Voyager Dawn

by Richard Patton

  “You heard the captain. We’re going in with a loose V formation, have C-Max missiles ready to fire. If they have fighters, we break formation and engage. Do not fire until I give the go-ahead.”

  Raptor squadron called in their acknowledgements, and the flight climbed higher into the sky, piercing the clouds and getting their first fleeting look at the enemy.

  The hostile ship was slicing through the atmosphere, descending on what seemed to be an intercept course with the advancing fighters. In the few moments that he had before the vessel came into firing range, Ethan got a clear view of it.

  It looked like a silver arrowhead, its surface impossibly smooth and glistening in the sunlight. Glowing green veins throbbed at the edges of its form, giving the impression of a beating heart.

  Comparatively miniscule objects were dropping out from underneath it, unidentifiable until they spread their wings.

  “Enemy fighter craft on approach vector!” Hammer One called.

  “Raptor flight, you are weapons free,” Ethan said in response. He flicked off the safety and loosed a hail of bullets into the enemy formation. The rest of the squadron quickly followed suit, a rain of fire shooting forward to meet the opposition.

  Silver, like their mothership, and flying on wings that appeared to be made of pure energy, the enemy fighters dove into the fray, scattering the Sparrowhawks. Green fire spat sporadically from their hulls, lancing through the air in every direction to hit the F-50s as they spun out of the way.

  Ethan twisted and dove and spun, putting his craft through nauseating maneuvers to evade the enemy’s attacks. A green bolt of fire appeared in his peripheral vision and he intuitively pushed the yoke forward to duck under the hazard. For a moment, he was once again beneath the clouds, unable to see the battle above him. To his right, a broken, fiery Sparrowhawk tumbled toward the surface. Several more blazes dotted the forest below, impossible to identify as human or alien. Ethan suspected they were mostly the former.

  Fury flaring in his chest, Ethan rocketed upwards again, shooting through the clouds and into the fray. Instantly he was set upon, a trio of fighters moving to intercept him. Beams of neon green energy screamed over his wings and singed his hull. It was all Ethan could do to lessen the blows. The enemy’s attacks were so relentless that he could find no window in which to go on the offensive himself. In a split second it had gone from a dogfight to a desperate struggle to survive.

  “We need to break off!” Hammer One shouted. “Get a flank force to higher altitude and hit them from above!” Ethan yanked the yoke backwards and accelerated further into the sky.

  “Raptor’s on it,” Ethan responded. “Form up on my right and follow me around.” The fighters tore away from the battle, lining up along Ethan’s wing. He noticed with a sickening feeling that his eight-man squadron had been reduced to five.

  Win now, mourn later, he told himself, forcing his mind back into the fight. He banked hard left, bringing his squadron into a high arc and dropping back into the chaos, guns blazing. His missiles found targets in an instant, locking and firing with a twitch of his finger. More warheads streaked past his jet as the rest of his squadron opened fire, carving an explosive path through to the core of the battle. The few missiles that weren’t shot down by the hostile crafts’ absurdly accurate guns took down their targets in fiery explosions, leaving nothing but scattered debris to fall to the ground like a burst firework.

  But it was not enough. The alien craft not only outnumbered the Sparrowhawks ten to one, they were technologically superior in every way. Again and again the comm was overtaken with a blast of static as another fighter was shot down, drowning out the screams of the dying and the cries of those that remained.

  “Solar squadron is down!” Diamond Two screamed, “They’re all down!”

  “All squadrons form up,” Rhodes cut in. “Retreat back to the ship.”

  “What?” one of Ethan’s Raptors said. “They’ll tear us apart!”

  “They won’t follow you down,” Rhodes assured him. “All fighters retreat! Now!”

  “Captain’s orders,” Hammer One grunted. Ethan saw him pull away, what remained of his squadron following closely behind.

  “Dammit,” Ethan grunted, yanking his F-50 around to follow Hammer squadron. “Raptors, form up. Full power to rear deflectors.” He gunned the throttle as soon as Dawn’s signal slid into his sights, fully expecting to be shot in the back. But the captain had somehow guessed correctly. The alien fighters dispersed when they saw the humans retreating. They clustered together as they had before the battle and started back toward their own ship.

