Just not looking forward to having to say I told you so.
*shrug*
The Practice War [Complete]
- Thread starter Snowfire
- Start date
- Original Sci-Fi
*shrug*
The Third Battle of Sol: Tactics 3
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
You considered your options as the detached Heartcircles slid across the yawning void of empty space towards the rest of the Two Twenty Three, the light of burning starships painting space behind them in short lived blossoms of colour. Beautiful, in its own way, if you could ignore the cost in lives. You knew that feeling was a bad thing for any soldier, but it was hard to ignore. Despite everything, you were still a Mender. More than anything, you wanted a way to fix this, without anymore bloodshed. Such a silly thought to have, in the middle of battle. But was it really such a surprise for doubts to come at the crux of things?
Not in your experience.
You could run, return to First Fleet before going looking, but that would leave the carriers time to regenerate. Given time and access to the logistics ships, they'd be able to rebuild that enormous drone layer. No small amount of First Fleet's successes had come from the ability of Fighter Command to operate freely. Take that away? Or you could-
:Amanda!: Vega's cry of your name cut through the tactical planning, and something pulled your head around to check on your friend. The circlet the Harmonial had crafted in preparation for this fight burned upon her brow like a crown of white flame, and you realised a moment later that you could feel that light in the Web. It burned away darkness, fatigue, and any hint of panic or despair, no matter how well hidden by training it might be. :Lina's squadron.:
Your gaze snapped around, awareness leaping out through perceptions as perfect as the finest sensors. A curse bubbled around your lips as your found the leading column of First Fleet, exacerbated by the curse of an unknown threat still marshalling to strike. But far more of your own feelings were focused on the core of that column, Lina's command ship, and the vessel upon which your daughter's physical body currently stood. They'd been fine less than a minute ago, you were sure of it!
First Fleet: 40 + 30 (Martial) + 20 (Web of Unity) + 20 (Void Mistress) + 40 (Harmonics) + 10 Electronic Superiority + 10 Fighter Supremacy vs 87 + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) = 170 vs 172. Bare Failure
Now more than half of them were leaking atmosphere. Not Lina's flagship, you realised a moment later, subduing the suddenly rising panic and desire to just be there, right now. There was wreckage strewn all around the dreadnought squadron, remains of their attackers no doubt. But what had they been? A moment later, you realised, your perceptions catching the shattered remains of several Shiplord cruiser squadrons retreating behind the advancing mass of their own dreadnoughts.
The Shiplord cruiser force which had entered the field when you'd hit the carriers had made it through the withering fire of First Fleet's heavier assets. They'd found their range, and though they'd died, they'd savaged the core of Lina's capital force. Even as you watched, massed grav disruptor fire lanced out towards the most heavily damage human dreadnought. It was already launching escape pods. Damnit, damnit! First Fleet's formation was tightening, and you could see Lina's intent as orders continued to flow from her flagship with metronomic steadiness.
You wanted to contact your daughter, to make sure she was alright, but there was no time. The decision you had to make. :If we go back, they'll bring in whatever they have right on top of First Fleet. They're not as badly hurt as they look, but if they're put up against fresh forces, along with what the Shiplords are aiming at us?: The perception of a sick headshake pulsed out from you to your Heartcircle. :I won't sacrifice them for us. Not if we can help it. They need time to recover. We can give them that.:
Even as those words left your mind, your extended perceptions registered the FSN carriers launching again, an anti-shipping strike that had suddenly become vastly more important. They'd be aiming for drive nodes this time, not kills. If they were going to succeed, they'd have to be able to engage freely. Which meant keeping you here, preventing the carriers from recovering. Even leaving one or two alive could mean failure for Fighter Command's strike.
:So we go looking, then.: Kalilah's voice was rich with anger and the tightly controlled desire that had made her a Potential of Destruction. You felt the Heartcircle shift closer as you formed your reply, preparing to support you.
:Together.: Lea's hand found your shoulder, her mental voice firm, backed by the will of the rest of your Heartcircle. :Like we should be.:
:Of course,: you sent back, the words thick with emotion. It wasn't that you knew better than to argue, though you did. But they were there beside you in this, no matter the danger. That meant more than words, or even thoughts, could properly express. :Thank you.: And before they could reply, you reached within, grasped the far smaller web of your Heartcircle, and cast yourself from it out towards the danger lurking beneath the surface of your present.
What you did wasn't a Thoughtcast, or at least not in the way Insight did them. It was closer to what a Thoughtcast might be if Harmonials attempted it, using the connections between things to seek an answer instead of diving into the space between reality. Your soul burned against your breast as you slipped from the web of humanity into that of the Shiplords, the closest thing to pain of the soul you'd felt since Purify. It pushed at you, like an itch you couldn't scratch, reminding you of everything that had led to that Word, and why you'd used it.
For a moment, it was almost too much, the feeling and memory together stronger than your will alone. But it wasn't just your will. Your Heartcircle's presence was a ring of adamant around your soul's outrage. They didn't try to neutralise or hide it; it was yours, after all. They just held it steady, until you could focus on it fully. Something you certainly couldn't do now, as your focused awareness flashed across the web of the Regular Fleet, searching for the weapon being aimed at you and the rest of Two Twenty Three.
Unveiling the Unknown: 87 + 18 (Martial) + 66 (Practice) vs 18 + 40 + 30 (Essence Disruption) = 171 vs 88. Greater Success.
It was almost too easy. The feeling of threat resonated out from a single point of the web, and the bare veil that wrapped the construct was no barrier against you. Again, this wasn't a Thoughtcast; you couldn't access data in the same way Insight could – and that was good. But you were working to learn something, nonetheless. Reaching out across space and more to find the truth. And find it you did.
Six ships hovered in the faint light of a thousand distant suns, and their profiles easily identifiable as Shiplord dreadnoughts. Yet they weren't entirely like those already on the field, something told you, and as you closed in on their presence within the Regular Fleets connections, the why of that started to filter through. Something about those ships, deep within them, screamed of danger in a way nothing you'd ever encountered could. It wasn't Practice; you knew what that felt like. It wasn't even truly similar, not in its form. But as a function…yes, it bore some likeness.
