“Incoming Yīqún swarm at 047 by Mark 115!” Freya’s XO warned. “Railgun batteries to rapid fire. Avatars are free to fire at will!”

The heavy cannons swung their turrets around to face the incoming threat, opening fire as the drones closed the range, while digital Avatar duplicates downloaded from Theseus emitted their dis-harmonic beams of energy. Last the Admiral had heard, the weapon was still in R&D, but apparently the issues holding it back were political, not technological. He didn’t understand how it worked, and under normal conditions would have insisted that it be tested, but with the bulk of the swarm bearing down on them he was willing to risk it. After all, what did they have to lose? Their lives? Unless they could defeat both the Troika and the Yīqún, they were as good as dead already.

A massive flash of energy whooshed past them, as another beam from New Terra cleared out a section of drones like some gigantic flyswatter. Dozens of the machines exploded, but it was a mere pittance compared to what still remained. The Alliance and Terran fleets were steadily chipping away at the enemy, but it was like trying to empty the seas with a spoon.

Van Aalst watched as another Yīqún detachment went after the Troika vessels, tearing into them with all the ferocity they were known for. That, at least, was a simple decision; if their enemies wanted to fight one another, he was more than happy to let them, the only downside being what it was costing their allies.

“Alert the Valkyries and Proteans that Yīqún forces are attacking all ships, including the Troika. Any enemy vessel with a Terran boarding party is at risk, and we can’t protect them. Tell them to get the hell out of there if they can.”

They passed the message on as he turned his attention to the Alliance fleet. The two forces had moved to cover one another, but their efforts were still disjointed and poorly coordinated. With half a dozen separate human clans and Terra alone knew how many races comprising the Alliance fleet, the fine-tuned control they desperately needed as an edge simply didn’t exist. Maybe in twenty years, he thought bitterly, assuming they survived that long.

The XO looked up from his console. “Admiral, I have Commandant Zakiyya on comms. She’s asking to speak with you.”

“Put her on,” Van Aalst ordered, as the grizzled warrior’s face appeared on the monitor.

“Admiral,” she nodded curtly.

“Commandant,” he replied, “what is it? We’re a little busy at the moment.”

“Got your message about the boarding parties,” she answered, coming straight to the point. “We appreciate the warning and recognize you can’t defend our shuttles, but me and my Marines are sticking.”

Her blunt announcement rocked him back in his chair. “Gerel, I respect what you’re trying to accomplish, but…”

“... this is what we do,” she fired back. “We’re all in this, and I sure as hell won’t let it be said my Valkyries weren’t there when we were needed most.” Her features softened slightly as she managed a melancholy smile. “Besides, I already told them the stakes. They chose to stay and fight… every last one of them.”

Admiral Van Aalst could only stare at her with a gnawing sense of dread. That her Valkyries had volunteered to a man didn’t surprise him. They’d been known for that same dedication and courage since long before the time of the Terran Marines. But they were also putting themselves in extreme danger; so much so that in his mind the very notion screamed “Suicide Mission”.

But one look into her eyes, at the outthrust chin and grim visage, he knew arguing with her would be fruitless. In the end, there was only one thing he could say.

“Semper Fi, Gerel,” he said hoarsely, as emotions threatened to overwhelm him.

“Oorah,” she grinned fiercely in return, throwing him a salute before signing off.

It took him a moment to compose himself, before acknowledging the XO. “Any word from the Proteans?” he asked.

“Nothing,” he responded, “but we haven’t seen their shuttles pulling out either.”

“That tracks,” the Admiral snorted, “they’re the only ones actually crazier than the Valkyries.“ He shook his head for a moment as his expression hardened. “Captain, I refuse to let the other clans claim the moral high ground. Let it not be said that any clan showed more courage than the Corsairs.”

“Aye aye, Sir,” the XO smiled, before turning to the rest of the bridge crew. “Make your heading 109 by Mark 227. Let’s show these bastards what we’re made of.”

The bridge resounded with a feral roar as Freya plunged even deeper into the maelstrom.

There was little to no coordination observed from the Yīqún, with the swarm attacking the respective fleets without regard to affiliation or strength. A hundred drones might assail a single ship, while completely ignoring a nearby vessel. The Terran and Alliance armadas did their best to cover one another, fighting in concert to stave off the enemy, while leaving the Troika fleet to its own devices against the swarm. No one was coming to their aid, save their own reinforcements, and worse, they were facing four enemies, instead of the paltry two battling the allies.

The Troika still held the upper hand with their opponents, the sole exception being the massive New Terran energy beam, though they were more evenly matched when stacked up against the Yīqún. But what had started out as an ambush had rapidly devolved into a battle of attrition, the appearance of the drone swarm throwing their careful calculations right out of the airlock.

Worse, they hadn’t factored in the inventiveness of their enemy’s tactics, not to mention the sheer tenacity in their refusal to back down. Using boarding actions, for example, had caught them completely by surprise. The very notion of such a strategy flew directly in the face of established Troika doctrine, which focused heavily on overwhelming firepower used at a standoff distance. Fighting up close and personal with one’s opponents was anathema to them, a bitter lesson learned on Sonoitii Prime. Keep the enemy at arm’s length and hit them with everything you had. That was the Troika way of battle.

(That the same thing was currently being done to them, via the Precursor weapon, was not lost on their leaders, though they failed to appreciate the irony.)

