Magnus
“Green leader to Ops” Magnus heard his squadron commander's voice come in over the comm system of his helmet. “Weapons range in three minutes,” Major Oldseal stated as their star-fighter blazed through space at top sub-light speeds towards their targets as they fled.
“Roger. Standby green leader. Continue course and speed,” the Ops commander Bella Warwick replied from the command deck of the Osgar class heavy cruiser ‘The Greymark’.
Magnus let out a small sigh as the grumbles came through his helmet from other members of the squadron. They all knew how it was going to play out. How it always played out when they were that close to the border.
“They better not have us stand down again,” came the voice of one of Magnus’s wing-mates and one of the princes of the Commonwealth of Drala, Edwyn Gisking. His frustration in his voice was clear and shared by all of them. Time and time again they and other ships patrolling the western borders of the Commonwealth and Walhaz space were forbidden from chasing the raiders into Walhaz space.
“You fucking know they will, thats all they have us do.” Sargent Nolan Emmett replied with a loud growl from the seat of his own starfighter. “That's all we ever do, Stand down, stand down, and stand down.”
“Cut the chatter,” the Sargent’s cousin, and their commanding officer Sub-Lt. Ursa Emmett cut in sharply through the squadron comm channel.
Magnus knew it was true though. At least it was more likely than not to be true in almost every case. Anytime Tutha starships were caught breaking the Walhaz border agreements they were chased off by Commonwealth Forces, but there had been under strict orders from the king not to cross the border, and the ancient abandoned fortifications of Uhtred’s Line which marked the border, and the Tutha raiders from Walhaz used it to their advantage.
Uhtred’s Line stretched more than a hundred and fifty light years across the Warwick and Brighthold Sectors of Commonwealth Space. Hundreds of abandoned outposts, stations, weapons, and other structures built on worlds, moons, asteroids, or in the depths of space itself. The crumbling ruins were little more than markers these days.
Magnus moved his hand and tapped one of the displays in the old outdated Star-fighter as the screens flicked and the edges garbled and fizzled from moment to moment. The equipment of the ‘Greymark’, and it’s support vessels felt just as old as Uhtred’s Line at times. He let out a small curse before he slammed his fist into the console in front of him and the screen came back to life.
The Tutha vessels would be over the border and into Walhaz space in just over a minute. The small starships were no bigger than corvettes, and would cross the border before their own star-fighters could be in effective weapons range to do anything useful.
“How many people do you think they killed on their last raid?” came the familiar voice of Lydia Wild as their Starfighters sped towards the corvettes and gained on them with their faster speed. “How much stolen cargo, loot, and people do you think they have of those ships waiting to be sold when they reach their home port?”
It was a question Magnus couldn’t answer. None of them could. Three light corvette class starships could have hit any number of the lightly defended sub system near the Steadfast System. There could have been dozens of soon to be slaves on those ships. Not more than a hundred, and at least he could whatever slow slice of comfort from that. It would have depended on how many Tutha served on those ships but it also wouldn’t matter if it was one or a hundred. Slavery and the horrors that awaited them was a fate which Magnus hoped he would never face.
The Commonwealth of Drala had their own thralls, and while they were not considered slaves, they were only one step above such a fate. Magnus had seen people on his own homeworld in the Anchorage Sector sell themselves or children into Thralldom to gain a life they could not give themselves. He thanked the ancestors often that his mother had not done likewise for himself and his brother and instead they were granted the life of wards to the System-lord of Bloom.
Magnus knew that should they be granted authorization to engage that any people taken to be sold as slaves would likely die. Even if they could disable the corvettes so the ‘Greymark’ could launch a boarding action against them, they would likely be killed. He would have rather suffered that fate than suffer slavery.
Outside the major systems along the border the sub system had become easy prey to raiders from Walhaz when Uhtred’s Line was slowly abandoned to defend against the Furse and the Great Savage Host. Few such systems had ships capable of ftl travel let alone defenses against such attacks, and the major systems along the border didn;t have the strength or will to defend outside their own star systems.
“Green leader,” Commander Warwick’s voice came through the comm system of his helmet. “This is Ops. You are not clear to engage. I Repeat you are not clear to engage. Do a pass by and ensure that the targets leave the AO and than return your birds to the barn,” she said with a commanding voice that held a tone that did not hide her own displeasure at the order.
