Three Square Meals Ch. 134

***

Kaelotegh gaped at the Kintark fleets in disbelief, appalled that he'd fallen prey to such a simplistic ambush, the likes of which a novice Wave-Squire would have easily avoided. Shaking off his shock and humiliation at being made to look like a fool yet again, he began punching commands into the fleet interface.

"Turn us about!" the Shoal Master bellowed at his stunned crew. "The heavy carriers will weather the storm and we can hit the Kintark in the flank. We'll finally have our vengeance!"

They began to respond to his orders, cutting power to the engines as retro-thrusters flared across the bow on the starboard side, pushing the flagship into as fast a turn as possible. The Retribution from the Depths slowly yawed about, the rest of the ships in the fleet copying the manoeuvre with varying degrees of alacrity.

"By the depths!" Shoal-Commander Libtegh suddenly exclaimed in horror. "They just knocked out the carriers' shields!"

Looking up from his frantic issuing of commands to the fleet, Kaelotegh frowned at the interruption. With those heavy carriers being targeted by so many Kintark warships, one of them was bound to lose its shields if the entire fleet focused their fire at it.

"Which one?" he muttered in irritation.

Libtegh pointed a trembling hand at the group of stricken capital ships. "All of them!"

"Impossible," Kaelotegh snorted, searching for the bulbous shape of the heavy carriers on the System Map.

The sight of all eight capital ships... amongst the largest vessels in the armada... all with deactivated shields shook him to the core. What's more, the synced status data provided by the heavy carriers was not being updated, the information feed having gone as dark as the blacked-out windows along the length of their colossal hulls. He knew at a glance that those ships had lost all power.

Staring at the unresponsive hulks in open-mouthed horror, he blurted out, "How?!"

"A wave of missiles..." Libtegh faltered, as if doubting his own eyes. "I thought they were plasma missiles at first... but they just shut down everything!"

As they looked on in dread, the massed firepower of the entire Kintark warfleet opened up on the defenceless heavy carriers. Green plasma bolts rocketed across the gap between the two forces, before slamming into their hulls. The flux field holding the plasma together lost its cohesion over longer distances, but that didn't make the broadside any less terrifying. The port flanks of all eight Brimorian vessels seemed to erupt in a fel-green conflagration, billowing plasma fire exploding all over the hull.

The Kintark were advancing on the marooned heavy carriers at full speed and they continued pouring deadly fusillades into the helpless ships as they closed the distance. The exploding plasma blasted bigger craters out of the blue and purple armour plating, the plasma fires burning bright hot as the damage intensified. By the time the Brimorian armada had executed an about-face, the carrier force was a seething inferno of plasma fire, the deadly flames raging out of control.

One of the carriers continued deploying its fighters, but the strike craft left the launch tubes ablaze, spinning out of control before exploding seconds after emerging. Some of the carrier crews made it to escape pods, but cascading plasma leaked over the jettisoning craft, roasting the Brimorians alive as they tried to flee. The horrifying scenes reached their dreadful climax as the lead heavy carrier was ripped apart by a climactic explosion, the fiery maelstrom igniting torpedoes in the ship's magazine.

Libtegh couldn't tear his eyes from the appalling disaster unfolding on the holo-map, one Brimorian carrier after another blown apart or incinerated by plasma firestorms.

"All our bombers... gone. A hundred-thousand dead..." he whispered, his mind unable to comprehend the scale of the carnage.

Shoal Master Kaelotegh tried to drum his claws on the console, but his hand was shaking too badly and didn't respond. He feebly thumped the surface a few times, his index finger tapping out a frenzied beat.

Libtegh whirled around to face the Shoal Master, fury raging in his black eyes. "This is all your fault! You led us headlong into a slaughter and failed us every single time! I'm relieving you of command, Kaelotegh! The Deep Pool will have your head for this disaster!"

He didn't expect Kaelotegh's feral shriek of rage or the Shoal Master lunging for him, the sudden burst of adrenalin overcoming frayed nerves. They toppled over with the leader of the armada landing on top of his startled underling, the two locked together in mortal combat. Raking his claws across Libtegh's face, Kaelotegh slashed the shoal-commander's eyes, followed an instant later by a scream of agony. With Libtegh distracted by trying to protect his eyes from further attack, the Shoal Master was able to wrap his hands around the smaller Brimorians throat, closing off his opponent's gills.