It was a blade, poised to cut. The knife, raised in preparation to drive home. Deadly power, focused behind inhuman intent, but without the Focus you knew. And built, you felt sure somehow, so very long ago. Weapons. Not built to fight you, you thought, but it was close enough.
:Never built for us,: Elil said, his words faintly distorted by the web around you. :Those are older than humanity, Amanda. And,: his voice grew more distant as he concentrated on his own Focus. :They're something that they learned to build. You don't learn to do something like that unless you have a reason.:
:How?: Mir demanded. :How could they build something like that, something so close, and not know Practice?: He wasn't expecting an answer, but even if had been, none of you had one to give.
:But they do,: Lea corrected, the memory of words exchanged as the Second Battle of Sol had still raged rising to the top of your mind. :We've known that since before the Second Battle of Sol. Even if the Shiplords can't use Practice, they know what it is. We know they understand the power of the soul.:
Kalilah spoke over your fellow mender, the words crawling with disgust. :Of course they'd build a weapon from it. If something could be used against them, they build ways to fight back.: Maybe there was another, deeper reason. Maybe not. In that moment, the truth mattered not at all when placed against the reality of what you were facing.
:Pattern shift!: Vega snapped, her own senses keener than your own in affairs of her Focus. You felt the ships begin to move, vanishing out of one perception to appear in another, much closer, and Vega spoke again. :Major shift. They're not coming for just us.:
The Shiplord web shifted in your vision, granting you a flicker of the soon-to-be. There, a fleet sent to hold Second Fleet in place. By the Third and Fourth Fleets more reinforcements, to continue the slowly turning engagement firmly to their favour. And the rest…all of it into the space around you, a space that you realised to your mounting horror must have been deliberately cleared. But not to encompass First Fleet, and that meant-
:Get us out of here, Vega.: Your voice was entirely too calm for the situation. You reached out with Sidra, and cut through the whirlwind of commands pouring from Lina like an awl, your shared presence descending upon her like an axe of silent purpose. You didn't let her speak, there wasn't time. :They're moving. A screen aimed for the second, rest to us and the Third/Fourth. Targeting the 223. Will be effective. You have less than a second.:
The orders stopped, and for a single, terrible moment you thought that you might have come too quickly, dragging Lina's beyond the capabilities of her implants. One microsecond, then another. You gathered your thoughts again, she had to act! And then a raft of new commands poured from the mind of the most talented human tactician since the Sorrows, reshaping the battle in an instant.
Second Fleet darted out of the Stellar Exclusion Zone as Shiplord craft burst into existence around them like a bloom of lethal algae, and their drives swept them away before the Regular Fleet force could fire a shot. They appeared behind First Fleet within long-range weapons range of the Shiplords and a flurry of grav disruptor fire erupted from the fresh FSN battlegroups, to cover their comrades' retreat. System defence forces were already moving to stop the Regulars force short of Earth and Mars, racing towards the Shiplord fleet that now had nothing in its path.
Part of your mind idly noted it bypassing your fortifications, ignoring the fleet bases but for a single firing pass. Those stations would need repairs, and you didn't want to think about how many people had just died aboard them, but they were still there. The Regular group dived into the deeper system of Sol, the massed stations of the Beltway leaving them little choice, and you found the time somehow to spare a heartfelt thought for the system defence forces.
Another part saw the Third and Fourth fleets suddenly race together, their combined fighter strength catching the Shiplord drone mass short in a corona of brilliant detonations. Half again the current Shiplord strength arrayed against them flickered into being around them, but their motion arrested the attempt by the source of the drone wave to drive between them. With the two FSN fleets coming together, that would have been suicide.
Third and Fourth Fleet: 97 + 24 (Martial) + 20 (Web of Unity) + 40 (Harmonics) + 10 Electronic Superiority vs 100 + 32 (Nat 100 rollover) + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) = 191 vs 217. Failure.
Third and Fourth paid for that manoeuvre, and your heart clenched tight as hundreds of fighter craft burned away, sacrificing their lives to buy the rest of the fleet time. How many families had just lost loved ones there? Not now, you told yourself. There wasn't time. Long-range fire spat from the three Shiplord forces that now surrounded the joined human fleets, and with them still reorganising, their cruiser squadrons took the brunt of it. The heavier human craft moved back out as fast as they could, fast enough to stop the losses being anything more than painful, but any loss in that new situation was a bad one.
Not that you could afford to linger on it. The craft carrying those ancient weapons flickered into being around the Two Twenty Three, attended by shoals of support craft. And you spared a very brief moment to thank Lina for the single order she'd given you. Templefall. One of the execution codes for Case Samson's second stage, and the one which released the Two Twenty Three of all restrictions. That order rippled out across your own small web in the same instant as the shape of the weapons about to be fired against you. If the Shiplords had thought your display against their drones had been something, they were about to learn otherwise.
There was no dancing to your formation this time; these weapons wouldn't care for evasive patterns. Vega had brought you all together, close enough for you to become a single entity, bound together by the most tangible expression of human unity: held hands. Power rolled off of your souls like a rising wind, swirling in through the Web to the focus that was you. And you felt the immaterial aspect you'd crafted of your self and soul stir as that energy raced across it. The web of the Two Twenty Three expanded, reaching inwards to the two worlds your species had made their own and the billions of lives that inhabited them.
You'd never been religious; no one really had been after the Sorrows. But you thanked whatever god or gods might be in that moment that you'd had so much in reserve when those terrible weapons fired. There was no burst of light or fury, simply a rush of overpowering energy, and then pain. Something in the way that energy struck you wasn't quite right, as if tuned to a subtly different wavelength. But it was close enough.
Strike the Void: 25 + 48 (Martial) + 45 (Unison Wings) + 40 (Harmonics) + 66 (Power of Practice) – 50 (Soultear) vs 76 + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) + 50 (Void Weaponry) = 174 vs 211. Solid Failure.
