//------------------------------//
// Chapter 2: Unsavory Elements 
// Story: The New Lunar Republic: Leviathan 
// by RedWinter 
//------------------------------//

Unsavory Elements



Winter Reverie, standing helmetless on the command deck of his ship, contemplated the wisest course of action to take and kept coming to the same conclusion.

The unicorn had aged much since the day he had gotten his cutie mark, the same day which the conflict had started. He found a certain irony in that, and often said that he had been fighting in the war since he had gotten the sign of his talent. The title he had earned as Commander marked him as a unique creature in the navies of the Republic. While in the navy officially he held the equivalent rank of captain, his numerous boarding actions and propensity for ground and direct combat had gained him the authority comparative to a colonel in the standing army.

While his status and numerous decorations allowed him to command battleships or perhaps even a dreadnought if he really decided to pursue an agenda as a political officer, Winter Reverie had always had a distaste for the squabbling that the upper echelons of power held as ‘tactical debate’. It did allow him certain flexibility in terms of operation so long as he occupied the Assault Cruiser, the bridge between cruiser and full sized battleship.

As colonel he could hoof pick specialists and other unique talent. And as captain he could requisition supplies from naval depots and authorized him interactions with private contractors for refit. A useful tool for prolonged operations beyond friendly territory.

After several months of service as a commerce raiding ship, the Vengeful Omen had found herself on the opposite side of the border. The actual dividing line between the two warring nations was a rather ambiguous one, the space between sometimes forming obvious choke points and other places spreading across many stars.

Generally, when you saw more gold hull than purple, you were in Empire territory. And Reverie had had his fill of golden ships. At times, preying on cargo runners and occasional navy convoys gave him a sadistic thrill of pleasure, imagining the shock and fear generated by his appearance. Especially when they were able to use the Pylons.

He couldn’t shake the feeling though that his crew had been away for too long, been adrift in lawless space one too many weeks. Surely though, the living stars had a greater plan for the Vengeful Omen and its commander. Finding such conclusive evidence of a Foehammer…

In a way, Winter felt relieved. Just as he had begun to worry about the proper timing for making their way back to rejoin the Republic Navy proper, something had fallen into his hooves that had made the choice for him. Making transmissions such as he had to Admiral Blueberry were risky for ships and crews on commerce raiding duties. It was usually left to the discretion of the captain when to make the call that as much damage as could be done safely had been inflicted.

It was always a fine line because you never knew when the next merchant ship has escorts waiting just around the bend.

The unicorn pushed a stray piece of turquoise hair back into his dominantly deep ocean blue mane and called up a map to plot a path. The rally point for the Vengeful Omen to meet up with its navy escorts to transit further coreward was many systems away. There were many notes tagged to various solar systems along his projected paths, warnings about enemy movement, engagement history, orbital bodies, average traffic, and availability of jump points. Personal annotations were marked out in purple where Crystal Flourish had dutifully taken down his thoughts and experience at each star.

After some deliberation, he decided on a path that would be very direct save for a few known Imperial strongholds, wagering on haste over caution. There was one stop that would have to be made though, one that he had been planning on making anyway. After one more careful round of scrutiny he ran it by Crystal. The mute pegasus gave it a critical assessment, altered one or two points and nodded.

When she spotted his marked waypoint though, her eyes narrowed at him. Well used to her subtle mood cues, Winter Reverie gave the mare a reassuring smile and spoke softly, his words meant solely for her.

“I know, I know, but we need to get a few things and the stuff in our hold doesn’t do us much good unless we want to chuck it at the next warship that passes our way.” Crystal turned her nose up as if smelling something foul. “Well, you don’t have to get off. There’s plenty of work that’ll need doing double time.” He tapped the ‘approve’ icon for the plotted vector, then raised his voice so the rest of his bridge team could hear.