  “What the hell,” Raptor Two breathed, “was that?”

  The Naldím

  “A pitiful effort. There was no fight. It was not even sport. The Humans are as primitive as we expected.”

  “I did not promise you an entertaining Hunt when you boarded this vessel. Purification is our only goal. Do not take your victory so lightly, however. Until they are dealt with, the Humans could represent a threat, however remote. This is one ship. They have an armada.”

  “You sound as though you fear them.”

  “I am wary. Perhaps it is why I am the lord of this ship and you are not.”

  “They call themselves the Naldím,” Rhodes said, splashing an image of an alien figure across the display. It was vaguely humanoid, easily standing seven feet tall, and wearing minimal armor to protect rocky grey skin. Its eyes were the same glowing green as the pulsing lights on its ship, a single braid of metallic hair ran down its back from the top of the skull, and it was baring rows of razor teeth from inside the six gills that spanned its cheeks. It looked as if it had been bred to kill.

  “They have a single goal on this planet: wipe out the human ‘infestation,’” Rhodes finished. A rattled murmur ran through the crowd. The audience was comprised entirely of military personnel; the civilians were being informed of the situation in a more euphemistic manner.

  Rhodes touched the display again and it began to cycle through several different photos of the Naldím.

  “These were taken from a video message they sent us moments before they opened fire. We get several things out of this: One, they have the same radio frequencies we do. Two, we have some idea of what they look like and the layout of their ship’s bridge. Three, we know they speak Imperial Common. We don’t know how, but they do.” Rhodes took a deep breath and continued.

  “I don’t need to tell you that our lives are at stake here. We’re in a bad situation, although it could have been a lot worse if our pilots hadn’t intercepted the enemy before too much damage could be done. We lost twenty-three good men and women in that fight, but there’s no time to mourn now. We have to prepare for another attack, this one from the ground, and we have to start fortifying secondary positions in case Dawn is compromised. Any questions?”

  “How do we know the next attack is coming from the ground?” someone shouted.

  The captain seemed hesitant to answer. “In their message, they informed me that Dawn has trespassed on designated hunting grounds, and that the creatures we’ve killed in defense of our people are their animal companions.” Ethan felt a pang in his stomach. Rhodes did not look at him or make any indication that it was his fault. There was no way he could have known. Nevertheless, Ethan felt responsible.

  “They’ve declared that since we’ve deigned to claim their hunting grounds, we have become the new prey. I suspect more complex reasons beyond that, but it’s what we’ve been given.” Rhodes turned off the display and faced the pilots.

  “This, in turn, answers the question I’m sure most you have: why I ordered a retreat. The obvious answer was that we weren’t going to win. But it was their insistence on hunting us like game that made me believe they would let you go. They’re looking for sport, not slaughter. Firing on a retreating enemy has no honor.”

  “You took that on faith? Sir?” the same voice said.

  Rhodes glanced in the voice’s direction, a l
ook of disdain flashing across his face, but he answered the question. “I admit I guessed, but not on a whim. I do not need to defend my orders, but I will say this: it was the only chance of bringing as many of our pilots home as possible.”

  He lapsed into silence, perhaps in a moment of reverence or theater. Either way, it was effective. The only sounds were those of men and women shifting in their seats.

  Rhodes spoke finally, his voice nearly a whisper. “We’re in a dire situation. This is an enemy unlike any we’ve ever faced. We have no information on them. We have no idea what they are capable of. We only know they have a thirst for human blood, and they’re not going to leave until it’s quenched or we drive them off.” The last few words seemed to rouse his fighting spirit. He continued as a man no longer defeated, but incensed. “I, for one, am going to fight to my dying day. Every one of you signed on to do the same: to protect those citizens of the United Orion Empire who are huddled in their rooms right now, wondering what doom is about to come upon them. I can’t guarantee anyone is going to make it out of this alive, but you’d better damn well try.”

