The larger vessels were pummeled, but their shields were much more powerful than the others. Small fighters soared with roaring flames into the void of space. They say that space is a quiet place, but that isn't true. Shock waves and impacts against the hull could be heard quite loudly. As explosions lit the sky below them, the fighters were all too aware that they were in the midst of a battle without even having to look.
Not that there was an absence of things to look at. Missiles and lasers streaked around them. Pious or loyal to their house, fighters knew their flying ability was all that stood between them and a death in the void. Their shields would not stand up to a single strike from one of the motherships, and even against other fighters, a few solid hits would be enough to do enough damage to end their fight, likely quite permanently.
"We will rise and we will fall, but we will never stop being House Hawkwood," called one pilot over the comms. A chorus of shouted agreement echoed over the line. He died moments later, his ship making a bright flash in the sky before its pieces began to rain on the ground far below in a shooting star haze.
"Pancreator see me through this day," a pious pilot prayed as they squeezed the trigger to let loose a volley of hot death towards another ship. But if God was anything, he didn't play favorites. His ship rocked under a graze of laser fire, enough to bring down his shields in a haze of vulnerability. The next shot of the volley ripped open a hole, a small one. Were his ship nestled safely on a planet, it would have been laughable.
But space was not safe. The air in the ship exploded outwards, rushing at the speed of sound free of the hole with no way for the pilot to fix it and slowly expanding as the pressure forced the hole wider and wider. To his credit, he kept fighting until consciousness fled him, then his ship joined the fireworks in the sky.
Celestia had paused her visitations for the day, not that many were still lined up for it. She was out on her balcony, one of many, watching the sky's strange display. "This is..." She ran her tongue over the inside of her mouth, struggling to find words that could provide the right context for things.
"Your Majesty." She looked to see a guard behind her. "Are we... Never mind. Sorry." He stood at stiff attention, regaining his composure. It was his job to do that.
Celestia smiled gently. "In this time, you may be scared." She spread a wing towards the stallion. "Sit with me, if you prefer."
The guard glanced around, uncertain, at least until the sky flared brightly. He hurried forward and sat beside his ruler. "I'm scared," he muttered in admission.
Another sat down at her other side. With metal thumps, others soon joined, a crowd of guards trying to draw some manner of comfort from Celestia. It was not a threat they could even try to face, the fires in the sky that neither Celestia nor Luna controlled.
Celestia gently smiled. "Though we are but witnesses, let us watch and see. I know my sister battles in her own way. Princess Twilight Sparkle too is involved." Some ears perked, moods buoyed. There had yet to be a problem Twilight was pointed at, especially when it was a threat to all they knew, that she didn't eventually figure out. "Let us put our faith in our friends, that they can win through this day."
Twilight sat before her telescope, her magic holding it as she swayed it around, able to pick out the fight with each bright flash, even if she had to squint to not be blinded by the same. "This is beyond terrible."
"I don't suppose--" Spike was standing not far away, looking up at the spectacular display. "--you could time freeze all of that?"
"Spike." She pulled her head back. "I know you have confidence in me, and I do appreciate that, but there are limits." She pointed downwards. "How is everypony else doing?"
Spike lightly shrugged, eyes still on the display in the sky. "You figure out how to make a ship like Laud's so we can go up there and help?"
Twilight arched a brow high. "While Starlight has proven quite capable of reproducing small bits of their technology, one of their vessels is magnitudes more complex. Besides that, we don't have one to copy that's actually working."
"Sure we do." Spike pointed off towards the landing pad. "Two right--"
The ground rocked beneath them faintly as one of the ships propelled into the air, seeming sluggish at first but rapidly gaining speed, blasting into the sky, then beyond it on its voyage to join the battle above. "One, right there," finished Spike, turning his pointer finger to the church ship that remained.
Twilight's head craned back, watching the ship taking off. "Those are the merchants. They're... joining the battle. This is terrible. They could... get hurt, all of them. They came to trade, with smiles and friendship." She glanced sidelong at Spike. "In some ways, they are the best we've met. They see our magic and their minds go to what wonders could come of it, not fear of it. To think they could be hurt, trying to defend us..."
Spike huffed at that. "Are you writing off Laud's family? He has thousands of humans here, fighting for us, mostly just because it's the right thing to do." He slapped his chest, looking mildly offended. "They aren't in it for the bits, and they're still fighting for what scares them. Isn't that more noble? They don't get us, and we scare them, and they're still willing to fight for us."
A little smile spread on Twilight's worried face. "You aren't wrong, Spike. Sorry. They both have their reasons, and we should respect them for what they are. They are friends, both of them. I only hope they aren't..." She swallowed heavily. "There must be something I can do to help..."
