Chapter 60

We had begun Operation: Gotterdamerung at the start of the second week of December. It would take us two weeks to get into the System and attack, which would put the beginning of the Battle for Von Strang's World happening around the Christmas Holidays. This was part of the plan, as it was hoped that the majority of the defenders would be too busy celebrating to do much in the way of stopping us. After all, Otto Von Strang himself was a Christian, albeit one of the odd strains of Lutheranism that had sprung up during the Age of War which rejected certain parts of the doctrine as weak, such as loving thy neighbor and turning the other cheek.

As First Guards Aerospace Flotilla closed with the planet, I could see that this tactic had proven accurate. The Planetary Defense Command was slow to scramble fighters and only managed to get a single Dropship off the dock to face the incoming flotilla. The fighters, though, were Rim Worlds Republic Vintage Vulcan Heavies, similar to our own, though most were still equipped with their Autocannon-Tens rather than the Gauss Rifles my own had. Meanwhile, the Dropship was a battered Pentagon-class with the name Ghost of Amaris scrawled on the side in crimson paint.

"They have an Aerospace Fighter Force that would be enviable, and that Dropship looks formidable." Frowned Emma Clarke, now an Admiral after having been granted the title for administrative purposes earlier in the year.

"Can we handle them?" I questioned.

"Without a doubt, My Lord. Your plan to arrive at Christmas seems to have worked and though they doubtless saw us enter the system, Soldiers and Spacers will always find ways to celebrate holidays, even when confined to base in case of imminent attack. They scrambled late enough that we should be able to sweep them from space." Confirmed Admiral Clarke.

"Then we should launch our own fighters to handle this, shouldn't we?" I queried.

"Perhaps, though I would keep half in reserve." Hedged Admiral Clarke.

"Why?" I asked.

"Because, My Lord, there is simply no need to send out over three hundred fighters to handle this." Offered Admiral Clarke.

"And it doesn't hurt that if Otto Von Strange put a surprise for us in orbit intel forgot to warn us about, we'll still have a robust fighter compliment even after it's tripped." I guessed.

"Indeed, My Lord." Nodded Admiral Clarke.

"Well, then Admiral, I'll leave the Battle in Orbit to you. I must confess to not being an expert in matters of naval warfare. On the ground is quite another story, of course, but we cannot all be the best at everything." I shrugged.

"You may be surprised. From what I've heard and seen of the man, your father was, after all." Smirked Admiral Clarke.

And with that, Admiral Clarke turned back to her assembled bridge crew and gave orders to sortie half the Flotilla's Fighter Complement. I sat back and watched, trying to learn a thing or two about Naval Combat from watching an expert at work. The way Admiral Clarke focused on the situation was inspiring, and I had every confidence that she would wipe Von Strang's Defenses from orbit fairly handily.

Once she had, it would be time for me to contribute once again, as the Ground Campaign would kick off. . .

XXXX

Group Commodore Magda 'Mallet' Bujwidowa growled as she watched the plot of various fighters darting around and sweeping the orbitals clean of any Von Strang Fighters that had risen to challenge the Flotilla's own complement of Aerospace Fighters. Unfortunately, her actions at Star's End had earned her a promotion, though she'd tried to turn it down. Unfortunately, the newly promoted Admiral Clarke wasn't having it. First Flotilla needed an experienced Pilot to corral all the newbies that were going to be filling the ranks, and who better than the Ace of Star's End?

It was ridiculous, not just the title, which was wrong, but the whole situation. After all, she'd not been an Ace at Star's End, for one thing, that had happened over Butte Hold. She'd literally only been responsible for taking down the Frankenmechs at Port Alvieri, and even then she'd only led the effort. As for the situation, Magda should be out there flying and leading her Mashers into combat, not sitting at a tactical plot on board the GDNS Obertyn, even if being part of the command staff of the Flagship of First Guards Flotilla, a Mako-class Corvette, was pretty neat.

"I wasn't meant for this." Muttered Magda under her breath.

Of course, she didn't dare complain to the Admiral about that. Magda was pretty sure that Admiral Clarke had heard plenty of pilots say that same line when it came time to promote them out of the cockpit. It was something that Magda figured was just endemic to pilots. It didn't actually make Magda feel any better to know that, though. Especially since all it meant was that Admiral Clarke would simply wave off the concern.

"It doesn't help that Commodore Niskanen isn't here." Grumbled Magda.

It was true. Magda liked Commodore Niskanen. The Finnish Commodore would have allowed Magda to sortie at least once during the battle if she really wanted to. True, it likely would've been during the later stage, when the fight had already largely been won and there was only a small chance for her to actually get into a dogfight, but any time in the cockpit was better than none at all. Unfortunately, Commodore Niskanen was on leave on Vipaava, visiting distant relatives he hadn't seen since his exile had begun. Admiral Clarke had approved the leave and then swiftly taken command of the Naval Forces for Operation: Gotterdamerung.