By boarding their ships directly, the Terrans had stripped away that advantage. Technicians, not warriors, overwhelmingly crewed their ships, as Samara herself had learned when she captured Heuristic Fealty. While they kept a security force on hand for just such emergencies, platoons of trained Valkyries with blood in their eye quickly overwhelmed them. They’d ruthlessly targeted the assault shuttles, easily knocking dozens out of the sky, but their efforts hadn’t deterred the humans in the slightest. Instead, attacking the shuttles had enraged the Terrans, spurring them to launch even more of the tiny craft. Fighting for their lives against the combined fleet, trying to blunt the worst of the Yīqún assault, while simultaneously dodging the ancient energy beam strained their forces to their very limits.

But as badly as they’d underestimated the Terran marines, what the Proteans threw at them was even worse. Though far fewer in number, their enhancements gave them a laundry list of abilities the Troika simply wasn’t prepared for. In some instances, their vessels were put on a collision course with other friendly ships or sent haring off to deep space, effectively taking them out of the battle completely, or turned against one another in deadly fratricide. Identifying who was friend and who was foe quickly became impossible, leaving the Troika fleet nervously looking over their collective shoulders, worrying who would turn on them next.

And then there were the Yīqún. The drone swarm was a plague, and while they could easily stand off a dozen drones or more under normal circumstances, facing the entire horde while battling against their other enemies was akin to being pecked to death by ducks… or being lowered into a vat of corrosive acid. The drones were relentless, attacking without regard to their own casualties as they hurled themselves against the Troika ships, eager to claw their way inside. Any hopes the swarm might at the very least defeat the Terran boarders quickly proved to be a forlorn one, as said Valkyrie or Protean teams would simply double back the way they’d come and abandon the ship to its fate, searching instead for a new target.

Nevertheless, despite the myriad of difficulties facing them, it was the ancient Precursor weapon that tipped the scales. Over the millennia, the Troika had developed a healthy respect… or fear… of the powerful ship killer. They’d seen it in action many times, with documentation and footage squirreled away in their databases, knowing down to the depths of their very souls that nothing could stand against it. That device terrified them, on a level so deep they scarcely acknowledged it, yet they could not ignore its reality and power. They’d attempted to mitigate its effects by closing with the Terran ships, only for the humans to turn that tactic against them with the boarding shuttles. The beams hammered at their fleet, snuffing their ships from existence with a child’s ease until finally, they could take no more.

Theirs had always been an uneasy alliance, the three races never sanguine about sharing power. The Aggaaddub’s first loyalty was always to the Hegemony, the Eleexx to the Suzerainty, and the Tu’udh’hizh’ak to the Empire. The Troika was a marriage of convenience, and when they reached the breaking point, the fleet shattered, each deciding to tend to their own houses while throwing their so-called “allies” to the wolves.

The greatest single factor in the Troika’s favor during their battle, other than their technology, had been the united front they had presented to their enemies. As long as they stood together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

The moment they broke ranks, they were dog meat.

The worst cardinal sin any military commander can commit is to split their forces. A concentrated unit is one that can count on its elements to act in concord with one another, with each subordinate entity supporting its brethren. Take that away, and you have just set yourself up for the waking nightmare called “Defeat in Detail”. Without the mutual support any fighting force needs to survive, it leaves you instead with a gaggle of smaller, independent groups, each unable to come to any of the other’s aid. If that happens, all you can do is watch in sick horror as your enemy destroys those same small units one by one, gobbling them up like so much candy.

The Alliance annihilated the Troika forces, and when the smoke finally cleared, less than one ship in ten escaped, each vessel desperate to break free of the hellish realm of death and vowing to never return.

Even with the Troika’s departure, the Allied forces still had the Yīqún to contend with. Boarding tactics were useless against the drones, save for the Avatars, but they’d already concentrated their efforts on the new weapon. Alphad and Raven’s brainchild was everything they’d hoped for, with each vessel shooting the drones down as fast as they could target them, but even with hundreds of ships each destroying hundreds of drones, that still left hundreds of thousands of Yīqún to contend with. Many ships had already shot themselves dry in the bloody melee, forcing them to seek cover beside those craft still able to fight.

The Precursor weapon was still firing, wiping entire squadrons of drones from existence, but while they fought with utter disregard for their own casualties, they weren’t stupid. If nothing else, they respected the power the ancient device represented, dispersing their forces to deprive Athena of worthy targets. While New Terra’s defense network could easily lock onto even a single drone, it was like swatting flies with nuclear warheads, massive overkill of the highest order. It wasn’t a question of energy capacity… the star powering the device had wattage to spare… but sheer practicality. If the Yīqún forced them to use the ancient weapon like a sniper rifle instead of a cannon, the Allies would all be dead long before they ran out of drones to shoot at.

There was, however, an option open to the Terrans. They could easily fall back, retreat to New Terra and seek sanctuary behind the safety of her massive gun. But while the humans could avail themselves of this safe harbor, the Alliance could not. Athena would never allow them past New Terra’s defensive perimeter, allies or no, not even if Remi got down on his knees and begged. The humans would be safe, but everyone else would die.

The clan leaders didn’t bother wasting a nanosecond on that choice. The only reason they’d survived after calling the Troika out was their allies’ courage, the bonds forged in fire and blood. They would not abandon them now, not at this eleventh hour, and if that meant ending their days as Moses had… in sight of the Promised Land, but forbidden to enter… then so be it.