“And leave the engine running,” he called. “Might make it a little more chill with the probing and scutch.”
Ethan tossed them a lazy salute and was about to have at the craft when he noticed Rebecca at the airlock. As Rick and Jess passed, she approached. Ethan waited awkwardly while she covered the distance, though she did so remarkably quickly.
“Hey,” he said, not sure what more could be said.
Rebecca took a second to reply. “Hi,” she replied, sounding as if she had to forcibly extract the word from her mouth. “I heard what Scott was saying,” she said, “about the Naldím fighter. How it only works for you.”
Ethan had a feeling she was going to offer some cryptic advice on the matter. “You could hear us from the airlock?”
“They’re very loud.”
Ethan chuckled. “Yeah, I guess they are.” He paused just long enough for Rebecca to assume the leading role in the conversation again.
“Do you know what it means?” she asked.
Ethan blinked, confused. “What what means?”
“The Naldím know you took the ship,” Rebecca said, speaking slowly as if Ethan were a child. “They have medical records on you. Not only could they find you from orbit, they know that if they kill you, they take out the one advantage we have.”
“What are you saying?” Ethan scoffed. “That I should just hide away until it all blows over?”
“No,” Rebecca sighed, “we need you airborne. But be careful. You’re their primary target now.”
*
The task of customizing his alien craft did not help divert Ethan’s attention from Rebecca’s grim warning, and over the following hours he could feel the presence of the Naldím ships in orbit like a stormcloud hovering above his head. He returned to the company of Mason and Kyle, hoping they would be able to lift his spirits. Instead he found them strangely catatonic.
“What’s up with you?” Ethan asked as he approached them, both marines lounging in varying states of defeat at a table in the mess.
Mason flicked his gaze in Ethan’s direction. “Had a bit of a spat with Ford,” he muttered. “Didn’t go well.”
“What happened?”
“We were talking about the sabotage. He’s obviously still convinced it’s a Wraith, and I said it might be a Reb sympathizer or something. One of those extremists.”
“We were arguing it doesn’t make sense for a Wraith to sabotage us. Only a Reb would do something like that,” Kyle added. “Given what Ford’s been through with the Rebs, I expected him to agree.”
Ethan cocked an eyebrow. “He didn’t?” Ford seemed deadset on his Wraith theory, but he had little love for the rebels.
“Said we trusted the government too much, that they don’t have our back like we think they do,” Mason said, shrugging. “Don’t know where he got that.”
Ethan took a seat opposite them, helping himself to Ford’s abandoned rations. “He’s out the tube,” he said matter-of-factly. “He’s great, but crazy.”
“Maybe,” Mason said ponderously, “but it escalated really quickly. Before we knew it, he was out the door.” He looked over at Kyle as if the latter could provide an explanation. Ever the sage of the group, Kyle did.
“This perpetual night is starting to take its toll,” he observed. “It’s wearing on everyone’s nerves. Even Ford’s. And this isn’t like the darkness of space, either. We’ve acclimated to that. The problem here is that there isn’t an end in sight – at least not one we can control. Ford can’t stand to be helpless.”
“Ford might have invented chill,” Ethan agreed through a mouthful of aritifical meat product. “But even he can’t bottle it up forever.”
“Guess you’re right,” Mason said, chewing on his lip. “Still, should be out of it pretty soon. I heard through the grapevine the captain’s planning something.”
Ethan’s heart leapt. He leaned forward. “Really?”
Kyle cut Mason off before he could propagate his misinformation. “It’s not against either of the ships. It’s diversionary.”
“Diversion for what?”
“The Jumper.”
As quickly as it had risen, Ethan’s heart sank. Until now, he had completely forgotten that a Jumper shuttle from the core worlds was en route to their location to deliver more colonists and fresh supplies. With two hostile cruisers in orbit, they would never make it to the surface. “Shit,” he breathed.
“No kidding,” Mason said. He turned to Kyle. “Got to be a thousand civvies on that shuttle, plus crew, security… and supplies we need if we’re going to last out here more than a month or two.”