“We’ve been ordered to meet escorts at the transmitted destination. We are carrying vital intelligence regarding the enemy and are to avoid any hostile contact if possible. Stand down from high combat alert but stay vigilant. I’d also like to congratulate you all on a job well done. You’ve all been steadfast in your duty and to our mission of disrupting Imperial trade. Now it’s time to head home.” There was a general cheer and light stomping of hooves at the news. Winter waited a moment before continuing. “Before we go all the way to our rendezvous however, there’s going to be a brief stop in the Hel system. We’re going to Tartarus Station to refit and rearm prior to the main leg of our journey.”

The Commander saluted his bridge with a hoof to his breast. “Glory to our Princess.”

“Glory to the New Lunar Republic!” Responded the crew with pride. Winter Reverie lowered his hoof and trotted out of the command bridge. Crystal Flourish followed close behind, tapping away silently on her personal connection to the Omen’s data systems that floated beside her.

Many of the crew often joked that their commander had a second shadow in the form of the purple pegasus wearing an indigo navy uniform. Through the years, Crystal had become indispensable to Winter Reverie, her acuity for supply, be it food or ammunition was second to none. Where she really shined though was her capacity for void warfare. No pony Winter had ever met had her ability for maneuvering warships or anticipating enemy movements. Among the stars she was as graceful as a ballet dancer, or rather a fencing champion.

Reverie’s expertise in the weapons of warships and their capabilities complimented her navigational aptitudes. Having spent so long together they could anticipate each other. And while because of her muteness, many thought the genius resided solely in Commander Reverie and Crystal Flourish liked it that way and often cleverly pointed the spotlight away from herself.

As they walked down the gunmetal corridors of the Vengeful Omen, they passed a maintenance hatch from which issued soft moans. Winter Reverie stopped, rolled his eyes and called down into the shaft.

“Rosethorn, Viola, get up here.” There was a soft gasp then a moment of silence. Winter patiently waited, tapping his hoof to make sure they knew he wasn’t going away. Sheepishly, a sweating soft red pegasus and equally disheveled nut brown earth pony climbed up and stood naked before their superior officer. Crystal shook her head and went back to her calculations.

“What have I told you two before?” His voice was stern.

“If we have to… do it, do it in private.” Said Rosethorn. Both mares looked at him with wide puppy dog looks.

“Don’t let me catch you two again or I’ll pull the video log and upload it to the ship net for everypony to enjoy.” Aghast, their eyes widened in horror. “Now shoo, the both of you.” The two scurried off quickly. Likely to one of their rooms thought Reverie.

‘Would you really do that?’ Crystal signed to him.

“As amusing as it would be, I think poor Acrylic would have a heart attack over the sight of his sister so scandalously entwined.” With a sigh, Winter resumed his walk, Flourish in tow.

He knew he needed to be stricter with the pair, but all his power armor team had their own way of relieving the tension after a mission. Sex was Viola and Thorn’s way of dealing with it. Without outlets, they would crack under the pressure eventually. Acrylic had his painting, and his sister, when not between Winter’s second in command’s legs, played her namesake. On long intervals between actions Reverie would occasionally have the musical filly play for the crew in the mess hall.

Circuit Board spent a lot of his free time perusing the ship’s data network or trying to hack passing Imperial communication nodes. It was surprising the amount of information the small unicorn could sift through. Nightingale oftentimes indulged her propensity for explosives, either devising clever new ways for breaching ship hulls or talking shop with the Omen’s gunnery ponies. It had been her who had helped perfect the shield and armor penetration qualities of Winter’s Teleportation Pylons.

And of course, the Commander had his own way of relieving the pent up violence after combat.

The stallion, still clad in his wargear and fully armed, stepped into the armory. It was a simple, but well-stocked arming chamber. Firearms, both magical and kinetic lined the walls. Rifles, cannons, launchers, energy casters, close combat weapons, different ammunition and more exotics armaments beside could be found. Power armor from his boarding team was put up neatly in personal cubicles where a pony could be armored and kept their preferred weapons.

The Vengeful Omen’s armory was much larger than the average ship-of-the-line, needing to be prepared at all times to both launch and repel invasions because of its intimate role in void warfare. Winter strode across the training mats and other exercise areas over to the firing range. The compartment was mostly empty except for Nightingale performing a few adjustments to her armor post-op.