The web Vega was crafting sheared away short of Earth and Mars, torn apart by the emotionless edge of Shiplord weapons, and your friend screamed in sudden agony as pain lashed at the very foundations of her soul. She was the first to do so. She was not the last. Scores of Aegis' flickered at the touch of that power as it reached into the link between Potential and Unison Platform and drove knives of merciless force down upon them.
None of them broke, somehow, but the pain was unlike anything you'd ever felt, and your formation staggered in place, trying to rise away from the Shiplord forces bracketing you at the very limits of your speed. But those weapons, whilst they couldn't cut through the links that made you Unisonbound, had disrupted them, and you found yourself slowing. The Shiplord craft weren't nearly so vulnerable, and with every shred of your power dedicated to defence, there was very little you could do against them anyway.
You cast your staff away, focusing purely on the feeling of energy surging wildly inside of you, your Focus screaming even as picks of ice drove into your mind and heart. You were screaming too, you realised later, but even that was a distant thing in that moment. You focused on those things around you, your friends, screaming in pain.
"You're humanity's daughter too, but you're ours."
Your family, just Mary and Iris this time, and how much faith they'd put in you. What it would mean if you fell here. What humanity, and so much more than humanity, would lose.
"How can you give us hope?"
Your vision blurred, aqua and emerald sparks trailing your fingers as they fought for purchase. The beat of your heart, in time with two hundred twenty-two others, all fighting to find a way through the inhuman energy choking you. The light of your souls, over four hundred all told, guttering like a fire suddenly robbed of air. The weight of an empire that had chained the galaxy in darkness for millions of years.
"It's easy to forget the sun when darkness reigns."
You fought for the words, the moment, the feeling. More light pooled around your hands, spreading up along the elbow-length gloves of your Aegis, wrapping you in colour that fought to be real against the new weapons of the Shiplord fleet. Intent flooded through you, fighting to be made real. Words give actions purpose, you knew this. Purpose is power. But forming even the first syllable seemed so very hard. Maybe-
Harmonics: 100 + 96 (Nat 100 rollover) + 45 = 241 vs DC 40. Absolute Success.
Vega sang. There were no words, no meaning, not even a melody. Just a single, perfect tone that cut through the veil of choking shadows around you like a new dawn, and the circlet of silver metal she bore kindled to life once more, its fires those of a newborn star. For a few short instants, the dark-haired Harmonial stood alone against weapons beating down upon the Two Twenty Three. She bought time to recover, breathe.
That Brilliant Symphony: 47 + 45 + 10 (Unity Circle) = 102. Success.
And for the Web she anchored, that you'd all been torn from, to race out from her again. And this time, it held a fragment of her soul's light. The Shiplords' weapons would tear and twist at that, but they would not break it as easily as they'd done before. Not without time to focus on it. Time you would not give them.
You drew in power along the links to the Circles and more, reaching out to thirteen billion souls, united in a harmony of many parts. That you would not die, that you would find victory, that their children would live, or their parents would survive. The world stilled as you drew all that in, a breath of all the things that had been found to make life worth living after the Sorrows. A deep, deep breath, from something far vaster than you.
And then the Artefact built upon Sidra, the Artefact linked so intimately to your soul that it had changed the way its power could touch the world. The Artefact forged of pure concepts, and an echo of humanity's brilliant power. That Artefact…
…woke.
The patterns of energy around you tilted suddenly, forming a funnel that a touch of riotous life spun into a whirlpool. Those currents, now suddenly static, stabbed up through the Web that had created them, puncturing it in a score of places, but only those upon which power flowed. And all the strength contained in those channels poured suddenly, endlessly, into your soul.
Catching Shadow: 88 + 106 (Practice) + 80 (Unisonbound Ace) + 50 (Mender's Soul) - 86 (Soultear) vs 82 + 45 (Martial) + 30 (Essence Disruption) + 50 (Void Weaponry) = 238 vs 207. Success.
Light of your own shattered the world, just as Vega's started to falter, and a shroud of aquamarine light tore its way into being around the Two Twenty Three, anchored by a tiny star of blue-green and silver at your breast. It didn't burn; that would have implied consumption of something to maintain it. It simply was, and the Shiplord assault withered at the touch of its light. You felt hatred then, beyond the impersonal edge that had cut into your souls, and paid it no mind.
The Shiplords had wielded their hate against the will of humanity once before. They had lost then; they would lose again now. You did not think that; you simply believed it to be true. That was enough.
The cloak of radiant light around you and your fellows flowed and twisted like liquid, catching the power set against it with absent perfection. The flagging, choked Aegises of a dozen of the unit's least skilled Potentials solidified again as the link behind them stabilised. You still couldn't move as quickly as you needed to to escape, but you had survival now. And yes, what the Shiplords had done couldn't be easily escaped. They'd be able to stay with you now, wear you down, and for all your power the Two Twenty Three were skirmish forces. Capable of entering the crucible of battle and emerging whole, yes. But not for long, and against weapons like these, not long at all. Which meant another choice in the offing.
At the centre of a maelstrom of power, just barely holding back the attack of your enemy you might be. But you always had options. The perks of not fighting alone. The ideas came in concept form only, no words, but they came. Four, above all, the rest derivatives, and the words pulsed in your mind. You could seek to overwhelm the assault against you, or simply overcome it. You could try to escape, too, thought that would take you through the lion's share of the Shiplord Fleet to reach safe harbour. And of course, there was another choice. To forge a path of Words from the strength of your soul, and set it against power of Shiplord science.
There wasn't a single one of those options you liked, but there was a time and a place for such luxuries. Now wasn't one of them.
Not in your experience.
You could run, return to First Fleet before going looking, but that would leave the carriers time to regenerate. Given time and access to the logistics ships, they'd be able to rebuild that enormous drone layer. No small amount of First Fleet's successes had come from the ability of Fighter Command to operate freely. Take that away? Or you could-
:Amanda!: Vega's cry of your name cut through the tactical planning, and something pulled your head around to check on your friend. The circlet the Harmonial had crafted in preparation for this fight burned upon her brow like a crown of white flame, and you realised a moment later that you could feel that light in the Web. It burned away darkness, fatigue, and any hint of panic or despair, no matter how well hidden by training it might be. :Lina's squadron.:
Your gaze snapped around, awareness leaping out through perceptions as perfect as the finest sensors. A curse bubbled around your lips as your found the leading column of First Fleet, exacerbated by the curse of an unknown threat still marshalling to strike. But far more of your own feelings were focused on the core of that column, Lina's command ship, and the vessel upon which your daughter's physical body currently stood. They'd been fine less than a minute ago, you were sure of it!
