Continued from Episode V: A Friend in Need
Gaihomme felt reassured when the fleet dropped out of warpspace and back into the comfortable reality of stars and moons, planets and people. The protector's ships surrounded him like an invulnerable cloak, stronger by far than his hard armor. He heard the chiming of several alarms and turned toward Captain Mickelson, listening as he called out to his crew.
"Hard to port and give me half thrust forward. The rebels are there at Kerberos, just as we expected."
Gaihomme glanced at the flimsy in his hand again:
Received 40.22.07.02 AICFrom Imperial Naval High Command, TerraTo the Lord Admiral of Imperial Armada 2406
Begin TransmissionYou are instructed to escort the third company of 6th Marines to the Kerberos system, where they will commence with an assault on the orbital and ground military spaceport facilities of the planet pursuant to seizing same as a forward operating base for operation Justice Hailstorm. The company is to be embarked on four Serpens class galiots: Aspis, Fulvius, Crotalus, and Ophiophagus. For escort you will have six additional Serpens class galiots: Piscivorus, Contortrix, Polyepis, Oxyuranus, Bungarus, and Naja, two Comitatus class galleons: Dirk and Sacrificium, and four Furious class great galleons: Collegium, Magistratus, Legatus, and Praetor.Kerberos is believed to be a significant operating base for the so-called Tartarus Rim Navy. As such, it is expected that you will encounter combatant warpships. You are ordered to engage and destroy any foreign military vessels you encounter. All are assumed to be either in open rebellion against the Terran Imperium or aiding such rebellion. You are further ordered to secure the nearspace areas in the system and to eliminate any such facilities as you find it necessary to ensure Imperial victory during the assault. In the event that you encounter an armada exceeding your own you are instructed to transit west towards Fort des Chartres if able. If you are unable to do either of these you are to fall back to the Memphian Sector and await reinforcements.See attached catalog of assets, order forms, and star charts.Endtrans
Gaihomme glanced out the bridge window. Kerberos loomed giant before them, two of the three moons barely visible above it. Coming away from it at great speed were a few poncy ships and a half dozen stunties, one a massive galleon larger than any he had personally seen. But the Tartarus Rim's provincial ships were not visible. His own armada, six galleons and ten galiots strong, should more than suffice to deal with the issue. He eagerly awaited what would be yet another glorious victory for the forces of Holy Terra.
"Action stations, everyone," said Mickelson casually. Almost immediately the klaxon began to sound and able spacers ran around the ship closing hatches and donning helmets.
. . . . . . .
On the opposite side of the field Sir Stanley looked out nervously from the Burkhan Kaldun flagship's bridge. In command, and seated in the captain's chair, was Progenitor Lucas Warmbier.
"What do you make of our chances, Lucas?" he asked.
"Mm? Oh, excellent, I'd say. The Impies won't know what hit 'em," Warmbier replied with an almost casual lilt to his voice.
Sir Stanley was a little surprised at his certainty. "How do you figure?"
"Well, we checked them out in a joint exercise on Thalia a while back. We've been doing quite a lot of that lately, just to check our records and update anything that's gotten out of date." At that Lucas paused a moment.
He took a pull on his pipe and continued. "It seems they've stagnated pretty badly back on mother earth, as they've gotten more religious about all this nonsense. They seem to have decided a ship should be handled a certain way, or a suit of armor. They think it's their god's word, or maybe a declaration from the Emperor. One or the other. Not that they necessarily recognize a difference there, what with their inquisitors and priests and warrior monks and so on."
Stanley nodded along at that. "I hope you're right. You're confident we can hold out until the TRN arrives?"
"My boy, we don't even need them. It'll be quicker and less bloody with them, so I'm glad they're coming, but trust me, we can take this bunch all by ourselves. They'd be hard pressed to beat even just the Tahti if we were still off at Burkhan Kaldun."
At that Sir Stanley was genuinely surprised. The Tahti force numbered only four ships. They were capable, but . . . four against sixteen? My word! Warmbier really was confident.