She gave him a salute, which he returned, and smiled at Crystal before turning back to her work. Winter Reverie took his place on the firing step and called up a few metal targets from the control panel beside him. His pegasus shadow stepped back out of the way and stuck the tips of her wings into her ears. Live ammo use wasn’t a concern because of a cleverly designed shield that allowed ordinance to travel downrange and prevented any shrapnel from endangering anypony practicing.

With a snarl, Winter floated his 20mm cannon in a magic grip and opened up on fully automatic. The long barrel of his weapon bucked and kicked in fury, spitting explosive death at two hundred rounds a minute. He hosed down one pony sized target after the next, the metal cutouts consumed in fireballs as each shell detonated. The unicorn screamed a warcry that was lost in the thunder. All his anger and rage was poured into destroying imaginary enemies, visualizing hated imperial soldiers torn apart by the barrage of his spite.

Hard munitions were his choice when going into battle. He felt the impact better, was comforted by the solid weight of the bullets, the shells, the grenades. The kinetic impact of physical objects moving at supersonic speeds was comparable to the shock and awe offered by more modern magically charged plasma or nova weapons.

Ammo was loaded smoothly to his gun from the feed connected to his armor. With a telekinetic flick, the warrior pulled a different trigger. The underslung magnetically accelerated attachment was a custom touch to the rifle. The secondary armament fired unique, harpoon like projectiles that started in a compressed state and expanded in flight into meter long spears. The shafts penetrated nearly anything with ease and could be amplified with numerous effects.

Reverie triggered them in burst mode, and fired seven near simultaneously with loud bangs as the smooth metal hastened at Mach ten. He raged and pulled the trigger again and again, until the face of the young ensign was wiped from his mind, until his voice was hoarse and his horn ached from the magic strain. The targets were perforated and blackened from his habitual abuse. This was his way of dealing with things, of blowing off steam. Either with guns or hooves against dummy targets, he expended himself to the point of exhaustion.

It actually served many purposes. The constant practice had honed his skills and set an example to the rest of his ponies as an unspoken expectation for them. They could not see him being weak, in crying or worse, breaking down. So he funneled his leftover aggression into something that contained his destructive drive and served his authority.

With a deep breath, he eased up and holstered his rifle. The cacophony died away and Winter centered himself. Tempting though it was, he did not practice with his pistol. That was reserved for special occasions.

‘You done?’ flapped Crystal. Her commander nodded.

“What do you do to relax after combat, Flourish?” He wondered.

‘Watching you destroy stuff is usually pretty therapeutic.’ She tittered, softly as rustling feathers.

“Let me know when we jump safely, I’ll be in my stateroom.” Crystal Flourish saluted. Nightingale gave him a cheerful wave as he exited the armory and made his way to his private quarters. Being commander afforded him a private, and in terms of warship housing, luxurious compartment.

His stateroom probably would have been a complete, disorganized mess given how much time he spent there if he had had enough personal possessions to leave laying around. There was only a simple bed, a desk with control interface built in, and a rack for his weapons and armors. The unicorn owned only three outfits, his power armor, his ‘casual’ combat armor, and a neatly folded and pressed dress coat that hadn’t seen use in over a year.

Gifted with a horn, he was able to divest himself of his powered suit without assistance. He didn't like anypony, even Flourish to see his front legs, or his many scars. The events had been taxing, and with a contented ‘omph’ Winter Reverie threw himself onto his bed and fell almost straight to sleep.


***


As with all societies there were certain shady elements that abounded in the Solar Empire who of course blamed such miscreants on the Lunar Republic who in turn pointed the hoof back at the Empire. Pirates, smugglers, black market stations, and the like encrusted civilized space like barnacles. No matter how much traffic controllers and various police task forces would like, such activities and groups simply came with the territory.

