//------------------------------// // Chapter 8: That Which Remains // Story: Ponystar Equestria: The Last ponystar // by Commander Celestus //------------------------------// Chapter 8: That Which Remains The CIC of a ponystar was a place of order, except in the very worst battle. The crew were trained to deal with almost any emergency, and all of them knew that there were other ponies relying on them. In the aftermath of the destruction of the Colonies, the Equestria’s CIC crew were finding refuge in their work, trying not to think about what had happened to friends and family, and trying even more not to dwell on the unknown future that lay ahead. The task of evacuating the hulk of the Titan was a welcome distraction. “How’s the evacuation of the Titan going?” Celestus asked as he cantered into CIC. Major Pie rolled her eyes, a sure sign that she was not impressed, even if CIC seemed to be working as regularly as normal. “Like a gods-damned sloth with arthritis, Commander,” she complained. “We’ve got most of the fighters and other birds transferred, but we’re still transferring equipment and personnel. Weapons lockers are bulging, though, and that’s certainly a good thing, but with half the Titan crew dead, it’s taking time to get somepony who has access to some of her lockers. That ship is really bucked up!” her rasping voice sounded even more irritated than usual. She wanted to have a drink, but she was on duty and her bottles were in her quarters; so she was taking it out on the crew as usual. Colonel Pie had her own ideas about command. The function of the XO, in her opinion, was to be the total bitch everypony hated and had to jump to anyhow, while the Commander could be the father-figure. The XO was feared, the Commander respected. It might not be everypony’s idea of a decent command structure, but it seemed to work anyhow. “Well tell them to work as fast as they can,” Celestus advised as he moved to where Moonstone was monitoring communications. “Moonstone, can you tell what’s going on out there?” The dedicated communications officer looked around at the Commander, “Mostly Cyponian chatter, sir,” she reported. “But I’m getting some Colonial wireless communication.” “Military?” he asked, seeking clarification. Whatever it was, it suggested that there had been some survivors from the destruction of the Colonies, and that meant a glimmer of hope. “I’m not sure, commander. It sounds like convoy traffic; but the Colonies have gone…” Celestus smiled; at last, some good news. If there was a convoy that had survived, chances were a passenger ship or two had survived as well. Survivors in any number would be enough to save the race. “Moonstone, get a fix on that traffic. Omicron; when you have a fix, plot a jump to intercept. Colonel Pie!” “Yes, sir!” she jumped to attention, glad to be back in action. “Rescue mission ahead. Get the whole ship’s company ready for this! As soon as we’ve finished evacuating the Titan and stripping her for parts and supplies, we get over to this convoy and lead them out of the combat zone, understood?” “Understood, Commander,” Colonel Pie actually smiled at her CO, something uncharacteristic in the tough old mare. “Rescue mission, huh? Okay, listen up, we are going to try to save as many of our people from those bucking Cyponians as we can! I need CAG Atepomonus in the briefing room five minutes ago! All gun crews to stations! Prep fire control! How much longer will it take to finish operations on board the Titan? If it’s more than thirty minutes, tell the crews to get their plots in gear and finish the bucking job! This is a ponystar, not a bucking cruise ship!” “Colonel Pie!” Star Flash smiled as she strolled into CIC, looking like she didn’t have a care in the world. “You’re in a good mood today.” The scarred pink mare muttered darkly under her breath before she spoke to the Pegasus pilot in her most disapproving tone. “Okay, Star Flash, what are you doing in CIC?” she asked suspiciously. “Here to report as per orders, Colonel,” she smiled sweetly as though innocent of all wrongdoing. “You remember you wanted a report on the fighters?” “Oh yeah; how are they?” Colonel Pie cursed inwardly for forgetting that she had asked Star Flash to tell her the condition of the fighters transferred from the hulk of the Titan. “At least three different generations of fighters, but thank the gods they’re all designed for a standard launch tube. Six are barely holding together, but we can cannibalize them for spares. About half of them have battle damage of some sort, but