As she turned her gaze back to the fighter plot, though, Magda felt the Obertyn shudder as something rocked the Flagship. She was thrown off her feet and smashed her head against the fighter plot console, cutting her scalp open and knocking her unconscious. She wasn't sure how long she remained that way, but it was likely only a minute or so as she awoke to a Medic giving her smelling salts.

"What happened?" Questioned Magda.

"Word from the bridge was that the Ajax hit a stealth nuke mine that set off a few others." Informed the Medic.

Magda blinked the stars out of her eyes then immediately bolted upright to look at the fighter plot. When she saw it, what she saw almost made her faint into unconsciousness again. She had to be restrained by the medic and given a stimulant to keep from passing out from apoplectic anger and shock. Of the one-hundred-sixty-two Fighters that had been deployed for the battle, only ninety-seven were still reporting in. The fighters deployed had just taken forty percent casualties from a massive detonation of nuclear mines.

Not only that, but the Achilles II-class Gunboats Ajax, Beowulf, and Ilya Muromets were just gone and the Pentagon II-class Pocket WarShips Poltava and Lake Peipus were crippled as well, along with the Mako-class Corvette Humlebæk left damaged enough to require yard time. Six ships had been taken out of action from the mines and now the First Guards Flotilla was on the backfoot.

Furthermore, another wave of Vulcans was launching from the planet, a lot smaller than the last one with no Gauss Rifles, but still a danger. Against their weakened fighter screen, with the flotilla still reeling from the massive blow they'd just taken, that might be enough to turn the tide. Turning to the Medic, Magda figured she had to focus on the situation at hand to prevent disaster.

"Where's the Admiral?" She queried.

"Sickbay, she took a fall that was worse than yours. Captain Holek of the Tábor has taken temporary command as the most Senior of the Mako-class Corvette Captains." Informed the Medic.

"Well get on the comms to the Bridge and tell Captain Holek that the Group Commodore is authorizing the deployment of all reserve fighters. It may be the only way to avoid an incoming alpha strike via enemy fighter wings while the Flotilla is still disorganized!" Ordered Magda.

The Medic raced to do just that and Magda soon turned her gaze back to the tactical fighter plot, counting down the seconds between the incoming fighter strike and the amount of time she knew that it would take to scramble the rest of the Flotilla's Fighters. It would be cutting it very close by her calculations, and her calculations were never wrong when it came to aerospace fighters.

Magda could only hope they could deploy their fighters in time or else there would be even more problems before this all ended. . .

XXXX

Wing Commander Rongo 'Haka' Taimona had only just managed to get his rank during the tail end of the Oberon War. A native of Battaraigi, he'd joined the Grand Ducal Aerospace Forces after a youth spent flying crop dusters for local farms. It wasn't quite the same thing as a Modern Aerospace Fighter, but it was enough flight time to get him ahead of his class in training and keep him ahead of the enemy during the Oberon War.

That had been brutal, he recalled, as he throttled ahead and let off a Gauss Slug at an incoming enemy Vulcan, punching through the cockpit even as he was forced to turn to avoid an attack from the nose-mounted Medium Laser of the enemy fighter. He janked aside, the beam of coherent light coming close enough to his left wing to boil the paint off it. This fight, it seemed, was turning out to be just as brutal.

"Careful Haka, don't want to scratch that custom paint job too much." Came the Voice of Rongo's Wingman, Flight Lieutenant Piet 'Smoker' Van Griessen.

"It's the damned situation, Smoker. We cut it close with launch and now we're practically in knife-fighting range." Grumbled Rongo.

"That's just how we liked it back on Crellacor, Haka. We didn't have these fancy Gauss Rifles of yours, after all!" Grinned Piet.

Rongo had to admit as he janked aside from a Short-Ranged Missile to fire his Gauss Rifles into the side of the Enemy that had fired it, that Piet was right. He'd grown used to having a range advantage on his enemies and Piet, who had been part of Crellacor's Militia Force and had flown a beat-up old Lightning, which didn't have the same advanced targeting and tracking systems they had here. It made Piet more experienced at this range than he was.

Of course, even Piet wasn't perfect, Rango thought as he fired a pair of Gauss Slugs into the fuselage of an Enemy Vulcan that was lining up a shot with its twin autocannons on Rango's tail from six o'clock high. The enemy fighter disintegrated as Rango's shots punched through it from beneath, erupting in a ball of flame that Rango darted through before diving down to pounce on the Wingman of the Enemy Fighter Piet was dueling with, Gauss Rifles plunging into the cockpit of his target.