It did not matter how many resources were devoted to the task, ponies and members of other species would always find a way to live and thrive outside the boundaries of law and authority. Some did it because they were born to it, some because they liked it, others did it in order to make a quick bit, and certain individuals did it because they were just good at it.

More often than not the New Lunar Republic found its ideals aligned with the privateers and the lawless, if for no other reason than they saw Luna as a pony fighting the oppressive iron hoof of her sister. Although on the surface, officials of the NLR denied any dealings with pirates or their ilk, many backroom deals had been perpetrated. After all, if military intelligence just happened to be leaked regarding Empire patrol routes who would know?

Winter Reverie sat in his command throne, clad in his ‘casual’ armored suit, an intricate series of purple trimmed armor plates overlaid on a ballistic cloth bodysuit. He preferred to observe the final approaches to stations, but left all the maneuvering to his crew. There were commanders that would just sit in their staterooms, never actually bothering to make an appearance, or worse, micromanaging everything their ponies did.

“Tartarus Station Control, this is the Vengeful Omen requesting permission to dock,” Said a pony into their headset.

“This Control, you are cleared for pier seven; guide lights are lit, welcome to Tartarus.”

“Pleasure is ours Control.” This was not the first time the Omen had docked at Tartarus, and her commander was known for being generous with trade. Smoothly, the warship skimmed to a stately halt in one of the massive hanger bays of the rogue station, passing through the shimmering magic membrane that kept the hanger pressurized. The immense space was carved out of a small planetoid that floated just a little too far from the Hel system’s sun.

The whole station was embedded in the rock formation’s broken pieces, large metal tubes connecting the various pressurized spaces. At one point it had been a promising mining colony before the corporation funding the venture had decided to invest its assets elsewhere. It was a common story. Because the atmospheric processors and other large scale equipment necessary to set up such a colony were more expensive to disassemble and relocate than to replace, the facility became a rogue station. It wasn’t officially recognized except on trade routes and pirate maps.

“Get everything we’ve got unloaded. Let’s not hold anything back for later trade. This is going to be a long trip and I want us as stuffed as we can be.” Crystal Flourish nodded and tapped out the appropriate orders to begin emptying the Omen’s cargo holds. With things well in hoof, Winter Reverie made his way to one of the external airlocks, his pegasus assistant close behind.

He tried to relax as the massive doors went through their equalization cycle and felt a moment of vertigo as the ship’s gravity shifted to the half normal of Tartarus. At the bottom of the ramp the massive pier was bustling with activity. The Vengeful Omen wasn’t the only ship moored at the moment and there were ponies of various trade and occupation making their way between cargo containers and ramps to other ships, large and small. At the bottom of the ramp waited exactly the pony Winter wanted to see.

She was an earth pony by the name of Consortium. She was wearing a formal, but simple dress of orange and red.

“Ah! My dear Commander, how good to see you again. And may I say what a pleasure it is for your ship to grace my humble pier once again.” The butter yellow mare practically draped herself over the ship captain. “Mm, is that a heavy weapon in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me? Oh, hello Crystal dear.” She said casually.

Crystal Flourish’s left eye twitched in slightly murderous intent.

Well used to Consortium’s forwardness, Winter Reverie politely pushed the mare off him and got down to business. The earth pony owned this particular dock of the station, controlling tariffs, fees, and generally orchestrated all trade that went through it. They had discussed most of the transaction prior to the Omen docking and the majority of the order was ready in crates on the dock but the details still had to be finalized.

“I wish we had some time to catch up C, I really do, but I’m on a timetable. I need quite a few things and I need them fast. Expendables, gemstones, food, a water cycling would be nice, and a few special things besides.” The yellow earth pony smiled, instantly shifting from coy to bartering.

“Let’s go up to my office and we can talk bits.” With a flick of her tail and a twirl of her dress she led the way up to her perch. The office in question was situated high up in the hanger with sweeping windows to look down upon the ships below. Consortium sat herself on a luxurious couch and gestured for the pair to take seats opposite her.

Crystal Flourish tapped a few control keys and a digital listing of required materials floated between them.

