Poking the Beehive

As the gallery reactions made abundantly clear, it was exactly like poking a beehive.

The remaining twenty-four security fleets came pouring out in a roaring flood — and that wasn't even the half of it. From every hangar and catapult that hadn't been obliterated by the surprise missile barrage, hundreds of thousands of interceptors boiled into open space.

Players got a front-row seat to just how terrifying the defensive power of a city truly was, watching that nightmare scale unfold with their own eyes. And the newer players, staring at that apocalyptic swarm, were already panicking — certain that Icarus's fleet was about to get shredded into scrap.

But…

As that other gallery breakdown made clear, the bizarre reality waiting for them was that Icarus still held the edge in fleet size. Most of the experienced players weren't particularly worried.

Avalon Siege. (4)

Of course, even with the veterans and hardcore players weighing in, a portion of the gallery still refused to let go of the idea that Icarus would lose the opening engagement. And the funny part? Their reason was the exact same thing that had put Icarus on the gallery's radar in the first place — carrier craft. Or rather, the hundreds of thousands of interceptors swarming in like a cloud of bees.

Naturally, the veterans who lived for the chance to dunk on newbies were already gearing up to pounce — but then…

…other veterans stepped in and held the dunking squad back.

The newbies in the gallery were left completely baffled. What kind of premium entertainment was coming that the same crusty veterans who normally jumped at any chance to roast them were actively holding themselves back and managing the thread instead?

They didn't have to wonder for long. The moment the situation actually unfolded — and they finally understood, firsthand, what all those seasoned players had been pointing out about the limitations of carrier craft and carriers themselves — the newbies suffered a culture shock on several levels at once.

And as a bonus, they also learned exactly why the Kraken's teleport system had been declared so broken that it was locked to a single use per day.

And the moment those newbies' questions were being answered…

…was several dozen minutes earlier.

So how was our Icarus handling things on his end?

"Commander, Avalon has confirmed fleet and interceptor launches!"

"The interceptors still have a long way to go. Tell the mercenary companies to push the battleships and battlecruisers to the front and open fire."

"Yes, sir!"

Even with nearly twice the numbers on our side, there was no reason to play into the enemy's preferred close-range brawl and throw fleet strength away for free. So with the Kraken — a carrier in name only, packing battleship-grade firepower — at the head of the formation, every battleship and battlecruiser received the order to form a battle line.

"All fleets, open fire!"

"By the Commander's order — all fleets, open fire!"

"Kyahaha, it's been so long since a real fight!"

Nearly forty battleships and a triple-digit count of battlecruisers unleashed a storm of particle beams, pouring raw firepower into the security fleets charging toward them. And it wasn't just particle beams. There were the big, beautiful railgun shells — depleted uranium, tungsten, and some unidentifiable superalloy — plus those round, jelly-looking projectiles that, on impact, released plasma at a ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠hundred million degrees Celsius for several seconds, literally evaporating armor plate on contact.

And through all of that, Hresvelgr and a handful of other ships kept dumping additional missiles into the mix. With only twenty-four battleships across twenty-four security fleets, the enemy was getting outgunned from extreme range before the fight had even properly started.

Pashtura, back in a fleet gunnery engagement for the first time in a while, was putting on a particularly spectacular show.

"Please watch my performance, Commander♡"

KRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAANG!!!!

"Oh."

The beam Pashtura fired at full power — the product of steady leveling and genuine growth — didn't just swallow the cruiser in front of a battleship whole and erase it from existence. It punched straight through the battleship behind it, sinking the thing in a single hit, and kept going, and going, and going…

KRAAAAAANG!!

"Ooooh…"

…until it scored a direct hit on Avalon Fortress itself, far in the rear — output so far beyond anything a naval gun should produce that the word "main battery" barely applied anymore.

But spectacular as that was, common sense still held. Expecting the massive main guns of battleships and battlecruisers to precisely pick off tiny destroyers and escorts was… well. Even with the triple buff stack from Belial, Marianne, and Griyanaar, there were limits.

So while the relatively sluggish light cruisers and the already-scarce battleships — now priority targets — were popping like fireworks, the destroyers reorganized as flagships for over thirty thousand escorts, reforming into separate squadrons and charging straight at our main force.

Naturally, the goal of those thousands of squadrons was the battleships and battlecruisers hammering them from the battle line. Not a chance.

"Pull the battleships and battlecruisers back. Send every light cruiser and below from the mercenary companies out to engage."

"Yes, sir. Relaying that now."

Our small-ship numbers had been higher from the start, and plenty of theirs had already been chewed up by the fleet's massed fire on the way in. Once the melee properly kicked off, the security fleets found themselves outnumbered — and unlike us, sitting pretty under a full stack of fleet ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠buffs, they had nothing of the sort. Whatever aggressive momentum they'd charged in with evaporated; the longer the fight went on, the more they fell back into pure defense and evasion.