"Die... traitor..." he snarled, squeezing with all his might.

Libtegh's struggles grew weaker as he flailed at Kaelotegh, hitting with feeble punches that didn't even bother his opponent. Black eyes bulged in a grotesque expression of terror, the spark of life there slowly snuffed from his body. With a horrid wheeze, he breathed his last, his body twitching spasmodically before going still.

Kaelotegh wiped the blood from his face, then staggered upright on shaking legs. "Set course for Kinta," he growled, a rattling burble to his scratchy voice.

The frightened bridge crew jumped to follow his orders, not wanting to share Libtegh's fate.

Slumping back in his command chair, Kaelotegh activated the fleet interface and set a new nav-point in orbit above the Kintark homeworld. He turned to smirk at his arch-rival aboard the Battlecarrier Breklan'tohok, a disturbing glint of madness in his eyes. There was no way that the Shoal Master was going to chase after the Kintark again and risk being led on a merry chase through an asteroid belt.

"Now it's my turn..." he chortled, leaning forward with anticipation. "Time to lure you into my net..."

***

Zorlin stood on the Command platform with his hands crossed behind his back. He tried to watch dispassionately as the entire heavy carrier group was engulfed in a plasma storm, but it was always unsettling to watch a once-mighty ship reduced to a funeral pyre. One-by-one the Brimorian capital ships succumbed to the raging plasma fires, all life extinguished while the flames continued to burn.

Turning his attention to the Brimorian armada, he expected to see them rushing to engage his forces, in an attempt to stop him retreating into the asteroid belt. It therefore came as a surprise to see that the remaining three fleets had continued their turn, rather than moving to intercept him. For a brief elated moment, he thought the Brimorians had seen enough death for one day and were retreating from the system. Unfortunately, Zorlin's hopes were dashed as the Enclave ships were now flying directly towards his homeworld.

There were no significant strategic assets based on Kinta, which meant that the Brimorians had another purpose in mind for visiting the homeworld... a very dark purpose. Zorlin could guess what that were planning and shook his head, appalled that they would stoop to such despicable actions. He watched the enemy ships, torn with indecision as he tried to decide the best course of action. His duty was to protect the Empire... but if the last two Kintark fleets were destroyed, there'd be nothing left to protect the Empire with.

With one last grimace of resignation, the High Prelate realised he couldn't just stand by as the Brimorians ravaged the Imperial capital.

"Ssset courssse to intercept the invadersss," he called out to the Bridge Pit. "We are Kinta'sss lassst line of defence againssst the Brimorian menace!"

***

John watched the Battle of Kinta unfolding on the Sector Map, the Brimorian and Kintark forces shifting position as they each attempted to outmanoeuvre the enemy. The Kintark victory against the carrier group had filled him with hope, which was quickly dashed as the Brimorians made a beeline for the Imperial homeworld. He was immediately reminded of the Terran Federation bombardment at Galon Prime and the horrific death toll inflicted on civilians in that atrocity.

He wasn't alone in realising what the Brimorians were planning and Calara sprang up to stare aghast at the holographic map. "No! What are you doing?! That doesn't make any tactical sense!"

Alyssa quietly slipped off John's lap and moved aside, letting him rise to stand beside the distraught Latina. All they could do was watch helplessly as the Brimorian forces descended to low orbit around the thriving Kintark capital and commenced firing on cities teeming with civilians. Yellow bursts of light illuminated the planet's surface, as particle beams slashed down to demolish skyscrapers and inflict widespread devastation.

"Why would they do that? There's no reason... those civilians aren't any kind of threat," Calara said plaintively, her brown eyes filled with deep sadness. She froze and looked up at John with shock. "Oh no! This is all my fault!"

"You're not responsible for any of this, honey," John said, rubbing the brunette's back to soothe her.

Calara shook her head. "I am! The Brimorians are only bombarding those cities to provoke the Kintark into fighting an open battle! I must've pushed them too far with all my traps!"

She turned back to the holographic depiction of Kinta and zoomed into the world. The Brimorians were laying waste to every metropolis on the planet, inflicting untold misery on the civilians. The distressing scenes triggered another flashback for John, as he remembered watching Terran cities burn at the orders of Fleet Admiral Sutton. He glanced at Calara, seeing her beautiful face shadowed with grief and guilt... feelings he remembered all too well.