“When you said you needed things you weren’t kidding. Your magazines must be empty to need all this. Where are you heading? You’ve never needed this much before.”

“Can’t tell you that C, Republic business. I just need to get my ship coreward and I don’t want to be flying half-full.” He used his magic to highlight a few things on the floating shopping list. “I need expendables most of all. Slugs for my big guns, grapeshot canisters, then torpedoes and missiles, and preferably spare parts for my Corsairs as well. I’ve still got a fair bit of replacement fuel cells, the old girl’s not gluttonous but I don’t want to run dry in any case.”

“Oh, please? I’ll offer you a discount.” She said playfully. When he didn’t take the bait she got back on topic. “Hmm, I can offer you a deal on a big stock of munitions I just got in. I swear, these merchants are getting more and more trigger happy. And I think I may have just kinetic rounds to top off your bunkers, but grapeshot canisters are out of the question. I know you need the shield breakers, but that’s just military specialist hardware I don’t have. The fuel cells, food, water, and other basics are no problem.”

“What about the Corsairs? Also, have you gotten in that special order I placed last time?” She started ticking off quantities on the list and quoting prices with waves of a mouth held control wand.

“The fighters are going to be a premium as I’ve only got two Fireflies left you could use for parts and I’ve got others bidding on them already. As for the special materials you asked for, you should know just how hard it was to come by the amount I got for you last time. I managed to get ahold of half that, and it’s going to be costly.” Winter Reverie felt angry for a moment at the hikes in pricing, but quashed it quickly. He could tell that Consortium was looking rather frayed compared to last time they had met now that her initial pleasure at seeing him had worn off.

Times were hard.

The war was dragging on. Every day resources were becoming scarcer, devoted to making bigger and bigger warships and fleets to throw into the grinder. Countless planets were being swept up into military drafting as the tolls of total war took effect. New recruits hardly had time now to get proper training before they were billeted to positions to make up for the staggering losses incurred by both sides.

In the early battles, there had been fewer ships, and leaders were more likely to retreat and consolidate rather than simply brawl. Soon though, warships got bigger, their guns deadlier, their engines faster, pushing the limit of void warfare after every conflict. Many of the border worlds, many verdant temperate planets had been scoured into glass as endless legions of troopers contested over continents while the fleets high above shattered each other again and again.

Old ways of fighting, of clever tactics and outmaneuvering ones opponent gave way to sheer bloody-minded carnage. The ponies of the Lunar Republic were growing tired and gloomy as they watched their fillies and colts march off and letters for next of kin to return. The change had come when the Empire had invaded a border system by the name of Yurren. The battle was brief; the small Republic force stationed there was defeated in the face of a far superior fleet.

It was what came next that had shocked Winter to the core when he had heard of it. The Imperial force had not asked for planetary surrender in the face of orbital superiority. They issued no warning or demands. Instead, they burned the planet to a cinder.

Every living soul, young and old, all of the half-billion inhabitants of Alpha Yurren were slaughtered. It was genocide on an unheard of scale. Soon after, the new Dreadnought class of ship was unveiled and the war took on a different tone. It was win or die for the ponies of the New Lunar Republic. Instead of crushing morale as Imperial strategists had assumed, it had galvanized the citizens to resist Celestia’s iron hoof to the end.

Back and forth Winter haggled with the yellow mare while below the crew of the Omen went about their tasks of directing cargo, stowing fresh munitions, and making repairs they couldn’t perform out in space. Winter wished that he could have given his ponies more time to relax, but the Foehammer Protocol dictated imminent haste.

The final numbers were quite staggering, and the transaction goods equally so, but the commerce raiding had been fruitful for the Vengeful Omen. Business completed, Consortium offered her guests refreshments which were politely declined. They made their formal goodbyes and just as Winter was about to leave, a rushed looking unicorn in a dock worker’s outfit burst in.