First Fleet: 40 + 30 (Martial) + 20 (Web of Unity) + 20 (Void Mistress) + 40 (Harmonics) + 10 Electronic Superiority + 10 Fighter Supremacy vs 87 + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) = 170 vs 172. Bare Failure
Now more than half of them were leaking atmosphere. Not Lina's flagship, you realised a moment later, subduing the suddenly rising panic and desire to just be there, right now. There was wreckage strewn all around the dreadnought squadron, remains of their attackers no doubt. But what had they been? A moment later, you realised, your perceptions catching the shattered remains of several Shiplord cruiser squadrons retreating behind the advancing mass of their own dreadnoughts.
The Shiplord cruiser force which had entered the field when you'd hit the carriers had made it through the withering fire of First Fleet's heavier assets. They'd found their range, and though they'd died, they'd savaged the core of Lina's capital force. Even as you watched, massed grav disruptor fire lanced out towards the most heavily damage human dreadnought. It was already launching escape pods. Damnit, damnit! First Fleet's formation was tightening, and you could see Lina's intent as orders continued to flow from her flagship with metronomic steadiness.
You wanted to contact your daughter, to make sure she was alright, but there was no time. The decision you had to make. :If we go back, they'll bring in whatever they have right on top of First Fleet. They're not as badly hurt as they look, but if they're put up against fresh forces, along with what the Shiplords are aiming at us?: The perception of a sick headshake pulsed out from you to your Heartcircle. :I won't sacrifice them for us. Not if we can help it. They need time to recover. We can give them that.:
Even as those words left your mind, your extended perceptions registered the FSN carriers launching again, an anti-shipping strike that had suddenly become vastly more important. They'd be aiming for drive nodes this time, not kills. If they were going to succeed, they'd have to be able to engage freely. Which meant keeping you here, preventing the carriers from recovering. Even leaving one or two alive could mean failure for Fighter Command's strike.
:So we go looking, then.: Kalilah's voice was rich with anger and the tightly controlled desire that had made her a Potential of Destruction. You felt the Heartcircle shift closer as you formed your reply, preparing to support you.
:Together.: Lea's hand found your shoulder, her mental voice firm, backed by the will of the rest of your Heartcircle. :Like we should be.:
:Of course,: you sent back, the words thick with emotion. It wasn't that you knew better than to argue, though you did. But they were there beside you in this, no matter the danger. That meant more than words, or even thoughts, could properly express. :Thank you.: And before they could reply, you reached within, grasped the far smaller web of your Heartcircle, and cast yourself from it out towards the danger lurking beneath the surface of your present.
What you did wasn't a Thoughtcast, or at least not in the way Insight did them. It was closer to what a Thoughtcast might be if Harmonials attempted it, using the connections between things to seek an answer instead of diving into the space between reality. Your soul burned against your breast as you slipped from the web of humanity into that of the Shiplords, the closest thing to pain of the soul you'd felt since Purify. It pushed at you, like an itch you couldn't scratch, reminding you of everything that had led to that Word, and why you'd used it.
For a moment, it was almost too much, the feeling and memory together stronger than your will alone. But it wasn't just your will. Your Heartcircle's presence was a ring of adamant around your soul's outrage. They didn't try to neutralise or hide it; it was yours, after all. They just held it steady, until you could focus on it fully. Something you certainly couldn't do now, as your focused awareness flashed across the web of the Regular Fleet, searching for the weapon being aimed at you and the rest of Two Twenty Three.
Unveiling the Unknown: 87 + 18 (Martial) + 66 (Practice) vs 18 + 40 + 30 (Essence Disruption) = 171 vs 88. Greater Success.
It was almost too easy. The feeling of threat resonated out from a single point of the web, and the bare veil that wrapped the construct was no barrier against you. Again, this wasn't a Thoughtcast; you couldn't access data in the same way Insight could – and that was good. But you were working to learn something, nonetheless. Reaching out across space and more to find the truth. And find it you did.
Six ships hovered in the faint light of a thousand distant suns, and their profiles easily identifiable as Shiplord dreadnoughts. Yet they weren't entirely like those already on the field, something told you, and as you closed in on their presence within the Regular Fleets connections, the why of that started to filter through. Something about those ships, deep within them, screamed of danger in a way nothing you'd ever encountered could. It wasn't Practice; you knew what that felt like. It wasn't even truly similar, not in its form. But as a function…yes, it bore some likeness.
It was a blade, poised to cut. The knife, raised in preparation to drive home. Deadly power, focused behind inhuman intent, but without the Focus you knew. And built, you felt sure somehow, so very long ago. Weapons. Not built to fight you, you thought, but it was close enough.
:Never built for us,: Elil said, his words faintly distorted by the web around you. :Those are older than humanity, Amanda. And,: his voice grew more distant as he concentrated on his own Focus. :They're something that they learned to build. You don't learn to do something like that unless you have a reason.:
:How?: Mir demanded. :How could they build something like that, something so close, and not know Practice?: He wasn't expecting an answer, but even if had been, none of you had one to give.
:But they do,: Lea corrected, the memory of words exchanged as the Second Battle of Sol had still raged rising to the top of your mind. :We've known that since before the Second Battle of Sol. Even if the Shiplords can't use Practice, they know what it is. We know they understand the power of the soul.:
Kalilah spoke over your fellow mender, the words crawling with disgust. :Of course they'd build a weapon from it. If something could be used against them, they build ways to fight back.: Maybe there was another, deeper reason. Maybe not. In that moment, the truth mattered not at all when placed against the reality of what you were facing.