  Without further finale, he exited the stage. Ethan expected a smattering of applause if not raucous cheering for the rousing speech and all that it stood for, but there was only dead silence. He glanced around. Several younger crew members were on the verge of tears. Veterans were silently contemplating their boots, and everyone else was in varying states of fear.

  “It’s not like any of them have actually seen combat,” Ford said a few minutes later as chatter slowly resumed and the crew found their way out of the auditorium. “At least most of them haven’t.” He shoved past a scrum of engineers and scientists, some of whom were shaking visibly.

  “Do you mind?” Ethan murmured to him, more gently navigating the crowd.

  “He’s right, though,” Mason pitched in. “If they weren’t on Four, they’ve never seen real action. We’ve got a bunch of greens on our hands, and they’re going to fall apart.”

  “They did fine in the sky,” Ethan retorted. It was true; most of Raptor Squadron was currently comprised of fresh recruits, but they had performed better than Ethan had expected. Whether they were ready for war was an entirely different matter.

  “Yeah, but that’s a whole different thing,” Ford argued, “It’s one thing when you’re shooting down some flying contraption. It’s a whole other thing when you have to look the guy in the face and then blow his brains out.”

  “When did you do that?” Ethan wondered.

  “I was in the war.”

  “The Frontier Disputes?”

  “Yeah, but no one ever called them that. You’ve got to love military euphemisms. ‘Disputes’ my ass.” Ford laughed grimly. “What I’m saying is there’s no way to prep these greenies for war, and if what the cap says is right, then we’re going into a whole other type of fight – one you don’t walk away from without a few scars, if you walk away at all.”

  *

  Ethan awoke the next morning with a sick feeling in his gut as he realized everything from the day before had not been a bad dream. He stared up at the ceiling, imagining it was the sky and seeing the hulking grey arrow that was the Naldím ship floating above the clouds. Rhodes’ assurance that the Naldím would only attack from the ground comforted Ethan somewhat; after the initial bombardment on Dawn, a more sustained orbital barrage would tear the ship apart. No sport in that, he thought mirthlessly.

  His comm buzzed, indicating that Chief Engineer Searl was contacting him. He rolled over onto his stomach and connected the call.

  “Sir,” he mumbled.

  “Get that flying rear of yours in gear, Walker. I need you in a DRAC five minutes ago. Bring another Raptor for the hoist.” Ethan groggily obliged. He looked around at the other members of Raptor flight who occupied this section of the barracks. They were all sleeping, and Ethan couldn’t bring himself to wake them. He let them enjoy blissful oblivion a little while longer.

  He began his trek towards the hangar alone, scanning everyone he passed to see if any were potential copilots. As much as he would rather not fly with a member of another squad, his desire to let his men sleep was stronger.

  As he rounded a bend approaching Hangar Two, Ethan nearly collided with Rebecca. She neatly sidestepped him, avoiding impact, but stopped long enough to apologize.

  “No problem,” Ethan said, “my fault. I was in a hurry.”

  “I should have watched out,” Rebecca said distractedly; even she appeared off-kilter. She threw him an awkward attempt at a smile and resumed her stride. She was a few steps away by the time Ethan spoke up.

  “Can you fly a DRAC?” he blurted. He had no idea why she might be able to, or why he was asking her at all. She made him uncomfortable enough as it was; confined in a DRAC together, he would probably crash.

  Rebecca cocked an eyebrow. “I’m rated to fly K-one-hundreds.”

  “More than enough. They need a DRAC in the air, and I need a copilot.” He paused. “Interested?”

  Rebecca’s eyebrow arched higher, and she glanced down the halls conspiratorially. “I don’t think marines are allowed to ride shotgun,” she said.

  “You’d just be operating the hoist. That’s what they told me, anyway.”

  This time, Rebecca’s smile appeared genuine. “Why not?” she said, catching up as Ethan led the way to the hangar.