"Watch your six, Smoker." Cautioned Rango.

"I would've had him, Haka." Groused Piet as he fired his Gauss Rifles into the tail of his own target, causing the enemy fighter to spin rapidly around and setting it adrift in space as the engines died.

"Didn't look like it to me Smoker." Smirked Rango.

In response, Piet immediately pulled himself into an Immelman turn, flipping around and flying in the opposite direction of Rango, Gaus Rifles barking as he downed another Enemy Fighter that had been lining a shot up on Rango.

"Watch your own six, Haka." Grinned Piet.

"I don't have to. That's why I have you, Smoker." Retorted Rango.

"Say, shouldn't we check in with the rest of the Wing? The others should've finished deploying by now." Asked Piet.

"Good idea Smoker." Agreed Rango.

As Rango checked in with the Wing of Fighter Jocks he was at least nominally in charge of, he checked the plot in his cockpit, finding that he and his Wing would be able to go through and run off the remaining enemy Fighter Wings while the remaining fighters who'd been in play earlier pinned them down. In the end, no less than four members of Rango's Fighter Group managed to become Aces during the Battle Over Von Strang's World, Rango included.

Rango himself would wind up a Double Ace by the end of the fight. . .

XXXX

I grit my teeth as a medic attended to the cut on my cheek. I'd smashed my face against a bulkhead when the Nuclear Mines had gone off and split it wide open but had refused to get it seen to until the battle was over. Admiral Clarke had been knocked unconscious, and I figured that showing the bridge crew that their Grand Duke was with them and suffering wounds as well would keep morale up enough after the Admiral's fall that they would continue to do their jobs instead of possibly panicking.

It had turned out to be a good call, as the Enemy Pentagon had moved to attack us after being driven off earlier in the battle. Had the Bridge Crew been unable to rally, the Obertyn might have taken a beating. Of course, a Pentagon in that configuration wouldn't be enough to destroy a Mako-class Corvette, but damage it enough that the Flagship would be crippled? After taking the shockwave from multiple nuclear mines? That I could believe.

Fortunately, the Bridge Crew did their duty, and the Naval PPCs raked along the Enemy Pentagon in a broadside that left great rents in several decks of the enemy Dropship, which had to withdraw back to the military spaceport on the Planet to lick its wounds, venting atmosphere, and bodies the whole way down to the surface. I wasn't sure, but I liked to think my refusal to get my cheek stitched up until the battle ended had helped the Bridge Crew Rally.

Either way, Captain Holek of the Mako-class Corvette Tábor had taken command shortly afterward, though the confusion from the Nukes going off had allowed the enemy to get their Fighter Reserve off the runway. We managed to launch our own fighters, but the timing was close. At any rate, after another hour of fighting the way to the surface from orbit was open to us, thanks to quick thinking and a rally from the Officers, Pilots, and Spacers of First Guards Flotilla.

There had been a heavy price paid thanks to Otto Von Strang being mad enough to set off multiple nuclear mines in orbit of an inhabited planet and strike while we were on the backfoot from that, however. We'd lost six ships out of the thirty that First Guards Flotilla had to fight with either destroyed, heavily damaged, or crippled, including one of our Mako-class Corvettes, the Humlebæk. That was twenty percent casualties just in terms of ships. In terms of fighters, the casualties were slightly worse, at twenty-two percent.

As soon as I was patched up, I would be heading down to the Planet in my Highlander. It was time for me to fight once more, and I would do the only thing I could at this juncture with so many casualties. Make Otto Von Strang pay for each death. Honor demanded no less, after all, and I was eager to satisfy it. After all, no man who would set off multiple nuclear devices this close to an inhabited planet could be trusted to Rule, even if he hadn't killed so many of my men.

As the Medic nodded at me and finished sealing the cut on my cheek, I stood up from my seat on the bridge of the Obertyn, ready to remove Otto Von Strang for the good of all and the vengeance of my men. . .

XXXX

AN: All right, so here we see the start of Operation: Gotterdamerung. It turns out that Otto Von Strang had managed to hide the deployment of a few stealth nuclear mines in orbit that caused major problems for Jozef and his Forces. The reason for Intelligence not picking up on such a thing is fairly simple. They did pick up on it but dismissed it as misinformation. After all, who would be dumb enough to use nuclear devices so close to a planet, where radiation could enter the atmosphere from orbit? It turns out, the Von Strangs are just that crazy, though. Ultimately, however, the Flotilla managed to rally and win the day.

At any rate, the next chapter will cover the first part of the Ground Campaign of Operation: Gotterdamerung.

Stay tuned. . .