“You heard it,” Major Oldseal replied to the squadron and Magnus could hear the bitterness in his voice. “Keep formation and keep eyes peeled,” the Major continued. “More than one starship or squadron of starfighters has been lured into traps along the border. Let's not have that happen on our watch.”
There was a chorus of grumbles which were quickly stopped when the Major told them to knock it off, and then just as quickly followed by acknowledgments over the comm system from the other twelve starfighter pilots of Green squadron commanded by the Major.
Magnus watched the displays on his cockpit equipment as his starfighter his sensors displayed what information and that of the starfighters and the ‘Greymark’ it was linked to. The system was empty but for the three corvettes and the forces of the ‘Greymark’. Other squadrons were fanned out to provide cover and information to the lone starship, but only Green squadron were near the corvettes as the three ships crossed the border and into Walhaz space.
Four minutes after the corvettes had crossed the border they jumped to Faster than Light travel and were gone. Magnus used the computer to calculate their likely destination as they made their way to ‘The Greymark. It didn’t matter, he knew, but it felt better than doing nothing.
The thirteen starfighters brought their small craft into the main hangar deck of the ‘Greymark’. Magnus could feel the gravity of the ship as soon as he crossed the light energy barrier that remained in place of the open hanger doors. It was slight, not enough to affect anything but he could feel it. He brought his starfighter down onto the cold hard steel of the deck floor and felt the bumps and skids as it came to a steady rest along with the other starfighters of the squadron.
The large hangar doors were already closing as Magnus hit the console to open his cockpit and climb out. Another squadron was touching down as those large doors slid shut and gave extra protection to those inside.
The hanger deck was abuzz with the hanger crew as they went about their standard duties in their own fully sealed flight suits. It seemed like chaos to the untrained eye as starfighter after starfighter landed and the hanger crew rushed to inspect and move the small craft. They were the second to last squadron to make their way into the hangar.
“My brother never spoke about this,” Edwyn complained as he crawled out his starfighter, their comms still linked together. “A year of being stationed out here and for what? what good have we done?” he asked with a gentle tone, and yet the most harsh he thought he had ever heard from the young prince.
“Your brother was never stationed on the Walhaz border,” Richard Vault replied as he jumped off his own starfighter. “He has had the glory of facing a real enemy, the Furse.” Richard shook his head “The Walhaz Border is said to be home to the civilized war. We only punish them if we can catch them, not if they did it.” The young pilots tone was clear for all to hear, and it was one they all agreed with.
Magnus also knew it was one of the safest borders of the Commonwealth, which was likely why the young prince had been assigned to it. It was often a place where nobles sought to have their children assigned when they entered the Commonwealth Forces.
“Not to mention if we cross the border they will have those holographic recordings sent all over Fabian Space so it’s made to look like we crossed the border to hunt them for fun and sport.” Major Oldseal said and stepped forward from his own starfighter at the head of the landed craft.
The Major placed a gentle hand on a service member of the hanger crew as he mentioned something about his own starfighter needing to have something looked at before he looked at the prince and continued. “Make no mistake. If any of you cross the border, the Commonwealth will hang you to save themselves a headache of having the Fabian Faith force fines or other punishments on it.”
The Major let out a sigh as he looked at the members of his squadron. They were mostly young fresh pilots a year out of the academies of the Commonwealth Forces. Most were from powerful families unlike Magnus. Families like that of the royal clan of Gisking, or of powerful system-lords like that of clan Wild, Vault, or Oldseal.
Clan Oldseal knew the risks of the Walhaz border better than most. The System-lord of Steadfast was the Major’s own brother. “We’ll get them, sooner or later. Captain Hull isn’t like the other captains on the border or in the task force. Just be patient. Trust that he knows something us dumb fucks don’t.”
“Yes ser,” the prince replied somberly, and was followed by the rest of them.
“We don’t doubt your courage lad. You will get your chance to test your guts.” Major Oldseal continued and smiled. “Let's focus on what we can control. Hit the showers and get some rest. I want everyone in the training rooms at 09:00”.
‘Yes ser,” a chorus of grumbles came from the stinking starfighter pilots as they made their way to the lockers where they could remove their gear which they had worn for hours and gave out sharp salutes to the major.