  In minutes they were in the air, overlooking the full extent of the damage to Voyager Dawn. Hull plating had been ripped away in a dozen places, the metal scars still leaking myriad fluids vital to the ship’s upkeep. The control tower was utterly destroyed, reduced to the support structure that connected it to the ship, the rest of its components scattered across the runway. The rest of the damage was limited to the EcoDome, and that was where Ethan and Rebecca were bound. Searl was directing efforts on the surface of the ship to remove a substantial amount of debris from the crushed grain silos and ruined planter boxes, but the way the beams had buckled made it impossible to rectify with conventional tools.

  “About time you showed up, Walker,” Searl bellowed. Even through the close-range comm, his voice was hindered by the chaotic noises of deconstruction around him. “Drop the sling and we’ll hook you up to the bigger bits of garbage.”

  Ethan nudged the DRAC into position and the reclamation work began. Quickly, he and Rebecca settled into a rhythm of hooking, hauling, and dumping comfortably enough that he attempted to make conversation.

  “So where did you get rated for K-one-hundreds? Those aren’t run-of-the-mill ships.”

  “My group was cross-trained so we could fly relief missions in the Carmine system. The one hundreds were what they had on hand.”

  “What group was that? Mason didn’t tell me much about your record.” Not that the sergeant could have; there wasn’t much to be seen on Rebecca’s enigmatic record.

  “It was an accelerated-learning trainee camp. You could say that mission was part of our final exam.”

  Ethan chanced an incredulous look at her. “You were a student flying K-one-hundreds?”

  “You could say that,” Rebecca said again, “I was nineteen. Older than I needed to be, technically, to fly one of those things.”

  “Yeah, but it takes years to get to that level. When did you start?”

  “It was accelerated learning,” she repeated, offering no further explanation. They lapsed into silence. Ethan got the distinct impression that Rebecca had said all she was going to say on the subject. Finally, she reinitiated the conversation. “Have you ever seen anything like this before?”

  “What, the Melvins?”

  “The Naldím,” Rebecca corrected, “and no, I meant with the Dome. That’s most of our food for the year.”

  “We have a lot in storage. Probably not enough for a year, but we won’t have to worry. The Jumper shuttle will be here before we starve.”

  “You seriously think the shuttle is going to come?” Rebecca said.

  Ethan glanced her way. “
Yeah, I do.”

  “Are you failing to take into account the hostile cruiser parked in orbit? Or did you think they were going to let reinforcements slip through?” Rebecca’s tone had grown slightly aggressive; Ethan hoped it was aimed towards the Naldím and not his own naiveté.

  “I didn’t think about that,” he admitted.

  “No, you didn’t.” Rebecca paused before speaking again. “Sorry.”

  “You don’t have to apologize. We’re all on edge. Just looking at all those teeth and gills…The Neldim are pretty good at putting the fear of the Void into you.”

  “Naldím, Walker. Nahl-deem.” Rebecca sighed. “And that’s not all they’re good at.” She motioned towards the wreckage of the Dome. “This was a direct strike. So was every other shot they fired. They knew where and how hard to attack to cripple us.”

  “What are you getting at? They’re psychic?”

  “No,” Rebecca sighed, “I think they’ve been watching us. For a long time.”

  The Forest

  “The last rites have been completed. Our Warriors are ready.”

  “Signal the beasts and prepare to launch our shuttles. I give you the honor of leading our first Hunt. I will join you shortly.”

  “I will bring back the heads of a hundred humans. By the end of this, their bones will be the only thing left to pollute this planet.”

  The captain wasted no time in assembling strike teams to venture into the forest. He was intent on delivering a preemptive blow to the Naldím hunting parties.

  Ethan was of the mind that it was suicidal to attack with no intelligence on the enemy whatsoever. The short encounter they had already had with the Naldím had proved that the aliens were superior in virtually every way, and he was not keen on finding out what advanced technology they harnessed on foot. Their appearance was imposing enough.

  Ethan was not a warrior, but since he was permanently attached to Omicron squad as their pilot and driver, he was obligated to transport the four marines where ever they were ordered to go. While on a mission, Mason was his commanding officer, but in the mess hall, he was a friend and Ethan felt free to voice his opinion about the orders.