"We're exiting hyperspace, Admiral," the flagship's captain rumbled.
Charles McVay nodded. However, most called him by his Goa'uld name, Ahmontekh Crimson Scythe. The nickname had been coined after the Battle of Urvashi, where his tactical maneuvers had crushed the enemy fleet.
Now they materialized at the edge of the system. Just after sending the data packet, an image of another Goa'uld appeared on the main screen.
"I am Ahmontekh Crimson Scythe, Admiral of the High Lord Szarekh's fleet," his rough, "divine" baritone was modulated by the devices. "And I have come to fulfill the contract."
"I'm glad to greet such a renowned warrior," the lord across from him purred. A lie; his list of victories included only one battle. At least, in space.
All thanks to Szarekh's latest invention. McVay negotiated with this lord for the hire of fifteen ships from his fleet even before the official galaxy-wide announcement of the possibility of hiring fleets. The reason was simple: this lord was from the House of Ra and was fighting a representative of the House of Apophis, and Szarekh never missed a chance to offend Apophis. And, of course, there was a special clause in the contract: two-thirds of the ships captured by Szarekh's fleet would go to the client, and one-third to Szarekh himself.
No, this wasn't stupidity, but sound calculation. No Goa'uld had ever granted another the right to use their fleet in tactical operations. This was precisely the idea: a low price, affordable even for the average lord, would encourage them to invite Szarekh to their wars, including for the ships. Fifteen Huttaks, which could be sent into battle without fear of exposing their own worlds—that was a compelling argument.
"What is the purpose?" McVeigh did not want to prolong the conversation with the Goa'uld.
They relayed the data to him. The target was clear, and the Goa'uld wasn't known for subtlety. Khasar Station: full orbital defenses, twenty Huttaks, hundreds of Alkesh, thousands of gliders. Asshole.
"It will be destroyed," the admiral replied calmly, causing the Goa'uld to choke. He had apparently been expecting excuses or complaints about the mission's impossibility. "Senior Lord Szarekh always fulfills his contract."
The Goa'uld viewed Szarekh's troops as expendable. He, however, saw them as fools, stepping stones to power, the very ones who gave him that power. Allowing him to fight for them, almost half the fleet went into mercenary service. Risky? Perhaps. But you have to train on someone. And these Goa'uld were simply ridiculous. Every victory Szarekh achieved was his. Szarekh's reputation grew, not that of the one who hired him. This, incidentally, undermined the Jaffa's faith in their Goa'uld and simultaneously exposed the place of all Jaffa in the galaxy.
A few days later.
Khasar Station was a complete sensor network, allowing anyone in its possession to monitor hyperspace movements within a hundred-light-year radius. The enemy knew they were coming, so they abruptly aborted the jump at the system's edge. McVay sent a message:
"I am Ahmontekh Crimsonscythe, Admiral of the High Lord Szarekh's fleet, here under contract. Bend the knee to my master, and spare your lives and possessions. Otherwise, fall before my might." It was a message intended to sow fear in the future. In response, McVay, as expected, received a dose of foul language, after which he went to the combat data module.
The BIM was a vertical, coffin-like device used by senior bridge personnel in combat situations. It accelerated perception and information processing. Essentially, these were virtual reality capsules with their own power and communication systems, albeit connected to the main computer via a secure channel. They also served as escape pods. A person in the BIM had additional time to comprehend and execute orders. The virtual reality displayed the ship's bridge; this was simply more convenient.
They raced through the system at sublight speeds. It would take time, but the main thing was to avoid being trapped. Having determined the enemy's troop distribution, they made a short hyperspace jump to get ahead of the planet they were attacking.
The planet still had two hours to travel to that point. Space battles are largely a matter of mathematics, calculating the orbital movements of large objects. The entire fleet formed a line and rushed toward the planet at full speed. The enemy fleet began to reform, forming up behind the orbital guns and covering the planet. A classic defense against such an attack. Only they had no idea what aces up their sleeves Ahmontech had. Newton and Einstein—the most terrifying bastards in the universe. McVay even knew Albert. Fifteen seconds before the guaranteed orbital gunfire zone:
"Fire the missiles!" - The missiles burst out of the launchers and rushed towards their targets.
Now, in a vacuum, they possessed the speed of a khattak, plus the speed provided by their space drive. As soon as the missiles left the launchers, the entire fleet, obeying a single command, as if possessed by a hive consciousness, froze.
