Chapter 22: Operation Harvester

No sooner had the six PC's arrived than they shipped right out – keeping an eye on Hesperus to ensure that the Sa'arm didn't move faster than expected, and to give advance word if they did.

The Chosen Frozen went into high gear – if that were possible, as they had already been training frantically. Samantha found her father practically living in his white armoured battle suit, as the Marine infantry, artillery and light tanks went out again and again and again. They were drilling on all types of landing techniques, be it using Panthers, Kittens or the modified pods. The pods had been named after British World War II gliders: Horsa for the infantry landers and Hamilcar for the tank landers.

With battle in sight, she also noticed that the crowds at the Beauty Saloon were in a period of faux gaiety. The smiles seemed more forced, and when they thought their sponsors and dependants weren't looking, the concubines wore looks of deep concern.

Samantha responded by putting on a series of themed dances, with the Colonel's and Admiral's permissions. They knew their sailors and marines needed the distraction. The most popular night was the Battle of Britain theme, where every Marine and Sailor wore RAF dress uniforms from the period, bearing RAF rank as close as possible to their actual rank. Concubines wore outfits that resembled civilian garb of the time, although without underwear. The Admiral wore the uniform of RAF Fighter Command commander-in-chief Air Marshal Hugh Dowding, Colonel Deschenes (due to his remarkable resemblance to the man) dressed up as Air Chief Marshal Sir Trafford Leigh-Mallory, and Samantha wore the uniform of an anonymous WAAF officer. Flags of the Royal Air Force and of the Commonwealth countries' air forces decorated the Saloon. The White Cliffs of Dover never sounded more meaningful, even though it evoked images from a previous century on another planet, and from a very different war.

The need to be ready communicated itself down to the Corps of Cadets. Never had Samantha's mother and aunt seen children so utterly serious about what was really intended as just something to keep them occupied. Every cadet platoon made it their mission to wring every drop of information from their mentors. The original plan for an hour's instruction was swiftly left in the dust. Frantically they studied the weapons and tactics, with most cadets qualifying on their units' weapons. For two weeks, no hockey games were played – what would have been thought essential on Earth was now a luxury on Thule.

Finally, two weeks before Samantha's fourteenth birthday, the fleet got word via extremely-high-speed message drone: Sa'arm scouts had sniffed at Hesperus. Operation Harvester was a "go".

The fleet that sailed from Thule within 8 hours of receiving that message was impressive: a carrier with two squadrons of A-20 Warthogs and one of F-50 Space Sabres, battle cruisers, light cruisers, destroyers, corvettes, assault ships and functioning as a troop transport, the City of Montevideo. Back home, the only defences left were a platoon of armour (as the Admiral suggested, they had been forced to leave the Rommels behind due to lack of transportation space) consisting of the newest recruits to the 1204^th, backed up by a flight each of F-104 Starfighters and F-105 Star Arrows, some Navy noncoms and the Corps of Cadets.

The concubines and dependants were teary-eyed as they waved goodbye to the men and women of the 12^th Marine Brigade and Task Force 12. Samantha found herself commanding Lieutenant Carruthers to come back safely, as if he had any say in the matter. The Cadet infantry gave a snappy Present Arms, the troops marched through the nexuses to their ships, and the fleet was away.

It was a very lonely Thule after that.

It was a very lonely Hesperus – lonely for the crews of the Haddock, Halibut and Dace. They could only wait, hiding as best they could and maintaining radio silence, as a brace of Sa'arm hive ships, escorted by a hideous number of smaller vessels, headed for the rocky, dry planet. If any one of the little patrol combatants gave their position away, all three would likely be sniffed out and then snuffed out very quickly.

Suddenly, out of range of the Sa'arm fleet, the signatures of the Confederacy fleet dropping out of lightspeed showed up. Most of the Sa'arm escorts broke off to engage the new enemy.

"Exactly what we want," muttered Captain John Butler on CSS Halibut, sitting in his armoured pressure suit with the vision of outside the ship covering every inch of CIC bulkhead around him. "Message to Haddock and Dace. Dace takes the escorts as they pass by her, Haddock and Halibut will concentrate on the Volumnas."

Shortly after, the three PC's began disgorging missiles to try to ease the workload of the fleet ahead of them. As the Haddock was closer than the Halibut, the Haddock's missiles slammed into the port hive ship first, causing massive damage to her engines and disabling her hangar bay. The starboard hive ship wove an evasive pattern to avoid ramming or getting rammed by its dying sister, meaning that the Halibut's missiles struck less vital areas. The result was still fatal, but now not instantly so. Landing craft began to launch from her undamaged hangar bay as Butler launched a colourful tirade against the perfidious Swarm.

The rest of the Sa'arm forces began to mill as they grew confused. There was an observable threat in front, and clear evidence of an unobservable threat from the rear. Deciding that the threat you could see should be dealt with most expeditiously, they soon resumed their advance to the Confederacy fleet in front of them – only to lose the last of their big capital ships to large explosions. A trio of Vacunas, the smallest type of ship they had, broke off from the main body to check back along the track.

Turning your hull broadside-to is a fatal mistake when the enemy is bearing down on you and carries his heaviest guns pointing forward, and a rare one for the Sa'arm to make. It makes you as large and inviting a target as a Pennsylvania Dutch barn. Admiral Van De Graaf immediately ordered his Patricians Key Largo and Montego Bay, the fastest sublight ships in the fleet, to accept that invitation. Pushing their throttles to the firewall, they rapidly overtook and engaged the three retreating Vacunas, quickly turning the three scouts into miniature novae.

The rest of the Sa'arm fleet was feeling the impact of the righteous wrath of the Confederacy, through the impact of its massed weaponry. Bereft of its hive ships and with the massive casualties being incurred in the remaining vessels severely impacting its thought processes, both the Sa'arm combat skills and firepower were severely degraded by the time the Confederacy delivered the coup de grace.

The Admiral paced the CIC of CSS Howland. "Damage report," he ordered curtly, the stress showing through in his clipped speech pattern.

"Howland has five casualties, all will survive. Hector and Ajax have minor damage to their point-defence systems, but all casualties are expected to make a full recovery. Rayleigh Castle took a hit which resulted in a slow leak to the concubine quarters; compartment evacuated without casualties, and its ability to continue fighting remains unimpaired."

They'd come off lightly, it seemed.

"CSS Halibut to CSS Howland. Message for Admiral Van De Graaf."

"CSS Howland to CSS Halibut. Admiral is ready to receive message."

"CSS Halibut to CSS Howland. We have a situation on the surface of Hesperus III. Require Marine landing force most urgently."

Up to this point, the Chosen Frozen could do little more than cheer as each Sa'arm ship's destruction was announced. Then they noted that the assault ships' sublight engines were now at full thrust and their sergeants were shouting at them.

On board Kearsarge, Butch was laying into the troops with a will, marching through the scrambling privates. "Secure your armour! Lock and load! Board those Panthers! Move it, ladies, this isn't a Sudbury Saturday night, we're not going off for bingo!" Taking her place aboard the Panther, she swallowed a brief little fillip of fear, taking some comfort in remembering the pleasant night she'd spent with her concubines before she left.

Sergeant Redburn was likewise pushing his Marines to be their best. "We've trained for this, we're ready for this. Move, gentlemen! Mount up! Armour, prepare to drop! Button up your suits! Double-check, all rounds secured, interlocks on your engines are on. Remember, this is going to be the first time that the Swarm encounter our armour, let's give 'em all you've got."