“Boss! We’ve got serious trouble.” He said, addressing Consortium. “There’s an Imperial task force heading this way. They say they’ve got a Wonderbolt with ‘em.” Whatever else the stallion was about to say was cut off as his head exploded. In stomped a large unicorn with a smoking, leg mounted gun. The yellow mare screamed briefly, and then fixed the bastard with a glare of pure hate.

“By order of Her Majesty, Empress Celestia and by Her Authority, surrender yourselves imme-“ Much as the Imperial soldier had ended the words of the unfortunate dock worker, so too did Winter Reverie end the pony’s life. One of his rules was to never go unarmed or unarmored anywhere, even in friendly stations.

Winter’s sidearm was deceivingly simple looking pistol. Clip fed, standard grip and trigger, and old fashioned semi-automatic slide that ejected the spent casings. It was as close to a magic weapon he owned for instead of traditional ammunition, it fired a special round. The slug was large and seemed like an ordinary bullet, except that it was not lead, or even tungsten, but rather a miniature sabot holding a long-rod-penetrator that upon impact would trigger the release of the containment field.

The unicorn was torn into pieces as the tiny bit of antimatter in the bullet was released, causing a cataclysmic reaction with the particles making up his body.

“Still using that old thing I see. I can get you a better one you know?” Said Consortium, ever the business pony. Crystal Flourish had drawn her own weapon hidden in her purple uniform, taking after her commander and his tendencies.

“Omen, Omen, this is Aegis, we have Imperial soldiers confirmed in Tartarus. Repeat, confirmed hostiles, put everypony on combat alert. I want armed escorts for the rest of the supplies. Bring them in double time. Call back all repair work, it’ll have to wait.” He spoke into the comm unit in his armored collar. Crystal checked the corridor outside and waved all clear before shutting the door.

“Confirmed Commander, hostiles on Tartarus, pulling in repair groups, rolling out the red carpet.”

“This is Thorn, you need more backup?”

“Get Acrylic to oversee the security detail on the stuff we need. There’s no time to go looking for trouble so make preparations for a quick exit. And have Circuit Board see if he can’t find any Imperial chatter. I want to know who followed us and how. Wonderbolts don’t just show up at stations like this without reason.” Winter Reverie gritted his teeth in a mix of frustration and suspicion.

Wonderbolts… whispers of them were what nightmares were made of, stories of torture in dark rooms and limitless authority to do as they saw fit in the persecution of the Solar Empire’s enemies.

“Yes, sir. Thorn, out.” That taken care of he trotted over to the still somewhat stunned Consortium. He poured her a generous glass of colorful liquor and floated it to the shaking mare.

“Sorry about all this, C. Seems like it was a bad idea to come here.”

“Not your fault.” She mumbled, gazing down at her dead employee and knocked back the drink in a single swallow. Then she made eye contact. “Just make those bastards pay. I’ve never had a particular love for the Republic, but you’re an honest pony, so good luck.” He gave her what he hoped was a reassuring smile.

“Once we leave, they should follow us, but lock the door just in case.” The mare nodded and began speaking quickly into her own communication device, organizing Tartarus security to begin locking down the station. Without preamble, Winter stepped close to Crystal and his horn began to blaze. In a flash, they teleported down to the pier where ponies were now running in every direction as klaxons began to wail.

Fortunately, Consortium was ever a beacon of efficiency and had already transferred most of the bartered goods to the Omen in the time it had taken them to finalize the deal. The Commander nodded to Acrylic who stood at the base of the ramp directing armed crew to cover their fellows hauling in the last of the crates. Shots were fired, and the few still left on the pier scattered into whatever cover they could find.

Ponies of the Vengeful Omen returned fire from cover, keeping the small squad of Imperial troopers pinned down. Winter fired his pistol again, obliterating a gold helmeted head that presented itself. Things were getting heavy and being bogged down in a protracted firefight with large explosive warheads nearby did not seem like a good idea.

“Forget the rest, everypony fall back to the Omen; we’re getting the hell out of here.” In a disciplined pattern of cover and retreat, the remaining crew galloped up the ramp and piled into the airlock. Winter and Acrylic were the last ones up. Just ahead, a sailor cried out as enemy fire clipped him. Without stopping, the Commander heaved the stricken onto his back and kept running. The airlock closed with the three still outside.