hey, we were just in a battle, so what can you expect. Sir,” she added the last word with a rather insubordinate smile, causing the XO some irritation. “Thank you, Lieutenant. Now get back to the Flight Wing and check out the pilots. How many of ours have survived, and how many are there going to be from the other ships?” “Just under a quarter of our pilots survived; which is pretty good going seeing we were the first ponystar to launch, and it took way too long for the others to launch their fighters. Four pilots from the Epona, fifteen from Triton…” the list went on; too few pilots for so many ships. Colonel Pie felt that fact. Things were bad, she thought; this was all the Colonial military as far as they knew. A convoy would have escort destroyers, but those ships weren’t designed for serious combat, they were meant to hold off raider squadrons, not baseships; and the Cyponians wouldn’t be playing around, they’d be sending baseships with nukes to take out any major concentration of Colonial ships. “Okay, Lieutenant, go find the CAG, wherever he’s vanished to, and tell him to get his plot down to the briefing room. You can come along too to look after him; I’m sure he’ll appreciate it,” she gave the Pegasus pilot her most evil smile. “I’ve actually got a mission for him!” “Understood, Colonel!” If everything that Star Flash said was regulation, the expression with which she spoke was not. She enjoyed riding the Colonel, getting as close to insubordination as she could without actually doing anything regulations forbade. Before Colonel Pie could object, the pilot trotted out of CIC. “Well?” the Colonel turned to face the nearest member of CIC crew. “Get back to work! We’ve got a people to save!” She followed Star Flash out of the CIC. Back at the refuge area the civilian fleet had swelled to nearly 200 ships of all kinds, but now they were arriving battle-damaged; having ravaged the Colonies, the Cyponians were turning their attention to Colonial space traffic that had been caught between worlds. Major Moonlight was sure that there would be convoys gathering at other refuge points, but there was no way to unite them. For one thing, the Cyponians would be on the look out for Colonial ships, and for another, she had no idea how to go about it. She paced the bridge deck of the Element, hooves clicking on the steel plating; the responsibility was weighing heavily on her now, and had it been possible, she would have worn a track in the deck plating with her pacing. Each moment was a moment that the Cyponians might find them, each moment they were in jeopardy. To make things worse, Secretary Cheerilynn was on her way over from her transport to talk things over, and if the Cyponians attacked while her shuttle was in transit they’d have to jump away and abandon her. Once more the ship’s sensor alarm went off. Moonlight watched anxiously to see if the ship was Cyponian or Colonial. Every time, she thought, every time there was this agonising wait, the fear that it would be a nuke or something, and they’d all be joining their friends and families who had died on the Colonies. “Colonial, sir!” the co-pilot reported. “Three ships… oh gods!” In a moment Moonlight was at his console, watching helplessly as one of the contacts disintegrated and vanished from the screen. The strain of the jump had been too great for the damaged vessel, and it had just broken up on arrival. The ponies on board had thought that they had escaped the Cyponians, only to die anyhow. She turned away, tears welling up in her eyes. She was a scientist, not a soldier, and all this death distressed her. “Sparky, Contact the survivors and ask them what happened,” the Major said quietly. “Heavy battle damage; they just jumped out of a firefight,” the communications officer reported. His real name was Marcus, but it was tradition to nickname a communications officer Sparky. His voice shook as he spoke, reflecting the stress they were all under, not to mention the shock of the first ship they had lost. “The lead ship says there were six more ships that didn’t make it at all.” It was bad, Moonlight thought, really bad. Time to consider leaving; yet that would mean dooming any ships that still survived. She hesitated, unsure of what she should do. “Major Moonlight, it’s good to see you at last.” Moonlight started at the unexpected greeting. She recognised Cheerilynn’s voice, but she was surprised by the Secretary’s appearance. Traditionally the government of the Colonies was in the hooves of Alicorns, but the pony who stood in the