The missiles covered the distance in just 15 seconds (the speed of the rocket drive was insignificant compared to the speed of the khattak) and began to destroy the orbital weapons. Over a hundred missiles, launched from 15 ships, began to destroy the orbital defenses, penetrating the perimeter. If they missed, the advanced sensor array took over, finding a target for engagement. The enemy commander hesitated, his orbital defenses destroyed. Akhmontekh attacked the side of the planet not covered by Khasar Station.
The enemy space forces were deployed in several orbital echelons. They had five additional Hattaks compared to Ahmontekh's forces, not to mention thousands of gliders and hundreds of Alkesh.
Each captain had already received a data packet detailing their actions in any situation. Their own Alkesh were to be integrated into the overall air defense system, and every glider and Alkesh was to be shot down without a doubt. Fifteen Huttaks immediately entered the enemy's kill zone, activating all weapons systems and using additional batteries. The fleet's formation was a rectangle, vertical to the planet, identical to the enemy fleet. The central sector could fire on two ships simultaneously, while the flanks unleashed fire from all available batteries. The Goa'uld ships' shields shimmered under the barrage. Instead of thirty cannons, sixty were firing at them.
Drop pods launched themselves at the enemy ships when their shields were at 10 percent. While the projectiles flew toward these ships at high speed, they attached themselves to the enemy Huttaks as the shields fell, quickly cutting full-size holes with lasers. There were no more people there, only rings. The shields blocked teleportation without synchronization, but with the shields down, it was possible. Now, 10 squads per Huttak began assaulting the ships. The Goa'uld likely didn't understand why their weak ships were suddenly no longer being targeted, and why the enemy fleet, preserving their shielded ships, began to retreat.
The Alkeshi fired their railguns, tearing apart the gliders, creating a complete barrier. Any ships without shields were simply torn apart. The Alkeshi, however, couldn't attack properly because they were being hit by missiles. And since this was space, powerful weaponry was permitted, and they now blew up enemy ships without any hesitation.
Admiral McVay logged out of his BIM and sent a communication request. This time, he received a response not only from a text message, but also from the voice of the lord who ruled this planet.
"Give up."
"No, I still have the power of Khasar station, my other ships are coming to help."
"Why do you think I retreated?" the American asked with interest.
"What?"
"Your ships are already operating boarding parties. If they fail, the bombs in the capsules will detonate. You've already lost. If my parties fail, you'll have no fleet left. If they succeed, then... far more ships than planned will be sent against Khasar Station. I don't hate you, and I don't even want to kill you. You're just a stepping stone in my power. Renounce your allegiance to Apophyseus, and you'll be able to hire us."
The hostile Goa'uld had an extremely expressive face. Just then, the Space Marines were capturing the ships.
"What guarantees do I have?"
Charles shrugged.
"What my employer will do with you, I don't know. But he only paid for a fight in this system. If you can escape and somehow hire us later... Oh, you're from House Apophis, and you can't do that," McVeigh made a very subtle hint.
"I understand you. But the celebration of your victory will not last forever."
"I advise you to have good protection in the future. Call off your Jaffa, liberate Hasar Station, and I won't even pay attention to what and how much you evacuate from the planet. After all, I'm the commander of a space fleet, not ground forces. So I was paid for space. And while the client is flying here, anything could happen."
"Were you paid for control of this planet or just for the battle?" the lord immediately read between the lines.
"For battle. Lord Szarekh's troops are not garrisons, we are warriors, we fight with equals, not guard slaves," the man said with conviction and fanaticism.
"Then what will happen to Khasar station?"
According to the terms of the contract, I am entitled to two-thirds of the captured ships. The contract is silent regarding the stations, so I'm keeping them. However, if you decide to destroy them, I'll give you that option. However, I must warn you that rehiring them to fight back is not out of the question.
"I understand your situation. All forces of my fleet have been ordered to retreat, and the captured ships are ordered to surrender."
"Your wisdom deserves recognition. I will show leniency to the crews who have laid down their arms and will ensure their departure on the next available transport." Having given orders to his men already aboard the enemy vessels, he turned back.
I wonder if whoever hired us will be surprised by such an unexpected turn of events? Of course they would be, after all, they were sent there to die, not to return in triumph.