Acrylic fell back to shield them with his armored bulk. The large earth pony had been holding his fire until that point. The cannon on his back boomed and a good chunk of causeway broke and fell, carrying several golden bodies with it.

Winter Reverie teleported himself, the sailor and his heavy weapon specialist instead of waiting for the airlock to cycle.

Crystal Flourish was already waiting on the bridge, making preparations for emergency launch. Even though they had been forced to leave behind some of their supplies the Omen was nearly full. The extent of the missing freight would have to be tallied later. Speed was of the essence as there was nothing more vulnerable than a docked ship. Acrylic took the injured pony and excused himself to bring the wounded to medical.

Maneuvering jets fired in short bursts as the quickest course was calculated out of the large hanger. Soon the ship was clear, accelerating among a flock of other escaping vessels.

“Downtrim fifteen degrees, starboard thirty, max burn. I want us clear of the station five minutes ago.” Winter clearly commanded.

“Aye sir, down fifteen, starboard thirty, max burn.” Reverie’s personal comm unit crackled as the force of the engines pushing the ship forward exerted itself.

“Circuit here, I’m picking up encoded chatter. It’s got Solar tags. Registering at least three signatures.”

“Aegis acknowledges, keep your ears open.” He responded before addressing his crew once more. “Likely three hostile boats. Continue on current heading and load all torpedo tubes. Get gravimetric and ladar up and display current grid.” There was a tense moment as the bridge scrambled to bring the ship up to full combat readiness, sensors quickly coming alive and the Vengeful Omen’s position was displayed by a triangular icon oriented in a vast three dimensional cube.

“Registering three Imperial Navy ships on gravimetric, range twenty thousand and closing. Two cruisers, one destroyer.” The appropriate red indicators appeared on the display, quickly closing the gap between them and the lone purple marker. “Destroyer is a Quicksilver, cruisers are both Thunderheads.”

“I don’t like this Crystal, something feels off. If a Wonderbolt is in command, where are they?” Reverie mused darkly to the pegasus. The smaller destroyer wasn’t much of a threat. All five of the Corsair fighter bombers could have taken it on with ease. It was mostly there to provide close support for the two cruisers it was escorting. The Thunderheads could be troublesome however. While not known for their speed or weaponry, the thick, rather inelegant utilitarian design was very hardy and could absorb a lot of punishment without being knocked out of the fight.

As an Assault Cruiser, the Vengeful Omen wasn’t actually a regularly patterned Republic navy vessel, the design having been deemed not cost effective enough for mass production on the levels necessary for the continued prosecution of the war. It was one of the last of a dying breed.

The enemy ships weren’t too far away to be outrun but it would be a close thing. They had attacked his ship while it was docked, and not just his ship, but his crew as well, and Winter Reverie had already made his decision.

“Fire torpedoes, full spread. Primary is Thunderhead alpha. Let’s see if we can knock out their shields. On my mark, execute a full reverse turn and bring us about for a firing pass.”

“Launch tubes eight and fifteen report loading mechanism failure, they got jammed during the fight in the hanger.”

“Launch whatever ones are ready.” Orders raced to and fro through the mighty warship as the sailors of the Lunar Republic executed their duties with finesse and discipline.

“Sir, incoming enemy torpedoes!” Tiny dots separated themselves from the enemy and sped towards the Omen.

“Ready interceptor missiles and point defense cannons.” Reverie stated sharply.

“Aye, interceptors loaded and ready.”

“Full reverse… Mark!” Cried the Commander. Crystal Flourish had been waiting and ready for his word and blitzed a customized preset string of instructions for the navigation processor to execute faster than pony hooves could hope to emulate. The Vengeful Omen was a regal ship, aged and refined. In her long service, she had been outfitted with several post production modifications. Expensive low-friction nozzle joints for the many maneuvering jets, upgraded inertial stabilizers and compensators, as well as specialized engine housing.