:Pattern shift!: Vega snapped, her own senses keener than your own in affairs of her Focus. You felt the ships begin to move, vanishing out of one perception to appear in another, much closer, and Vega spoke again. :Major shift. They're not coming for just us.:
The Shiplord web shifted in your vision, granting you a flicker of the soon-to-be. There, a fleet sent to hold Second Fleet in place. By the Third and Fourth Fleets more reinforcements, to continue the slowly turning engagement firmly to their favour. And the rest…all of it into the space around you, a space that you realised to your mounting horror must have been deliberately cleared. But not to encompass First Fleet, and that meant-
:Get us out of here, Vega.: Your voice was entirely too calm for the situation. You reached out with Sidra, and cut through the whirlwind of commands pouring from Lina like an awl, your shared presence descending upon her like an axe of silent purpose. You didn't let her speak, there wasn't time. :They're moving. A screen aimed for the second, rest to us and the Third/Fourth. Targeting the 223. Will be effective. You have less than a second.:
The orders stopped, and for a single, terrible moment you thought that you might have come too quickly, dragging Lina's beyond the capabilities of her implants. One microsecond, then another. You gathered your thoughts again, she had to act! And then a raft of new commands poured from the mind of the most talented human tactician since the Sorrows, reshaping the battle in an instant.
Second Fleet darted out of the Stellar Exclusion Zone as Shiplord craft burst into existence around them like a bloom of lethal algae, and their drives swept them away before the Regular Fleet force could fire a shot. They appeared behind First Fleet within long-range weapons range of the Shiplords and a flurry of grav disruptor fire erupted from the fresh FSN battlegroups, to cover their comrades' retreat. System defence forces were already moving to stop the Regulars force short of Earth and Mars, racing towards the Shiplord fleet that now had nothing in its path.
Part of your mind idly noted it bypassing your fortifications, ignoring the fleet bases but for a single firing pass. Those stations would need repairs, and you didn't want to think about how many people had just died aboard them, but they were still there. The Regular group dived into the deeper system of Sol, the massed stations of the Beltway leaving them little choice, and you found the time somehow to spare a heartfelt thought for the system defence forces.
Another part saw the Third and Fourth fleets suddenly race together, their combined fighter strength catching the Shiplord drone mass short in a corona of brilliant detonations. Half again the current Shiplord strength arrayed against them flickered into being around them, but their motion arrested the attempt by the source of the drone wave to drive between them. With the two FSN fleets coming together, that would have been suicide.
Third and Fourth Fleet: 97 + 24 (Martial) + 20 (Web of Unity) + 40 (Harmonics) + 10 Electronic Superiority vs 100 + 32 (Nat 100 rollover) + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) = 191 vs 217. Failure.
Third and Fourth paid for that manoeuvre, and your heart clenched tight as hundreds of fighter craft burned away, sacrificing their lives to buy the rest of the fleet time. How many families had just lost loved ones there? Not now, you told yourself. There wasn't time. Long-range fire spat from the three Shiplord forces that now surrounded the joined human fleets, and with them still reorganising, their cruiser squadrons took the brunt of it. The heavier human craft moved back out as fast as they could, fast enough to stop the losses being anything more than painful, but any loss in that new situation was a bad one.
Not that you could afford to linger on it. The craft carrying those ancient weapons flickered into being around the Two Twenty Three, attended by shoals of support craft. And you spared a very brief moment to thank Lina for the single order she'd given you. Templefall. One of the execution codes for Case Samson's second stage, and the one which released the Two Twenty Three of all restrictions. That order rippled out across your own small web in the same instant as the shape of the weapons about to be fired against you. If the Shiplords had thought your display against their drones had been something, they were about to learn otherwise.
There was no dancing to your formation this time; these weapons wouldn't care for evasive patterns. Vega had brought you all together, close enough for you to become a single entity, bound together by the most tangible expression of human unity: held hands. Power rolled off of your souls like a rising wind, swirling in through the Web to the focus that was you. And you felt the immaterial aspect you'd crafted of your self and soul stir as that energy raced across it. The web of the Two Twenty Three expanded, reaching inwards to the two worlds your species had made their own and the billions of lives that inhabited them.
You'd never been religious; no one really had been after the Sorrows. But you thanked whatever god or gods might be in that moment that you'd had so much in reserve when those terrible weapons fired. There was no burst of light or fury, simply a rush of overpowering energy, and then pain. Something in the way that energy struck you wasn't quite right, as if tuned to a subtly different wavelength. But it was close enough.
Strike the Void: 25 + 48 (Martial) + 45 (Unison Wings) + 40 (Harmonics) + 66 (Power of Practice) – 50 (Soultear) vs 76 + 45 (Martial) + 20 (Synchronisation) + 20 (First Traditions) + 50 (Void Weaponry) = 174 vs 211. Solid Failure.
The web Vega was crafting sheared away short of Earth and Mars, torn apart by the emotionless edge of Shiplord weapons, and your friend screamed in sudden agony as pain lashed at the very foundations of her soul. She was the first to do so. She was not the last. Scores of Aegis' flickered at the touch of that power as it reached into the link between Potential and Unison Platform and drove knives of merciless force down upon them.
None of them broke, somehow, but the pain was unlike anything you'd ever felt, and your formation staggered in place, trying to rise away from the Shiplord forces bracketing you at the very limits of your speed. But those weapons, whilst they couldn't cut through the links that made you Unisonbound, had disrupted them, and you found yourself slowing. The Shiplord craft weren't nearly so vulnerable, and with every shred of your power dedicated to defence, there was very little you could do against them anyway.
You cast your staff away, focusing purely on the feeling of energy surging wildly inside of you, your Focus screaming even as picks of ice drove into your mind and heart. You were screaming too, you realised later, but even that was a distant thing in that moment. You focused on those things around you, your friends, screaming in pain.
"You're humanity's daughter too, but you're ours."
Your family, just Mary and Iris this time, and how much faith they'd put in you. What it would mean if you fell here. What humanity, and so much more than humanity, would lose.
"How can you give us hope?"