"Ensign, sound general quarters," said Warmbier, standing and turning to Sir Stanley. "I think it's time we donned our vac-suits Stanley. When this all over and we can breathe again properly I'll share a pint with you.
Stanley nodded and walked to the locker in Warmbier's day cabin as the bosun piped and the horn began to sound. That was an order he could agree with. "Nothing like a cold pint with Warmbier!" he chuckled to himself.
. . . . . . .
For a time, the two fleets closed on each other silently. And then, just as the dwarves and elves were almost within firing range of the Terrans a Tartarus Rim force dropped out of warp and began closing quickly.
"Blast! That will complicate things," Gaihomme cursed.
"We're picking up two to four galleons and a number of escorts," piped up a junior officer buried behind a viewscreen of some kind.
"That does away with our advantage in numbers. Maybe even puts us on the back foot," Gaihomme observed.
"We should be able to beat them with quality if quantity won't suffice," Captain Mickelson said. "A bunch of untrained provincials and conscripts. Probably half of them are criminals serving out their time."
Just then the shields began to flare, even before Mickelson gave the order to fire.
"Why on earth aren't we firing yet when they are?" Gaihomme demanded.
"They're not in range! How on earth can they target us this far out?"
A few seconds later Mickelson gave the order to return fire, but the damage was done. The bridge was in a state of silent shock, only broken when the great galleon off their starboard bow began to vent explosively into space.
"We've lost Collegium sir! And we're picking up a host of small contacts. It looks like they have fighters. Coming from the largest Tartarus galleon, a pair of smaller galleons on our right, and several small escorts on the left."
"Escorts?" Mickelson asked incredulously.
"Yes sir. And closing fast. They have at least 9TG acceleration."
"How would the pilots survive . . . "
He didn't have time to finish the question, as the "fighters" began exploding around them. Legatus was one of the first ships to lose power as the hail of splinters began cutting through cable trunks and spacers alike.
"Abandon ship!" the captain screamed, before leaping from his chair and dashing down the hatchway to the nearest boat bay. Gaihomme and the poor ensign who'd been calling out all the dreadful news followed quickly after.
No sooner had the ensign cleared the hatchway from the bridge than it disappeared into a wall of plasma, venting from some broken line or other. Explosions rocked the ship. They might say that it was cold and silent in space, but war remained a hot and noisy affair, even if your screams would never reach enemy ears. He sincerely hoped brother Castrian fared better.
It was a false hope. Aspis was struck in the same hail of missiles that finished Legatus.
Even though Castrian himself escaped, nearly a third of her crew and passengers were consumed by the flames and splinters radiating out from a dozen explosions, both from the missiles and from Aspis tearing herself apart. Of the great armada, only three galiots returned: Piscivorus, Bungarus, and Naja. Of the third company of the famed Sixth Marines, none could seek the solitude of their fortress monastery. Castrian himself, and the bulk of his compatriots, were eventually rescued, even if it was only to be questioned by the lords of Tartarus and sent to await their eventual fait on Erebus.
. . . . . . .
Behind the Curtain
This was, of course, a game. Several of my friends have been so kind as to run the factions, and several more willing victims helped to push miniatures around for the battle. Much has been left to chance. The resources of the Terran Imperium are vast, but her commitments are many, so luck plays the part of the fickle lords doling out warships in penny packets. Though you are permitted to count the cards battle is always a gamble. Even the best laid plans must face Dame Fortuna. The Tartarans are better prepared, but there is always wind and weather, even in space. And you just never quite know what the other player will do.