"You're not to blame for this," John insisted firmly, gesturing towards the map. "You hit the Brimorians with everything you could to slow them down and cripple their fleets. You did everything I asked of you. If anyone's responsible... it's me."

Calara turned to face him, her face shadowed with remorse. "You weren't to know that the Brimorians would snap like that... but it's my job to anticipate what the enemy is going to do. All those people are dying because I failed!"

He shook his head, grim resignation in his eyes. "The truth is... you never should've been forced to try to delay the Brimorians in the first place. We should have been able to use a Wormhole Generator to jump directly in front of the invasion Armada and destroy them all before they could fire a shot at Kinta."

"You can't blame yourself for that," Calara protested. "I know exactly why you gave Rahn'hagon the dreadnought and told him to leave. Your father tried to kill you, then your mother begged for his life... what other choice did you have? Besides, now we know how Progenitors make the black metal, I never want to step foot in another one of those awful ships again!"

"I don't mean using Larn'kelnar's dreadnought. I had the schematics for the Wormhole Generator up here the whole time," John said, tapping his temple. "Everything I needed to know about Progenitors and their technology has just been sitting there waiting for me... I should have confronted my guide months ago and taken what was rightfully mine."

Calara exchanged a worried glance with Alyssa.

The blonde stepped forward to interlace her fingers with his. "You weren't ready back then, John. We talked about this... you wanted to find out what happened to your parents first."

John grimaced, his expression darkening. "We all know how well that worked out."

"You're not responsible for this," Alyssa insisted, gesturing towards the besieged planet. "All the wars we've been dragged into... it was Larn'kelnar that started them."

"Yeah... but if we had access to all the Progenitor tech, we could've shut these conflicts down before they turned into a bloodbath. Millions of people have died because we've been fighting with one hand tied behind our back. I need to unlock that knowledge... before anyone else loses their lives."

Calara hugged him and looked up into his eyes. "When?"

He glanced at the Enclave forces ravaging Kinta. "First we'll take care of those bastards... then I'll deal with my guide once and for all."

***

High Prelate Zorlin stood on the Bridge of the battlecarrier Breklan'tohok, his heart aching as he watched the Brimorians rain destruction down on his homeworld. Kinta was the birthplace of the Kintark civilisation and had a rich cultural history, their draconic pantheon venerated by the population and worshipped in many sacred shrines and monuments. The invading aliens cared nothing for those sites and virulent yellow beams lanced down to rake across ancient cities, indiscriminately obliterating everything in their path.

The majestic temple to Yusarranax the Redeemer had stood for over three thousand years, its ornate sandstone towers reaching aloft to the heavens. Zorlin stared in horror as one of the Brimorian battleships blasted the edifice with a flurry of particle beams, carving gaping chasms through the cathedral until it collapsed in on itself, millennia of history destroyed in less than a minute. He knew that the desecration of those hallowed sites would scar his people for generations to come.

Even though the Enclave armada had been dramatically reduced in size during the final leg of their invasion, there were still three reinforced battle groups besieging Kinta. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Kintark High Prelate was left with no choice but to try to stop this wanton act of sacrilege. He began issuing orders over the fleet interface, rearranging formations and allocating targets to those warships.

Clearing his throat, Zorlin said to the prelates under his command, "I know your heartsss are filled with grief at the atrocitiesss committed by the Brimorian ssscum, but now isss not the time to mourn. We mussst hurl ourssselvesss into the fray with a vengeful fury that the dragonsss themssselvesss would sssalute."

His orders were acknowledged by enraged Kintark ship captains, the hatred plain to see on their faces. Nodding to them with respect, he turned his attention back to the Enclave fleets, bracing himself for the sight of more gut-wrenching acts of barbarity. Zorlin's attention was drawn to the dozen light carriers that were fast enough to keep pace with the battle-line warships. They had already launched their entire complement of fighters and now a host of dropships were emerging from their hangars. The troop transports were escorted by sleek gunships as they swiftly descended towards the planet below.

Opening a comms channel to the Imperial palace, he saw that the call was going through and was relieved that the Brimorians had not jammed all communications.