doorway of the bridge was a quiet-looking, yet also capable, mauve earth pony. She wore a smart business suit, and was followed by a young brown stallion who wore Colonial government saddlebags. “S… Secretary…” “I know,” Cheerilynn smiled. “I’m an earth pony. I’m from Aquaria, we recognise there that authority is something that is earned, and not someone a pony is born with, and certainly not a question of a pony’s appendages,” her manner and tone positively radiated that authority, Moonlight thought. “That’s not something I’m going to argue with,” Moonlight smiled. “Welcome aboard, Minister.” “Ships are arriving with serious battle damage now, aren’t they? My ship has scanners too, and I can see then out of the viewports,” Cheerilynn’s voice was businesslike and full of the authority she had indeed earned. Scretary of Education was a cabinet position, even if she was not in the Council of Twelve, and that made her a very senior pony indeed, perhaps the most senior surviving member of the Colonial government. “Yes, Secretary, they are. That means the Cyponians have probably destroyed all space ports on our home worlds and are starting to mop up the ships that were between worlds when the attack was launched. It means that it’s only a matter of time before they find us here.” “Then we need to leave,” Cheerilynn said firmly. “Gods, I’m amazed you’ve waited so long before leaving this refuge area.” “I’m a scientist, a specialist posted to fleet headquarters; I’m not really a soldier at all. If it wasn’t for the war, I’d be teaching at a university or something,” Moonlight admitted. “So I guess compassion rather than strategy has been guiding my actions.” She’d been loath to let anypony die, and so she’d waited, hoping that more would arrive. The deaths of those on board the ship that had broken up had jolted her, making her realise just what was going on out there. “And that’s nothing to be ashamed of,” the mauve earth pony said with a reassuring smile. “Your instinct was to save as many ponies as you could, and that’s admirable; the preservation of life should be our first priority, with so many dead on the Colonies. But if the last ships to join us jumped out of a battle, I think we are going to have to jump away ourselves. Major, please inform Commander Blacker, and tell the other civilian ships that we’re leaving this position,” Cheerilynn had just taken command, Moonlight thought, and she was so glad that there was somepony who wanted to, because sure as anything she didn't want to. “Major!” Marcus reported. “One of the new ships reports that their FTL drive is out of commission.” “Evacuate the ship,” Moonlight reported. “And do it quickly! We don’t know how much time we have!” “There’s two thousand ponies on that vessel.” Two thousand ponies. Even with every shuttle they had, it would take an hour or more to evacuate them. During that hour they would be vulnerable, but… The alarm went off again, and the co-pilot gasped in horror as he read the scanner report. “Cyponian baseship!” he yelled, his voice utterly terrified. “Major, they’ve found us!” It did not need a glance at the scanner to tell the ponies on the Element’s bridge that; they could see the huge double-saucer shape of the deadly Cyponian vessel hanging in space where it had appeared. Major Moonlight acted at once, turning to the captain of the transport. “Have the civilian ships got the jump co-ordinates?” she asked urgently. “Yes, sir, but it’ll take a couple of minutes to spool up FTL drives!” “Then spool up! We have to get out of here as soon as we can! Sparky, get me Commander Blacker, now!” Moonlight lifted the phone. The baseship was just sitting there, huge and intimidating, yet motionless; it wasn’t even launching raiders or opening fire with its deadly pulsar-cannon, it was just sitting there. The fact that the Cyponians were not attacking unsettled her; they had to have a reason, and she did not know what it was. “Major, I have Antigone on comm.,” Sparky reported. Moonlight spoke into her phone, her voice urgent. “Antigone, this is Element Actual. It’s going to take a couple of minutes to spool up the FTL and get the fleet out of here,” her tone was apologetic, she knew that she was asking Blacker and the destroyers to risk themselves for the civilian ships. “Element, this is Antigone Actual,” Blacker’s voice came over her phone. “Don’t you worry, Major, this is what we’re in the military to do, save civilian plots,” he was putting a brave face on it, Moonlight thought; he was getting ready to sacrifice himself