“Wait,” Ethan cut in, “we knew the shuttle was coming. Why didn’t we prepare for it sooner?”
“The situation’s been in flux,” Kyle explained. “Until a month ago we couldn’t account for the second ship, and until a week ago we couldn’t account for your fighter. The plan has to change with circumstances.”
“Never mind if we have a plan,” Mason said, “Do we even know when the shuttle’s getting here?”
Before Ethan or Kyle could respond, the loudspeaker squawked to life. “All squadrons, report to flight deck. Sergeant Walker, engineering crew seven, report to Hangar Two. This is not a drill.”
Ethan looked over at Mason. “I would guess right now.”
The Catalyst
“What intelligence do we have on the Human we brought aboard The Hunter?”
“What N’muhl’on provided, and the information his Pump is recording.”
“And the craft he stole?”
“Identified. We are awaiting its return, though I doubt it will survive an attempt to recapture it. They will not give up such a trophy easily.”
“I expect nothing less from such hoarders. Continue to monitor the Human, and report back to me as soon as the situation progresses.”
Rick and Jess were waiting for Ethan at his Naldím fighter. They beckoned him over with anxious excitement.
“Cap says you’re leading the sortie in this ship,” Jess called to him as she and her brother pulled tools and debris away from the craft. “We’ve done what we can to make her a bit more user-friendly, but no guarantees. Your helmet should give you a rundown of all the controls once you start it up.”
“I flew it down here,” Ethan said. “I think I can fly it back up.” Ethan slipped into his helmet and stepped into the bulbuous cockpit.
“Just bring it back in one piece,” Jess requested.
“I’ll do my damndest,” Ethan promised. He pressed his palm into the control sphere and the cockpit rotated into the closed position. The engine crescendoed from nothing into a soft purr in an instant, and Ethan suddenly found himself hovering a meter over the hangar deck. Traffic Control crackled to life in his ear.
“Sergeant, hangar bay doors are opening. Proceed to holding pattern until all squadrons have launched.”
“Copy, control,” Ethan said. “Moving out.” He squeezed the control sphere gently, coasting forward and slipping under the still-opening hangar door. Bringing the craft above Voyager Dawn’s dorsal side, he could see Hammer squadron forming up on the flight deck. They launched in unison, pulling into a tight formation and circling around to meet Ethan. Once Diamond and Raptor had followed them into the air, Rhodes made his presence known on the comm.
“Here’s the situation, pilots: the Jumper shuttle Plymouth, scheduled to resupply Dawn one week ago, never showed up. Until now, we thought it had taken our failure to broadcast as a sign of danger. It must have been behind schedule, however, as it entered the system twenty minutes ago. The Naldím vessel marked ‘Tango One’ is on an intercept vector. All squadrons are to cut off the Naldím approach and clear the way for the shuttle. Good luck.”
“You heard the man,” Moira said, opening her channel to all three squadrons, “Hammer and Diamond squadrons, form up on me. Ethan, take your squadron around on vector five-one and prepare to flank.”
“Copy.” Ethan nudged his fighter off
to the right, the rest of his wing following suit. Despite the urgency of the mission, Ethan made sure to keep his throttle low; moving at full speed in the alien fighter would leave his wingmen in the dust.
The fighters broke through the atmosphere, halfway between the Naldím cruiser and the inbound shuttle which was barely visible on the horizon.
“Jumper shuttle on low entry flight path,” Hammer one reported. “Naldím already have the height advantage.”
“Then let’s take it away from them,” Moira grunted. Ethan watched as her craft was yanked upright, rocketing with newfound speed toward the Naldím ship. Reluctantly, he continued on his own wide path around the impending battle zone. Before he was halfway to his flanking position, though, the Naldím opened fire.
A hundred energy beams lanced out from the cruiser, quickly tailed by a compliment of fighters that unleashed their own volley. Hammer and Diamond scattered, returning fire.
“Ethan, hold course,” Moira ordered, “We need the full effect of that flank.”