Empress Tamolith's fearsome draconic face appeared on the holo-screen, an uncharacteristic glint of worry in her reptilian eyes. "Zorlin, what are you doing up there?! They're bombarding Xen-Martek! I order you to blast these Brimorian vermin out of the skies!"

"Our fleetsss are outnumbered and outgunned, Imperial Majesssty," the High Prelate replied, relieved he wasn't having this discussion with the Empress in person. "I have ordered all my forcesss to break the planetary sssiege, but I mussst caution you... it is highly unlikely we will be sssuccesssful."

The huge red dragon stared at him in shock. "There must be something you can do, Zorlin!"

"I implore you to evacuate the Palace, Empresss... the Brimoriansss have launched a ground invasion directly to your location."

Tamolith inhaled sharply, the worry on her face shifting to fear. "No! I have to get them to safety!"

Before Zorlin could say another word, the Empress had whirled away, forgetting all about the call in her haste to reach her family. The High Prelate closed the comms channel and leaned heavily against the command table. Heart sinking once again, he could only watch in helpless frustration as the Brimorians deployed thousands of marines directly onto the grounds of the Imperial palace.

***

"Like a hapless marrowfish entranced by a glowrark's lure..." Shoal Master Kaelotegh gloated, his scaly claws beckoning the Kintark fleet onwards. "Come to me! Show me how brilliant you are!"

With a cackle of glee, the Brimorian leader watched his forces open fire as soon as the charging defenders were in range. The holographic map was suddenly ablaze with yellow particle beams, which throbbed with power as they bridged the gap between the two fleets. Kaelotegh's opening salvo proved surprisingly accurate, the Brimorian gunners finding it easy to hit their targets when their own vessels were stationary and the Kintark were heading directly towards them.

Kintark shields quickly buckled under the onslaught, leaving dozens of warships exposed. The cruiser Markan'tok at the forefront of the battle group was the first casualty of the Battle of Kinta. Iridescent green armour was ripped apart, blasted into glowing shards as a dozen energy beams carved through deck after deck. The starboard flank of the warship broke apart as its structural integrity collapsed, 150 metres of the vessel shearing away and spilling terrified crewmen into the void of space. The gasping Kintark didn't suffer for long, as particle beams ignited the cruiser's plasma reserves, triggering a ghastly explosion that incinerated the asphyxiating lizardmen in virulent green flames.

Similar scenes of destruction played out along the Kintark front lines, with destroyers and cruisers blown to pieces as they came under concentrated fire. Kaelotegh knew that the rival commander was trying to close to point-blank range, seeking a brutal face-to-face slugfest where the Kintark held the advantage with their Plasma Cannons. The big problem for the desperate Kintark defenders was that they had started the fight significantly outnumbered... and the glaring disparity in fleet assets grew worse by the second.

The Shoal Master briefly considered a careful withdrawal from Kinta, with his fleets reversing away from the enemy homeworld to maintain their range advantage for as long as possible. It was the logical course of action that would ensure minimal casualties... which meant his cunning foe would have predicted he'd do exactly that.

"You're not fooling me this time..." Kaelotegh muttered, his feverish gaze locked onto the Kintark flagship.

***

John strode along the corridor past the girls' quarters, with Alyssa and Calara walking briskly to match his fast pace. There was a quiet tension in the air, with the blonde and brunette shooting furtive glances his way. Both girls were worried, but it wasn't because they were on the eve of battle. John's declaration that he would confront his Progenitor Guide was first and foremost in their minds... and they could tell by his terse silence that he was thinking about it too.

Distracted as they all were, there were still the practicalities of impending war to attend to. They all needed to get dressed in jumpsuits before wearing Paragon armour, so Calara parted company with John and Alyssa, quickly darting into her quarters to get changed. Her companions continued onwards to the commander's quarters, but were surprised to find Jehanna waiting there, a pensive expression on her face.

She stepped forward and asked hesitantly, "John, could I speak to you for a moment please?"

"Of course. What's on your mind?" he asked, putting aside his troubled thoughts to focus on their newest recruit.

"I heard you're planning to fight the Brimorian army that's landing on Kinta," Jehanna replied, her furtive glance at Alyssa giving away the source of that information. Squaring her shoulders, she looked him in the eyes and boldly declared, "I want to join the ground combat team."