Your vision blurred, aqua and emerald sparks trailing your fingers as they fought for purchase. The beat of your heart, in time with two hundred twenty-two others, all fighting to find a way through the inhuman energy choking you. The light of your souls, over four hundred all told, guttering like a fire suddenly robbed of air. The weight of an empire that had chained the galaxy in darkness for millions of years.
"It's easy to forget the sun when darkness reigns."
You fought for the words, the moment, the feeling. More light pooled around your hands, spreading up along the elbow-length gloves of your Aegis, wrapping you in colour that fought to be real against the new weapons of the Shiplord fleet. Intent flooded through you, fighting to be made real. Words give actions purpose, you knew this. Purpose is power. But forming even the first syllable seemed so very hard. Maybe-
Harmonics: 100 + 96 (Nat 100 rollover) + 45 = 241 vs DC 40. Absolute Success.
Vega sang. There were no words, no meaning, not even a melody. Just a single, perfect tone that cut through the veil of choking shadows around you like a new dawn, and the circlet of silver metal she bore kindled to life once more, its fires those of a newborn star. For a few short instants, the dark-haired Harmonial stood alone against weapons beating down upon the Two Twenty Three. She bought time to recover, breathe.
That Brilliant Symphony: 47 + 45 + 10 (Unity Circle) = 102. Success.
And for the Web she anchored, that you'd all been torn from, to race out from her again. And this time, it held a fragment of her soul's light. The Shiplords' weapons would tear and twist at that, but they would not break it as easily as they'd done before. Not without time to focus on it. Time you would not give them.
You drew in power along the links to the Circles and more, reaching out to thirteen billion souls, united in a harmony of many parts. That you would not die, that you would find victory, that their children would live, or their parents would survive. The world stilled as you drew all that in, a breath of all the things that had been found to make life worth living after the Sorrows. A deep, deep breath, from something far vaster than you.
And then the Artefact built upon Sidra, the Artefact linked so intimately to your soul that it had changed the way its power could touch the world. The Artefact forged of pure concepts, and an echo of humanity's brilliant power. That Artefact…
…woke.
The patterns of energy around you tilted suddenly, forming a funnel that a touch of riotous life spun into a whirlpool. Those currents, now suddenly static, stabbed up through the Web that had created them, puncturing it in a score of places, but only those upon which power flowed. And all the strength contained in those channels poured suddenly, endlessly, into your soul.
Catching Shadow: 88 + 106 (Practice) + 80 (Unisonbound Ace) + 50 (Mender's Soul) - 86 (Soultear) vs 82 + 45 (Martial) + 30 (Essence Disruption) + 50 (Void Weaponry) = 238 vs 207. Success.
Light of your own shattered the world, just as Vega's started to falter, and a shroud of aquamarine light tore its way into being around the Two Twenty Three, anchored by a tiny star of blue-green and silver at your breast. It didn't burn; that would have implied consumption of something to maintain it. It simply was, and the Shiplord assault withered at the touch of its light. You felt hatred then, beyond the impersonal edge that had cut into your souls, and paid it no mind.
The Shiplords had wielded their hate against the will of humanity once before. They had lost then; they would lose again now. You did not think that; you simply believed it to be true. That was enough.
The cloak of radiant light around you and your fellows flowed and twisted like liquid, catching the power set against it with absent perfection. The flagging, choked Aegises of a dozen of the unit's least skilled Potentials solidified again as the link behind them stabilised. You still couldn't move as quickly as you needed to to escape, but you had survival now. And yes, what the Shiplords had done couldn't be easily escaped. They'd be able to stay with you now, wear you down, and for all your power the Two Twenty Three were skirmish forces. Capable of entering the crucible of battle and emerging whole, yes. But not for long, and against weapons like these, not long at all. Which meant another choice in the offing.
At the centre of a maelstrom of power, just barely holding back the attack of your enemy you might be. But you always had options. The perks of not fighting alone. The ideas came in concept form only, no words, but they came. Four, above all, the rest derivatives, and the words pulsed in your mind. You could seek to overwhelm the assault against you, or simply overcome it. You could try to escape, too, thought that would take you through the lion's share of the Shiplord Fleet to reach safe harbour. And of course, there was another choice. To forge a path of Words from the strength of your soul, and set it against power of Shiplord science.
There wasn't a single one of those options you liked, but there was a time and a place for such luxuries. Now wasn't one of them.
First Fleet has taken significant, though not crippling, damage to its capital groups as the result of massed assault from Shiplord cruisers. Although few of those ships survived the engagements, they did their job, and First Fleet is now attempting to withdraw. Fighter Command's latest strike is aiming for the drive systems on Shiplord capitals, intending to spread them out and bleed the force as it comes in. Second Fleet has jumped in behind them at long range, and is moving to provide covering fire for the withdrawal. First Fleet is currently at a combat readiness of 71%. Second Fleet is currently entirely undamaged.
Third and Fourth fleet have taken damage unifying their forces in response to full deployment of available Regular assets, but far less than it could have been. They have moved to a fully defensive posture. Their combined combat readiness stands at 79%.
The Shiplord task groups facing Third and Fourth fleet are at 97% combat readiness across the board, and together are fielding twice the FSN's numbers in the battlespace. The force sent after Second Fleet was somewhat stronger than its target, but appears to have been meant as a simple entanglement screen. It is now heading deeper into the SEZ, and system defence forces are moving to intercept. First, and now Second, Fleet are facing a Shiplord force of about three quarters their combined strength, operating at a combat readiness of 70% thanks to their logistical element.
The entire Regular Fleet is now on the field.
Roughly the same number of ships have surrounded the Two Twenty Three, including a squadron of seven Regular Fleet dreadnoughts equipped with weaponry capable of attacking the Unisonbound at the core of what makes them what they are. This group is untouched at present, and only the swift actions of Vega Cant and yourself have held the Two Twenty Three's combat readiness at 80%. There have been no deaths, but it was a close-run thing for a moment. And now, another choice faces you.
[] A Path of Words: This power that seeks to choke away the link between you and your Unison Platform cannot be laid against the other Potentials among humanity's fleets. Do as a healer sometimes must. Become a soldier, and end those craft.
