retired ground-forces officer, look at Carabali’s plan for any problem areas but had decided against that. It wasn’t simply because he needed Charban to remain focused on the struggle to communicate. Marine operations had some significant differences from ground-forces assaults, and Charban wasn’t with the fleet in a military capacity. No good could come of blurring lines of responsibility.

Though, Geary thought, no matter whom else he consulted, responsibility ultimately lay with him.

“You have three thousand Marines with this fleet?” Charban asked. “How many are being utilized in this operation?”

“The first waves will use two thousand,” Geary replied. “A thousand on each side. General Carabali is holding five hundred in reserve, and we’ve got a final five hundred available on the major warships to reinforce the attack if that proves necessary.”

“Two thousand,” Charban repeated. “Against how many alien warriors? We will soon learn the answer to the age-old question of how many bear-cows a single Marine is equal to.”

Geary fought down a laugh, recognizing a ground-forces soldier’s crack at the legendary pride of Fleet Marines, who considered themselves the equal of any number of any other kind of combatant.

Desjani did laugh, turning to smile at Charban. She hadn’t liked him, hadn’t cared for his reluctance to use force when she thought it obviously necessary, but she did like people who could joke in the face of apprehension.

Flocks of landing shuttles burst from the assault transports, lining up and heading for the superbattleship like eagles swooping to a strike.

Here and there, shots from particle beams or lasers suddenly erupted from the battleship, weapons that had ceased fire before being destroyed or which had lain dormant until now, trying to tear up the oncoming ranks of shuttles.