Unable to handle the wait, Ethan gunned the throttle, pulling ahead of his squadron. “Follow me into the flank maneuver when you can,” he said to his squadron, muting Moira’s channel, “I’m moving ahead to soften them up. Reeves, Luther, follow me in. The rest of you, cover our six.”
“Understood, Sergeant,” Reeves replied, “Increasing speed to three-five… oh, shit!”
With a sudden burst of speed, the Naldím cruiser was in front of Ethan, picking up speed at an impossible rate. Ethan swerved to avoid it, and only just managed. Sparks erupted from his wing as it scraped along the cruiser’s hull.
“Tango One blocking flanking maneuver,” he reported, pulling back to Raptor flight, “Engaging fighters from current position.”
It was not the ideal position to attack from. Several Naldím craft broke off from the frenzied dogfight to engage Raptor squadron long before it came within range. As soon as they hit, the maneuver was rendered moot.
“Heavy contact!” Luther reported, grunting slightly as a ship exploded next to him. Ethan had no time to check if it was human or Naldím. He plowed through the attacking force towards the main battle.
“Raptors, continue to engage. I’m moving forward to take some of the heat off Hammer and Diamond,” he said.
“Will do, Raptor Lead. Send over targets as necessary.”
Ethan obliged, letting off a volley of energy beams on the nearest hostile and then looping around to guide the Naldím towards Raptor squadron. For a moment, it seemed to work. The Naldím tucked into a tight spin and shot after Ethan. But just short of engaging Raptor flight, it slipped into a dive, bound for the atmosphere.
Swearing under his breath, Ethan adjusted his course to pursue it. “Diamond One, this is Raptor One. I have a bogey that’s broken off from the fight, on intercept course for the Plymouth.”
“Engage,” Moira said, her voice crackling over a damaged comm. “We’ll handle the situation up here.”
“Raptor Two reports local victory,” Reeves interrupted. “Moving to assist Raptor One.”
“Negative, Raptor squadron,” Moira shot back. “Focus all fire on Hammer’s position.”
Reeves seemed reluctant. “Copy. Good luck, Sergeant.”
Ethan closed the comm, not wanting to listen to a fight he was no longer a part of, and rocketed after the escaping Naldím. He could see the Plymouth’s growing silhouette as it approached Voyager Dawn. Ethan wondered if the shuttle’s crew had any clue what was going on, or how much danger they were in. At the very least they were keeping low and on target. He had to admire the pilot’s ability to adapt.
The Naldím craft ahead was creeping into Ethan’s firing range at an aggravatingly slow rate, though the same could not be said for its target, the Plymouth. Ethan patched his comm into the shuttle’s system.
“Jumper shuttle Plymouth, this is Raptor One. You have a bogey inbound.” The shuttle took a long time to respond. For a moment, Ethan thought they were already in contact with Dawn, but when the pilot’s voice found its way over the comm, it sounded terribly confused.
“Copy, Raptor One. We see it and are attempting evasive maneuvers. We have no contact with home base. Requesting coordinates of ICS Voyager Dawn.”
Ethan glanced at his radar. “Continue on current trajectory for eighteen klicks, Plymouth.”
“Thanks, Raptor One. Now, what the hell is going on?”
“No time to explain. Increase speed and I’ll see if I can’t get that bogey off your tail.”
“Copy. Accelerating to-” The pilot’s voice was cut off in a rush of static as the shuttle’s cockpit erupted in flame. The Naldím fighter had closed the gap, and was opening fire. Ethan jammed on the trigger of his own fighter, indifferent as to whether or not he was in range.
But it was too late. Another round of energy blasts from the Naldím craft shattered the hull of the Plymouth, and the hulking shuttle fell into a steep dive, crashing a minute later into the planet’s surface.
The Newcomers
“That was an unexpected pleasure.”
“Pleasure though it was, we should have seen it coming. Keep more spacecraft on standby, and contact the Orbiter. We may have to accelerate our plans.”
“The death of so many will undoubtably strike a crippling blow to the Humans’ morale. Add to it the expenditure of so many resources, and they are in no position to fight. I would daresay we could attack now.”