[] Lantern's Charge: If it can be hard to see the sun when darkness surrounds you, then be the sun itself. Make of yourself a lighthouse, and use the strength of the web shone through it to drown the night.
[] Withstand: This is not the moment that hope dies. None of you will allow it. The Shiplords have flung their most lethal weapons yet against you, and you yet live. Perhaps it cannot last forever, but you can endure this. The other Potentials among First and Second Fleet? You think not.
[] Through Death and Fury: You cannot move fast enough to escape the Shiplord craft bombarding you with the jagged pain of a soul broke in two. You can, however, hold the range. Use that, and withdraw to the relative safety of First Fleet as quickly as you can. It will take you through the heart of the Shiplord Fleet, but it will bring you safe harbour soon enough for it to matter.
Third and Fourth fleet have taken damage unifying their forces in response to full deployment of available Regular assets, but far less than it could have been. They have moved to a fully defensive posture. Their combined combat readiness stands at 79%.
The Shiplord task groups facing Third and Fourth fleet are at 97% combat readiness across the board, and together are fielding twice the FSN's numbers in the battlespace. The force sent after Second Fleet was somewhat stronger than its target, but appears to have been meant as a simple entanglement screen. It is now heading deeper into the SEZ, and system defence forces are moving to intercept. First, and now Second, Fleet are facing a Shiplord force of about three quarters their combined strength, operating at a combat readiness of 70% thanks to their logistical element.
The entire Regular Fleet is now on the field.
Roughly the same number of ships have surrounded the Two Twenty Three, including a squadron of seven Regular Fleet dreadnoughts equipped with weaponry capable of attacking the Unisonbound at the core of what makes them what they are. This group is untouched at present, and only the swift actions of Vega Cant and yourself have held the Two Twenty Three's combat readiness at 80%. There have been no deaths, but it was a close-run thing for a moment. And now, another choice faces you.
[] A Path of Words: This power that seeks to choke away the link between you and your Unison Platform cannot be laid against the other Potentials among humanity's fleets. Do as a healer sometimes must. Become a soldier, and end those craft.
[] Lantern's Charge: If it can be hard to see the sun when darkness surrounds you, then be the sun itself. Make of yourself a lighthouse, and use the strength of the web shone through it to drown the night.
[] Withstand: This is not the moment that hope dies. None of you will allow it. The Shiplords have flung their most lethal weapons yet against you, and you yet live. Perhaps it cannot last forever, but you can endure this. The other Potentials among First and Second Fleet? You think not.
[] Through Death and Fury: You cannot move fast enough to escape the Shiplord craft bombarding you with the jagged pain of a soul broke in two. You can, however, hold the range. Use that, and withdraw to the relative safety of First Fleet as quickly as you can. It will take you through the heart of the Shiplord Fleet, but it will bring you safe harbour soon enough for it to matter.
There will be an eight hour moratorium on this vote.
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Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
I did not like writing this section. I did not like writing it at all. But we're here, and the board has been revealed. There are no further surprises at this point. I'm sure that'll make you all so wonderfully happy! You were going to get this last night, but I had a choice of going to bed or passing out on my keyboard whilst betaing was being undertaken. Thanks to @Baughn and @Coda for doing that for me.
Best of luck to any discussion, and I'll open the moratorium this evening.
Best of luck to any discussion, and I'll open the moratorium this evening.
- Location
- Maybe?
Oh now I get it. This isn't magical girls at all.
This is Lord of the Rings In Space!
Awesome update, in both senses.
This is Lord of the Rings In Space!
Awesome update, in both senses.
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
Would it surprise you if I was more comfortable with the latter comparison?
Really glad you enjoyed it. I've been worried that after so long, a nasty surprise and reversal might not come across well.
This was painful, but arguably the most critical rolls were in our favor.
Now, I think either "Path of Words" or "Lantern's charge" are the way to go.
"Withstand" seems like a holding action, and we have no reserves that could relieve us.
"Through Death and Fury" seems like losses would be inevitable and probably result in First Fleet being gutted for questionable gains.
...and I am more in favor of "Path of Words" , I think. Probably because I am not actually sure what "Lantern's charge" would mechanically do.
Now, I think either "Path of Words" or "Lantern's charge" are the way to go.
"Withstand" seems like a holding action, and we have no reserves that could relieve us.
"Through Death and Fury" seems like losses would be inevitable and probably result in First Fleet being gutted for questionable gains.
...and I am more in favor of "Path of Words" , I think. Probably because I am not actually sure what "Lantern's charge" would mechanically do.
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
Lantern's Charge is the charge of a lantern, to bring light in the dark, until the night dies. It means digging deeper into the links between you, into the leashed energy of humanity, and simply sending it out until it drowns the power pf the weapons set against you. If that's even possible, well, is another story. That said, none of these options are good ones. All of them have their upsides, but none of them are truly good.
Continuing from that, Path of Words takes the path of unleashing Words upon the Shiplords, but does so whilst under fire from an effect that appears to be able to attack Practice and those who wield it. Potentially (sorry) very powerful, but it comes with a risk that the Words you Speak might come out garbled or incomplete. And that...would probably be bad.
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- Location
- Australia
Speak the words and unmake these abominations - time now not for a word but a chain of them woven around Shiplord necks. Let this temple fall about their ears.
- Location
- Germany
- Pronouns
- He/Him
"GO HOME". Could have interesting effects, depending on whether the speculation that SL are the remnants of their race that couldn't/wouldn't become Uninvolved holds water ...
- Location
- Australia
Shiplordi ite domum!
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
Hm. I'm favoring Path of Words at this point. We've been given 'weapons free' authorization, and correct me if I'm wrong, @Snowfire , but it sounds like the Regular Fleet just committed most if not all of their reserves.
If they still have some reserves waiting, then ideally we'd hold Speaking in reserve ourselves until they were deployed. But with an anti-Practice weapon coming into action aboard the Shiplord battleships, we no longer have the luxury of toying with a Shiplord force indefinitely, so we need to start breaking our way out of this trap.