All of this added up to the ability to make turns and accelerate like ships of comparable size could only dream of making. Turning, end over end, the Omen flipped and its engines turned to point in the direction of its previous motion. The superstructure of the vessel groaned in protest under the immense strain as forces that would liquefy unprotected biological matter assailed the Republic ship.

Meanwhile, torpedoes from both sides passed one another in space. Small rockets, designed to bring down such guided warheads streaked from large honeycomb like protrusions from the Assault Cruiser. They struck the incoming ordinance, detonating many prematurely while the point defense cannons soon took over, spitting out streams of rapid fire ballistics or pinpoint beams of destructive magic. A few made it through the Omen’s defensive grid and impacted her shields.

“Confirmed incurred hits, Voids at eighty five and holding.” The Assault Cruiser rapidly picked up speed once more, soon coasting at shocking velocity.

“Ready broadside, all weapons free. Primary is Thunderhead alpha, secondary is the Quicksilver.” In a fine example of void warfare, the ship turned on a vector that would position the targeted Thunderhead between the Omen and the other cruiser, fouling its aim for fear of hitting its fellow.

The torpedoes launched impacted the Imperial vessel a few moments before the Assault Cruiser tore past. Banks of gun batteries raked like claws across the Voids of the Thunderhead, and punctured them in the wake of the vicious bombardment. A few of the batteries scored hits on the armor but it was the Hell Lances that really did damage.

The gunners of the mighty turrets had timed their shots coyly, waiting for the shields to drop to fire. Four beams of incandescent destruction, harnessing cutting edge magical technology to send spears hotter than suns piercing armor and hull of the unfortunate Thunderhead. Winter ordered more torpedoes launched to cripple the engines of the stunned Solar warship. A few retaliation strikes found their mark on the Vengeful Omen, but nothing her shields couldn’t cope with.

It all happened in the span of a few breaths, a few nerve frying, heart-stopping breaths.

“Corsair One here, Four and I are ready to kick some Imperial teeth in.”

“Sorry One, we don’t have time to play. Precious cargo, remember? Save that spirit for next time.” Winter denied the fighter pilot’s eager desire to join the fray. He could understand the enthusiasm and as much joy it brought him to destroy things belonging to the Solar Empire, there were more important things at the moment. He motioned for Crystal to punch in commands for another pass.

The three Imperial warships had been left in confused disarray by the Vengeful Omen’s blistering attack, and were caught in its deadly fields of fire once again. A few torpedoes knocked out the destroyer, ripping the smaller ship into pieces and a full salute of cannon batteries popped the other Thunderhead’s Voids like a soap bubble. Winter Reverie made a mental note to personally commend his Hell Lance crews as the crimson energy beams punctured something vital that tore a gaping hole into the cruiser amidships as something, probably an internal magazine, exploded.

“Our work is done here, take us to jump point Hyperion.” The Assault Cruiser left the one, partly functional ship in its wake as it headed out-system. Before they exited the system however, one of the crew occupying a sensor relay station spoke up.

“Battlegroup sighted. Composition: one battleship, five cruisers, and seven destroyers.”

“There he is.” Winter Reverie said to himself as the image of a large golden hulled ship with a massive painted blue streak resolved itself at extreme range. The small force made no move to pursue the Assault Cruiser, their ranking officer likely deducing that there was no way for them to catch up to the lone Republic boat.

“Commence jump.” And the Vengeful Omen winked out of sight.




(Author Notes: Okay, this chapter ended up being much longer than I originally intended but I just had waaaaay too much fun with that final space battle. I couldn’t deny giving you guys at least a small taste of what is to come after all. Please let me know what you think! There are plans but I would really appreciate some feedback on the directions Leviathan is taking so far. Oh, and to the Fire Ghost readers don’t worry! I planned on having the latest chapter out yesterday but ran into minor difficulties. Rest assured it should be up in the next two days.)

(Red is the endless war torn Winter sky. That is all.)