The first bit of luck was when the Tartarans arrived. They'd started four sectors away from the zone of engagement, but the Imperial fleet was sighted two sectors away, and the Tartarans know the territory and fly fast, so they were able to cover the ground in approximately the same time. The Terrans arrived first, but only by d6 turns. The . . . let's call it the Rim Alliance . .. since they were defending they started at the line of the planet. The Terrans were entering from the galactic south (or coreward in this case), which is to the right on the board. The defenders placed first and the Terrans placed in response to that. As a result, the allies decided to reshuffle their force on the fly. The rules of the game were a lightly modified version of Full Thrust. The usual order of things is writing commands for your ships and then moving according to them. Once everyone has moved, the fun begins. Fire is considered simultaneous, but for ease of play you fire in alternation, with the larger fleet going first. Damage doesn't really occur until after everyone has fired, but I didn't ask players to declare targets in advance or anything quite that fancy. At the end of a turn damaged ships might attempt repair. (And if they've dwarves aboard they might be pretty good at it.) The first turn, which you see below, was pretty quiet. Nobody had the range to shoot.
As it happens, the Tartarans rolled a one on that d6, so they arrived on the second turn. And they were allowed to move as quickly as they wanted, so they absolutely booked. (And then immediately hit the brakes.) The Imperials simply marched forward steadily. And after all the moving was done . . . things were in engagement range.
The allies basically concentrated their fire on the leading Terran battleships (or great galleons). After the first one exploded the elves switched targets to a destroyer, but there weren't too many guns left so it survived the exchange. The Terrans were still at pretty extreme range for their weapons and they were unable to do much.
On turn three things got more . . . interesting. The allies launched . . . let's call them "contacts." The rule of thumb here is you plot your orders, but before moving you move these "contacts" quite quickly and according to specific rules, which movement you see below.
Once that's done you move your ships according to their orders.
After that's complete the "contacts" do their thing, which is attack. At this point they're NPCs (non-player contacts), attacking whatever target in front of them is closest. Which if you play your cards right is the other guy. And oh, but it was.
One battleship miraculously survived the onslaught, but two battleships, a cruiser, and four destroyers did not. And since this happens BEFORE the firing phase, those ships don't even get to shoot back. (They can and did engage the contacts, but . . . not effectively.) With the target selection greatly reduced the allies concentrated fire on what was left, thus eliminating the last two battleships, the cruiser, and another destroyer. The Terrans returned fire, of course, but at this point they were horribly outnumbered, so it wasn't very effective.
Quite reasonably, the Terrans attempted to retreat to the relative safety of warp space. The three destroyers on their left were able to break away. (They're surprisingly fast little snakies.) But the other two were surrounded and quite thoroughly cut off. They did their best, but there was nothing left to it but to be forcibly ventilated directly to space.
The three snakes as made it off the table took word back to Inquisitor Augustus, but the rest of the Terran fleet became scrap for the Tartarans to collect. And their occupants, if not in pieces, will find themselves interrogated and shipped off to a POW camp.(It could be worse. I doubt the Terran zealots would be so friendly.) And I, your humble game-master, have rolled up the results, who was killed and who captured. What can be salvaged, and so on. The Imperium will doubtless send more ships. Likely many more after this debacle. We shall see where the fighting leads us next.
And that, as they say, is that. Thank you for joining me on this little adventure. Stay tuned. The war isn't over. Just the first battle. Many more will doubtless follow. Hopefully fairly quickly.
I don't think I can add anything new or different from what I said in previous installments, but I do love the way you lead the narrative and how evocative the images are. I'm a declared fan of your workReplyDelete
Thank you Suber! One of these days I would desperately like to bring my toys to BOYL where, hopefully, we could play a game together. I would surely love to play a game on your table. Hopefully next year . . .Delete
Was ill luck a heavy/notable factor in this engagement? The photoshopping is great in this post. I love the bridge shots.ReplyDelete
There was a little luck in it, but I don't think it would ever have come out too differently with the forces available. The Terran Imperium just sent an undersized fleet and walked into a hornet's nest. They'll need serious reinforcements, but now they presumably have a better appreciation for what they're facing.Delete
And thank you for your kind words on my FX shots. The bridge shots borrow backgrounds from the USS Hornet and the Sweedish minesweeper Pohjanmaa.
A symphony of a report, Composer! Most enjoyable. More please :)ReplyDelete
Thank you Prufrock! Will do.Delete