If they still have some reserves waiting, then ideally we'd hold Speaking in reserve ourselves until they were deployed. But with an anti-Practice weapon coming into action aboard the Shiplord battleships, we no longer have the luxury of toying with a Shiplord force indefinitely, so we need to start breaking our way out of this trap.
Snowfire
Polyglot of Chimera
- Location
- Wordcats
Oh wups, that must have gotten eaten last night when I was rewording things. The entire Shiplord fleet is now on the field, if scattered across three locations.
So the impression I'm getting is that the Shiplords have fought against something that used Practice in the distant past, so after much effort they created a weapon that tries to counter it, and in the process got so close to actual Practice that its a wonder they haven't obtained it themselves?
That implies to me that there's something fundamental about the nature of Practice that makes the Shiplords either unqualified to obtain it or have a desire to not obtain it.
That implies to me that there's something fundamental about the nature of Practice that makes the Shiplords either unqualified to obtain it or have a desire to not obtain it.
- Location
- Staring into the void
The update says it's similar but different. Since Practice uses the soul, it would be for fighting something else that also uses the soul.
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I was referring to this part in particular.
Something so close to Practice that its amazing that it isn't Practice.
Himmelhand
Giant Sinkhole 2020
- Location
- Midwestern US
Remember that Practice is a damaged gift. The Shiplords most likely don't use Practice because they have had orders of magnitude longer to discern the science of the soul. They don't have Practice, at least in part, because they choose not to.
Also, it's time to slap those dudes with the whole entire dictionary. Bring on the Speaking!
Also, it's time to slap those dudes with the whole entire dictionary. Bring on the Speaking!
- Location
- Mid-Atlantic
I may have just missed it; I read for narrative, not for details, usually.
Also, great!
The plan worked, the Shiplords are fully deployed, and we've been given authorization to go weapons free on vocabular weapons.
[cracks knuckles]
Time to drop a dictionary on the Shiplords.
[] A Path of Words
EDIT: ninja'ed in my imagery by @Himmelhand.
That, or the Shiplords have encountered something that is itself like Practice, and perhaps encountered it more than once, or even in or near the present day.
My supporting evidence for them having encountered it repeatedly or recently is that they had anti-Practice weapons ready to go, built into modern battleships. Except that the weapon in question is "older than humanity," which presumably means at least tens or hundreds of millenia old- if not millions of years.
...
Now, when you're trying to design a warship, you don't normally integrate capabilities that aren't directly useful. Mechanical weapons take up physical space, space that would be more efficiently used for some other purpose if the weapon in question isn't needed. Even if you assume that Second/Sixth Secret bullshit enables the Shiplords to make the relevant anti-Practice weapons out of nothing whenever they need them, training and planning to use those weapons still takes time and experience.
So it's safe to conclude that if a ship deploys a weapon, that ship's owners expected to need that weapon, or at least considered it a reasonably likely contingency that was worth preparing for. Which is to say, they expected that weapon to be needed either in this particular fight, or on a regular basis but maybe not today specifically.
...
Now, I don't know how long Regular Fleet warships last, but I doubt they have a mean life expectancy measured in hundreds of millenia of active service. I don't know how long Shiplords live, but I imagine similar constraints apply. I would be surprised (though not stunned) to learn that the individual Shiplords now alive and oppressing the galaxy today are personally the same ones who were doing it a million years ago, or that they are doing it with physically the same ships that they used in those days. And as noted, this weapon is "older than humanity."
So the ships themselves, and the weapons and crews on them, probably don't date back to the time this weapon was first developed and deployed.
As such, a weapon "older than humanity" is presumably something they've been keeping in storage (or as blueprints) and mounted aboard these specific battleships because they thought they might need it to fight humans... Or the weapons are something they mount on all their battleships (or at least on a few battleships per fleet) because they expect to have to use it at any time, possibly without warning.
...
In other words, either they've kept anti-Practice weapons mothballed and ready to use for millions of years, and were able to quickly recognize that we might present a Practice-type threat after getting some warning about it from (Nightfall?)...
...Or they routinely carry anti-Practice weapons, "just in case."
Either of those possibilities suggests that Practice isn't just an ancient menace they encountered once. Even the Shiplords, who are crazy prepared and have absurd logistics advantages compared to any other known galactic race, wouldn't keep those weapons close to hand if they never expected to need them again.
And even the Shiplords would probably get tired of worrying about anti-Practice weaponry, even as something to train for, if over and over for a million years they never needed it. They'd start rationalizing that it was okay to not bother to keep planning how to integrate it into their ships, or train their crews in its use, because after all, they'd beaten a Practice-type enemy once before and that was before they already knew how to design anti-Practice weaponry.
In short, no one maintains a capability they don't expect to need, that long, and that well.
...
This in turn leads to the conclusion that the Shiplords have crossed swords with whatever Practice or Practice-like threat these weapons are designed to be used against, and done so more than once, or done so recently, or do so regularly.
Yes.
Perhaps it comes at a price humanity does not yet understand, or is a perversion of something the Shiplords do not want to see perverted.
Shinr
Lurking since December '98
Sorry, somehow I confused 12:25 with 11:25.
- Location
- New England
So I know I don't vote here because reasons, but I'm a little concerned no one has even seemed to comment on this
As I read it it seems like it's a bit hard to think under this weapon and knowing the word and what you mean it to be has seemed to be a critical part of speaking in the past.
Also how easy is it to speak while you are impaired by crippling pain (barring cussing typically).
As I read it it seems like it's a bit hard to think under this weapon and knowing the word and what you mean it to be has seemed to be a critical part of speaking in the past.
Also how easy is it to speak while you are impaired by crippling pain (barring cussing typically).
Well, we know that Practice is one of the things that come from understanding the soul - that is, it's a way of using the power of the soul. It could very well be that the Shiplords consider souls sacrosanct.
Plus, it does make it an amusing inversion of genre conventions that it's
xxxx
Interestingly, the mechanical boost the Shiplords got from their anti-soul weapons was called Void Weaponry. I wonder if it's connected to their directive about not lingering in the void between stars or if it's just using similarly poetic terms for different things.