for them all. “We’ll buy you the time that you need!” The purpose of Colonial escort destroyers was to protect civilian convoys from raiders; they were not designed to take on a fully armed baseship. Blacker looked at the ominous contact on the Antigone's main screen, and he shook his head. The CIC of an escort destroyer was a small, cramped space, filled with equipment. His ship was old, dating back to the beginning of the war; Cyponians didn’t as a rule send base ships out as commerce raiders, they sent their own destroyers, or more often formations of raiders, and that meant that there had not been the need to develop more advanced escort ships; in fact there had been a policy of posting obsolete fleet destroyers to escort duties, and Antigone was not just old, she was antiquated. Facing a baseship like this was extremely intimidating if he was honest. On the other hand, escorts usually operated in smaller numbers, four or five to a convoy, and right now he was in command of twenty-five destroyers, a formidable fighting force. He hoped that was why the baseship was hanging back; it was considering the best course of action against such a large destroyer force. Since to the best of his knowledge there had never been a battle in which destroyers engaged a single baseship in large numbers, the Cyponians would have no data on what would happen in such an engagement; and that gave him an opening. Commander Blacker was an experienced officer, and at one time he had been viewed as one to watch; he had risen to ponystar command rank, and had had a bright future ahead of him. All that had changed when he had commanded the ponystar Erebus in the third fleet before its destruction at the battle of Ceres, and had been transferred to escort duties because of his outspoken criticism of the conduct of that battle by the admiral in charge. The idea had been to sideline him, to take him away from all important work. Well, he thought with satisfaction, it hadn’t worked. Though he was commanding an escort destroyer now, he was an officer with a great deal of combat experience. He knew Cyponian tactics; they liked to overwhelm their foes with superior numbers; that meant the baseship that had found them was probably calling for reinforcements. Well, he wasn’t going to give them a chance to wait for those reinforcements. “Sparky, connect me with the rest of the Squadron,” he ordered, lifting his telephone. The communications officer obeyed. “You’re on, commander,” he told the dark alicorn with an efficient nod. “Destroyer squadron, this is Antigone Actual, Commander Blacker. Those Tin Cans out there have attacked our Colonies, nuked our comrades, friends and families,” Blacker’s voice was resolute. “So I say we teach ‘em a lesson! Antelope, Arcturus, follow my lead; we’re going to mount a proper missile run at the baseship. Everypony else, cover us, and watch for their raiders, and other baseships coming to join the party! Arm nukes, target the baseship’s engines and launch bays! We are going to show them that escort destroyers are just as deadly as fleet destroyers!” “Civilian ships are beginning to jump away,” one of the officers reported. Blacker smiled at the words; it meant that the countdown had begun, and he was sure of saving somepony. “Commence missile run!” the old ponystar officer looked upwards and smiled as his small ship began to accelerate towards the huge bulk of the baseship. “Lords of Olympia, hear my prayer. May our people live; I commit the souls of all of us into your hands, to your care and keeping.” Missiles hot, the three antiquated A-Class destroyers streaked forward as the baseship began to launch raiders towards the Colonial vessels. Two more baseships flared into existence as they jumped into the sector, and six more of the destroyers broke formation and shot towards them on their own missile runs, gun turrets blazing into life as they flew, spraying defensive fire. The missile run was the basic destroyer tactic against a capital ship, making use of the superior speed and agility of the smaller warships to get close enough to the enemy to deliver a lethal volley of short-range ship-to-ship missiles with nuclear warheads that packed quite a punch. It meant dodging enemy pulsar fire, all the while the destroyer’s gun crews trying to keep off raiders and deal with defensive missiles from the baseship. While escort destroyer crews were trained in missile runs, they had never had cause to use them; escort duty was regarded as a quiet posting. Blacker, however, had been on fleet