“I will not rush into this. We have planned this foray for a long time. To squander it in a fit of bloodlust would be foolish.”
“As you say.”
The guns covering the three squadrons’ retreat were still firing as Ethan buckled into the huey alongside Raptor Two and prepared for takeoff. He patched into traffic control and awaited orders.
“Scans show forty-six escape pods jettisoned before the Plymouth went down,” Rhodes said, his voice strained, “That’s less than half of the full complement, but it means we can still save several hundred civilians and military personnel. It’s still dark as hell out there, I’m sure you’ve noticed, so use flood lamps and flares. I don’t care if the Naldím see us at this point. We’re going out there to save lives.”
“Sure, he doesn’t care,” Reeves scoffed. “We’re the ones who’ll be getting shot at.”
“Even the Naldím can’t see flood lights from space, Reeves,” Ethan said.
“Yeah, but if they decide to kick us while we’re down…”
“They won’t,” Rebecca said, suddenly appearing behind them. Ethan looked back to see the rest of Omicron squad piling into the huey behind her.
“Why not?” he wondered. It suited him perfectly if the Naldím decided to lay off them, but it didn’t seem likely.
“Because the only time they’ve attacked us since they activated the graviton beam was just a few minutes ago,” Rebecca explained, “and even then they weren’t attacking us. I don’t think they want to attack until they’re done with that second ship of theirs. Probably something in their code of honor that prohibits it.”
“They’ve got a pretty funny sense of honor,” Reeves scoffed. Rebecca shrugged and returned to the huey’s main hold. Traffic control came online.
“Raptor Lead, you are cleared for takeoff. Proceed on planetary vector three-four-eight. Crash site is marked on your GPS.”
Ethan eased the shuttle into the air, launching from the hangar with less grace than he would have liked. His last two flying experiences were in the markedly more responsive Naldím fighter. By comparison, the huey was a boulder in his hands.
Marines chattering excitedly in their jumpseats, the squadron of hueys made their way to the Plymouth, flooding the forest canopy with light and noise. The source of the smoke came into view, and the disastorous scene instantly sobered the marines.
“I don’t see how anyone made it off that thing,” Ethan said quietly, bringing the huey around to circle the wreck. “It went down way too fast.”
“The c
aptain wouldn’t send us out looking for corpses,” Reeves affirmed. “Sensors must have picked up something.”
“Let’s find out,” Ethan replied. He initiated the landing sequence, setting the huey down on a small piece of flat terrain just outside the crash zone. The cargo doors rolled back behind him and several dozen marines, medics, and engineers poured out of the compartment.
“Train your spotlights on the wreck,” Mason ordered to Ethan over the comm, “Searl wants it scrapped for parts. We’re going into the forest. Track down the escape pods.”
“Copy, Mason. Be careful out there.” The huey lifted off again, settling into an idle position above the burning wreckage. Ethan watched the engineers scramble around it like ants, shooting bursts of suppressant at the flames and retreating as the ship fell apart.
The huey managing on its own, Ethan flipped over to Mason’s channel. He was far more curious about the hunt for survivors than he was about a simple scavenging operation.
“Signal, two hundred meters, eleven o’clock,” Mason said, his voice a low whisper. The marine team was moving quickly, silently. Ethan could hear twigs snapping in the background.
“Confirmed, UOE signal,” Kyle said.
“Five – no, six lifesigns. I’m only getting one military tag,” Ford reported.
“Rebecca, Ford, watch the flank. I’m seeing some wildlife on the infrared. Kyle, get the hatch.”
“Is there a medic nearby?” Kyle asked.
“En route.”
“Opening hatch,” he said, “Three, two, one.” A screech came over the comm as Mason wrenched the door open.
“Woah, woah!” Kyle called suddenly.
“We’re human!” Mason shouted, “We’re human!”
“Bloody wankers,” a gruff voice cursed, “you could’ve called it.”
“Assumed it was obvious,” Mason said. Ethan could hear weapons being holstered. “Sergeant Mason Steele, ICS Voyager Dawn.”
Voyager Dawn Page 13