"I am the Pancreator's right hand," he boomed, growing to match her stature, but still going, his spear glowing with the holy power he envisioned himself with. "You stand not a chance against me."
She bit at his lunging spear, but neither her teeth met it nor did it lance into her, the two dancing around one another as she swelled to match him. "You are a fool with delusions of grandeur. This is my world," boomed Luna in the guise of Nightmare Moon. "My people! I will protect them from your evil."
"You would lecture me on the matter of evil?" He slammed the butt of his spear down, golden holy energy exploding outwards, clashing with the silvery moonlight of his enemy. "Creature of foul magic, demon that corrupts minds. You have nothing to stand on."
"I am a healer," she boomed, roaring at him as her wings spread out wide. "If you think me a beast, then I am a wild wolf that chases away far worse things. You know nothing of us save for the thirst of blood on your lips."
He wiped an arm over his blood-stained lips, their thoughts clashing wildly in that place. "It is not a sin to desire the destruction of corrupt beings. Enough words, prove your strength."
She lunged for him, his vision seemingly lost to razor-sharp teeth and her bestial howl. But it faded away.
"Father." He was being shaken, by a physical hand.
He surged to his feet, knocking the priest back in the abrupt motion. His body was not as spry in the physical world with age, his spine complaining at the sudden motion. "Mmf, what is it? I was battling the demonic presence they sent after us and you interrupted it."
"The fighter exchange is going in our favor." He pointed to a display that was currently turned off, no more than a dark screen. "But we've lost a ship."
"Pancreator above," he sighed out, imagining an entire ship, incalculably valuable, lost to battle. "Tell me there's more good news."
"I regret I can not in good faith, father. I do have more news." More bad news, the implication clearly hung.
"Delay will only cost us more. Speak." He began to comport himself properly, straightening his clothes and hair. "Which ship?"
"The stealth cruiser, father." The smallest of their ships, yet still quite large enough to be an easy target. "A third party has joined the melee. The merchants have taken leave of their senses and taken up the Hawkwood's side."
"Damn them," he muttered with more gravity than most men who had said the term in history. "I will talk sense into them." He moved for the radio, waving behind him. "Go. The ship needs all hands at the ready it can get."
With the other fleeing, he began to work the controls. "You are a small house. Tempted by the wealth before you, you reach for it, but your fingers are tainted with sin, and you will pay the price for it. Turn back and flee, and forgiveness could be found."
"Piss off," came a female reply. "With all due respect." He scowled at the voice, but it kept on going, "We'll pay with cold cash once this is over. Now step aside, the adults have better things to do than mince and cry at shadows that aren't there."
With a cruel twist, he changed who he was addressing. "Knock the merchant vessel from the sky. Let us teach them the folly of thinking that money makes right." It helped that the merchant vessel was smaller than the heavy ships the Hawkwoods had. Much like their own stealth vessel, it was small enough to land, and would be comparatively easy to destroy as a result.
"You're trying get us killed," roared the captain, shoving the woman aside. "You just painted a target on our side."
"Then I'd better get to giving them a ride." She sank down onto a seat and began to laugh as she turned the ship far more quickly than the larger ships could dream to do. Even for a ship of its size, maneuvering jets allowed it to pivot on a figurative dime, throwing those not sitting down against the nearest wall. "The longer they waste time firing at us, the more we've helped. Keep up the shots while you're at it, no reason to let them forget we're here."
"Expect the ride to get bumpy," warned the captain a bit late over the ship intercom. "If you're not putting out a fire or firing something, sit your ass down and maybe take a moment to kiss it, this may be your last chance." He strapped himself in as his eyes wandered over the displays. "You're lucky we refueled before hopping the gate."
"Luck for the ship is luck for everyone, Cappy." She jerked the wheel the other way. "Wooo, they are unloading everything at us!" The room shook and boomed as explosions threw things so violently the particulate striking the hull made dull thuds in the void of space. "Tell me the shields are standing."
"One direct hit and they're ash." The captain grit his teeth as he glanced to the controls. "Full... The hell?" The number began to go higher than full, reaching higher and higher beyond what he knew it should reach. He slammed the intercom button. "What's going on with the shields?"
"We're breaking some warranties, sir," came the voice of an engineer. "You can dock my pay after we land. If we don't, no harm done, the way I see it. We can pay off the damages if we're still breathing."
The entire ship shuddered violently, a laser bolt, well aimed or lucky, striking them across the bow of their shield. The number plummeted, but didn't hit zero. "Keep dodging," he shouted out in almost a shrill cry. The efforts of his crew were the only thing standing between them and an early death.
"Fire on Deck three, get on that," came over the intercom, with frantic replies in the affirmative. The ship was fighting for its life.