destroyers early in his career, he had led missile-runs before, and in ships much like the A-Class. A quiet posting, a way of sidelining an experienced officer who was making things difficult for the top brass; not any more, Blacker thought as the Antigone shook; there were no quiet posting any more, they were fighting for their lives, for the lives of their people. That meant putting everything on the line, taking every necessary risk to save the civilian fleet, even at the expense of his own life. Although the destroyers dodged and weaved as they sped towards the enemy capital ships, and their guns were on defensive fire, there was no way to avoid taking some hits if they were going to fire their missiles into the core section of the baseship. Antigone shook once more as a shot from a raider’s guns struck home on her heavily-armoured hull. They’d take damage, Blacker thought; all they could do was try to avoid being blown to bits before they reached the target. After that; well, the top brass were already dead, he’d probably be joining them, but at least he would have gone out doing something useful. “Missile crews, ready to fire!” he shouted. An impact shook the compact vessel, causing a monitor in CIC to explode, and the pony who stood at it fell back, screaming in agony from the shards of glass that had ripped through her face. Lords of Olympia, he thought, we’re not coming through this. This is Ceres all over again; only at Ceres there were Colonies to return to, and at Ceres I was commanding a ponystar. At Ceres we had survivors, but this time there'll be no survivors picked up from lifepods, no second chances. “Send those Tin Cans to Hades,” he ordered grimly. “Fire missiles, retreat and reload launch tubes!” The destroyer shuddered as the deadly missiles shot from their tubes, and the helm executed a sharp turn away at speed. On the bridge of the Element, Moonlight watched as the civilian ships jumped away. All around them was the blaze of battle as the escorts engaged the attacking Cyponians, trying to hold them off the fleet until the civilian ships could jump away to safety. As commander of the civilian fleet, Moonlight was delaying jumping away until the rest of the fleet had gone; she knew that they would be leaving ponies behind, and wanted to make sure that they did not leave any more than they had to. Any destroyers that could would jump with her, but she knew that she would not see Blacker again. “Lords of Olympia,” she muttered under her breath, “Be gentle with him. Receive the souls of our valiant dead. Receive the souls of the dead of our Colonies.” She averted her eyes as a nuke from one of the destroyers exploded against the hull of the first of the Cyponian baseships. A wave of destroyers was concentrating on that ship, dodging and weaving between blasts from the Cyponian pulsar-cannon. Three of the Antigone’s missiles slammed into a raider bay, and the bay erupted in a ball of fire. The ponies on the bridge of the Element cheered; it was a small victory, but it was a victory nonetheless. A baseship had been damaged, and more destroyers closed in for the kill. One was struck by an anti-ship missile from the baseship’s still-functioning missile tubes, and it exploded into fragments, killing everypony on board instantly. Moonlight gasped. She was in her first battle, and had just witnessed her first military loss; it cut her to the heart. On the one hoof she admired Blacker’s destroyer crews for their bravery; on the other the carnage of war sickened her. Reserves of raiders launched from the two other baseships to try to cover the stricken vessel, but they were too late. The huge ship was battered by anti-shipping missiles, and she fell away, blazing, while the destroyers turned their attention on the other two ships. A victory, Moonlight thought as explosions ripped through the dying capital ship. It would be encouraging anyhow, even if it was just one baseship that had been destroyed. But there would be no staying to watch the outcome; the fleet had to survive. As she watched two destroyers blew up as they were struck by fire from one of the surviving baseships; she could not tell which they were. “Last ship away,” Marcus reported. Moonlight was never so glad to hear a report in her life. The Element was an unarmed vessel, a starliner, completely dependent on military vessels for protection. It was time to end this battle, and to lead the ships in her care out of the combat zone, to whatever safety there might still be in a very lonely universe. “Jump,” she ordered.